Page 186 of The Devil's Thorn

I tightened the jacket around myself as I picked up my pace, my boots pressing against the cracked pavement, the edges of buildings blurring together in my periphery. The gun stayed inmy hand, half-concealed beneath the jacket, my fingers tense around the grip.

Viktor. The Italians. Framed cartel. Rafael.

The names twisted together like threads of a rope I hadn’t realized was already looped around all our necks.

I wasn’t just chasing ghosts anymore. This was real. Close. And it had claws.

By the time I turned down the road leading back to the retreat, my breath had finally evened out, but my thoughts hadn’t. They were racing. Tangled.

Rafael had no idea. Or maybe he did. And he hadn’t told me. Wouldn’t be the first time someone decided I didn’t need the truth.

The air around me shifted—humid, thick, like the storm was holding its breath. Then a single drop hit my shoulder. Warm. Then another. And then the sky cracked open.

A soft, steady rain began falling, misty at first, then heavier, coating the cracked sidewalk, the tops of trees, my skin. It wasn’t cold—nothing ever was in Cartagena—but it chilled something inside me anyway.

I tilted my face up toward the sky, letting the rain roll down my cheeks. And for just a second, I let myself stop walking. Let the silence wrap around me, broken only by the hiss of water touching earth.

I wasn’t sure what I felt.

Anger, yes. Frustration, always. But there was something else too. A slow, sinking fear that maybe I was too far in. Not just in Rafael’s world.

But inhim.

The moment I found myself thinking about whether he already suspected Viktor, whether he would believe me, whether he would hate me for following my own lead—I realized I wasthinking like someone who cared. And that pissed me off more than anything else.

The rain soaked into my clothes, into my hair, into my bones. And I kept walking.

Each step back toward the retreat felt heavier than the last, and the heat of Cartagena wrapped around me like a second skin, sticky and unrelenting. But the closer I got, the more everything sharpened. My spine straightened. My jaw set.

I wasn’t done. Not even close.

And the next time someone tried to set a trap for Rafael—They’d find me standing in it, holding the damn trigger.

The dim golden lights of the retreat flickered in the distance through the rain. And I didn’t stop walking.

Rain kissed the top of my head in a slow, steady rhythm as I finally made it back to the resort’s edge. My boots thudded against the path, the sound muffled by the rain, and my jacket clung to my skin, damp from both sweat and water. Cartagena’s heat didn’t falter even beneath the downpour. Each step I took was heavier than the last, a reflection of the thoughts crowding my mind.

The Italian Mafia. A setup. A fucking setup.

The pieces were clicking together in my head, and I hated how clearly I saw the puzzle forming.

My fingers tightened around the phone in my hand as the lights of the resort glowed just ahead. I slowed, glancing toward the open archway near the side entrance. The wood-beamed ceiling offered just enough cover from the rain, and I stepped under it, breathing out a shaky breath. My heart was still pounding, not from the walk, but from what I heard. What I knew now.

I took out my phone and typed a message to Kellan: I’m okay. At the resort. Be back soon.

I hit send, my thumb hovering over the screen for a moment longer before I locked it and slid it back into my pocket. My eyes stayed on the street in front of me, the rain shimmering under the golden lights. Everything looked normal. Too normal.

And then— A hand slammed over my mouth.

I barely had time to gasp before another arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me back against a solid chest. The scent hit me first—sharp cologne, smoke, and something darker underneath. Familiar.

But my body didn’t recognize him. Not at first.

My fingers scrambled to grab the gun at my side, but I was being pulled back, away from the light, from the street, into the shadows near the side of the building.

I twisted, kicked. My instincts surged.

But he didn’t say a word as he dragged me away, into the dark.