Page 131

“This is Isabella Delgado. Ciro is dead. I am in command.”

Static answered.

Rafael’s voice cut across hers, ordering Ciro’s men to secure the armory and detain anyone loyal to Mateo.

Mateo took the radio from her.

“We need the armory and the gates before Ciro’s loyalists organize.”

Marcela glanced at Ciro’s body.

Shooting him hadn’t made the compound hers. It had left every armed man in it choosing a side—or deciding what he could grab before someone else did.

“Get my men to the gates,” she ordered. “No one leaves without my approval.”

Mateo keyed the radio and issued a string of commands to names I didn’t recognize.

Some answered immediately.

Others didn’t.

The operator shoved the compact transmitter into a padded case and tucked the laptop beneath one arm.

Marcela looked at me.

Her chest rose and fell too quickly, but the smile she gave me was almost serene.

“Did you enjoy the show, pet?”

“Best thing you’ve done since bringing me here.”

“You think his death changes your situation?”

“Changed his.”

She glanced at Ciro. Blood leaked from the hole between his eyes and ran down the bridge of his nose.

Marcela stepped over his legs and came close enough to press the warm muzzle beneath my chin.

“You’re still cuffed to a chair.”

“Ciro’s chair.”

The gun pushed harder into my skin.

“Keep correcting me, and I’ll shoot you too.”

“No, you won’t. You’ve spent two days telling everyone how badly you want to own me. Kill me now, and you prove Ciro’s point—your appetite still makes you careless.”

Her finger tightened against the trigger.

Mateo caught her shoulder.

“We have to move.”

She didn’t look away from me.

Radio traffic kept climbing. Men reported gates locking, demanded ammunition, and shouted about moving vehicles. Someone ordered Ciro’s quarters secured before the traitors reached them.