My stomach dropped when I noted more matte, black leather and glinting steel restraints tucked beneath the rope. I shoved the drawer closed on a gasp, hiding the evidence of Raúl’s cruelty. I couldn’t allow fear to overwhelm me, or I would find myself tied down in these ropes, punished for my crimes against him.
I make no promises about how quickly I’ll kill him. Would Raúl take his time tormenting me, like he intended to prolong Arturo’s suffering?
I forced the thought from my mind before I could spiral into debilitating panic. My eyes landed on a small, polished wooden box that rested atop the chest of drawers. It was so plain that I’d initially dismissed it entirely in my search for valuables. But I didn’t dare continue my search of Raúl’s drawers, and I was running out of options.
I lifted the hinged lid, revealing a black velvet interior. Four cufflinks had been tossed carelessly into the corners, and I had to pluck them up and examine them to ensure they were indeed matching sets. One set appeared to be onyx bracketed in a white metal that I assumed was precious—gold, if I was lucky. The other set was simpler: heavy, rectangular blocks of similar white metal, which had been brushed to dull its shine. Considering Raúl’s wealth, I doubted these were simply crafted in silver.
I tucked both sets of cufflinks into my deep pocket before turning my attention to the final object in the box. The watch was battered with age. Scuffs marred the leather band, and numerous scratches had been etched into the glass face. A few tiny, white stones glimmered dully around the rim, located at twelve, three, and six; the nine o’clock stone seemed to be missing.
The watch might be too damaged to be worth much, but the raw materials would bring in at least a little cash.
Briefly, I wondered why Raúl would keep such a flawed piece when he obviously had enough money to buy hundreds of luxury watches, but I shoved the thought away.
Understanding Raúl’s quirks didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but getting as far away from him as possible.
I shoved the watch into my pocket alongside the cufflinks and smoothed down my skirt, ensuring the items weren’t so bulky that they might attract attention. Once I was out on the streets, I had to find the nearest pawn shop, sell the items, and use the cash to get the first bus to Juárez. When I reached the border town, I could track down a coyote to get me into the US, where my long, agonizing journey could finally come to an end.
I just had to get across the border before Raúl had the chance to hunt me down.
Chapter 5
Raúl
The coward was hiding in the bunker, as though leaving his men to be slaughtered while he locked himself behind a steel door would save him from me. Arturo Flores had been dead since the moment his name had issued from Marisol’s blood-kissed lips.
Ever since I’d left her in the care of Stefano’s private physician, rage had served as a simmering heat beneath my skin; fuel for my most savage impulses. Now, the gory image of her beautiful face burst to the forefront of my mind, and my fury-heated blood surged through my veins in a searing pulse.
Marisol was just as delicate as I’d always feared. I’d reveled in her fragility beneath my rough hands when I’d claimed her mouth this morning, loving the feel of her utterly vulnerable, deliciously petite body softening in my hold. But seeing her in pain had driven me close to insanity. Protecting her, coveting her, had become my obsession. Knowing that Daniel had made her bleed while I wasn’t watching her made me see red.
He’d made me break my promise. He and Arturo, with their fucking coup.
They would both pay. And they’d pay with ten times more pain than what they’d inflicted on Marisol.
She’d been so scared when I’d held her shaking body, but she’d still clung to me for protection, despite the fact that I’d failed her. I would make sure Arturo experienced her terror, magnified to a maddening degree, before I finally allowed him to die.
My hands tightened around my semi-automatic, but there was no one left to shoot. The team I’d brought with me to storm Daniel Vera’s vast home had worked with uniform, brutal efficiency. Hundreds of men played a role in the cartel hierarchy, but only the most disciplined, vicious killers answered to me directly; ambitious men who would do anything I asked of them without flinching, no matter how gruesome the task.
The ambush that Daniel and Arturo had planned for Stefano to blunder into had collapsed within minutes of my men breaching the property. The gaudy mansion was arrogantly located within the city’s historical district. It might be one of the most exclusive neighborhoods, but the central location jeopardized the Vera family’s security measures. Their multi-million-dollar home had sustained damage during our assault—opulent stained glass littered the marble floors in colorful shards, and the massive, arched front doors had been blown off their hinges.