“We got to go. This place is compromised.”
“But we just got here.” My protest sounds childish, even in my ears, but I’m so tired and feel so confused. About this coup. About Julian. About not wearing any underwear.
He looks at me, and for a moment, sympathy flashes in his eyes. But then they turn cold again. “Don’t fall apart on me now, Iris. I need you to do as I tell you.” He grips my shoulders. “Understand?”
I nod. “Yes.” I don’t really have any other choice, do I?
He holds my gaze. “Good girl.” Then he lets go of me and I miss the warmth of his grip, of his body close to mine. “We can’t stay in the city.” He’s already steering me out of the house. “They’re rounding up foreigners to use as hostages for ransom.”
Outside, helicopters thunder overhead.
I swallow hard. “Where do we go?”
Julian's step falters for just a moment, but then he keeps going. I hear him muttering something under his breath that sounds like a curse word, but I can’t be sure. “To someone I hoped never to meet again.”
That does not sound good, but nothing about this situation is good. So I swallow down my panic and stumble after the guy who gave me the best sex of my life, twice.
The guy whose identity I do not know, and probably not his name either.
The guy who still has my torn panties in his pocket.
Chapter 6
JULIAN
The jungle closes around us like a held breath.
Green upon green upon green—too dense, too alive, swallowing the road as if it resents our intrusion. The tires crunch over gravel and wet leaves, the sound muted by humidity so thick it feels like it’s pressing against my skin, listening. I don’t like this place.
I glance sideways at Iris. She’s silent now, which worries me more than the questions did. Her knees are drawn up slightly, hands clenched in the fabric of her dress, gaze fixed out the window as the city disappears behind us.
San Isidro burns tonight.
Coups rarely announce themselves the way films suggest. No grand speeches. No immediate broadcasts. Just power sliding sideways, control snapping into place behind closed doors. A military faction aligned with corporate interests and old-money-families terrified of losing their grip on land that’s suddenly worth fortunes because of rare earth metals needed for technology and biopharmaceutical compounds hidden in vines no one bothered to catalog until now.
The signs were there. I noted them, flagged them, and filed reports that said,this is reaching critical levels of tension. Butas usual, politics muddled things and delayed anyone taking action.
Despite the chatter, I didn’t think the rebels would attack tonight. I didn’t predict that.
Or the speed with which they moved.
Or Iris.
I tighten my hands on the steering wheel as the road narrows to something barely worthy of the name. This is where the maps are no longer accurate. This is where Lucien’s territory begins.
I shouldn’t have brought her.
That thought comes unbidden—and useless.
Leaving her behind wasn’t an option. Not after the elevator. Not after the violence in the hotel. Not after the safe house was compromised before we even finished sweeping it.
Someone knew where we were going.
Which means someone knows who I am.
I don’t look at Iris when I think that, because I don’t want to see the moment the truth clicks for her. I will protect her, and for just a little longer, I want to remain the Julian she met last night. The Julian she fucked with abandonment in the elevator, just a few hours ago.
The road dips, then climbs. The canopy parts just enough for moonlight to spill through, illuminating the villa as it emerges from the jungle like it grew there rather than being built.
