The night was darker than usual, the air thick with a tension that Isabella couldn’t shake off. The mansion loomed before her, almost like an ominous shadow in the distance. She had always found solace in its luxurious walls, the protection it provided, but tonight, it felt different. Every creak of the floorboards beneath her feet seemed louder than usual, every whisper in the shadows felt like a threat. She stood by the window of her room, the glass cold beneath her fingertips as she looked out into the sprawling grounds below. It was as though the mansion itself was watching her, silently waiting for something to break. Her thoughts were muddled. Every conversation with Lorenzo seemed to leave her more tangled in the mess of his world. He had warned her, hadn’t he? Told her that she was in danger. But there were times—many times—when she found herself questioning his intentions. Was he genuinely trying to protect her, or was he simply using her to further his own agenda? She sho
The tension in the air was palpable as Isabella stood face to face with the men who had broken into the mansion. They moved with the precision of trained soldiers, their eyes scanning her every movement. The scarred man, who had spoken earlier, took a step closer, his boots clicking against the marble floor. His presence was suffocating, but Isabella stood her ground, refusing to show any signs of weakness. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Isabella said, her voice cold and commanding, though her heart raced in her chest. The words felt foreign on her tongue, but they were all she had left. Her thoughts raced back to Lorenzo. Where was he? Why hadn’t he come yet? The scarred man’s lips curled into a slow, menacing smile. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, Señorita. You’re the woman who has everything Lorenzo holds dear. The woman he would burn this city for.” Isabella’s breath caught in her throat. The words stung more than she expected. Lorenzo. Her body reacted instinctive
The hours that followed the confrontation with the Cartel felt like a blur. Isabella barely registered the passing time as she sat in the luxurious study, the weight of what had just transpired slowly sinking in. Lorenzo had sent the men away with little more than a warning, but she knew that the danger wasn’t over. The Cartel wasn’t the type to forgive and forget. They would come back, and next time, they wouldn’t be so easily deterred. Isabella’s hands trembled slightly as she absentmindedly ran them over the smooth surface of the polished desk in front of her. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess. What had she gotten herself into? Lorenzo had taken care of the immediate threat, but what about the long-term consequences? The door to the study creaked open, and Isabella’s heart skipped a beat as Lorenzo stepped inside. His presence was overwhelming, and even though she’d seen him in action just moments ago, she couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of awe and fear. He was a force to
Isabella had been prepared to face the brutal realities of Lorenzo’s world, but nothing had prepared her for the harshness of the training that followed. After their conversation in the study, where Lorenzo laid bare the dangerous game they were now forced to play, she had reluctantly agreed to learn how to protect herself. For her brother’s sake, and for her own, she knew she had to become more than just a pawn in this world of power struggles and violence. Lorenzo didn’t waste time. The next morning, he led her to a secluded part of his estate, an old training ground hidden behind tall iron gates. There, several of his most trusted men were already waiting. Isabella tried not to show her nerves as she stepped into the clearing. They were all armed, their expressions unreadable, as if they had seen too much violence to be moved by anything now. Lorenzo’s voice cut through the silence. “Isabella, this is Luca, Miguel, and Diego,” he said, gesturing toward three of his most experien
The grand dining hall had never felt this cold before. The long table, usually a place where Lorenzo and his men gathered with an air of casual arrogance, now felt more like a trial chamber. The dim chandelier overhead cast flickering shadows on the marble floors, amplifying the weight of the silence that stretched between them. Isabella stood at one end of the table, her posture tense but defiant, while Lorenzo sat at the other, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of a half-full glass of whiskey. Around them, his most trusted men lined the room like an audience waiting for a verdict. The tension in the room was thick enough to suffocate. She could sense it—the suspicion, the unspoken accusations lingering in the air like a noose tightening around her neck. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Isabella,” Lorenzo finally said, his tone deceptively calm. “Got nothing to say for yourself?” The accusation hung in the air like a loaded gun. She narrowed her eyes, her patience already worn thi
The air was still thick with gunpowder and tension when Isabella stepped out of the training room. Her hands were steady now, but the ghost of the trigger still lingered on her fingertips. She had passed their test. She had proven she wasn’t weak. But she wasn’t sure if she’d just gained their trust or lost a part of herself. Luca fell into step beside her as they walked back toward the main hall. “Didn’t think you had it in you, princesa,” he said, half impressed, half amused. “Gotta say, I was waiting for you to crack.” She kept her face blank. “Disappointed?” “Maybe a little. It’s always fun watching someone break.” She exhaled through her nose, refusing to react. Luca was trying to get under her skin. And after what she had just been through, she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. “Guess you’ll have to find entertainment elsewhere,” she said coolly. Diego smirked from behind them. “I don’t know. I think I like her better this way. Feisty.” She shot him a glare, b
