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Carmen unlocked a side door to the mansion, admitting us into her home. As we moved through the darkened rooms of the house that weren’t currently in use, my pulse pounded through my brain, the hammering of my heart slamming through the silence around us.
When we reached the bottom of a stairwell, Carmen paused, keeping us hidden in the shadows.
“Security is lax this deep into the compound, so you should be able to navigate from here without me,” she informed us in an undertone. “The extra manpower we do have posted now is only because of the heightened risks my brother took by allying himself with Caesar.”
“And where is Caesar?” Adrián asked, his predator’s eyes shining.
“Fighting for his life,” she replied. “Pedro stabbed him and only offered medical assistance if Sofia agreed to marry him. Caesar is in our surgeon’s care now. He’s in the east wing of the house.”
“If he lives through the night, he will regret it,” Adrián vowed.
“Pedro’s bedroom is on the third floor.” Carmen signed her brother’s death warrant. “There will be two guards in the hall. Others will come running if they hear a disturbance.”
“Then it’s a good thing they’ll be distracted by an external assault,” Adrián drawled. He offered Carmen a sardonic nod. “Enjoy being Queen of the Ashes.”
“What?” she gasped as Duarte snatched his prize, clapping his hand over her mouth and pulling her close to murmur a dark secret in her ear.
“Let’s go.” Adrián finally released my arm, giving me permission to move freely.
Whatever restraint he’d helped me retain snapped, and I forgot about Carmen and Duarte. Guided by raw, possessive instinct, I ascended the stairs three at a time, closing the distance between me and Sofia.
The two guards in the hall didn’t have time to raise their weapons before I flung them out of my way. If the blunt force of my fists didn’t kill them, Adrián’s knife would. Shots would start firing soon, but hopefully not before I got to Sofia.
I didn’t intend to give Ronaldo a warning that I was coming for him. I wouldn’t let him put her body between us in an attempt to save himself.
Her harsh sob obliterated my tenuous connection to rational human thought, possessive rage burning through my veins to sear away any civility I possessed. I slammed my shoulder into the door that separated me from her, and the wood splintered around the hinges.
I continued with my forward momentum, barreling straight into my enemy, the man who dared to touch what was mine.
I ripped Ronaldo away from her, lifting him off the bed and tackling him to the floor. He attempted to struggle beneath me, so I shattered his jaw with one brutal punch. His head snapped to the side, and blood sprayed from his lips, leaving dark drops on the polished wooden floorboards.
Sofia’s soft shriek clawed for my attention. I wrapped my hand around Ronaldo’s neck to keep him down, so I could turn away from him long enough to check on her safety.
Her emerald eyes were wide, her lush lips parted. Tears glistened on her cheeks, and her glossy curls were broken and tangled.
Her harrowed appearance would have been enough to stoke my ire, but my fury consumed me when I noted her shredded dress pooled around her willowy body, leaving her exposed in her sheer, white lace lingerie. She appeared more fragile than ever, shivering on the ivory sheets.
The knife Ronaldo had used to cut her clothes from her body lay on the mattress beside her.
A savage roar echoed through the room, but it ended abruptly in response to her soft whimper.
My attention fixed on her lovely, emerald eyes again. They were dark with horror, my sweet Sofia’s mind overwhelmed by the violence she’d been subjected to.
Despite my incendiary fury, a sense of calm purpose settled over me. Protecting Sofia was the only thing in my world that mattered.
That meant shielding her from more bloody nightmares.
“Close your eyes, florecita,” I commanded gently. “I’ll make this quick.”
My good girl did as she was told, trusting me to take care of her.
When I was certain she wouldn’t witness what I planned to do to Ronaldo, I lifted my weight off him just long enough to grab the knife he’d used to cut away her clothes.
He moaned, but whatever protest or pleading he might have offered was garbled by his ruined jaw.
I wouldn’t allow him to make any more sounds of distress that might disturb my sweet Sofia.
I slammed the blunt handle of the blade into the center of his throat, crushing the soft tissue that allowed him to speak and breathe. His gray eyes rolled with terror, and he reached between us to try to wrest the knife away from me. I gave him a few seconds to try, watching his panic cause his pupils to dilate as his weaker body gave way to my strength.
