34
DANIELA
I jerk backthe moment I see him.
Reyes is worse for the wear than the last time I saw him in my father’s office.He’s cut and bruised.One cheek sags where the skin is split and healing.His smile is still the same awful thing, all teeth, but it’s crooked now, as if someone rearranged it and forgot to put one side back right.He’s got that cocky tilt of the chin he always had when he thought he was in control, and for a second I almost expect him to pull out his repulsive dick and command me to kneel.
This is the man who taught me to fear all men.The one who taught me shame when I didn’t know the name for it yet.The betrayal, the humiliation, the way my body remembered things my brain was still trying to bury—all of it wakes up and floods my mind with images I’ve tried to forget.
In that moment I forgive Hawk.
I forgive him for everything he did to this man.
It doesn’t mean I condone violence.It just means I understand.I understand why a man would stop being patient when one of the worst men in the world is standing in front of him.
Reyes fills the doorway, dressed in black slacks and a pressed white shirt.No jacket, no tie.Just that calculating smile I’ve come to dread.
“Miss Agudelo,” he says softly, almost politely.“Right on time.”
I go very still.My heart doesn’t race.It hardens.Like a stone in my chest.
“Where is he?”I ask.My voice doesn’t shake.I’m proud of that.
He tilts his head, feigning confusion.“Who?”
“You know who.”
“Ah.”His smile widens, slow and reptilian.“The chef.You were expecting him?”
I narrow my eyes.“He’s the one who sent the message.”
“Was he?”He steps aside, gesturing toward the dark interior of the house.“Please.Come in.”
I don’t move.“I’ll stand.”
He gives a quiet chuckle.“Still stubborn.I see why Hawk Bellamy likes you.”
At the mention of Hawk’s name, my stomach tightens.“If you’ve hurt him?—”
“Relax,” he says lightly.“I’ve hurt no one today.Yet.”
“Where’s Belinda?”
He raises an eyebrow.“Ah, the girl.The starter, was it?”He seems to savor the word.
So he knows.Somehow he knows everything.
“What do you want?”I ask, my voice low.
He studies me for a moment and then gestures toward a dilapidated porch swing.It hangs crooked, one chain shorter than the other.“Sit, Miss Agudelo.You’ve driven a long way.Let’s talk like civilized people.”
I remain where I am, jaw tight.
He sighs, almost theatrically.“You think defiance makes you strong?Strength, Daniela, is knowing when to yield.”
I brush the back of my thigh lightly.“Where is she?”I ask again.
“Straight to business.”He takes a seat and crosses his legs.“Very well.She’s safe, for now.But she’s not my concern.”
