Page 26 of No Greater Oblivion

“Alex!”

I startle. “What?”

Dahlia presses her lips together. It’s so strange to see her this way. Stripped of her usual glamour and adornments, she’s almost unrecognizable. And it isn’t because she’s any less beautiful—in fact, Dahlia is striking. Her eyes are disarming, a shade of amber so deep and vibrant they could rival real, tangible flames. Her long hair is braided and hanging off one shoulder, skin bare of any makeup but still naturally flushed with color. As lovely as she is in any state, this doesn’t feel like her. I’m convinced it’s the hospital gown and harsh lighting. I can’t wait to take her home.

“Where are you?” she asks gently.

I’m not sure I understand her question. “I’m right here.”

“No. You’re not,” she replies. “You’re somewhere I can’t reach you anymore.”

I take her hand and press a kiss against the inside of her palm. She reaches for me and cups the side of my face. “I am wherever you tell me to be.”

Dahlia opens her mouth to respond but a knock on the door interrupts us. Diego steps into the doorway and wordlessly gestures outside, summoning me to the hall.

I rise from my seat and kiss her quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

Out in the hall, Dimitrio and Diego speak in hushed whispers. I close the door behind me and Dimitrio is the first one to look up.

“Well?” I ask.

“Two of Sandro’s men were caught surveilling the area after the fire,” Dimitrio says. “Paco and Rodrigo took them out to the docks.”

“Who?”

“Gerardo Beltrán and Tomás Suarez.”

Beltrán and Suarez don’t rank highly in the Sandoval operation but I know they’re two of Sandro’s most trusted falcons, the eyes and ears of any family operation.

“How long have we had them?”

“Less than twelve hours,” Dimitrio responds. “But we should let them go by tomorrow morning.”

I have no intention of setting Beltrán and Suarez free. The next time Sandro sees his falcons, it’s going to be with their wings clipped.

The hall doors swing open and Oscar and Pedro appear. Pedro is on his phone and when Oscar spots us he grabs his husband by the elbow and drags him along. Before either of them can get a word out, I tilt my head in the direction of Dahlia’s room.

“Take her home. The only three people allowed in the house are Dahlia, my sister, and Doña Ana.”

Oscar shakes his head a bit. “But⁠—”

“If you make me repeat myself, I’m going to punch your husband in the face.”

His gaze darkens. “That’s not⁠—”

As soon as Pedro gets off his call and joins us, presumably to let us know what it was about, I clench my right hand in a fist and swing. The hit is hard and swift, my bandaged knuckles colliding with his nose at a remarkable speed. Pedro stumbles back a step but Oscar catches him and holds him steady. The moment is charged with tension and a hint of animosity; me toward Pedro for having been so unconscionably stupid, and Oscar currently deciding whether or not strangling me right here in the hospital hallway is worth it. Just when I think I’ll have to break my other hand to throw another punch, Pedro regains his balance and steps between us.

“Stop, stop!” He grabs his nose and winces as blood runs down his fingers. “I…I deserved that.”

My entire right arm sizzles with pain. The inside of my hand throbs so intensely it almost goes numb. I hiss and attempt to flex my fingers but it feels like every nerve ending is on fire.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” I seethe, desperate to take all the anger and energy inside me and redirect it somewhere else. “Letting her go in by herself…and then you just sat there on the fucking curb while the God damned building burned!”

My brother seizes my upper arm and yanks me back a step. He gives a pointed look in the opposite direction and I realize the door to Dahlia’s room didn’t fully close behind me. I take a moment to compose myself before exerting the last of my patience and self-control on giving my next orders. God knows if I don’t, I’m liable to lose my temper and commit murder in a hospital hallway.

“I’m only going to say this once. I don’t give a fuck if you’re married.” My gaze darts between Oscar and Pedro, sharp enough to kill. “You work for this family which means your lives belong to me. Don’t ever let her out of your sight again or your deaths will be mine too.”

Oscar bristles at the threat, fists clenching at his sides. Unlike Pedro who tends to wear his heart on his sleeve, he only has one true weakness and it’s the man standing beside him. I glare at him, almost daring him to raise a hand to me and instigate a fight because there’s nothing I’d love more than to put my fist through flesh. But Pedro expertly wedges his body between us, his stance and pleading gaze all but begging us both for a ceasefire.