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The room hums with tension, the air thickening as I assess the gravity of the betrayal before me. Maintaining respect and obedience is a delicate dance, and these men have stumbled and tripped over their own deceit. I step forward, my gaze fixed on the traitor before me.
“I warned you what the consequences would be for stealing from me,” I declare, the weight of my words settling like a shroud. “Betrayal demands payment.”
“No, please,” he begs, his eyes wide with panic as the sweat drips down his brow now, staining his shirt as it falls.
I give a nod, and my men, a silent chorus of enforcers, close in on the guilty man.
“Everyone outside,” I order as the Valencia member is dragged through the back door and toward the trees surrounding the small cottage.
I step outside behind him, my men corralling the rest of the collection crew through the door after me so everyone can see what becomes of people who betray me. It seems that words alone are not enough.
“Put him on his knees,” I command, pulling my gun from its holster beneath my suit jacket and cocking it.
The man struggles, trying to stand and flee despite the two men who grasp his arms forcefully, shoving his shoulders down until his knees hit the ground.
“Please,” the man begs, tears spilling now as he shuffles toward me. “Please have mercy. I have a family. I won’t—I’ll get you the money today. All of it. Just give me another chance.”
“So, you don’t need another week to get the money you owe me?” I prod, looking at him haughtily. “Interesting.”
“I can make it happen. Just please, please spare me.”
“Did the two men who died before you not serve as a strong enough example?” I demand. “I’d hoped we might come to a quick, clear understanding. But it seems that a one-handed messenger was not convincing enough. So you’ll have to help me drive the point home, I guess. It’s nothing personal. But I want the men you came with today to see what I do to traitors. I assure you I don’t give them second chances.”
“Oh god, no. Please!” he howls as I lower my gun, aiming it right between his eyes.
Then I pull the trigger.
The punishment is swift and brutal—a reminder to all who witness what are the consequences of treachery. The shot echoes through the small clearing, sending the man’s head snapping back. As his head lolls, a small hole dots the space between his eyebrows, a stream of crimson liquid trailing down his nose. The man’s lifeless body slumps forward a moment later as my men release his arms.
In the deafening silence that follows, I hear a soft gasp. One that originates from the trees beyond the cabin. My eyes snap in that direction as I realize we might have a witness. Though who would be this far beyond the house, I don’t know. We’re on the edge of wilderness, miles from civilization in any direction.
Whoever it is must have followed us to end up on the outskirts of my land, right where I don’t want them to be. My stomach drops as I realize they could easily have incriminating evidence that would destroy me.
And as I scan the trees in search of them, a flash of movement catches my eye. The hidden observer jumps up, turning to flee into the woods. And I don’t get a good look at them before they vanish beyond my line of sight.
“Fuck,” I hiss. “Finish the collections, and get rid of the body!” I snarl over my shoulder toward my men.
Then I go tearing after the witness before they can escape.
22
TIA
Late-morning sun filters past the heavy drapes that cascade down from the two-story windows lining one entire wall of the library. It casts a warm glow on the books and mahogany furniture. I sit, curled up on an overstuffed leather couch, reading. Or trying to, at least.
But my thoughts keep turning to Leo and how I found myself still wrapped in his arms when I woke this morning. The echo of our passionate night together lingers in my mind, making my pulse race through my veins.
And it raises a storm of troubling emotions within me.
Leo can be brutal, almost savage, in the way he behaves. But last night, he unveiled a side I hadn’t anticipated—a level of tender concern that caught me off guard. Like how he came to check on me when I was throwing up and held my hair back after he realized how sick I was. Or the way he touched me in bed, his sole focus seeming to be on my pleasure. Even his readiness to grant me access to a car and unlimited time with my sisters.
I’m less certain today of my plans for revenge, less sure that Leo is entirely the monster I made him out to be in my head. Maybe, just maybe, I need time to understand him better.
For the first time, I find I’m not dreading what the future holds for me and the baby growing inside me. Perhaps we could find happiness in Leo’s care. The night has left me in a state of confusion, questioning my assumptions and opening up the possibility that the alliance with my family might be a viable option.
As my father seemed to hope.
Sighing, I close my book. I must be going crazy.
