I turn my chin up, swallow the ache like a shot of cheap rum, and keep my voice steady.
“I’m done,” I say.
And even though my chest feels like it’s splitting open, I don’t let it show.
Not here.
Not in front of them.
Chapter 10
Diablo
The moment she turns away from the bedroom door, something inside my chest tears loose.
She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t throw anything or make a scene the way most women would if they walked in on something like that. She simply turns on her heel and starts walking down the hallway, back straight, steps sharp against the hardwood.
And that silence is worse than any sound she could make.
It isn’t just anger.
“Darling,” I bark, grabbing Carmen by the hips and hauling her off me so hard she stumbles back across the mattress, my pants still tangled at my ankles.
I’m still inside the mess of it, breath wrecked, skin hot, rage detonating the second I see Darling’s face.
My blood is still hot from the rooftop. Adrenaline still buzzing in my bones. I can still hear the gunshots, still feel Darling’s body against mine when I dragged her down behind cover. And now this.
Carmen slides off the bed slowly, controlled and deliberate, like she expected this exact moment. She smooths her hair down her back and adjusts her clothes as if nothingunusual just happened. Her perfume hangs in my room. There’s the faintest curve at the corner of her mouth.
“You should go after her,” she says coolly, watching me with calculating eyes. “Before she embarrasses herself.”
“Don’t talk about her like she’s entertainment,” I growl.
Carmen’s gaze flicks over my face. She doesn’t look afraid. She looks satisfied.
Like she got exactly what she came for.
I’m already moving.
The hallway outside my bedroom is dark. Vice Ink hums under us, the building never fully quiet even when the party dies. Somewhere downstairs a door slams. Somewhere outside Miami keeps sweating and buzzing like it doesn’t care what it costs.
Darling’s heels strike ahead of me in sharp, furious bursts as she heads toward the stairs.
She is walking too fast.
Like she’s trying to outrun something that has been chasing her for years.
“Darling, espera,” I call, because English doesn’t cut it right now. Nothing cuts it right now.
She doesn’t slow.
I catch her out in the bar and grab her wrist before she can disappear with her friend.
She jerks hard against my grip.
“Let me go.”
“Not like this.”
