Page 8

Diego

I wake up to the soft rise and fall of Camille’s breathing beside me. The early morning light filters through the blinds, casting thin, pale lines across her face. I shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful she looks. I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all. But here we are.

The memory of last night crashes back into me like a flood. My mind immediately goes into overdrive, analyzing every decision that led to this. What the hell was I thinking?

I shift in bed, trying to carefully ease away from her without waking her. But of course, she stirs anyway, her eyes blinking open. She’s not even pretending to be disoriented. She’s awake, alert, and, to my surprise, unfazed.

“Good morning,” she says, voice thick with sleep. She sounds so damn casual about everything. Too casual.

“Morning,” I mutter, keeping my back to her, not wanting to engage. I’m already regretting this. All of it. Every damn second of it.

I hear the rustle of the sheets as she sits up, and I can practically feel the weight of her eyes on me. She’s waiting for something. Maybe an apology. Maybe an explanation. I won’t give her either.

I feel her shift, her voice breaking the silence. “Are you going to be weird since you fucked me?”

Her words are so crass, I have to take a pause. I don’t answer her. I just keep staring at the wall, clenching my jaw, trying to shake off the mess in my head. She’s not getting under my skin. Not today.

"We need to move from this place," I say, my tone flat, trying to stay focused on the task ahead. “I am taking you to a safe house for your protection.”

A beat of silence passes before she speaks again, her voice flat with a hint of annoyance. “Okay, but can you at least look at me while you speak, Diego? If you are worried I am going to be some girl pining after you, then you don’t need to worry. Sex can just be sex.”

No it can’t, not when it comes to her. There is something cosmic that passed between us last night.

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Then look at me.”

I turn to look at her, finally meeting her gaze. I’m not surprised by the edge in her tone. Or the way her eyes move across my face. I fucked her like a whore, and yet her stare still held so much intimacy. Her hair is wild. She looks like a freshly pleased woman.

“We need to stop by étienne’s apartment first. He might have left something useful there. Then we can go.” The words come out sharp, businesslike. Like we’re not even talking about last night, about us.

“Useful like what?”

I keep my mouth shut. She doesn't need to know that her brother was some kind of double agent. I have no idea what was in that letter that I gave her but I am sure that étienne would not want me telling his sister that not only was he a part of this world but he also happened to be a fed.

“Really? Silence? You’re so infuriating.” She raises an eyebrow, her gaze sharp, but she doesn’t argue. “Fine, let me get dressed and we can go.”

She’s not giving me the satisfaction of a fight, and in some ways, it pisses me off more than if she’d yelled at me.

I get up from the bed, moving quickly, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in my chest. I need to focus. I can’t afford to make this more complicated than it already is.

I finish dressing in silence, but the pressure lingers thick in the air. I can almost hear her thoughts in the quiet, though she doesn’t speak them aloud. I don’t need her to. I already know. She’s pissed. She’s annoyed.

Fine.

“We leave in ten minutes,” I say, my voice flat.

I don’t wait for her response. I don’t care what she says. I have bigger things to worry about than making nice with her right now.

The drive to étienne apartment is as you would expect. Silence. She is seething in her anger and I am too lost in my own self-punishment to care. I should have never touched her–but I did.

I park the car in front of étienne's apartment, the engine rumbling to a stop. Whatever he has on the cartels, I need to find it first before they do. It is my only shot at gaining the leverage I need to keep her safe.

Camille is already out of the car by the time I’m on my feet. She doesn’t wait for me to lead; she walks straight toward the building, her movements tense, like she’s bracing for something. I will admit, I had expected her to be more…warm to me after the sex. Call me a fool in thinking that maybe she would fall a little for me, but I guess sex is just sex to her.

Why does that thought irk me so much?

I follow her inside, my boots heavy on the worn carpet of the hallway. We reach the door. It’s locked, but I have a key from when I last stayed here with étienne. I unlock it with one quick twist, the sound of the lock clicking echoing through the apartment.

