Page 2 of The Wildcard

“And then,” she gasped, losing her breath as another wave of pain crashed down on her spine.Close,she could already feel death lurk closer and closer. Isabella clenched her teeth, but held on, “Then youswitch.”

Destroy him from within.

“You are a smart boy, Angel.” She whispered, just as she felt her entire energy drain. Isabella growled but managed to grab the glass that hung from her neck and rip it across. Her eyes fell on the necklace and then rose to Angel.

“Acércate Angel.”She whispered and Angel obeyed, leaning forward, still shaking. Still afraid.

She pressed the glass of her necklace to his chest, right above his pounding heart. Sudden sounds of gunshots filled the air then and she heardhisvoice scream out from far away.

“ISABELLA?”he bellowed, and Isabellacursedhis entire existence.

But for once, Angel’s attention didn’t sway from hers. She smiled and pushed the glass further against his chest until his small hands clasped its black band.

“Keep your father happy.” She said, aware of the dangerous glint sparking in her dying gaze. Knew that one day Angel would adopt thatexactlook and do what she hadn’t.

“And then–” she said and heard the echoes ofhisfootsteps inch closer to them.

“Ataque.”

Angel’s word was a quiet whisper. But it was enough.

Isabella smiled just as Martin De Santosslammedthe doors open. Angel let go of her hand then, no longer shaking, and got up. Her gaze shifted from him to Martin, the man she’d fallen in love with.

The man who had takeneverythingfrom her.

And just as her five-year-old son ripped the gun from under the table and held it up, Martin’s concerned gaze fell to hers. She saw hisfakefear. Hisfakelove. His fakegrief.She felt the touch of ragerip her entire soul apart.The anger, the hatred came pouring out as Angel Rodriguez raised the gun and pointed it to his father. But Martin wasn’t looking at him.

He was looking at Isabella Rogriguez. She saw the look ofrelieftouch his gaze and she thought,there it is. There’s the monster I once loved.

I once vowed to kill.

And now she was sending her sonrightinto his trap. But he didn’t know what Angel was capable of. Whatshehad been capable of. So as their gazes matched and a look of victory lit up his eyes, Isabella smiled a vulgar version of a smile.

“You will die a brutal death here Martin,” she snarled and saw the regular touch ofragespark his gaze, “And when you drop down to hell,”

“I will be waiting for you.”

And all Gods knew that wasn’t a fucking love confession.

Raylene Walker

The night was cold. The air was silent. And the only sound that pierced that silence was the sound his gun.

Another empty bullet. Another sob. He wasn’t really sure if she was breathing anymore. But she was crying. So maybe she was alive.

He clicked his tongue and shoved his gun closer, making her cry out in surprise. He shifted the gun and placed it under her chin, using it to lift her head so he could peer into her eyes. Those honey eyes that were once filled with so much vigor, so much rebellion, were nothing but fearful now. Afraid.

He couldn’t help the satisfaction as another sob rocked her body when he crouched down on his knees. He snatched his gun back, and her chin that had been resting on it snapped back down. She was on her knees, her hands bound tightly behind her, her shirt torn to reveal the bruises his men had barely managed to land as she’d fought them off. All that strength, all that courage,where was it now that she finally faced him?

Instead, her head hung low, her entire body shaking as she tried and failed to stifle her sobs. It annoyed a part of him, that she was sitting here, crying, while his niece had been the one to suffer. And yet, there was a larger part that relished her sobs like a personal triumph.

It was me. I brought down the great Raylene Walker.

I was the one to break her.

“What do you want from me?” her helpless rasp brought forth another wave of satisfaction, “I haven’t doneanything.”

“Exactly.”