Page 33 of Devil's Azalea

I chuckle and thank her as I leave.

The restroom is exactly where she said, and in minutes, I’m changed into the delivery uniform. It hangs a little loose, but nothing too suspicious. I stuff my own clothes into the takeout bag, then head back to the restaurant, mount the bike like I’ve been doing this all day, and roll out.Here goes nothing.

When I reach Rafael’s building, the guard out front eyes me for several long seconds before directing me towards the gate that leads to the underground parking lot.Perfect.My heart hammers as I approach the barricade where four guards stand watch, all of them looking like they bench-press cars for fun.

One steps up to me. “Nobody ordered anything. You’ve got the wrong building.”

I frown up at him, channeling my best confused delivery driver. “You sure? I got this delivery straight from the kitchen, and this was the address on the slip.”

“I’m sure. Nobody here ordered food,” he says, firmer this time. “Leave.”

Fuck. “Don’t you want to, I don’t know—call up? Just to check? I mean, come on, someone is going to be pissed if their food doesn’t show up.”

He levels a colder glare at me. “Listen, lady, this building isn’t residential or commercial. If anybody here ordered something, I’d know. Now leave, before?—”

His threat dies mid-sentence as an expensive Mercedes pulls up next to me. The windows are so dark, all I see is my own reflection, but the guard must recognize the vehicle because his demeanor shifts instantly—from hostile to subservient.

My stomach drops as I study the Benz. It can’t be Rafael in there… can it?

The back window rolls down slowly, and I suck in a sharp breath as piercing green eyes meet mine.Romero.

Holy hell. This is the first time I’ve seen him up close in ten years.

Cold sweat breaks across my spine, and my mouth goes desert-dry as I try to think of something to say.

He moves his gaze to the guard behind me. “Is there a problem here?”

“The lady made a mistake with the address,” the guard explains, shooting me a glare. “I was just explaining to her that no order was made in this building.”

I sit up straighter on the bike, hands trembling slightly as I twist the ignition key.Abort. Just leave.This was stupid. Insane. I didn’t plan for Romero to be here. Are they all here?Maximo?The mere thought sends panic clawing up my throat, squeezing the air from my lungs. I can’t do this. I can’t face them all. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. It’s a good thing I won’t be allowed in.

“It’s okay. I made the order. Let her in.”

Romero’s words barely penetrate the deafening roar in my ears. When they finally register, I whip my head towards him. What?

His face is unreadable, eyes cool as he rolls his window back up.

“Yes sir.” The guard nods, and the partition is opened. He shoots me one last warning glare as Romero’s car passes through, then waves me in.

I swallow hard as I follow.

What’s Romero’s game?He has to know about everything I’ve done. Must despise me for my choices, for my mission. My palms slip on the handlebars, slick with nervous sweat as I enter the underground parking lot and park my bike next to his car.

His engine is still running when I cut mine. I hesitate, then slide off, tug off my helmet, and grab the small bag of chicken I ordered to complete my disguise. My heart is jackhammering in my throat, my stomach roiling as I walk up to his window and knock.

At first, nothing happens, so I raise my hand to knock again— but then the window suddenly rolls down. “I’m giving you ten minutes, Emily,” he says flatly. “If you want to kill Rafael, this is the only chance you’ll get. Just know you won’t make it out alive either.”

My jaw drops. “K–kill Rafael?” I whisper, scandalized despite everything.

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” He tilts his head at me, green eyes hard. “Isn’t your entire purpose as an agent to kill him and bring us all down? Well, I’d like to see you try.” But then, for just a heartbeat, something flickers in his eyes—a flash of vulnerability, of bone-deep weariness, almost like hewantsthis all to be over already. But it’s gone so fast I think I might have imagined it.

“Go, Emily. Or leave. Either way, your clock is ticking. You only have eight minutes now.” His lips twist up in a cruel smile that punches me in the gut. “Let’s see what will win in this war you’re determined to fight—your head, or your heart.” And with that, his window rolls back up, and I can only blink for a moment.

He was my friend too.

It’s so fucking unfair that Rafael got to keep everyone’s loyalty while I was left with nothing. Nothing but this toxic brew of emotions: anger, regret, sadness, hatred…love. So many feelings with nowhere to go—except into my revenge.

I swallow hard, blinking back the stinging tears as I spin towards the elevator where four more men stand guard. They make no move to stop me as I approach, likely assuming I’m legit since I entered with Romero’s apparent blessing.