Page 270 of His To Erase

The name slams into me, it sounds so fucking familar.

Fuck.

I’ve heard it before. Whispered in the kind of circles I used to haunt—rooms full of power cloaked in shadows. Rivera was the kind of man people lowered their voice for because he didn’t need a title. He already owned everything that mattered.

“Bayamón,” I mutter, the name bitter on my tongue. “He ruled it like a goddamn king—kept everyone on a leash and made them thank him for the privilege.”

“Not just ports,” he mutters. “Land. Arms. Trade routes. Multiple offshore accounts under Rivera Holdings. He had his hand everywhere—political, military, global. Old-world power. The kind passed through bloodlines.”

I stare out the window as the plane begins its descent. The island spreads beneath us in endless shades of green, veined with shadows that look too familiar.

“Tell me he’s alive.” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Doubt it,” he says. “Found some coded files. Internal chatter flagged a private alert three years ago. He was sick—but not that sick.”

The tap of keys fills the silence between us.

“Here’s the interesting part,” he mutters. “Next of kin was listed as a son. On paper, it all looked clean. But I’m about to prove that document was forged.”

My grip tightens around the phone. I don’t speak yet. Just breathe through the static building behind my eyes.How is this happening and how the fuck did I miss this?

I shut my eyes. “You’re telling me this whole thing?—”

“Yup.” He exhales hard, like he’s been holding it in since the second I walked out that door. And suddenly it all clicks. Frank didn’t just find her. He hunted her. Tracked her down and played the long game, waiting until he could own her on paper the way he already thought he did in his head.

“He needs her alive,” I mutter, the words scraping my throat.

“Alive and obedient,” he confirms. “Marriage gives him everything. As soon as she signs that form, the Rivera empire is his.”

My chest goes tight. But it’s what he says next that knocks the breath clean out of me.

“Hey, Steven.”

He never calls me that. Not even on that evacuation mission. Not after the bloodbaths. Not even when I flatlined for 46 seconds in Morocco and came back pissed as hell the target got away.It was only for 5 hours but still.If he’s saying my name now. It’s bad.

“Just tell me,” I breathe.

He clears his throat. “There’s a private auction for offshore buyers only.” He pauses. “It goes live tonight.”

Motherfucker.

I go still. My body doesn’t even register the turbulence. I’m past logic. Past forgiveness. I stare out the window, willing the clouds to part and show me where she is. Some sign. Anything. Because until I see her—until I touch her—I can’t think about what the other options look like.

I know what she looks like when she’s scared and trying not to be. I know how her breathing changes when she lies. I know the way her jaw ticks when she’s swallowing a scream. And the idea that Frank might’ve seen that—might’ve touched her?—

My fists tighten as something cracks in my chest and lodges under my ribs, too sharp to be rage, but too familiar to be anything but grief. I haven’t cried since grade school. Not even when I lost everything. But this—the thought of losing her? I can’t even fucking go there.

If I’m too late— if she’s hurt, or he married her, I’ll kill him. I’ll take him apart piece by piece and make sure he knows exactly why. I’ll burn his empire and salt the fucking earth with the ashes of everything he thought he owned.

“Hey.” Travis’s voice cuts in. I forgot I was still on the phone. “Don’t go there, man.” The silence stretches. “You lose your head, he wins.”

I nod once, and hang up. He’s right. Emotion makes you sloppy and I won’t get to be sloppy. Not now. Not for her. Not when everything’s on the line. This is what I like to call the calm before the reckoning.

The plane shudders on descent, and my phone buzzes in my palm again.

“I forwarded you everything I pulled so far—estate layout, floorplans, security grid, lawyer’s name. And hey—I called in afew markers. Some friends of mine will be waiting when you land. Ex-military. Discharged dirty, but you can trust ’em.”

I nod even though he can’t see me. “How many?”