Page 13 of Lone Wolf (Red Rivals)

CHAPTER 13

Sunny

The rain continues to fall as our convoy finally pulls back into Elysium. I’m soaked to the bone, my clothes filthy with blood that isn’t mine, and I can’t stop my hands from shaking.

I’ve killed before. That’s not new. But never like that . Never with that kind of... I don’t even know what to call it. Rage? Madness? Something darker that I didn’t know lived inside me until I saw those women—girls, some of them—huddled in that truck like animals.

I close my eyes as the SUV rolls to a stop, trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest. I should be proud. We saved lives tonight. But all I can think about is the look on Ariadne’s face when she pulled me off that man’s body.

And the lie she told for me.

Why would she do that?

“Santiago.” Scarlett’s voice cuts through my thoughts. She made me ride with her again on the way back, taking shotgun. “We’re here. Let’s go.”

I nod numbly and climb out of the vehicle. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, but the sky is still thick with clouds, making dawn look more like dusk. The Syndicate’s medical personnel are already escorting the women we rescued into the mansion’s treatment area. Some of the women walk on their own, leaning on each other; others are carried on stretchers. All of them look afraid.

Especially when they look at me.

“You did good work tonight,” Scarlett says, appearing at my shoulder again. She studies me with sharp eyes. “Despite the complications.”

“Yeah,” I agree, trying to sound normal. “Glad we got there in time.”

“Must have been scary, seeing Ariadne lose it.”

“I…guess.”

She gives me a long look and I’m sure she can see right through me. But she just nods toward the training wing, where all the other recruits have gone for showers. “Go get cleaned up. Mission debrief in an hour.”

But I head toward the medical center instead of the showers, drawn by a need I can’t quite name. The Syndicate’s medical team works efficiently, checking vitals, treating wounds, offering blankets and water. The women’s faces show varying degrees of shock, fear, and disbelief at their sudden freedom. And some are blank. Completely blank.

I scan their faces, an automatic response.

“Are you hurt?” a medic asks me, noticing my blood-soaked clothes.

“No,” I say quickly. “Not my blood. I’m just checking on them.”

She moves on to the next patient. I should leave, let these women recover in peace. But my feet are rooted to the floor as I watch them, wondering if any of them might know something, if any of them might remember a girl named?—

“Excuse me.” A deep, cultured voice interrupts my thoughts.

I turn to find Johnny de Luca, known as “the Gentleman” in criminal circles, motioning to me from the corridor. He’s impeccably dressed despite the early hour, his silver hair perfectly styled, his suit unwrinkled. I’ve only seen him a few times around Elysium, but I recognize him immediately.

Because once upon a time, he worked for the Mancini Family himself. Maybe that’s why he’s staying outside the treatment area. My first instinct is hostility, but I try to swallow it down. These days, Johnny the Gentleman is an adviser to the Bianchi Family—and he was the bank behind the operation tonight. So I step out of the room and follow him a few feet down the hallway.

“Yes, sir?” I say, trying to wipe some of the blood from my hands onto my already-ruined pants.

“You’re one of the team that brought these women in?” he asks, his voice low.

“That’s right, sir.” I straighten my spine a little. “Santiago. Sunny Santiago.”

“Then thank you for your services tonight, Ms. Santiago.” He gives me a warm smile. “My daughter and her partner run an extensive network for women escaping trafficking and abuse. We’ll make sure these women are well cared for.”

“That’s good.” My voice catches. “They deserve that.”

“Indeed they do.” He studies me for a moment, his eyes kind but penetrating. “This sort of work affects us all differently. Don’t be afraid to seek support if you need it.”

Before I can respond, he moves past me toward Hadria, who’s just entered the corridor at the other end. They smile and shake hands, and I hear him express his gratitude for the Syndicate’s intervention.

“It was the right thing to do,” Hadria says. “And besides, the Mancini Family has no business operating in our territory, especially not this kind of business.”

I slip away, suddenly desperate for a shower and clean clothes and most importantly, my own room. But the dormitory halls are buzzing with activity when I make my way back—recruits and full members alike discussing the mission, comparing notes, rehashing moments of danger and triumph.

When I enter the dorms’ common room, I hear a cheer go up from a group gathered around Enzo and Vanessa. Enzo’s face is flushed with pride as he recounts capturing one of the Mancini soldiers.

