Page 10

Lauren

I wanted to turn and run, but it was too late.

The vehicles had already reached the village center, and men were climbing out with the confident swagger of people who owned everything they surveyed.

I caught sight of Mateo Silva’s distinctive profile as he emerged from one of the SUVs, scanning the area until his gaze landed on me.

Even from a distance, I could see his smile—greedy and pleased, like he’d found exactly what he’d been looking for.

Logan noticed it too. His voice was calm but carried unmistakable authority. “Lauren, we need to get out of here. Now.”

“Too late,” I whispered.

“Fuck.” He moved slightly in front of me, his body language shifting into something that looked deceptively casual but felt dangerous.

Mateo approached with four armed men flanking him, his expensive linen suit and easy confidence a stark contrast to the poverty surrounding us. His gaze moved from me to Logan with calculating interest.

“Lauren,” he said in English, his accent making my name sound intimate. “What a pleasant surprise to find you here.”

“Mr. Silva.” I forced my voice to remain steady. “I was just finishing medical rounds.”

“Please, I insist you call me Mateo.”

I nodded, but that wasn’t going to happen. If I had my way, I wouldn’t be calling him anything at all.

“And who is your companion?” His smile never wavered, but something cold flickered in his eyes as he studied Logan. “He’s not one of your doctor team.”

“I’m Logan Kane. I’m with a meteorological research team studying storm patterns in the region.” Logan’s voice sounded much less commanding than it had as I’d been talking to him. More…nerdy and in no way threatening. I admired how quickly and easily he slipped into the cover story.

“Ah, yes. The weather. Apparently a hurricane might be coming.” Mateo’s tone suggested he found the subject amusing, rather than the potential catastrophe it would be for most people living here.

He glanced at his men, then back at Logan with sharpened interest. “Tell me, why did nobody inform me that more Americans had driven into our area?”

His guards exchanged uncertain glances, and I felt the tension ratchet up another notch. Finally, one of them cleared his throat nervously.

“Sir, none of our road checkpoints reported any Americans driving in.”

Mateo’s smile widened, but his eyes grew colder. “How fascinating. And yet here you are, Mr. Kane. How exactly did you arrive in our little corner of paradise?”

The tension stretched between them like a taut rope, and I found myself caught between two very different kinds of danger. Logan radiated controlled threat beneath his civilian exterior, while Mateo’s charm barely concealed something predatory and cruel.

“We took three different airplanes to get from our home base in California to here. It was brutal. I ended up in a middle seat.” Logan’s voice sounded so tinny and nonthreatening, I almost couldn’t recognize it.

“Then we cleared customs in the city,” he continued as everyone stared.

“Some of our equipment got damaged while in the luggage hold—specifically the wind profiler and radiosonde balloons—but we still have enough equipment for our study, don’t worry.

Then I got to ride in a helicopter to this area.

My very first one. I was nervous. Helicopters don’t feel natural, you know? I was afraid I was going to…”

The longer Logan talked his rambling nonsense, impressively complete with meteorological details, the less Mateo was interested in him.

Which was no doubt exactly what Logan wanted.

It couldn’t be easy to make someone of his size less threatening, but Logan was somehow managing it with his word vomit.

Evidently, he wasn’t just a warrior. He was smart too.

“Fine.” Mateo held up a hand to stop Logan from talking, and he faded to silence but still kept his body partially in front of mine.

“Thank you for saying hello, but I need to return to work,” I said, stepping slightly toward the path. “Carlos needs his medication adjusted, and I have other patients to check on.”

“Nonsense. He can wait.” Mateo moved to block my path, his smile widening. “I came to extend an invitation. My family has a villa not far from here, and I would be honored if you would join me for dinner tonight.”

It sounded casual—gracious, even—but the way he looked at me made my skin crawl. There was something in his eyes. Possession. Like he already saw me as his.

“That’s very kind, but I’m afraid I can’t,” I said quickly. “Carlos’s condition is more serious than initially thought. I’ll need to stay with him so I’m sure he’s okay.”

The lie slid out smoothly, desperation sharpening every word. I’d have said anything to sidestep whatever trap Mateo was laying.

His smile didn’t falter, but something in the air shifted. The armed men around us straightened, alert. And beside me, Logan took a subtle step closer.

“Is that so?” Mateo’s tone was still pleasant, but the chill underneath it scraped against my spine. “How inconvenient.”

“Yes. It is inconvenient, and I apologize. But my job is very important. Thank you for the invite. Perhaps some other time.”

Mateo stared at me like no one had ever said no to him before. Maybe no one had. “I insist.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. I’m sure you understand how important my job is to me. I took an oath to help people in need, and Carlos is definitely in need. I couldn’t possibly just leave him to go to a dinner party. It would be unethical.”

