Page 19 of Dark Reunion

CHAPTER 8

YASMINE

Something was wrong.

Yasmine felt it. It was normal for Dean to work late, but this…there was something off, she just couldn’t put her finger on it. Even when he hadn’t been able to come back to the room, he had sent word or glanced through the door.

The children had gone quiet, drifting into sleep, but the air in the villa pressed heavy on her chest.

She smoothed Isabella’s hair as the baby shifted in her crib, whispering a lullaby she barely believed in. When the girl settled, Yasmine stood, restless energy prickling her skin. She paced once, twice, then pressed her ear to the door.

Nothing.

Her gut screamed. Dean was in trouble.

Against every instinct for caution and despite him telling her to stay in the room for the day, she slipped into the hall. The guard stationed outside wasn’t there. Unusual enough to make her pulse race harder. She moved quietly, sticking to the shadows, her sock feet whispering over the stone.

Dean’s absence clawed at her, he was the other half of her soul, and if he was in trouble then she had to help.

In the weeks they’d been here, no matter how bloody, how broken, he had always made contact. Always. Tonight, the silence was too loud.

She searched every place she could get to, anywhere he would normally be. The office, library, even the kitchen…nothing. As a last resort she headed toward Carlos’s wing. Heart in her throat she peered around the corner that would take her to the man’s bedroom. No guards were there either.

What was going on?

Slipping around the corner, she walked briskly down the hall and stopped when she reached Carlos’s door. Yasmine raised her hand and froze.

Voices drifted from inside, muffled at first, then loud enough to send fear racing down her spine. A woman’s scream echoed from behind the door.

Yasmine’s breath caught. The sound twisted her stomach and filled her veins with ice. She’d heard women scream like that before and it wasn’t from passion. This was the kind of scream you heard in dark alleys, in hospitals, and in nightmares. Screams that meant pain and horror.

Her hand trembled, still in the position to knock, but before her knuckles touched the wood, an arm snaked around her waist and a hand clamped over her mouth.

She thrashed, panic searing, until a voice hissed low in her ear.

“Quiet. Don’t fight me. I won’t hurt you.”

She stilled, eyes wide. The man dragged her backward into a side corridor, then shoved her through a narrow archway into a small library. He let her go and stepped back, raising his hands. When she didn’t try to bolt, he put a finger over his lips and then closed the door.

Yasmine took a step back to put a bit of space between her and the guard. She recognized him, but didn’t know his name. She glanced to either side and spotted a large candlestick she could use as a weapon if she needed.

He turned to face her. “Names, Ricco.”

The guard had walked with Dean more than once, his gaze lingered not with hunger, but with calculation. A man who seemed sharper than the rest.

Yasmine took another step back, but Ricco didn’t seem to notice or care. He walked over to the small stand that held a decanter and poured himself a drink. Taking the shot, he looked at her.

“What the hell⁠—”

“Shh.” He glanced toward the door, his jaw tight. “Keep your voice down.”

She nodded.

“And never…and I mean never knock on Señor’s door. Not when you hear that.”

Her skin crawled. “What is he doing?”

Ricco’s expression was flat, but his eyes were hard. “What Carlos always does. Breaking someone. If you interrupt, you’ll be next. Tied up in there, screaming the same way. He’s out for blood and he doesn’t care who you are. That’s why there are no guards in the halls. If he sees you…you’re as good as his for the night, and it might be your last.”