"Finders keepers," Deangelo growled, his voice all sharp edges. "I found her first, commoners, she belongs to me. The only reason she's still breathing is because I saved her from that fucking fire." Romano snorted, pushing his way further inside. "You think you can just claim her like that? She's not a damn trophy, Scorpion." Fernando gave a series of hand gestures in sign language. Deangelo translated, "You may have found her, but that does not make her yours. We have a stake here, Papi." Vincenzo's voice cut like a knife through the tension. "This isn't some playground game. She's a person, not a prize to be fought over?" As their voices rose, they suddenly fell silent, snapping their eyes to Rosita. She was rushing towards the door. DeAngelo's eyes narrowed as he took a step towards her. "Little peasant, don't even think about it." **** Rosita's life has been anything but ordinary. Homeschooled and sheltered by her overprotective father after a near-fatal stalking incident, she dreams of escaping to college and pursuing her passion for music. But her father's plans to enroll her in an online university leave her feeling trapped and desperate. On the day, she finally decides to away, a fire overtakes their home, trapping her in her room. Just when she thinks all hope is lost, her metal door is broken down—not by her father, but by Deangelo Luis Valladares, the most-feared mafia drug lord in the whole of Mexico. With an intriguing, sinister smile, he extends his hand to Rosita through the smoke-filled room. Will Rosita take his hand and let him save her, or will she be taken by force? Can a breathtaking beauty like Rosita survive in a world ruled by mafia dons who live like kings and control Mexico City?
Lihat lebih banyakDeangelo's POVAn intolerable pain shot through my chest, a sharp, stabbing pain that stole my breath. I gasped, my body convulsing as I forced myself to sit up. A wave of dizziness crashed over me, blurring my vision.As my sight cleared, I glanced down at my arm. Medical tubes were connected to my veins, feeding liquids into my system. My entire chest was wrapped in bandages, and memories of the violence I had endured flooded my mind.I looked around, trying to make sense of my surroundings. I was in a moving plane, but it wasn’t my private jet. The interior was unfamiliar, the furnishings thin and down-to-earth. I was in a separate cabin, small and restricted. There was no one around me, no familiar face to offer comfort or explanation.Driven by a desperate need to understand what had happened, I grasped the tube connected to my arm and yanked it free, ignoring the sharp sting as it tore from my skin. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, testing my strength. My body ached as
Author’s POV"Why didn’t you let me out? I could have helped him. If he dies, it’s on you! I thought that he was your stepson, but it seems that I was wrong," Silvia yelled, her voice loud with accusation as she glared at Ximena.Ximena had her back to Silvia as she was digging through the randomly packed boxes inside the closed moving freight container. The air was sour and filled with the scent of gunpowder and explosives.She paused, a small smile gracing her lips. "There is a lot you don't know about me, little girl. If I could abduct my own husband and torture him, there is no telling what I could do.""I knew you were heartless," Silvia responded, "But not this heartless. What if Deangelo dies because of this? Do you think you would go scot-free if I tell the world that you were the one that murdered him?"Don Vincenzo, who had been pacing impatiently, stopped and walked over to Silvia, his face a mask of irritation. "Ma, should I just tie her mouth shut? She is talking too much
Rosita's POVMy stomach rumbled, an excruciating pain that had become an endless companion. I had been lying there for over twenty-four hours, without food, without water, without any sign of human contact.The room beneath me, the one with Dolores and the awful men, was empty now, an unbearable reminder of my helplessness. Fernando hadn't returned; he hadn't checked on me since he had spoken his last threats to me, leaving me to rot in this prison. As the hot morning sun flooded through the window, tossing a harsh glare across my face, I knew I couldn't stay there any longer.Whatever plan Fernando had for me, it couldn't be good.I scanned the room, my eyes searching for any way to escape. My eyes stopped at a wooden stool in the corner of the room with a large vase on top of it. A weird, unfamiliar flower bloomed inside, its petals an unusual shade of purple. I didn't care what it was; it was my only hope.Taking a couple of deep breaths, I began to crawl across the floor, my movem
Deangelo's POV Isabella carefully examined each phone, her slender fingers tracing the edges, her eyes scanning for any sign of tampering. The silence in the room was fat, broken only by her heavy breathing. "Um...there is nothing, boss," she finally said, shaking her head. "They all seem clean and untouched." I ran a hand through my hair, frustration chafing at my skin. A wire, a camera… there had to be something. How else could she have anticipated my every move? How else could that evil bitch have slipped through my fingers time and again? "Check the house," I ordered, my jaw thrust out. "Every room, every corner, look for anything out of the ordinary, leave no stone unturned until you find it. Anything that could explain this...this mess." The henchmen scattered across the room, walking off into the mansion's corridors, their footsteps echoing in the empty rooms. I remained in the living room, staring at the scattered boxes, a sense of helplessness crashing over me. My
