Page 4

I park and step out, the stillness immediately wrapping around me like a cold, comforting blanket. Another night, another bullshit victory that doesn’t actually mean anything. I was hoping for more progress toward Javier Reyes, that elusive bastard who’s been slipping through my fingers like smoke. Instead, it’s just another loose end, another damn riddle in a never-ending game.

It would have been better if Diego had brought me directly to his supplier. While tonight wasn’t the win I was hoping for, in this line of work I have learned that I need to take a win when I get it.

Inside, the quiet of my cabin greets me with its familiar whispers—the wooden floors creaking beneath my boots, the faint rustle of night air slipping through an open window. My gaze shifts toward Hydessa’s cabin—dark and silent. Good. She’s asleep, probably tucked away safely, blissfully oblivious to my restless presence. I don't want company tonight. Hell, most nights I don't.

The past weeks blur, days chasing nights in an exhausting cycle as I hunt the goddamn cartel. Diego Alvarez was supposed to be my light at the end of the tunnel, my way closer to Javier Reyes. Instead, he’s just another frustratingly insignificant puzzle piece. Reyes is still out there, safe behind layers of security thicker than my fucking patience. Every day inches me closer—just not close enough. One step at a time, I remind myself bitterly. Always one damn step at a time.

Hydessa finds peace in order, paperwork, safety. Good for her. Me? I thrive on chaos, adrenaline, the constant itch of danger. She sleeps easy, her demons neatly tucked away. I invite mine to dance.

We may look nearly identical, but how we see the world and ourselves couldn’t be more opposite.

I kick off my boots and step into the living room, a space designed like a cinematic crime scene—vivid reds, stark blacks, unapologetic as fuck. It's me, splashed onto the walls. I exhale a slow breath, collapsing onto the couch as the residual warmth of the whiskey still pulses through my veins. The club was loud, chaotic, filled with faces I didn’t want to know, bodies I didn’t want to touch. We’ve been making it a ritual, going out after each victory, but even that loses its appeal with time. Tonight, thankfully, no bad decisions were made. Not enough whiskey in the world to make some of those idiots seem attractive.

Yet the restlessness inside me remains. Frustration coils tight, pushing me off the couch, pacing through the room like a caged predator. Diego’s capture was a victory, sure, but if he’d grabbed his damn phone instead of his gun… I’d be a step closer to Reyes right now. He had one simple fucking choice, and he chose wrong. Men always do. Now, I'm stuck playing hide-and-seek with a ghost—one shielded behind walls, security, and more secrets than the fucking Pentagon.

Fuck patience. I’m tired of being patient.

I've come close—so close—to catching him twice before, only for him to slip through my fingers like smoke. Each failure feels personal, a scar etched deeper into my pride. Reyes has harmed too many innocent lives, destroyed too many families. Capturing him would mean justice for the voiceless, a message that no matter how big the monsters, they don’t always escape into the dark.

A sudden prickle of awareness crawls across my skin. My pulse quickens, my instincts sharpening to a razor edge. Dangerous work breeds paranoia, or so I’ve been told. But I’ve learned to listen to my instincts, experience has taught me to never ignore that feeling. The feeling of being watched.

I stride to the window, peering out into the night, but the dark expanse offers nothing except my own reflection. My long, black waves are still neatly braided down my back, even tidier than my thoughts. I stare, unflinching, daring the night to reveal something more. Let whoever is out there look—they can watch all they want. I don’t hide, and I don’t fucking run. If they try to interfere, they’ll soon learn they’re the ones making a mistake.

With a huff, I switch off the living room light, casting the cabin into comforting darkness. I linger by the window a moment longer, my eyes adjusting to the dark, then turn toward the hallway and head for my bedroom. In our family, the idea of being watched isn’t new; if someone wants to stalk me, let them. I’m no damsel in distress. Fear isn’t an option. Never has been, never will be.

Inside my room, I leave the door wide open behind me with a defiant smirk, fuck modesty. I cross to the window, lifting the blinds, letting the moonlight spill in, and cracking it open just a bit. Might as well give them a decent view. Enjoy the free fucking show, assholes.

Methodically, I peel off my clothes until I'm stripped bare. The bedding is cool against my already heated skin as I lie down in the center of the bed. I sink into their embrace, savoring this rare moment of quiet dominance. Alone, powerful, unapologetically in control.

