Page 15

M artin De Santos stepped down from the dais, unremarkably calmer and happier than he’d ever been... Well, maybe that wasn’t true. Ever since he’d gotten rid of Isabella perhaps. Or since he’d seen Angel lift that gun. Oh, what a day that was. And what plans he’d had in mind with his son. They didn’t last long though. Not really.

God, this joy though , this peace right now , he wished it would last forever. But Isabella had always called this place a wretched curse. Had called him a monster. So, it seemed only fair that peace was no longer a viable option for him anymore.

What he hadn’t been expecting when he stepped off the last stair and strode to his dining room, of course, was the very solution to all his problems come knocking right at his door. But it was. Because there she was.

Martin pulled the doors open, the sound echoing through his empty walls as he lifted his head and well… froze.

Because seeing the particular girl who was supposed to be in a coma and had betrayed everyone the Lions behind their backs with her long legs propped up on the glass table wasn't something you saw every day. Seeing the very girl they’d been hunting–

Things had gotten so much more interesting.

So, Martin stilled, his hands stalling on the handle of the door as he watched the scene play with a mere blink. His heart began pacing, sudden such of anticipation, of excitement rushing through them.

Oh, she’d been right. She was so right .

“Raylene Walker.”

Martin announced, trying and desperately failing to keep that faint amusement from his tone as he dropped his hand from the door handle.

Raylene’s eyes were closed, her head hanging back as her highlighted blue bangs draped over her forehead. She was sitting on a chair, her arms crossed as she let out another one of her long sighs. Her white shirt was coated in red, blood that didn’t seem to belong to her. Blood from one of his people he knew for sure. Her brand-new black boots gleamed on his glass table, crossed and constantly tapping against one another.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” He grinned now, couldn’t really help himself. Because just as she’d said, Raylene Walker had come straight into his arms. And now, he’d have the perfect way to get rid of both his son and her .

Tap. Tap.

“Remind me,” Martin purred and took a few steps forward, the sound echoing through the empty room as he neared the glass table, “Aren’t you supposed to be dead to the world?”

Raylene didn’t respond. Just let out another breath and laced her hands against her abdomen, not a hint of expression on her face. He knew who she was now. What she was. Many had warned him. Seth Kincaid. Cole Kincaid. June Kincaid. Everyone had said the same thing.

Be careful. She’s dangerous. Don’t provoke her.

It was why he’d come prepared. His shadows were ready to strike at his orders, standing silently in the meanwhile. It gave him the confidence, the satisfaction of all of it playing right in the palm of his hands .

Martin’s eyes seemed to gleam as he watched her, gauging her reaction as Seth’s words rang soundly in his head.

And never, fucking ever, back Raylene Walker into a corner.

Tap.

“Looking for someone?”

Raylene’s entire body stilled, her feet freezing on his table as a satisfied grin stretched his lips wider. As he took another step forward and braced a hand on the gun hanging from his hip. Martin knew he shouldn’t, but really, really wanted to,

“Lost someone important now?”

Martin watched with fascination, as if a scientist were watching his monstrous creation, as Raylene’s eyes snapped open. Those golden hues were razor sharp, cutting right through him as she sleekly removed her feet off his table and placed her elbows in their place. Martin paused in his steps as she leaned forward onto her arms, the blade in her gaze sharpening as a slow smile curved her lips. One that sent goosebumps trailing down his spine.

His stomach twisted when she tilted her head to one end, looking at him as though she weren’t surrounded by his men. As if she weren’t in his territory and didn’t have a dozen guns pointed straight at her head. No, Raylene looked as though she owned this fucking place.

Martin’s nostril flared. But the smile on her lips only spread,

“I don’t lose things, Martin.” Ray purred back and jerked up from her seat suddenly. The chair fell back with a huge bang!

The movement and the sound surprised him enough to rip out his gun and point it straight at her heart. The sounds of the guns clicking into action filled the air, and Martin’s smile dimmed at the way her brows rose in amusement .

This girl, he cursed and tightened his hold on the metal of his gun, she’s dangerous.

“You’re alone in this Raylene Walker.” He announced and nudged his chin for his men to move out of their shadows. The people in black armor moved, not making a single sound as they stepped in her direction carefully. Raylene’s grin only widened though, the action making the hammering of his heart louder as well. That’s it, he wanted to scream, step into the trap like the rat you are.

