Rosita's POV My eyes snapped open to a cold sensation crawling down my throat and into my lungs. Something strange, almost massive, was lodged in my throat. The air around me seemed as thick as the ocean. Hard to breathe. My heart hammered against my ribcage, a wild drumbeat against the silence. I tried to move my hands, but they felt heavy and lifeless. I moved my chapped lips, a tiny, automatic twitch, and felt it. A tube. It stretched deep into my mouth, sucking something from my stomach. It felt like it was draining all the blood from my body. I struggled to sit up, but my body refused to obey. Weakness took over me, refusing to loosen its grip. I fought to regain control of my hands, focusing on the muscles in my fingers, forcing them to move. Finally, I managed to grasp the tube. It was making a weird gurgling noise and still sucking the life out of me. I felt like I was going to die. I could barely see a thing, the world around me a blurry mess. All I could hear wer
Deangelo’s POVThe loud grunts and ragged pants of Silvia pierced my ears. I stood in the doorway of the hospital room, looking down at her as she performed CPR, pressing down rhythmically on the chest of the female doctor.The doctor was knocked out, lying still on the concrete floor with her eyes closed shut and a pool of thick red blood spreading from beneath her back.Silvia was sweating profusely, struggling to keep up the quick compressions. She leaned down towards the doctor's face, trying to feel for breath, but her worried expression told me it was useless."Shit! Shit! Shit," she muttered under her breath.I could see she was already exhausted. She leaned down again, putting her lips against the doctor's and blowing air into her lungs, but the doctor still didn't respond.Unease scratched at the back of my neck despite the fact that I had already sent Hugo to find another doctor, but he had been gone for too long.My mind was being bombarded with horrible thoughts that went
Rosita's POV "Deangelo! Deangelo! Deangelo!" I called out to him, my voice fragile and raspy. I was crawling on the cold floor, my shoulders hurt, my back hurt, and my chest hurt. There was hardly a body part that wasn't aching, throbbing, swollen, or bruised. I couldn't walk or control my limbs. I dragged myself across the cold tile with my elbows, each movement sending burning pain up my arms. But Deangelo didn't answer or show up. His deep voice faded into the surroundings, and I realized he was no longer in the corridor. Why wasn't he answering me? Reaching the open doorway, I dragged myself out of the room, my hospital gown snagging on the floor. I could feel droplets of something wet under me. It was—it was Blood. Was it just Silvia's, or was there the doctor's blood mixed in? I couldn't tell. Eventually, I made it to the doorway and looked out at the room. The corridor to the right was empty and deserted; my head shifted to the left side, and my eyes landed on Sil
Rosita's POV I couldn't help but close my eyes as Deangelo leaned closer to me. He placed a light kiss on my lips, holding my cheek, and looked into my eyes. "You should go with Hugo," he murmured, his voice as silky as velvet. "He will protect you, this isn't the time to act stubborn." My breath hitched as I clutched his hand on my cheek. "What about you? Why are you doing all this? You might have hijacked this hospital for me, but I don't want a war to happen. A lot of innocent lives will be lost just because you wanted to save my life. Maybe you should have just let me di—" He placed a finger on my lips, cutting me off. "Listen to me, princess. I tried to avoid a war... I swear, but it's unavoidable now. The doctor that treated you is dead, and her father is outside, ready to burn this place to the ground. It's my duty to protect the lives of the people I dragged into this mess." A tiny gasp escaped my throat. "I— It's all Silvia's fault, that bitch pushed the lovely doctor
Deangelo's POV The sunrise was painting the sky with stripes of orange and gold. Before the rising sun, the bodies of the police officers I had been shooting at with the Italian goons were just silhouettes. I changed the magazine of the sniper rifle, resting it against the hood of the car, and looked into the scope. I aimed it towards the police officers, who were gathered together behind their cop cars, also waiting for a moment to shoot. The rays of the sun, golden and strong, touched my skin, brightening the whole courtyard. I focused the scope on the police chief, who seemed to be wearing a different uniform than the others. Joy blossomed in my chest; he must be the one. I directed the sniper towards his forehead and squeezed the trigger. But before the bullet could hit him, the old man ducked at great speed. The bullet pierced the chest of the police officer behind him instead, and the officer fell to the floor instantly, with a giant hole in his chest. "Fuck!" I cursed
Rosita's POV The blast of horns ripped through the cloud in my brain, followed by the screech of tires that sent my stomach throbbing and soaking up acid like a sponge. An arm, large and strong, wrapped around me, pulling me against something solid. My eyelids fluttered open, my fuzzy vision resolving into a wall of chest, broad and grand. The masculine smell of sweat and something sharper, more pungent, filled my nostrils. Realization crashed over me—that suffocating sweet undercurrent of alcohol. It was—it was Fernando. "F-Fernando," I stammered, my voice filled with confusion. I tried to pull away, but his grip was like a chain. My body was still weak, heavy, and unresponsive. A familiar gruff voice, spiked with a heavy accent, rumbled in my ear. "Impressive, mi amor. You recognize me even with the help of the tequila." He loosened his hold, and I slumped sideways, a jolt of pain shooting through my buttocks as I landed hard on the car seat. My head snapped up, searching
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 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
Rosita’s POV My fingers were slippery on the gun grip, but I held it tight, my glare locked on Fernando. His golden eyes were bloodshot, a mad sparkle in those normally golden orbs. It looked like he wanted to tear me apart and swallow me whole. The way he slowly, deliberately wrapped that leather whip around his right wrist, it was meant to intimidate me, to scare me, but I wouldn't let him. I raised the gun a bit higher, keeping it steady and aimed directly at his chest. "Get out!" I declared, my voice dark and full of unspoken threats. "Get out, or I swear I will shoot you." Fernando raised his left hand, an indirect gesture, and the goons behind him seethed in anger. One of them, a monster with a shaved head, actually foamed at the mouth. "Boss, just say the word, and I will put her down!" he hissed. A grumble cut through the air. "What the hell is going on here?" It was Bruno, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. He pointed a trembling finger at Fernando and his men. "
Deangelo'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