“He tried to run, but I tackled him so hard he pissed himself!” Enzo laughs, demonstrating the move with a flourish. “And then Nessa disarmed him before he could even blink, got him cuffed up…”

The story continues and the other recruits hang on their every word. Matty claps Enzo on the back. “I bet Hadria’s gonna fast-track you both to full membership,” he says, a touch wistful.

“The Boss is gonna squeeze that guy for every bit of intel on the Mancini operations in Chicago,” Vanessa adds, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder. “I bet we’ll find the rest of their trafficking spots.”

I slow my pace, watching from the edge of the group. Under normal circumstances, I’d be right in there, celebrating with them, cracking jokes. But nothing about tonight feels normal.

I scan the room and find Ariadne standing alone by the far wall, her posture rigid. She’s changed into fresh clothes, her hair still damp from a shower, but there’s a tension in her shoulders that I can see even from here. A few recruits glance her way, then quickly look away, their expressions uneasy.

One whispers to another, “They say she went full Grandmother psycho on those guys at the warehouse.”

“I heard she stabbed one of them, like, thirty fuckin’ times,” the other replies, voice lowered. “Just lost it completely.”

Something twists in my gut. That was me, not her. I’m the one who lost control. I’m the one who stabbed a man long after he was dead. I’m the one who couldn’t stop, who was freaking out and?—

“Hey, Sunny!” Enzo calls, noticing me hovering at the edge of the crowd. “Get over here! You hear about how Vanessa disarmed some big guy twice her size?”

I force a smile that feels like it might crack my face. “Sounds badass,” I agree, moving closer to the group but keeping my distance from their celebratory energy.

“Damn straight,” Vanessa preens, clearly enjoying the attention. “But seriously, you did good work too, Santiago. Hadria said you were the one who found the women.”

“Well,” I say, my smile feeling more fragile by the second. “We all did our part.”

“Except Frostbite over there,” Matty says in a low voice, jerking his head toward Ariadne. “She went off-script. Heard Hadria’s thinking about putting her on lockdown with that other Grandmother psycho they brought back from Vegas.”

The others murmur agreement, but I can’t stand to hear any more. “I need a shower before the debrief,” I mumble, pushing past them toward the hallway.

As I pass Ariadne, our eyes meet briefly. Her gaze is unreadable, but something passes between us—an understanding, a shared secret—and I quickly look away, afraid of what my own eyes might reveal.

The hot water of the shower washes away the blood but not the memory of what I did. I scrub my skin until it’s raw, watching the reddish-brown water swirl down the drain. My mind keeps replaying the moment in that warehouse—the rage that overtook me, the surge of something primal and unstoppable.

I scared myself.

But I don’t think I scared Ariadne. And I don’t know how to feel about that.

When I finally emerge, dressed in clean sweatpants and a tank top, the dormitory sounds emptier. Probably most of them have gone early to the mansion for the debrief or to find food. I should join them, but I need a moment to pull myself together, to rebuild my facade before seeing all of them again.

I make it halfway to my room when a hand grabs my arm, pulling me into an empty side corridor. I react instinctively, twisting out of the grip and spinning into a defensive stance—only to find myself face-to-face with Ariadne.

Her eyes are intense, searching mine with a focus that pins me in place. “We need to talk,” she says, her voice low and urgent. “Now.”

“I don’t think?—”

“Not here.” She pulls me on toward my dorm room. I could resist, but something in her manner—not cold, not calculating, but genuinely concerned—makes me follow.

Once inside my small room, she closes the door and stands in front of it, arms crossed. I move to sit on the edge of my bed, suddenly exhausted.

“What is it?” I ask, though I already know.

“You know exactly what this is about.” She doesn’t raise her voice, but the intensity of her gaze increases. “What happened in that warehouse?”

“You were there,” I say, trying to sound casual. “You saw what happened: I eliminated a threat.”

“I saw you lose control.” Her words are cutting. “I saw you kill a man long after he was dead. I want to know why .”

“Does it matter? You already took the blame.” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice. “Why would you do that? Why would you…protect me?”

“So you admit you needed protection?” I say nothing. “Answer the question, Santiago.” She steps closer, looming over me. “What was your stake in all this? And don’t lie to me. You’re a shitty liar.”

