Page 159 of The Devil's Thorn

I wanted to throw something. I wanted to make him bleed. But more than anything… I wanted to win.

Not yet,I reminded myself as I picked up my drink and took a slow sip, the ice brushing my lips like a second reminder of his absence.

Not yet. But soon.

CHAPTER 12

RAFAEL

Theshirt wouldn’t sit right. It wasn’t the fabric or the fit—tailored and pressed just the way I liked—but something in me itched beneath the collar. My fingers adjusted the buttons slowly, but my mind was nowhere near the mirror in front of me.

She hadn’t answered the message I sent her last night. Just a set of instructions—time, place, dress code. I didn’t need confirmation. She’d come. I knew it like I knew how to pull a trigger in the dark. Isabella was the kind of woman who walked through fire just to see who lit the match.

And I was the one holding the damn lighter.

“Still brooding over your little tattooed mystery?” Yuri’s voice cut through the room, teasing as always. He sat sprawled across one of the armchairs in my suite, a drink in hand, sleeves rolled up, looking like trouble wrapped in charm.

Nikolai stood near the minibar, silent, always watching.

I didn’t answer at first. Instead, I turned slightly, letting the light catch the gleam of my watch as I fastened the cufflink. “She let you tattoo her,” I finally muttered, voice low but sharp. “On her chest.”

Yuri chuckled. “I didn’t hear athank you, boss.”

I glanced at him, jaw tight. “You inked my symbol into her skin. You know exactly what that thread means.”

“I know whatyouthink it means.” He raised his glass lazily. “You’re pissed because you didn’t get to be the one to mark her first.”

The ice in his glass clinked. I didn’t respond to that either.

He wasn’t wrong—but it was more than that. It was the way she wore that tattoo, the red thread gleaming against her skin like a warning, like a promise. She hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t hesitated. She didn’t do it

for me. She did it for herself. That was the part that really fucked with my head.

“I should’ve taken her right there,” I said, voice colder now. “At the pool. Against that chair. She would’ve let me.”

“But you didn’t,” Nikolai finally spoke, his voice even, unreadable.

“No,” I muttered. “Because she still smells like war.”

Yuri whistled low. “You’re either going to end up killing her, or marrying her. No in-between.”

I turned to face him fully now, eyes narrowed. “Tell me something, Yuri,” I said, “when you wrapped that thread into her hair… was it for her first kill?”

Yuri’s expression sobered. “No. It was for the moment she finally survives everything she doesn’t talk about.”

A beat of silence passed. The kind that carried weight.

“Cartel meeting,” Nikolai said, checking the time. “Ten minutes to wheels up.”

I grabbed my jacket and ran a hand through my hair, fixing it back. “They’ll want the usual—shipment routes, weapons, numbers,” I said. “But this time we show them control. No favors. No desperation. We deal from power.”

“They’ll smell weakness if we let them,” Nikolai added.

“And they’ll watch your eyes when you walk in with Isabella,” Yuri grinned, standing up and straightening his shirt. “Let’s just hope she behaves.”

I didn’t bother answering. She never behaved. And I wasn’t sure I wanted her to.

We stepped out into the hallway, the sound of our footsteps sharp against the marble floors. Outside, the night was thick with Caribbean heat. Black SUVs were parked in a line, engines rumbling low like a warning.