Deangelo's POV I slid down the thick rope, the rough strings biting into my gloved hands, adrenaline pumping through my veins. Landing silently on the trimmed grass, I took in the surroundings, it was a low-priced mansion located in the middle of nowhere, so this was my stepmother’s secret hideout. The courtyard was covered in the warm light of the moon and also external lights. Heavily armed guards patrolled the perimeter, their eyes scanning the darkness with caution. They were well-trained experts, but none of them had spotted me yet. Silvia's voice popped in my earpiece. "Boss, can you clear the courtyard alone? Do you need backup?" I pressed a finger against the earpiece, whispering, "I don't need your help. If I do, I will let you know. Have you forgotten what I'm capable of?" "Sorry, boss. Just… finish the job." she replied. I hummed in response, the excitement building in my gut. I pulled out one of the katanas strapped to my back, the sharp blade shiny in the moon
Rosita's POV It had been a week since I arrived back in Mexico City, and each day felt longer than the last. I didn't know how much longer I could endure without seeing Deangelo's face, without hearing his voice, without feeling his touch. Wrapped in the silence of this lavish hotel room, I felt like a prisoner in my own mind, troubled by memories of him and by the fear that something terrible had happened. I curled up on the bed, wrapping my arms around my knees and burying my face in them. Fernando hadn't taken me back to his mansion or to Deangelo's. He had simply lodged me in this private hotel, checking in on me twice a day like a probation officer. During my long hours of isolation, I sometimes sang, a habit from childhood that had always calmed my nerves. A sharp knock echoed through the room, shattering my thoughts. I lifted my head, a deep part of me hoped that it was Deangelo or maybe it was Fernando and he had news. I couldn't wait for some human interaction, I was
Deangelo's POV Silvia pinched her nose shut with her thumb as she pulled open the car door for me. I carefully eased Hugo's body into the passenger seat, his limbs floppy and lifeless. It was a struggle not to break down, to let the grief consume me. I had barely managed to cope with Miguel's death, but this—this was different. The death of Hugo struck at my core, leaving a deep wound in my soul. I wasn't able to protect him, I had promised him, back when he had first joined my team as a naïve teenager. He was like the brother I never had, and now, I was the one who had to bury him. "Boss! Boss! Boss! Are you alright?" Silvia’s voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. "We need to leave as soon as possible!" The intense shriek of police sirens grew louder and closer. A thick flood of water arced through the air, soaking the toxic smoke, dissolving it into a thin vapor. Another flood followed, then another, the fire extinguishers working in unison to quash the
Rosita's POVI twirled the pasta around my fork, the cheesy, golden strands sticking together. Pasta carbonara, Fernando had called it. I hadn’t tasted anything properly since… since the poison. I lifted the fork to my mouth, the first bite a timid offering to my recovering senses.As I ate, my eyes drifted to the television screen across the room, the news was on. A reporter was talking about Deangelo, her voice a loud babble that I couldn't quite catch. But the images, the poorly drawn police sketch, were plastered all over the screen. I recognized him instantly, despite the artist's unskillfulness and his signature eye patch. It was Deangelo.Fernando sauntered into the room, a glass of honey-colored liquid spilling in his hand. “If you ask me, Scorpion is much better looking than that drawing. If they really want to find him, they should at least get the picture right.”I chuckled, the sound foreign and unfamiliar. It was the first genuine laugh I’d had since waking up in this
Deangelo’s POV The sound of footsteps—was the first thing that registered, a rhythmic tap-tap-tap against the floor. My entire body hurt like it had been pierced with a thousand needles as I forced my eyes open. The light in the room, extremely bright and harsh, burned like acid against my eyeball. I groaned, squeezing my eye shut again, then slowly forced it open until it adjusted to the blinding brightness. Silvia. She was pacing back and forth, like an angry bird trapped in this golden room. Her face, usually an unreadable mask of controlled efficiency, was wrinkled with worry. The Beauty—that was the only thought clawing its way through the haze in my mind. I expected to see her, her beautiful face and energetic spirit filling the room, but instead, it was just Silvia. I pushed myself up in the bed, a shock of pain shooting through every bone in my body. "Princess?" The word escaped my lips before I could stop it. The moment she saw that I was awake, her face fell. Fat
Rosita’s POV As I sat in front of my bedroom mirror, brushing out the long, pitch-black strands of my hair, a soft melody spilled from my lips—a song I had composed myself, a celebration of the freedom I was about to recover. In just a few short minutes, I would turn 24 years old, the age my father had promised to allow me to step outside the boundaries of this golden cage I had called home for the past decade. After the incident that had occurred when I was just 12, he had kept me locked away, homeschooling me and even arranging for my college education to be completed online. But now, the day of my freedom had arrived. I could hear the excited activity of the servants downstairs, preparing the mansion for my birthday party. My father always permitted me to step out of my room whenever he was present, though I knew his overprotective nature came from a place of genuine concern. Still, I couldn't help but feel trapped, longing for the opportunity to experience the world beyond th...
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