I stare up at her, at those blue eyes that see too much. Part of me wants to deflect, to throw up my walls and push her away with a joke or a smile. But I’m too tired, too raw from everything that’s happened. I couldn’t smile if my life depended on it.

“Fine,” I say, standing up to face her. “You want to know? I’ll tell you. But it doesn’t leave this room.”

She gives a short nod, and I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words for a story I’ve never fully told anyone.

“I had a sister,” I begin, and my voice already threatens to break on those simple words. “Marisol. She was two years older than me. We grew up in a…well, it wasn’t a good situation. Dad was a low-level enforcer for a cartel. Mom was an addict. Mari and me…we took care of each other.”

I pace to the small window, staring out at the rain-slick grounds of Elysium without really seeing them.

“When I was sixteen and she was eighteen, she tried to get us out. She had a plan, saved up some money from odd jobs, thought she could get us to my aunt’s in San Diego.” The memory of that night stings like a fresh wound. “But she got caught. My father…”

I stop, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. “He beat us both nearly to death. And then, to teach her a lesson, he said, he sold her to a trafficking ring. I never saw her again.”

Ariadne is silent, watching me with that unreadable expression. I feel naked under her gaze, all my carefully constructed defenses stripped away.

“I’ve been looking for her ever since,” I continue, my voice stronger now. “I tried everything—police, FBI, private investigators. Nothing. It’s like she vanished. Then I heard rumors about the Syndicate, about their resources, their connections to the criminal world. I figured if anyone could help me find Mari, it would be them.”

“So you joined to find your sister,” Ariadne says, not a question but a confirmation.

“Yes.” I meet her eyes steadily. “When I heard about this mission, targeting a trafficking ring…I thought she might be there. I thought maybe after all these years...”

“But she wasn’t. And those men, when they rushed us—you lost control,” Ariadne finishes for me.

“I pictured my father,” I admit quietly. “I pictured every man who’s ever bought and sold a girl like my sister. And I couldn’t stop myself.”

Ariadne’s expression shifts—almost imperceptibly—from interrogation to something more complex.

“Why did you take the blame?” I ask again, needing to understand. “You could have let me face the consequences. It would have been a lot simpler for you.”

She hesitates, looking uncomfortable for the first time since I’ve known her. “I’m already damaged goods. One more fuck-up won’t make a difference for me.”

“Bullshit,” I challenge, stepping closer to her. “That’s not why. Try again.”

“You’re in no position to demand answers from me, Santiago.” Her voice is soft. Warning.

But I don’t back down. “And yet here we are. You took a hit for me, Ariadne. I want to know why.”

“Because I—” She stops, seeming to struggle with the words. “Because I understand what it’s like to have a mission that consumes you. To be willing to do anything to complete it.”

It’s the most personal thing she’s ever said to me. For a moment, we stand in silence, staring at each other.

“You need to tell Hadria,” she says finally, breaking the tension. “About your sister. About why you’re really here.”

Panic floods my system. “No! They’ll kick me out, and then I’ll never find Mari!”

“The Syndicate has resources you can’t access on your own,” she argues. “If you tell them the truth, tell them it’s connected to this Mancini ring, they might help you.”

“Or they might decide I’m a liability and throw me out!” My voice rises with desperation. “I can’t take that chance, Ariadne. I can’t let her down again.”

“You won’t be helping her by getting yourself killed,” she says sharply. “Next time, you might not have someone to cover for you. Next time, you might go too far and cross a line you can’t come back from.”

“Why do you care?” I demand, frustration breaking through my fear. “Why does it matter to you what happens to me? You made it clear you didn’t give a fuck about me beyond the fact that we fight well together.”

“Because I hate those people just as much as you do,” she says finally, her voice quiet but resolute. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Santiago. I was trafficked myself. A different ring, but just as damaging. And if Hadria kicks you out because of this, if she decides you’re too much of a risk, then I’ll go with you.”

I stare at her, sure I’ve misheard. “What?”

“If they kick you out,” she clarifies, her expression deadly serious, “I’ll go with you. And we’ll find your sister ourselves. I have…contacts outside the Syndicate. People who owe me favors. It won’t be as easy, but it’s not impossible.”

I’m speechless. Of all the things I expected from Ariadne, this offer—this promise—was the last thing I could have imagined. Not just protecting me, but committing to my cause, risking her own position for a mission that isn’t hers.

“But…why?” I ask, bewildered.