Pain was the first thing Isabella felt when she woke up. It radiated through her limbs, a dull ache in her ribs, her shoulders, even the small cuts on her knuckles from where her fists had met flesh. The events of last night came rushing back—the ambush, the gunfire, the blood on her hands. The weight of what she had done settled over her like a suffocating blanket. She had killed a man. There had been no time to process it when it happened, no chance to think. Just survival. Now, in the cold light of morning, reality hit her like a punch to the gut. The knowledge that she had pulled the trigger, that someone had taken their last breath because of her, gnawed at her insides. But there was no space for weakness. Not here. Not in this world. A knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. Before she could respond, the door opened, and Lorenzo stepped inside. He was dressed in his usual sharp suit, the very image of control and authority. His gaze swept over her, assessing, but ther
The ache in Isabella’s muscles was a cruel reminder of the training she had endured. Every movement sent jolts of pain through her limbs, but she refused to let it show. Weakness wasn’t an option—not in this house, not in Lorenzo’s world. As she walked through the halls of the Castillo estate, she noticed the way the men regarded her now. Some with quiet approval, others with suspicion. She wasn’t sure which was worse. Before, she had simply been Lorenzo’s unwilling guest, a woman trapped in a world she never asked to be part of. Now, she was something else—a wildcard. The low murmur of voices caught her attention as she passed by an open door. She slowed her steps, recognizing Miguel’s gravelly tone. “You really think she’s ready?” “Ready?” Luca scoffed. “She hesitated during training. That hesitation gets people killed. I don’t care if Lorenzo trusts her, but I’m not betting my life on it.” Isabella stepped into the doorway, arms crossed. “If you have something to say about me,
The estate had settled into an uneasy quiet by the time Isabella stepped outside. The tension from earlier still lingered in the air, a silent weight pressing against her chest. The events of the past days had hardened her—training with Luca and the others had pushed her past limits she hadn’t known she had. But something about tonight felt different. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the suffocating walls inside, but her moment of calm didn’t last. Her gaze caught on something at the far end of the courtyard, just beyond the iron gates. A small, dark box sat there, placed purposefully—too obvious, too deliberate. A warning. A chill ran through her. “Luca!” she called, stepping back instinctively. Luca and Miguel were by her side in seconds, their hands on their weapons. Diego followed close behind, his sharp eyes already scanning the perimeter. Miguel crouched, examining the box carefully before flipping open the lid. The scent of iron hit them first—blood. I
The ache in Isabella’s muscles was a cruel reminder of the training she had endured. Every movement sent jolts of pain through her limbs, but she refused to let it show. Weakness wasn’t an option—not in this house, not in Lorenzo’s world. As she walked through the halls of the Castillo estate, she noticed the way the men regarded her now. Some with quiet approval, others with suspicion. She wasn’t sure which was worse. Before, she had simply been Lorenzo’s unwilling guest, a woman trapped in a world she never asked to be part of. Now, she was something else—a wildcard. The low murmur of voices caught her attention as she passed by an open door. She slowed her steps, recognizing Miguel’s gravelly tone. “You really think she’s ready?” “Ready?” Luca scoffed. “She hesitated during training. That hesitation gets people killed. I don’t care if Lorenzo trusts her, but I’m not betting my life on it.” Isabella stepped into the doorway, arms crossed. “If you have something to say about me,
Pain was the first thing Isabella felt when she woke up. It radiated through her limbs, a dull ache in her ribs, her shoulders, even the small cuts on her knuckles from where her fists had met flesh. The events of last night came rushing back—the ambush, the gunfire, the blood on her hands. The weight of what she had done settled over her like a suffocating blanket. She had killed a man. There had been no time to process it when it happened, no chance to think. Just survival. Now, in the cold light of morning, reality hit her like a punch to the gut. The knowledge that she had pulled the trigger, that someone had taken their last breath because of her, gnawed at her insides. But there was no space for weakness. Not here. Not in this world. A knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. Before she could respond, the door opened, and Lorenzo stepped inside. He was dressed in his usual sharp suit, the very image of control and authority. His gaze swept over her, assessing, but ther
