Violent Triumphs (White Monarch 3)

I bit the inside of my cheek. I understood where Pilar was coming from. In the last twenty-four hours, she’d been kidnapped by Alejandro, ferried to a place rumored to exploit women—run by a man she’d feared ever since childhood, when she’d witnessed him beat up her cousin—and endured an attack that could’ve easily ended her life.

Since Cristiano’s return to town, the man she’d known as El Polvo had chased her off the dancefloor at La Madrina, made her watch us marry against my will, then ordered her brought here.

But she’d heard the worst of him from me. Pilar had been one of the people I’d turned to after my mother’s death.

Cristiano had done unforgivable things. What did it say about me that I had no desire to run? That I wanted to be the first person he saw when he opened his eyes? That I didn’t even want to try to hide my feelings for him from Pilar—or from Cristiano, from myself? Not anymore.

I didn’t want to consider what it said about me—because I’d made the mistake of blindly trusting a man before. For Diego, I would’ve done anything—for him, I had. Was this any different? I didn’t know.

But the idea of losing Cristiano had shown me I wasn’t ready to say good-bye. Despite all we’d been through, he and I were only beginning to learn who the other person was. My attacker’s declaration that my husband was dead had spurred me to fight for my own life—so that I could avenge his. I’d sworn Cristiano my loyalty, and whether I’d known it at the time or not, I’d meant it.

Cristiano had done unforgivable things, yes—but he’d done admirable ones as well. He’d put himself at risk to get me closure. Except for my questions surrounding my mother’s death, he’d always told me the truth, no matter how brutal. He’d taught me strength in many ways.

And though she didn’t know it, he’d helped Pilar from the shadows as well.

“Cristiano didn’t just bring you here to make me happy. He did it to protect you from Manu.” I took her hand and squeezed it. “Did you know your cousin was the one who molested your half-sister?”

She gasped. “Nessa? Yes, I knew—but that’s not supposed to leave my family. How did you know?”

“Cristiano told me. That’s why he roughed him up so badly years ago. Not just for stealing but so he wouldn’t—couldn’t—hurt Nessa again.”

Pilar opened and closed her mouth a couple times. “I . . . I didn’t know. Are you sure?”

“He told me earlier tonight.” Earlier tonight, when things had been so different. When I’d been so close to figuring out my rollercoaster of a relationship with Cristiano. “He’s not who you think he is. There’s a very big heart in there, though he tries to hide it. Stay with me.” I gave her an encouraging smile. “Spend time with him. You’ll see.”

“If you say it’s true, I believe you.” She bit her thumbnail. “But . . . please don’t tell him I suggested we try to kill him.”

I pulled her in for a hug. “Will you find out from Alejandro if there’s any new information?”

“Of course.” She stood and fixed her hair as she left the room.

I got up from the couch and folded the blanket over the side. Grateful for my first moment alone with Cristiano, I crossed the room, lowered myself onto his side of the bed, and fit my palm against his warm one. We’d held hands once before, when we’d been staked out in a car, watching Sandra fight for her life.

Some of the last words he’d said to me rang through my mind.

“Sleep well. I will, knowing you’re one of the protected.”

I’d said nothing back. He slept almost too peacefully now, but there was life in his hands—and blood under his fingernails.

Anxiety tightened my chest at the sight of his wounds. Cristiano had always seemed invincible to me. Even when he’d fled our house to escape my father’s wrath, he’d done it unscathed.

The truth was, without Cristiano walking this earth, I wouldn’t feel as safe. And I didn’t mean just in the cartel world.

He was a protector—my protector.

I’d thought he was the enemy—but maybe he never had been.

Feelings hadn’t been blooming inside me—they’d been planted long ago, taking root without my knowledge.

I couldn’t pretend that in my darkest hour, I hadn’t fought harder so I could get back to him. Had it been the same for him? Was that how he was still standing?

Because he should’ve been dead. Alejandro suspected he’d been drugged—I’d forgotten to ask the doctor about it. That would mean the attack hadn’t been spontaneous. Belmonte-Ruiz had had Cristiano at their mercy and hadn’t even done any serious damage. It made no sense.

“You can’t sleep there,” I heard from behind me.