Insidious Ocean
Copyright© 2026 by nyra
Chapter 33: our
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 33: our - Who is the true villain in this story? Luca Moreno has always believed in justice, which is why he became a cop. Now undercover in the Brooks family’s criminal empire, he plans to destroy it from within. But when he meets Raven, the Don’s niece, everything changes. As his morals blur and innocence erodes, Luca must face who he’s becoming—and who the real villain truly is.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Crime Humor Oral Sex
LUCA
Diablo Cardoso has gone on the run.
This fact is causing Cain Brooks to lose his mind.
Ever since Leo’s death, Cain has been particularly sensitive. I’ve seen him lose his shit over the most minor of inconveniences. I get it, he’s dealing with the fact that his only son was murdered in such a gruesome manner, but he’s spiraling.
The other day, he stabbed a steak knife through the chef’s hand because he didn’t cook his chicken the way he presumably likes.
Yeah, he lost his marbles over chicken.
I understand that he’s dealing with a lot of emotions, but he’s not showing it in the healthiest of ways. In fact, I still don’t think he’s as upset about the death of his son as he is about the damage to his hierarchy and business.
Cain is desperately grasping at straws in an attempt to find Diablo. It’s literally all he’s been able to focus on in the time since Leo’s death. The longer Diablo eludes him, the worse it looks for Cain to his enemies.
There’s a possibility that I know where Diablo might’ve gone off hiding. I haven’t stopped thinking about the first time I was in his office and I’d noticed that he appears to own some sort of secluded vacation house near the beach.
I’d figured it was somewhere in Costa Rica because I recognized the volcano in the background. If I went, maybe I could find him and speak with him.
The thing is, I want to know Diablo’s side of the story. How did he stumble upon the information that Cain was involved in the thefts at his heroin producers? Why does he think it’s Cain who murdered Marco?
Perhaps it’s a part of me that feels guilt for having a hand in Marco’s death. Diablo has always struck me as a better man than Cain and despite all of the turmoil between Cain and Diablo at the moment, I still think it’s important to have some sort of relationship with Diablo.
The way with which Diablo retaliated against Cain in a way that dug deep makes me believe that it’s better to secretly have Diablo on my side. Diablo acted out in anger and proved to me how he attained his position as Don, but he isn’t that ruthless on a normal basis.
If I can get to Costa Rica without Cain knowing, I can hopefully chat with Diablo. Of course, I’d have to go by memory and try to find his vacation house there based on the location of the volcano in the photo, but I’m sure with some time that I could do it.
That’s why I’m currently landing in a plane that I managed to sneak off to. When I finally manage to get off said plane—with my knapsack slung over my shoulder—I begin to exit the airport until my phone rings.
Raven’s name is displayed on the screen and she’s wanting to video chat with me. I hesitate, unsure of whether to answer, but then I find that my thumb is pressing the answer button before I can debate it for too long.
She looks beautiful as she pops up on my screen, wearing a loose-fitting shirt that hangs off her bare shoulder and not a speck of makeup. I can see that she’s in her room—sitting on her bed, by the looks of it—and she smiles when she sees me, uttering a, “Hey.”
“Everything alright?” I ask.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Can I come over? I’m bored and ho—wait, where are you?” She squints her eyes as she leans in to get a better look. “Are you at an airport?”
“Angel—” I glance at her on my phone, trying to get her attention. She seems distracted. “I need you to behave for tonight. Pretend to be sick and hide away in your room or something. You can do that for me, yeah?”
Even looking at Raven’s eyes, I can see the difference in her since Marco’s death. That light that he’d been snuffing out has returned and she seems happier.
Freedom isn’t given, it’s taken and I have no regrets about grabbing hers with both blood-stained hands.
“I will if you tell me what you’re up to.”
I narrow my eyes in her direction, “You know there’s a reason I keep you in the dark.”
“And I don’t wanna’ be in the dark anymore,” she defends. “You know I won’t say shit. I hate Cain and I hated Leo just as much as you do. The only person in this house I care about is Dove.”
“Raven—”
“Luca, I promise I’ll be good if you tell me what you’re up to. I’ll pretend I’m having wicked cramps. My uncle won’t come within a hundred feet of me.”
I hesitate. I still don’t know whether to continue to keep things from her.
“I’ve flown to meet with Diablo. I’ve just landed.” Can I trust her with this? I fucking hope so, because if she spills the beans, I’m dead.
“You know where he is?”
“Not exactly. I’m going off a hunch. He had photos of this house in—what looks like—Costa Rica. I’m thinking he’s holed up there.”
“And why are you meeting with him, babe?”
“‘Cause I wanna’ figure out what your uncle is up to and speaking with Diablo will help me to understand.” She purses her lips, giving a face as if she’s thinking over what I’ve uttered. “Raven, you’re the only person who knows this. I haven’t even told Adiv. If it gets out—”
“I won’t tell. You’ll learn to trust me.” She brushes hair off her shoulder. “For your moment of candor, maybe I’ll text you something later as a gift.” She gives me a lascivious glance that tells me everything I need to know.
“Aren’t you supposed to be grieving your darling cousin, my girl?”
She chuckles. “I’m supposed to grieve the man who used to mock my weight? The man whose idea it was to marry me off to begin with?”
“He did what?” I’m literally the meme of the guy tilting his head and slowly blinking his eyes as if I need to be retold what she just said.
“He was the one who—when my uncle was trying to figure out a way to forge a relationship with the Cardosos—offered up my ass.”