Mateo looked like he was about to argue further, but a door opened on one of the SUVs and everything around us fell completely silent.

“Fuck,” Logan murmured under his breath.

Diego Silva, Mateo’s father, stepped out and began strolling toward us, taking in everything around him with a vague interest. The resemblance between the two men hit hard. Same sharp cheekbones. Same dark, unreadable eyes. The same quiet arrogance that filled the space around them like smoke.

Mateo wore his charm like a tailored suit—flashy, polished, meant to dazzle.

But Diego? He didn’t need charm. Power clung to him like a second skin, cold and absolute.

“What is the delay?” he asked, brushing a nonexistent speck from his beige linen jacket, his disdain palpable.

“Father, I can handle this. I just need a few more moments?—”

Diego turned on his son, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. “We stop for this ? One simple task—seconds, at most—and you still manage to fail. You’re even more useless than I gave you credit for.”

Mateo’s face burned with humiliation, but he kept his mouth shut.

Then Diego shifted his gaze to me. Cold. Calculating. “You turned down my son’s invitation? You think you’re better than him?”

Logan didn’t move. Not exactly.

But I saw it—the subtle shift of his hand drifting toward his waist. Toward his weapon. A silent promise waiting to be unleashed.

“No, sir,” I said evenly. “I simply explained that I can’t leave my patient. Not tonight. I am needed here.”

Diego glanced toward Carlos’s house, then gestured to two of his men. “Let me see this patient . Bring him out.”

No doubt they were going to ask Carlos if he minded if I didn’t care for him tonight. I already knew what his answer would be. There was no way Carlos would stand up against Diego Silva. “Mr. Silva, that’s not necessary. He’s not well enough to?—”

But the men were already moving. I heard Carlos cry out as they ripped him from bed, aggravating his healing wound. They dragged him outside and deposited him roughly in the dirt in front of Diego.

Carlos was pale and disoriented, clutching his side. Fresh blood spread across his shirt—his wound torn open again from the rough handling.

Diego crouched down beside Carlos with the casual interest of someone examining livestock. “Dr. Valentino tells us your condition is quite serious.”

“I… Yes, senor,” Carlos stammered, his eyes darting between Mateo and me. “The doctora has been very kind…”

“She also tells us she cannot attend my son’s dinner party because of your injury. That you need her here.”

Carlos blanched. “No, senor. I—I don’t want that. My wound is not that serious.”

I stepped forward. “You see how badly he’s bleeding. This is not something I can ignore. It would be unethical of me.”

Diego stood and gave a thoughtful nod. “That is understandable.”

I exhaled, thinking the worst had passed. Maybe not forever—but at least I wouldn’t be forced into some morally dubious dinner party tonight.

Then Diego pulled a gun from beneath his suit jacket.

Time fractured.

One second, Carlos was kneeling there in the dirt—sweating, silent, alive. The next, a gunshot split the humid air. His body snapped back, then collapsed in a graceless heap.

Blood darkened the dirt in a slow, spreading halo. Silva’s men shifted, careful not to let it touch their boots.

The world tilted. My ears rang. Everything sounded distant, distorted—like I was underwater. I couldn’t move. Could barely breathe.

Diego’s voice cut through the static, smooth as silk. “Well. Now, you don’t have to worry about ethics. We’ve taken care of that for you.”

He turned toward the waiting SUVs, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve. “My son will expect you at eight. Our men will come for you.”

And just like that, they were gone. Diego never looked back. Mateo followed, his shame leaking out around the edges of his rage.

I tried to go to Carlos, but Logan wouldn’t release my arm. “He’s gone. There’s nothing you can do.”

I knew he was right, but still… Carlos had been alive yesterday. Laughing a little. Asking when he could return to work. I’d told him soon, even though I hadn’t been sure.

And now, he was dead. Because of me.

Logan’s hand tightened, steadying me. Only then did I realize he was the only thing holding me upright. Beneath my shock, I could feel the fury coiled in him—tight, hot, dangerous. It was taking everything he had not to draw his weapon.

The SUVs rumbled off, leaving Carlos facedown in the dirt, his blood soaking into the earth, the sharp metallic tang of death thick in the humid air.

I stood there staring at the blood that was pooling in the street, at the village women who had emerged to cover their children’s eyes, at the space where a living, breathing human being had existed moments before.

“Lauren.” Logan’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “We need to go. Now.”

But I couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond the horrible understanding that Carlos was dead because I had tried to protect myself. Because I had made an excuse instead of just saying no.

The gunshot echoed in my mind as Logan guided me away from the village, away from the blood and the horror and the terrible knowledge that nowhere in Corazón was safe anymore.

Not for Carlos. Not for my patients. Not for my team.

And definitely not for me.