The space feels cold. Unlived in, even though it was once étienne’s. The air smells stale, like dust and the remnants of something that was alive but is now just a shadow of its former self. I guess when she came here the last time, she didn’t bother to move anything around.

I glance at Camille as she steps into the apartment. Her face is unreadable, but I can see the way her jaw tightens as she takes in the room. She looks like she’s already mourning everything she’s about to lose.

I stay back, letting her move freely through the apartment, though I’m always watching. She starts by rifling through his bookshelves, her fingers brushing over the spines, her eyes distant, almost lost.

"What exactly would we be looking for?" she asks, though I know she’s not really expecting an answer. Her voice cracks slightly, betraying the calm she’s trying to project. When I don’t give her an immediate answer, she looks over her shoulder. “I can’t help you look if you don’t tell me what to look out for, genius.”

She’s right. “I’m not exactly sure what we are looking for, but I would like to think it's either a file or a flash drive that has information on the entire cartel system.”

“Why would étienne have that in his possession? Was he some kind of bookkeeper?"

“Of sorts, yes,” I say in a clipped tone. “Just keep your eyes peeled. If you see anything useful, just show me and we take it to the next hideout.”

She nods, not looking at me. Her fingers linger on one of his notebooks, a crease forming between her brows as she flips it open. There’s a lot written inside, and she starts to read, slowly at first, like she’s unsure of what she might find.

Her breathing changes, the rhythm subtle but noticeable. I can feel it too—the shift in the room, the atmosphere becoming heavier as she gets deeper into étienne’s things.

It’s strange to watch her like this, so up close and personal. Usually, I always lingered in the shadows.

She looks so fragile, like a person who’s trying to hold on to something that’s slipping through her fingers. I should be detached. I should pull away, keep my distance. But there’s a part of me—one I don’t want to acknowledge—that feels a strange urge to comfort her.

But I can’t. I won’t.

Instead, I turn away, walking toward the kitchen, trying to distract myself. I open drawers, checking for anything out of place, anything that could be important. But it’s all just... nothing.

I glance back at Camille, watching her as she moves from one part of the apartment to the next. She’s not even fully aware of the sadness creeping into her expression as she opens a box, revealing some of étienne’s old clothes. Her face softens, the hardness in her eyes fading for just a moment.

I’m not sure what she’s hoping to find.

When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet, almost to herself. “I should’ve been here. I should’ve known something was wrong. I had felt it in my gut a while ago that something was just…off but I didn’t listen to my gut instinct. Had I listened, then maybe he would be alive right now. Maybe I could have kept him safe.”

I don’t say anything at first. I don’t have the words for it, and I know she wouldn’t appreciate them if I did. Instead, I just watch her.

I swallow hard, forcing the urge to reach out to her back down. I can’t.

“You're punishing yourself for staying out of it like he wanted you to. If you want to make amends with him, do as I say and stay alive.”

Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and for a brief second, there’s a flicker of something between us—something raw and unspoken. She doesn’t respond, though. Instead, she looks away, pushing the clothes back into the box with more force than necessary.

I stay quiet as she finishes searching the apartment. She picks through a few more things, but nothing of interest stands out.

I glance at the clock. “Let’s go,” I say, turning toward the door. "There’s nothing here."

She doesn’t argue. She just grabs her jacket and heads out of the apartment. I follow her, not bothering to say anything more.

But as we leave, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve failed her somehow. Failed to protect her from the one thing that has haunted both of us. The past.

“Where to next?” She asks as we break through the exit of the old building.

“To a cabin on the outskirts of the city. We will be safe there while I come up with a plan.”

We get into my car and I roar the engine to life, peeling away from the building.

The cabin in the woods is a far cry from the chaos of the city. Its isolation almost suffocates, but for the moment, it’s exactly what we need—somewhere to lay low, to regroup. The front door creaks behind us as we step inside, the weight of everything pressing on my shoulders. Camille walks in behind me, her eyes scanning the place with a detached look, as though she’s already decided it’s not much different from the last place we were in. But I don’t ask her about it.

