I couldn't stop shaking.
"He shouldn't have come," I said, breaking the silence. My voice sounded completely unmoored. Far away. "He shouldn't have fucking come for me. He got shot because of me. Again. Twice now. Twice he's been put in the dirt because of my baggage."
Bael just let out a low, dangerous grunt.
I stood up, paced two steps, sat back down, and immediately stood up again. The walls were closing in on me. "I need to—I can't just sit here. I'm leaving."
"No, you're not."
Bael turned around slowly. His eyes were pure, unadulterated ice.
"Let me make something real clear to you, girl." He walked toward me, his massive shadow completely swallowing me up until he was right in my face. "You're the sole reason he's bleeding out in that room. You're the reason he got shot the first time years ago, and you're the reason he caught a bullet tonight."
I flinched, the truth hitting me like a physical blow.
"You don't get to run from that," Bael growled, his voice dropping into a lethal register. "You don't get to feel sorry for yourself and disappear into the night like you always do. You stay. You sit your ass in that chair. And when he wakes up, you are gonna nurse him back to fucking health."
"No." I shook my head, backing up a step until the plastic chair hit the back of my legs. "No, that's exactly why I have to leave. To keep him from getting hurt again. I'm poison, Bael. I should go."
"I don't give a single fuck about your sob story."
The words hit like a physical slap across my face.
"You think you're protecting him by disappearing?" Bael asked, his eyes narrowing. "He almost died tonight. And you want the last thing he sees when he opens his eyes to be an empty room?"
My eyes burned, hot tears threatening to spill. I swallowed hard, blinking them back. "I can't do this—"
"Yeah, you can," Bael barked. "You can. You just don't want to. You're using your trauma as an excuse to bolt."
"The fuck I am! You don’t fucking know me, Bael. My brother is still alive out there. The Colombians are still hunting for my head. Me leaving is the only way to keep Vinny safe."
Bael actually rolled his eyes at me, completely unimpressed. "I already handled both. Vicente doesn’t like me involving my network in his personal business, but he’s gonna have to let it slide this time. You're stayin', and you can stop using them as an excuse to run."
"You handled it?" I bristled, my hands curling into fists. "Who the fuck are you to handle my life? You can't make me stay here."
He looked down at me for a long, exhausted moment, like I was nothing more than an annoying, persistent insect.
“I don’t see what the hell he sees in you,” he said flatly. Then, he turned his head toward the shadows of the hallway. "Rome."
One of his soldiers stepped forward out of the dim light. He was remarkably tall and wide, built like a literal brick wall, his face completely blank.
Bael didn't take his eyes off me. "Gag her if you have to. Take her to the safehouse. Guard her. Don't let her go anywhere until I call you to bring her back here."
My blood went completely cold. "You cannot be fucking serious right now."
"Dead ass."
"Bael—"
"Rome," Bael repeated, giving a slight nod.
Rome moved incredibly fast for a man his size. I tried to back up, tried to duck beneath his reach, but his heavy handclosed around my wrist like a steel handcuff. I twisted violently, throwing a hard punch that bounced off his shoulder like I was hitting solid concrete. He didn't even flinch.
"Let me go!" I screamed, shoving wildly at his chest. "Bael, tell him to let me go!"
Bael just stood there, watching with complete indifference.
Rome's other hand came up, wrapping tightly over my mouth, muffling my screams. I bit down hard into his palm, tasting leather and skin, but he didn't even react to the pain.