“I meant the weight comment,” I clarify. How dare he? Every bit of her is luscious.
“How ironic that in death all he weighed out to be was a head, huh?”
I fight the urge to smile. I shouldn’t. That was a sick joke.
“I know you didn’t know Leo all that well ‘cause he kept a tight lid on himself around people in the business, but he wasn’t the greatest guy. He was an ass, in all honesty. Jealous of everyone. Conniving. Manipulative. He’s just like his father.”
She’s not wrong. She falls backwards on her bed, her hair falling to the bedding around her, haloing her.
“When will you be back?” She questions and I hear that shift in her tone again.
“As soon as possible.”
She bites down on her lower lip, “Which means?”
“By morning, preferably. A short enough time that hopefully no one notices my absence. It’s why I need you to behave.”
She smirks, “Would dressing in the lingerie that Micro bought for our wedding night and sending a photo to you be considered behaving?”
He actually sent her that? I should have her wear the outfit with the veil and fuck her as a final fuck you to Micro. “As long as I’m the only one who sees it.”
“Promise.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I assure her.
“Text me when you’re home?”
“Will do, Moonlight,” I assure her before hanging up.
I’ve decided to land in Nicaragua, just to be safe. If I went directly to Costa Rica, I reckon it’d be rather suspicious. This way, I can explain it away through some other means. I’ll lie and say I have a girlfriend down here or something.
I scurry inconspicuously out of the airport and head for the nearby parking lot. I’m doing whatever I can to cover my tracks, in case Cain is keeping a close eye on me. There’s a good chance he’ll come to know that I’ve flown out of the country, but I can’t have him knowing exactly where I’m headed.
That being said, I find a small car and carefully break into it in the setting sun. The darkness helps conceal me as I hotwire it and make the drive into Costa Rica.
It takes a few hours and frankly, I get lost once or twice, but I eventually make it to a beach nearby the volcano I’m looking for. There was a large body of water and the volcano to the left of the house, so I head in that direction to best mimic what I can remember.
Ditching the car, I lug my bag over my shoulder and head up the beach in the direction I think is correct.
After a few steps, sand gets in my shoes, so I kick them off, carrying them in my one hand as I continue my trek. The houses I pass are high end, but there’s something about them that signals they aren’t the house I’m looking for. Most seem too—I don’t know, they appear like family homes. They have children’s floaties in the pool, a swing set in the back, no high-end security—it’s obvious that a mafioso doesn’t live there.
I wander up and down the beach for what feels like hours, spending the whole time thinking that some regular citizen is about to spot me and call the cops.
But eventually, I stumble upon a house that could be it. It’s larger than the others. Has a fence to secure it. The lawn is perfectly manicured. The window panes appear thick and tinted. And when I glance at the volcano in the distance, I have a good feeling.
Noticing some movement inside the house, I hide discreetly behind a perfectly placed tree, observing as Diablo Cardoso steps out from the back and moves to seat himself on one of the chairs out by the pool.
Fuck yes.
Now to figure out a way to speak with him. There’s no guarantee that trying to talk with him will go well. He’s clearly in a fragile place and he could take one look at me and kill me for being connected to Cain. He could think that I was the one who killed Marco and that I’ve been sent here to kill him.
The only thing I have going for me is that I hate Cain as much as he does. I want to see the man get his karmic justice as badly as Diablo.
I knock on the back gate, not anticipating for Diablo to react to it. However, he can clearly see me—the fence isn’t very tall and it’s made of glass—and when he realizes it’s me, I’m surprised when he puts his phone down and saunters to me.
“You here to finish me off?” Is what he greets me with.
He looks terrible. Like he hasn’t slept in days and has been hitting the bottle far too often. The sight of a man who’s always been nice to me looking so torn down causes a seed of guilt to erupt inside me.
I shake my head, “If I was, do you think I’d be knocking on the gate and asking for permission to come in?”
“That’s a good point.”
“I just came to talk. Cain doesn’t even know I’m here.”
He pauses for a moment—I don’t blame him—and then he reaches to unhook the gate as he assures me, “Well, if you’re here for something else, you’ll learn very quickly how stupid that was.”
I glance at the number seven displayed beside the gate before stepping into his garden. It’s secured to a piece of metal that appears shiny like the glint on the sharp edge of a sword.
I’m worried of his reaction. I’ve always thought that Diablo was better than Cain. However, he’s admitted that he was aware some of his son’s behaviours were questionable, yet he was still encouraging the archaic idea of forced marriage. He can’t be that good if he was willing to turn the other cheek to the idea of a woman being forced into marriage with a man like Marco.
When I was a child, I once fell entranced with a documentary about the most venomous snake in the world—known as the fierce snake. A single drop of its venom can kill a hundred adults in as little as forty-five minutes. A single fucking drop. It’s known for being rather shy, but when threatened, it can strike extremely fast and with deadly accuracy, injecting its victim with its fatal venom in nearly every instance.
I feel like Diablo is a fierce snake. He wears the skin of a common garter snake, making others believe he’s harmless and that he doesn’t have a single drop of venom coursing through his veins. However, the second he was threatened and injured, he struck back so quickly and with such destruction, that it was as if Cain was injected with that single drop.
He leads me to where he was seated beside the pool and I sit on the opposing chair as he saunters to the nearby bar to grab a bottle and second glass. He puts it down on the table between our chairs and pours me a bit to match his.
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