I trail my fingers slowly down my body, savoring the buildup of anticipation. Each light touch sends shivers along my skin as I trace lazy, deliberate circles over my breasts and across my stomach. My fingers glide lower, finally brushing against the sensitive swell of my clit. A soft gasp escapes my lips as the pleasure begins to stir—familiar, electric, undeniable.

I continue, unashamed, letting my hand explore with confident, practiced motions. I stroke myself in slow, teasing circles around my clit, gradually building tension. My other hand wanders up to gently pinch and roll one of my nipples, a deliberate contrast of sensations that makes me arch my back slightly. I think of all the men who’ve come and gone—those foolish enough to think their touch was enough to sate me. None of them knew how to truly bring me to the edge. They left me wanting, always, until I was forced to finish the job on my own.

I move faster, strokes more insistent as I spread my legs wider, my other hand teasing my clit, a symphony of sensations that draws a ragged moan from my lips, unfiltered by shame or pretense. Two of my fingers slip inside me, curling in to stroke that perfect spot. My hips rock in rhythm with my self-stimulation, a private dance of pleasure that is as much an act of defiance as it is indulgence. The room is lit only by moonlight, but if anyone were watching through that window, they’d see a woman in complete command of her desire—unapologetic and fierce.

My breath comes in short, heated bursts as I move closer to release. The sensations build, wave after wave of pleasure cresting until, with one final, desperate touch, ecstasy crashes over me in a cascade of raw, unbridled intensity. My body shudders, and I cry out, riding the wild pulses until I’m left trembling and spent.

Eventually, my breathing slows, body heavy and sated. I stretch lazily, basking in the lingering afterglow. If someone got a show, congratulations—I don’t charge admission, but maybe I should. I take exactly what I need. I am in control and I am my own master of pleasure.

I sigh, thoughts inevitably circling back to Reyes, to the hunt, to the chase that consumes every waking moment. My life is built on shadows and secrets, endless puzzles and twisted paths. Hydessa’s world might be safer, cleaner—but safe bores the hell out of me. She might sleep soundly tonight, but peace has never been my goal. Justice is messy, violent, and relentless. And I’m exactly the woman for the job.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to quiet my racing mind, but it won’t be silenced. The faces of the cartel, the men I’ve yet to take down, the twisted paths of lies I have to untangle—they swirl together in a dizzying whirlpool. I think of Javier Reyes. The man is more myth than flesh. He hides behind his empire, his walls. It’s maddening, not being able to reach him. But that’s the game, isn’t it? Every layer of his life, every guard dog, every bit of information, it all feels like another riddle I’m supposed to solve. But I won’t stop until I have the answers. Until I have him.

I sigh, pushing myself up from the bed. I know I won’t get any sleep tonight like this, not with everything on my mind. I glance at the clock. It’s already late, heading toward midnight.

Moving over to the window, I look out at the empty expanse of the property. The trees stretch tall in the moonlight, casting long shadows that seem to go on forever. I think about how different everything feels when I’m alone here. When I’m not surrounded by the noise of my team, or the constant chatter of family and friends who can’t understand me. This cabin—this sanctuary—is the only place I feel like I can breathe freely, even if that freedom comes with its own weight.

I press my forehead against the cool glass. What am I waiting for? Validation? Certainty? Fuck it. This is my life—chaotic, dangerous, real. Chasing shadows is what I do best.

A soft sound from outside catches my attention—something moving in the distance. I freeze for a moment, but then, nothing. I’m paranoid. A result of too many years on the job, always watching, always waiting for something to jump out of the dark.

Let them watch, I think again. Let them come. They’ll find out soon enough I’m not someone to be trifled with.

Shaking my head, I step away from the window and move into the connected bathroom, the cold tile grounding beneath my feet. The shower’s hot spray beats down on me, washing away superficial stress but never quite touching the chaos inside. I towel off, slipping into loose pajamas, grabbing a glass of whiskey before sitting on the edge of my bed. Tomorrow, the world spins again—more battles, more bullshit.

I sip the whiskey slowly, savoring the burn as my mind reminds me that Reyes will still be out there tomorrow, hiding behind his fortress. I’ll continue hunting, inching closer with every step. Nothing worth having ever comes easy. Hell, nothing in my life ever has.

My eyes drift to the window, shadows dancing across the moonlit landscape. Maybe someone really is out there, watching, waiting for me to show weakness. They’ll wait a long damn time. Let them underestimate me. Let them think I’m reckless, unhinged. Maybe I am. But I’d rather embrace my demons than pretend they don’t exist.