Violent Delights (White Monarch 1)

With a thick throat, I nodded. “Life or death,” I rasped.

“Good girl.” He kissed my forehead. “I love you.”

He angled to get his 9mm from its holster, maneuvered out from under the chair, and sprinted across the roof.

“I love you,” I whispered back.

Night’s cloak lifted as the sun peeked over the distant mountains. With the whir of a helicopter, I curled all the way under the chaise and clutched Diego’s jacket closed around myself. A spotlight flashed over the roof. With a whistle from above, an explosion on the ground shook the building. The helicopter circled one more time, dropping grenades that rattled every bone in my body. I covered my mouth. Tires screeched, and the helicopter flew off.

With unsteady fingers, I shot Barto a quick text. After what could’ve been thirty seconds or five minutes of silence, I crawled out. The helicopter was nowhere in sight, so I peeked above the concrete ledge. The rising sun cast rich purple shadows over a vast desert. Behind me, the town woke up, cars honking and people screaming. Men yelled below me. The blasts had stopped, so I risked getting to my feet to look all the way over the side of the roof.

Flames raged below, licking the side of the building, jumping from one wood container to the next as black smoke billowed from the windows. I had to get off the roof now, or I’d be trapped. I needed to get to Diego. I snatched my shoes off the ground, ran for the door, and grabbed the handle, but it was locked.

I slammed my fists against the industrial metal door, then my stiletto against the sliver of glass. I traded it for a discarded lead pipe and smashed the window. It shattered, leaving a space just big enough for me to get an arm through. Smoke wafted out, curling around me before it disintegrated in the wind. My eyes watered, and my nostrils burned. I whipped off Diego’s jacket to cover my mouth, knotting the sleeves at the back of my head.

I rose onto the tips of my toes, feeling around. My skin heated fast while glass sliced into my forearm, but finally, I managed to grab the handle. I cranked it, opened the door, and ran down the stairs holding the jacket in place. I tried to blink away the burn blurring my vision as plumes of smoke surrounded me. I leaned over the railing and jumped back as heat scorched my hand. Movement below caught my eye. It looked as if men were running in and out. I waved the jacket and screamed for help. Flames engulfed almost everything on the ground floor, consuming the base of the stairs. If I didn’t get through, I’d have to jump over the side of the roof.

I started down the steps when someone caught my waist from behind, picked me up, and carried me back up the stairwell. “Diego?” I cried.

Strong, sinewy forearms pinned me to a hard body, easily wrapping around my torso. A voice rumbled against my back, deep and full of grit. “Try again.”

Cristiano.

I struggled to turn, and when we were back on the roof, I kicked his shin. He released me, and I stumbled back, spinning to face him.

“What are you doing here?” I choked out.

“Ladder,” he said, coming toward me. “Now.”

“What ladder?” I backed away. With my eyes watering, he almost seemed like an apparition from the night before, still in his open-collar white dress shirt and wrinkled suit pants. It didn’t take long for me to connect the pieces. “You did this.”

“We have to get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I snarled. “Your brother’s inside.”

“You have no other choice.” He grabbed me by the arm. I wrestled with him, my chest tightening in panic as he easily yanked me toward the ladder. Suddenly, I was nine years old again and his puppet, pulled along like I weighed nothing, forced to the edge of nothingness.

I coughed as smoke suffocated my lungs. “Let go.”

He took my shoulders and shook me. “Wake up, Natalia. This warehouse could blow any second.”

It hit me then what was inside—gunpowder. Artillery. Explosives. Fear gripped me as easily now as it had the last time Cristiano had torn me away from my loved ones when they needed me most. But this time, I wasn’t afraid of what Cristiano would do to me. I feared for Diego. I didn’t think I could survive the crumbling of my future if he was taken from me. I tried to wriggle free. “I have to tell him.”

“He knows. Diego can take care of himself, and if he can’t, it’s already too late.”

I pushed him away. “Fuck you. I’m not leaving him.”

“What are you going to do? If you run back in there, you’ll burn alive. Down is the only way out.” He didn’t give me a chance to answer. In one mighty swoop, he had me off my feet and over his shoulder.