I lead her down a narrow hallway to one of the rooms at the back. It’s small, barely furnished, but functional.

“You can stay here,” I say, turning to face her.

I feel like an asshole doing it, but it’s necessary. She needs her own space, even if it’s just for the night.

Camille steps into the room and glances around. “What’s next, then? We obviously can’t wait here and do nothing.” Her voice is calm, almost mocking.

I grit my teeth, the guilt starting to claw at me, but I push it away. “I need to go handle something in the city. Stay here. It’s safe for now.”

“Whatever,” she huffs and turns away from me. “Go do what you need to do.”

She doesn’t even look back at me as I leave her in the room, the door closing quietly behind me.

Maybe it’s my own mind playing tricks on me but there is something off about her. I can’t quite figure it out, but there is something that she is holding back–hiding.

I leave the cabin and head to the car. I am not even three steps from the door when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I don’t want to answer it until I see the name that flashes across my screen.

“Where the fuck are you?” Miguel hisses through the phone. “We are waiting for you.”

“You’ve all started meetings without me many times before. Go ahead, I will be there within 30 minutes.”

“The bosses want you here. They say it’s about Dupont.”

My blood runs cold. “What about him? I put that fucker to sleep, like they asked.”

“Not sure. All I know is they are on edge and they need all hands on deck immediately. Get here now.”

“I’m on my way,” I mutter.

My hopes of keeping this girl out of the cross fire dwindle by the second. I need to find a way to get her out of this alive even if it means taking the sword to my chest.

Miguel doesn’t wait for me to say more before hanging up. I head to the car, my mind already racing with possible ideas of what this could be about. I try to remind myself that she is safe in the cabin and no one will find her there.

It takes me almost an hour to reach the Maranelli manor. My heart is on the floor. The gun in my holster burns against me. I may need to make use of my gun today.

The house has an eerie stillness, the kind that sets your nerves on edge. I push open the heavy oak doors to the study and step inside. The air is thick with cigar smoke and the scent of aged wood. An elaborate chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting shadows that dance across the room's mahogany walls and towering bookshelves.

The heads of the cartel are seated around an antique table, its surface worn from years of heated discussions. At the center of it all is Felix, his expression as calm and calculating as ever. He sits like he owns the room, which, to be fair, he practically does. Around him, the others murmur, stress etched into their faces. Miguel stands near the back, blending into the wallpaper like he’s trying not to exist.

I take my spot against the far wall, arms crossed, my face a mask of indifference.

The man at the head of the table clears his throat. Salvatore, along with Maranelli, controls the majority of the opioid ring in the city. He is as old and ruthless as the cartel itself and commands the room with his presence. His voice is low but carries a weight that makes everyone listen.

“We are in some deep shit,” Salvatore begins. “étienne Dupont, that little shit, took information on everything. Our routes, suppliers and distributors. Not only that but he also has information on Vladmir and the rest of the Russians. If those files get leaked to the police, then we're finished. The mayor would go down with us. Dupont knew about Mayor Brown helping us make our movements easier.”

There’s a long pause as the words sink in. The sound of a cigar being tapped against the ashtray breaks the silence.

Salvatore’s gaze moves across the room, landing on Felix. “What have we uncovered so far?”

Felix leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Not much. Dupont was smart, too smart. But he had to have a backup plan. The question is, where did he hide it? Or who did he trust enough to tell?”

The weight of Felix’s words shifts the focus of the room. Slowly, every head turns toward me.

“Diego.” Salvatore’s voice cuts through the tension. “You knew étienne. Worked with him. What do you know?”

I keep my arms crossed, my voice even. “étienne didn’t trust anyone. If he hid something, he didn’t tell me about it.”

Felix raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Didn’t tell you, or you’re just not saying?”

“He didn’t tell me anything. What reason do I have to keep information that could likely get me locked up away from all of you?”

I know the reason and it is a 5'5" blonde with a temper like no other.

Salvatore nods, but the suspicion in the room doesn’t dissipate. “What about his sister?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. “They were close. Maybe she knows something.”

