Page 57 of Vicious Temptation

My thoughts are finally quiet for the first time in days. It almost feels like before, when we were just two girls chasing speed and the thrill of racing, without everything life would eventually throw our way. But when I catch a glimpse of the black dress beneath my jacket, the illusion shatters.

The cemetery comes into view ahead, and we both ease off the throttle. Valentina pulls up beside me, and neither of us says a word as we pass through the gates.

Reality has caught up with us.

I park and dismount my bike, but I can’t bring myself to move any farther. Valentina comes to stand beside me, hooks her elbow through mine, and rests her head against my shoulder.

“We’ll go whenever you’re ready.”

I stare toward the rows of headstones and draw a steady breath. “I’ll never be ready.”

As promised, Valentina hasn’t left my side. She’s held me, cried with me, and held me again, while Mamá has stayed wrapped around my other arm. Only when it’s over and the cemetery slowly empties do I realize how hard I’ve been holding myself together. The quiet returns, and part of me wants to run, to climb on my bike and ride until I can’t feel any of this anymore.

But I stay.

Because beneath all the sadness, there’s also a strange sense of peace in standing here with her one last time. I stare at the fresh mound of earth. My sweet Estela.

From everything we know, the bank robbery was random. Estela and Zara weren’t even supposed to be there. They were going to the market when Zara asked for a treat from a street vendor who only accepted cash. The ATM outside the bank wasn’t working, so Estela took her inside.

Such a small fucking thing.

One broken ATM, and one innocent request from a little girl. A few minutes in either direction and maybe none of it would’ve happened.

But tragedy doesn’t care about maybes.

A faint smile touches my lips despite the ache. When everything went wrong, Estela did what she had always done for the people she loved. She protected Zara, and I’ll spend the rest of my life grateful to have known her, loved her, and been loved by her.

The last thing she ever gave me was another act of love, a text warning me of what was happening.

“I’ll meet you at home, mi amor.”

Mamá presses a kiss into my hair, followed by Papá and Gio. I watch their car pull away until it disappears from view.

Aunt Leni steps up beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me against her. Growing up, I used to think she was naturally more drawn to Valentina, and maybe in some ways, she was. Intuition and all that, for her future daughter-in-law.

But as I got older, I realized Aunt Leni always knew how to love us differently. Val needed one version of her, and I needed another. Somehow, she always seemed to know which one to give us.

Having a woman like her in my corner is something I’ll never take for granted. Once one of the world’s most ruthless assassins, she helped shape the world I grew up in. I admired her confidence and skill long before I understood the cost of becoming that woman.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she says, leaning closer to my ear. “But I also need you to tell me if you know the man about twenty yards to your right.” Her hand drifts toward the blade hidden at her waist.

“He’s been standing there for the last fifteen minutes, just watching.” Her gaze stays fixed beyond me. “And before I leave, I need to know you and Vali are good.”

I follow her line of sight.

Even from this distance, where I can’t make out his face, I know exactly who he is. There aren’t many men built like Thiago Braga.

“Yeah, I know him.” I place my hand gently over hers, easing it away from the blade. “We’re good.”

I should probably leave it at that, but my feet are already carrying me toward him.

“I’ll be back.”

He starts walking too.

I don’t know what I’m going to say, but I know I need to say something. He took care of my girl and ensured she was safe, even if it makes everything so much more complicated.

Thiago reaches me first but stops a few feet away, as if there’s a line between us that he knows better than to cross. Up close, there’s no missing the tension in his shoulders or the way his jaw is set, like he’s holding something back.