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The gunshot echoes through the alley. Santiago falls to the ground. His head hits the pavement with a sickening thud, blood splattering his gaunt face.
I’m told this is the part where I’m supposed feel something. Remorse, perhaps? Regret? Something, anything that makes me human and not a robot conditioned to react and never feel… but no. I’m only mildly relieved one more traitor’s gone and definitely pissed off we didn’t get more from him.
I want Renata Carrera for myself.
Frowning, I turn to leave.
“Clean this up. You know what to do with the body. Make sure everybody knows what happens to traitors.”
“Si, señor. Should we speak to Isabella first?”
“Yes. Ask her the best way to communicate this message, and do not take all fucking day doing it.”
“Si, señor, si.”
I walk into the shadows as the sun sets, rain beating down on Santiago’s pathetic, lifeless body behind me.
It’s all fucking behind me.
She’s here. I know she is. I can fucking feel her here. And when I find her,she’llfind out what happens to traitors too.
CHAPTER TWO
Renata
My familyreally could’ve invested more in this godawful safe house. The floors are dirty, the light dim. The silhouette of tired, well-worn furniture shoved into a corner gives the whole place a dismal appearance. Rain tapping against the window only makes it worse.
I love my homeland, but right now, I’d give anything to be back at the Romanovs. I’ve longed to escape the ties to my family, to find freedom. But that dream is a nightmare and freedom just another word for survival.
Still, I sit upright in the chair I’m bound to and ignore the gnawing hunger in my belly and the stitch in my side from sitting here for so long.
He’s coming. I know he’s fucking coming. There’s a reason I’ve been brought here, and everything in me knows why.
My brother is not dead.
I knew it was too good to be true, and I knew it was a lie because I felt no sense of relief. Only wariness and a deep, dark knowing that comes from sharing some part of the man’s DNA.
And now, I’ll wait until he comes to do whatever the fuck he plans on doing to me. I betrayed the Los Sangre Dorada. My brother must know that by now. My life is forfeit for what I’ve done.
Jesus.
The hefty old man with nasty garlic breath and rough hands, who dragged me here straight from the damn plane, chuckles mercilessly in the dim shadows. “He’s coming,” he taunts me. “You are in so much trouble.”
I toss my head and pretend I don’t hear him.
But I can’t stop the way my skin crawls and the little hairs on the back of my neck stand. I hate how my heartbeat races on as if I’m being chased by an axe murderer.
I’d rather face a murderer than my brother.
Footsteps sound outside.
My heart pounds. I grit my teeth.
The door opens, and four masked men enter the room, each holding a gun by his side, all of them in strict military formation. And behind them, prowling like an angry, hungry lion, stalks Carlos Carerra himself.
Dressed in black, utilitarian clothing, he walks in with a familiar scowl and a newly adopted air of authority. I stifle a snort. Javier Morales, his former boss, is dead, which is the only reason he struts around like he’s hot shit.
A lamp flickers on a bedside table as one of the masked men takes a chair and plunks it on the floor in front of me. But Carlos doesn’t sit.
