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Anna
“Choose, avecita. Do you want to go to Nero where Una will find you, or do you want to come with me?” Rafael’s coal black eyes study me intently, and the very walls themselves seem to hold their breath, waiting on my answer.
A whirlwind of thoughts rushes through my mind in a blur, too fast for me to grasp a hold of. My sister is alive. She’s a killer. And she’s looking for me. We were just children when we were taken from each other—sold, mistreated. What would we be now if we hadn’t been separated? Certainly not an assassin and a whore.
But as always, I’m forced to accept the bitter truth of reality. No matter what, we are strangers to each other, worlds apart. She may still be the protective older sibling, but I’m no longer her weak baby sister. Everything has changed because, in the last nine years, my life has been nothing but horror. Until him. Until Rafael.
I’m torn between the past, the present, and the future, but I’ve learned not to look to the future much because it’s so very tenuous. All we can really rely on is the here and now, and right now, what I have is Rafael. He is known. He is a certainty. He is safety. At this moment in time, my sister is merely the idolized memory of a little girl who no longer exists. I cannot afford to be fooled by possibilities, only what is presented to me as fact. Rafael is my reality and my salvation. I want to love you. I want him to love me.
I push off his lap and stand in front of him. Dark eyes narrow on me, and I can already tell what he thinks my answer is going to be. “I choose you, Rafe.”
He stands, towering over me, his bulk blocking out everything that isn’t him. “You need to be sure…”
“You’re the only thing I’m sure about anymore.”
“She’s your sister, Anna.”
“For now, she’s a stranger.”
“And that won’t change if you run away.”
I frown. “If you don’t want me to come with you…”
“No.” His large hands cup my face, thumbs sweeping over my jawline. “I don’t want you to make a mistake because you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared.” He studies me for a beat longer before he slowly steps back.
“Okay. Then let’s go.” He passes me my crutches.
“I didn’t pack anything.”
“Maria will do it.” Holding the door open, he gestures me ahead of him. The house is still buzzing with activity, and as Rafael walks out of the front door, a small army of men seems to magically appear around him. He helps me into the front seat of his Mercedes and then slides behind the wheel. The men get into two Hummers, and the vehicles flank us, one in front, one behind.
“Is that…a gun on the roof?” I ask him. Just as I say it, a man pops through a gap in the roof of the car in front, positioning himself behind the gun.
“It’s the cartel, avecita.” He smirks.
“Okay, are we expecting an attack? I mean, Una is just one person. And you’re not going to kill her, right?”
The convoy pulls away, and the enormous metal gates swing open for us. “We have more than one enemy right now, but do not underestimate your sister. Many men have, and they have all died.”
I swallow around a lump in my throat. Una was always fierce, hard in ways that I never thought I would be. She was older when our parents died, so I guess she understood it more and took responsibility for me. Looking back on it now though, it stripped her of that childlike innocence almost immediately.
“I always thought she was sold as a slave, like me,” I say.
The car tires bump over a rough patch on the road before it smooths out. Rafael props his elbow against the door, his bulk overwhelming the tight space in the small sports car. “Just because she didn’t end up a sex slave doesn’t mean she was free, Anna.” He glances at me briefly and sighs at my confused expression. “I don’t know much about Nikolai Ivanov, only that he holds a lot of power and has his own personal army. He calls them the Elite, and they are. He owns military bases where he trains children as young as eight.”
“That’s…”
“Messed up? Maybe, but they’re all unfailingly loyal to him. I can’t say there isn’t a certain method in his madness.”
“So, how is Una working with Nero?”
“Nikolai contracts his best assassins out, charging millions for a hit. They’re still very much owned though.”
What would that be like? To have been raised to kill? To be owned by a man who would see you as a weapon? But then, Una has his last name, so maybe there is more to it than that. A tiny fissure of resentment surfaces toward my sister. I spent years being fucked and abused, while she was trained to fight and kill. No matter what Rafael says, she was made to be strong while I was forced to be weak.
