“Lock the doors,” Diablo says. “No one in or out until I say.”
A murmur ripples through the room. A few Saints grin like they’re excited. Others look grim like they know what comes next.
My stomach drops. “Diablo.”
His gaze cuts to me. “You wanted me to handle it.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out.
Because he’s right.
Because I walked into this building knowing what he is and I still came anyway. Now I’m bleeding, desperate and furious.
Diablo’s hand slides to my lower back, firm, not gentle. He steers me forward, not dragging, but guiding with control that doesn’t leave room for argument.
“You’re staying where I can see you,” he says close to my ear.
Heat and fear twist together under my skin.
This isn’t just Carmen’s war anymore.
It’s Diablo’s.
And he’s about to end it.
I can feel it in the way the room holds its breath, in the way Vice’s eyes go hard, in the way Carmen’s composure tightens like she’s bracing for impact.
I feel it in Diablo’s touch on my back, and the cold calm that settles over him like a death sentence. And for the first time since Rico called, I realize something that makes my blood run colder than the AC blasting from Lady’s SUV outside.
Rico didn’t just threaten me.
He challenged Diablo.
In Miami, that’s the same thing as signing your own execution.
And if Carmen had anything to do with it, she’s not coming at me with fists again.
She’s coming at me with consequences.
Chapter 17
Diablo
Darling makes a sound under her breath that’s half laugh, half ache, and I hate that Carmen hears it. I hate that Carmen sees any crack in Darling’s armor like it’s a weakness to exploit.
I look back at Darling and keep my voice even.
“Go to my office,” I tell her. “Lock the door. Vice stays with you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.” Darling’s shoulders square like she’s ready to fight everyone in the building.
“You do,” I say, colder than I feel. “And you’re going to take it because I said so.”
Her eyes go glossy with anger and history, with the memory of me telling her to leave Miami and never look back. She swallows it down like she’s swallowing rocks.
Fine.
If she hates me, she stays alive.