I keep my face blank, my tone cold. “She doesn’t know anything. She’s grieving. That’s all.”

The quiet that follows is suffocating. Felix watches me with a glint in his eye, like he’s already figured out the secret I’m trying to keep.

“Grieving people talk,” Felix says, his voice smooth. “Sometimes to the wrong people. Sometimes they do the wrong things.”

I don’t move, don’t react, but inside, I can feel my anger simmering.

Salvatore finally breaks the silence. “Enough. Diego, you’re dismissed. Felix, stay.”

I give a curt nod and turn to leave, my pulse steady despite the storm brewing inside me. Things have completely fallen to shit now and I am now backed into a corner. I need to find out where étienne hid the information he gathered on us before they do.

As of right now, the only one I need to protect is Camille.

The night air is cool against my face as I step out onto the stone path leading from the house. I don’t make it far before I hear footsteps behind me.

“Diego,” Felix calls, his voice calm but carrying a sharp edge.

I stop but don’t turn around. “What do you want, Felix?”

He steps up beside me, his hands casually in his pockets. “Just curious,” he says, his tone light but laced with danger. “You seemed… tense in there. Defensive, even.”

I glance at him, keeping my expression neutral. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

He chuckles, the sound low and mocking. “Oh, I’ve got plenty to say.”

“Then out with it, Vasquez.” I stare him down, making sure to steel my back. People like Felix can smell hesitation from a mile away. I watch him ball his fists at his side and I cock my eyebrow. “You want to swing, Vasquez? Go ahead. Take your shot.”

The tension in the air is electric as I walk down the stone path, the gravel crunching under my boots. I know Felix won’t let things lie—he’s like a snake, always coiled and ready to strike.

I don’t make it far before I hear his footsteps again. This time, they’re heavier, more deliberate. I turn just as Felix steps out from the shadows, his face lit by the faint glow of the lanterns lining the path.

“You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?” Felix’s voice is calm, but his eyes burn with something dangerous.

“I don’t think anything, Felix,” I say, keeping my tone flat. “I’m just trying to do my job.”

He laughs, a bitter, humorless sound. “Your job? You mean protecting that girl? Don’t act like we don’t all see what’s going on.”

I step closer, my body rigid. “Careful, Felix.”

He smirks, tilting his head. “What are you gonna do, Diego? Hit me? Go ahead. Prove me right.”

The words barely leave his mouth before I feel my fist connect with his jaw. The force of it sends him stumbling back, but he recovers quickly, spitting blood onto the gravel.

“Oh, so that’s how it is,” he sneers. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

Felix lunges at me, and suddenly we’re locked in a brutal fight. His punches come fast, wild, but I’ve been in enough scraps to know how to block most of them. I land a hard hit to his ribs, and he doubles over for a moment before swinging back with a fury that nearly catches me off guard.

The fight is raw, messy. Gravel flies as we move, fists colliding with flesh, grunts and heavy breaths filling the night air. Felix is smaller than me, but he fights like a man with something to prove.

“You’ve had it too easy, Navarro!” he growls, landing a blow to my side. “Always the favorite, always untouchable.”

I counter with an uppercut that snaps his head back. “You done talking yet?”

Felix charges me, but I sidestep, using his momentum against him. He stumbles, and I take the opening to grab him by the collar and slam him against the stone wall of the house.

His breath comes in ragged gasps as I pin him there, my forearm pressed against his throat. “You don’t want to do this,” I say, my voice low and steady. “Walk away, Felix.”

But he just grins through the blood on his lips. “This isn’t over,” he says, his voice strained but defiant. “Not by a long shot.”

I release him, letting him slump against the wall. For a moment, neither of us moves. Then Felix pushes himself upright, brushing off his shirt like he hasn’t just been beaten. He glares at me with a hatred that cuts deeper than any knife.

“You think you’ve won?” he says, his voice dripping with venom. “This is just the beginning.”

Without another word, Felix stalks off into the darkness, leaving me alone in the silence.