I force myself not to buck.
He leans close. “Clever women still break.”
My voice comes out thin. “Then bring a better man.”
His grip tightens for one second.
I can’t breathe.
Panic claws up my chest, wild and animal. The warehouse tilts. My vision spots.
Then he lets go.
I suck in air, coughing hard enough to make my ribs ache.
Toro stands. “Send it.”
Boca looks unsure. “All of it?”
Toro’s gaze stays on me. “All of it. Let the road captain hear his little clue. Let him think he has control.”
My stomach drops.
He knows.
Of course he knows.
“You’re still sending it?” I rasp.
Toro smiles. “We want him to come.”
That is worse.
So much worse.
Because a trap you see is still a trap if the person you love is inside it.
Love.
The word appears in my head like a spotlight snapping on in an empty club.
Not after one too many nights and a morning fight and another woman’s texts and a parking garage full of blood. Eso no es love. That is adrenaline. That is sex.
Except my body doesn’t believe me.
My body believes Shady’s hands.
Boca sends the video from one of the burners. I listen to the swoosh sound and hate technology with everything in me.
Somewhere, Shady’s phone is about to light up.
Somewhere, Darling is about to see my face.
Somewhere, Diablo is going to get even more blood on his hands.
And somewhere inside this warehouse, these men are smiling because they think they are leading wolves into a pen.
Toro walks to the table and picks up the knife.