The air was still thick with gunpowder and tension when Isabella stepped out of the training room. Her hands were steady now, but the ghost of the trigger still lingered on her fingertips. She had passed their test. She had proven she wasn’t weak. But she wasn’t sure if she’d just gained their trust or lost a part of herself. Luca fell into step beside her as they walked back toward the main hall. “Didn’t think you had it in you, princesa,” he said, half impressed, half amused. “Gotta say, I was waiting for you to crack.” She kept her face blank. “Disappointed?” “Maybe a little. It’s always fun watching someone break.” She exhaled through her nose, refusing to react. Luca was trying to get under her skin. And after what she had just been through, she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. “Guess you’ll have to find entertainment elsewhere,” she said coolly. Diego smirked from behind them. “I don’t know. I think I like her better this way. Feisty.” She shot him a glare, b
The grand dining hall had never felt this cold before. The long table, usually a place where Lorenzo and his men gathered with an air of casual arrogance, now felt more like a trial chamber. The dim chandelier overhead cast flickering shadows on the marble floors, amplifying the weight of the silence that stretched between them. Isabella stood at one end of the table, her posture tense but defiant, while Lorenzo sat at the other, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of a half-full glass of whiskey. Around them, his most trusted men lined the room like an audience waiting for a verdict. The tension in the room was thick enough to suffocate. She could sense it—the suspicion, the unspoken accusations lingering in the air like a noose tightening around her neck. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Isabella,” Lorenzo finally said, his tone deceptively calm. “Got nothing to say for yourself?” The accusation hung in the air like a loaded gun. She narrowed her eyes, her patience already worn thi
Isabella had been prepared to face the brutal realities of Lorenzo’s world, but nothing had prepared her for the harshness of the training that followed. After their conversation in the study, where Lorenzo laid bare the dangerous game they were now forced to play, she had reluctantly agreed to learn how to protect herself. For her brother’s sake, and for her own, she knew she had to become more than just a pawn in this world of power struggles and violence. Lorenzo didn’t waste time. The next morning, he led her to a secluded part of his estate, an old training ground hidden behind tall iron gates. There, several of his most trusted men were already waiting. Isabella tried not to show her nerves as she stepped into the clearing. They were all armed, their expressions unreadable, as if they had seen too much violence to be moved by anything now. Lorenzo’s voice cut through the silence. “Isabella, this is Luca, Miguel, and Diego,” he said, gesturing toward three of his most experien
The hours that followed the confrontation with the Cartel felt like a blur. Isabella barely registered the passing time as she sat in the luxurious study, the weight of what had just transpired slowly sinking in. Lorenzo had sent the men away with little more than a warning, but she knew that the danger wasn’t over. The Cartel wasn’t the type to forgive and forget. They would come back, and next time, they wouldn’t be so easily deterred. Isabella’s hands trembled slightly as she absentmindedly ran them over the smooth surface of the polished desk in front of her. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess. What had she gotten herself into? Lorenzo had taken care of the immediate threat, but what about the long-term consequences? The door to the study creaked open, and Isabella’s heart skipped a beat as Lorenzo stepped inside. His presence was overwhelming, and even though she’d seen him in action just moments ago, she couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of awe and fear. He was a force to
The tension in the air was palpable as Isabella stood face to face with the men who had broken into the mansion. They moved with the precision of trained soldiers, their eyes scanning her every movement. The scarred man, who had spoken earlier, took a step closer, his boots clicking against the marble floor. His presence was suffocating, but Isabella stood her ground, refusing to show any signs of weakness. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Isabella said, her voice cold and commanding, though her heart raced in her chest. The words felt foreign on her tongue, but they were all she had left. Her thoughts raced back to Lorenzo. Where was he? Why hadn’t he come yet? The scarred man’s lips curled into a slow, menacing smile. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, Señorita. You’re the woman who has everything Lorenzo holds dear. The woman he would burn this city for.” Isabella’s breath caught in her throat. The words stung more than she expected. Lorenzo. Her body reacted instinctive
The night was darker than usual, the air thick with a tension that Isabella couldn’t shake off. The mansion loomed before her, almost like an ominous shadow in the distance. She had always found solace in its luxurious walls, the protection it provided, but tonight, it felt different. Every creak of the floorboards beneath her feet seemed louder than usual, every whisper in the shadows felt like a threat. She stood by the window of her room, the glass cold beneath her fingertips as she looked out into the sprawling grounds below. It was as though the mansion itself was watching her, silently waiting for something to break. Her thoughts were muddled. Every conversation with Lorenzo seemed to leave her more tangled in the mess of his world. He had warned her, hadn’t he? Told her that she was in danger. But there were times—many times—when she found herself questioning his intentions. Was he genuinely trying to protect her, or was he simply using her to further his own agenda? She sho