The black convoy pulled up to the Myers estate just past six. Polished, silent, and too expensive for the neighborhood.Rodrigo stood waiting in the doorway, his best smile slapped on like a mask. Irina hovered a few steps behind him, her hands clutched so tight the knuckles had gone white.Tonight was the night Elizabeth’s fate would be decided.From the first car, Antonio Costello stepped out, buttoning his jacket like he had all the time in the world. Next came his wife, Valerie, tall, elegant, and sharp-eyed. Landon followed, glancing around with a bored look, but the woman at his side, Daphne, watched everything. Even her smile looked like it came with a warning label.And then came Maxwell.He stepped from the second car like he didn’t belong to anyone but himself. Black slacks, dark shirt rolled to the elbows, and a gold chain that glinted just beneath his collar. His face gave away nothing. But his eyes…forest green, framed by lashes far too dark, looked around curiously.Rodr
The night before…Rodrigo Myers poured himself some scotch before noon. That wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was the third glass he set on the table, the one he wiped twice with a cloth that still had a dry-cleaning tag attached.Everything had to look clean today.He paced the sitting room, straightening things that didn’t need straightening, adjusting the curtains so the light would hit just right. There was no pretending the house was anything more than what it was, gaudy and cold, but Rodrigo tried anyway.Because Antonio Costello was coming.La Viperia.The name was never spoken above a whisper. The man himself even less. He’d built his empire with blood and charm, and not always in that order. Rodrigo had only met him once, years ago, in a dim cigar lounge where deals were made with nods instead of signatures.He owed Antonio more than money now. His debt had teeth.The front gates buzzed. Rodrigo checked his watch, exactly on time.He rushed to the door, a smile across his fac
The curtains were closed again.Suzi didn’t remember when she closed them last, or if it had been her at all. Maybe her mother had done it quietly while Rodrigo shouted at the housekeeper in the hall.Or maybe the wind had pushed them shut the way it sometimes did in this old house, as if even the weather understood shame.She sat cross-legged on the carpet in her room, an open sketchpad in her lap and charcoal dust on her fingertips. The page stared back at her, half-finished, like always. A single eye. A curl of hair. A mouth, slightly parted. The kind of face people might stop for. She always stopped before the rest of it came.Because she never knew how to draw the other side.Her hand paused near her cheek. The skin there always felt warmer. She didn’t need to look to know it was red today. It always flared up when she was nervous. Or sad. Or simply… breathing.She scratched lightly at the edge of her birthmark, then pulled her sleeve back down even though no one was watching.“S
One month later…Daphne stood by the window. She wore a soft gray knit sweater, paired with simple jeans and ankle boots. It was cute, casual, and approachable. Not intimidating. At least that was the goal.She adjusted her earrings. Then took them off. Then put them back on.Behind her, the bedroom door creaked open.“You look perfect,” Landon said, leaning in the frame like he’d been watching her fuss for longer than he’d admit.Daphne turned, caught his reflection over her shoulder. He was in a dark sweater and jeans, hair still damp from the shower, sleeves pushed up like he was born to make hearts stop. He didn’t look nervous. Of course, he didn’t. Landon Costello could charm a SWAT team if he wanted to.She, on the other hand, was sweating through her shirt.“I’m not panicking,” she said.He walked over slowly, that smug half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t say you were.”“They probably think I’m some tattooed criminal who kidnapped their son.”“Technically, you only kidnapp
She looked up, stunned.Landon stood over her, rifle raised, smoke curling from the barrel.Daphne staggered to her feet as Landon helped her up.“Ella?” he asked.“With Alma,” Daphne said.“Good.”Then Landon looked past her, eyes locking onto the figure emerging from the smoke once more.Marquez.The bastard still stood tall, untouched. And this time, he didn’t smile. Landon’s face went stone-cold.Landon stepped forward, shielding Daphne without hesitation.Marquez tilted his head. His gaze slid between the two of them, settling on Landon like he was an insect that had crawled into the wrong place.“Landon Costello,” Marquez said. “I imagined you taller.”Landon didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink.“You imagined wrong,” he said. “But I’m the last face you’re going to see.”Marquez gave a soft, fake laugh. “That’s cute. Do you love her?” he asked, eyes narrowing like he already knew the answer. “Or is she just your charity case?”Daphne stepped out from behind Landon. “Shut up.”Mar
Daphne sat in the backseat of the second vehicle, one hand resting over Ella’s small body. The girl was curled beside her, pressed close like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to sleep or disappear. She clutched a stuffed fox in her hands. Alma was sitting on the other side.Daphne glanced up front. The two guards in the lead vehicle had pulled ahead slightly but not enough to break formation. They were trained, steady, but Daphne could feel it.That crawling sensation at the back of her neck. The one that always came before the trap snapped shut.“Something’s off,” she said quietly.Nico didn’t look at her. “I know.”The road narrowed up ahead, hemmed in by thick green brush. Mist clung to everything, wrapping the trees in a soft white veil. It should’ve been peaceful. But peace had no place here.Daphne shifted slightly, her hand brushing the pistol at her hip. Ella stirred beside her, blinking up with sleepy eyes.“Are we there yet?” she mumbled.“Almost,” Daphne said, though she d