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Then taken someone so innocent and pure, that it had now released the beast inside me.
Ready. To. Kill. The motherfucker.
He had no idea what was coming.
Now that I knew who exactly was looking for me, I knew how to find him.
Because I knew Manuel. As soon as Knight had disappeared from my life, he'd courted and married me. For three whole years, I had the opportunity to get to know him--long enough for his mask to come off. To really get to know him.
He would want a place secluded enough that he could have total and complete control over it. And yet, close enough to the center of power so that he could easily access it.
And that center of power had to include men to manipulate and control, plus access weapons.
Once I knew his source of power, the cartel, all I had to do was spread the word through my contacts, and the information would be granted.
It had taken me all day of working my network, going deeper than I'd dared go before, because I no longer limited myself to the Kings' side of town. Until, finally, I discovered the most likely location.
A warehouse, deep in the depths of cartel territory, and on the edge of the city.
I'd driven close enough to scout with binoculars, waiting until the cover of darkness to make my move. The place was lit up even though it was nighttime, surrounded by wired fences, begging me to slip inside.
An inspection of the place showed several video cameras, as well as motion sensors, plus a plethora of cartel men guarding the outside.
I had no delusions about what I was capable of; I wasn't some version of Wonder Woman or G.I. Jane.
I wouldn't go for subtlety.
He'd made his intentions clear: come to me, or I'll kill the girl.
He was waiting.
And so I strode up to the front gate, the only weapons on me were the ones sewn into my black cargo pants and black lycra t-shirt, as well as a single knife tucked into my boot.
I was right to make that choice because, within seconds of leaving my cover, a spotlight from the guard gate overhead lit up my whole body.
I raised my hands and strode right up to the front gate, where ten men surrounded me, rifles and semi-automatics pointed straight at me. Demanding me to get to my knees.
As soon as I hit the jagged gravel, a tall, muscular man with dark hair and brown eyes roughly searched me. He smelled like cooked onions.
He found the knife in my boot, plus two others stitched into my clothes. Then he put a black canvas bag over my face and zip-tied my hands behind my back.
The smell of onions grew stronger as he gripped my arm, guiding me towards the warehouse. We walked for a while before hands shoved me forward.
"On your knees." Hands still cuffed behind my back, my knees hit cold concrete again. "Don't move."
I sat like that for who knew how long, my back strained, shoulders strained from the rough treatment, in silence.
I wasn't sure if I was even alone in the room but I could feel a cold prickling sensation across my neck and up my spine. I was certain that he was watching me. Probably through a video feed.
The feeling was familiar: I'd grown accustomed to it, so long ago, the constant sense of being watched.
I waited patiently, reminding myself with gritted teeth that this was for Honey.
That I would play the submissive only until I found her, then the true me would come out. I would kill that bastard with my teeth if I had to.
After what was probably a couple of hours, I heard the door open, and the cloying scent of a spicy cologne overcame the smell of onions--familiar. Disgusting. Manuel's. A wave of nausea washed over me, an instantaneous reaction to what was surely his presence. I grit my teeth, the cool air prickly against my now clammy skin.
"Tatiana." His voice was low and deceptively soft. It made my insides crawl. "You finally figured it out."