“I know.” she responded, her words cutting smoothly through his thoughts as she blinked innocently at him, “But why shouldn’t that be enough?”

All the hooded people, his men paused for an entire second. Waiting. Afraid. Even Martin stilled, not knowing what was coming when–

Raylene jerked forward suddenly, her hands slamming down on the glass table. A loud thud echoed through the air as Martin stumbled back in surprise, almost dropping his gun as he did so. The sheer fear set the pit in his stomach, tumbling into a gnawing action, the blood in his veins fucking pounding when he finally forced himself to look up.

And stilled when he found her standing in the same place. Simply with her hands braced on the glass table and a gun placed right against her forehead and grinned at him maniacally,

“Boo.”

Blood rushed into his ears, the rage rising like a fucking tidal wave. How dare she? Martin’s eyes flared wide, the blood washing onto his skin as he slammed his fist against the concrete wall and roared,

“GET HER OUT OF MY FUCKING SIGHT! ”

Raylene began laughing when his men shuffled forward and grabbed her arms, twisted them behind her back, and checked her for any weapons roughly.

The sound of her laughter only climbed up his back, scratching like a damned nail on a wall as she threw her head back and laughed louder. Martin growled low when his people caught at her hands and shoved her forward without letting go of her.

“Oh Martin,” she wheezed when she was made to stop beside him, “When will you all learn?”

He was going to fucking kill her.

Martin turned to her with a lethal glare,

“You will die tonight, Raylene Walker.” He began and wanted to smile when Raylene’s laughs ceased.

And he was about to continue when she threw her head back and let out another roar of laughter, shaking in the hands of the man holding her. He shook her roughly enough for her hair to come loose from her ponytail, but she never stopped laughing. Martin’s fingers curled into tight fists, the anger clouding his vision enough for him to see only red.

“You will see Angel. And both of you will watch each other die.” Martin forced his tone to calm, “Amazing, isn’t it? Death by the same hands you forced years back.”

“I didn’t come here for Angel,” Raylene said incredulously as if she were talking to a child, making him stumble on his words yet fucking again. She blinked, and shook in the man’s hands, muffling her laugh, “I came here for you, stupid man . And your partner.”

She leaned closer, looming over him despite his advantage in height over her .

Watching her now though…with the sheer ice in her expression despite her smile, Martin couldn’t move away. Not when she had clear murder written in her eyes.

“You took something from me, Martin.” She purred, and chills erupted on his arm, “You really shouldn’t have killed Alessandro. Shouldn’t have hurt my people. Shouldn’t have taken Angel De Santos.”

She looked up and down, her lips dipping into a slight frown as she stared back at him, “And yet I’m not here for him. I’m here for you.” She grinned again, “I’m here to burn you and your partner to the ground.”

Raylene leaned closer to his ear, a mere whisper in her words, “I did it years back easily. I can do it today.” She veered back and winked at him, “Kind, aren’t I?”

“Take her away,” Martin growled, the shaking in his bones beginning. Dear God, “Take her away now!”

Raylene was still laughing when his men hauled her away to the arena for tonight. Was still grinning when he dragged a hand down his face and looked up at the white ceiling. Prayed a little bit maybe.

Because Raylene Walker was now backed into a fucking corner.

* *

Angel coughed, the wretched action digging out his lungs as he braced his palms flat against the ground and tried to push himself up. For the third time in the past half hour. At least he thought it was half an hour. He’d never been great at keeping count. Or patient. But he still tried. Despite the deep burning of his blood or the aching of his bones, he still tried.

Because judging by the loud thud he’d heard mere minutes back, something was happening upstairs. Something important. Something that could involve Raylene Walker .

Angel pushed himself on his palms with a pained grunt, his eyes shut in concentration. Christ, his bones weighed down like lead as he pushed himself up.

Got barely up to his elbows when they snapped abruptly, and he fell face flat on the floor. His world spun constantly, the movement nauseating enough for him to turn on his side.

Angel braced a tired hand against his forehead, his fingers balling into fists in an attempt to get his mind to stop spinning. The nausea, the lump in his throat only rose though. Angel forced himself to blink his eyes open, squinting in the grey darkness of the rotten place. The walls were all dripping with water, the sounds hissing against its harsh surface. He had his ear pressed to the floor in an attempt to catch any other voices, any other sounds. But apart from the thud from before, there was nothing.

He'd have to force the damned poison out of his stomach, he thought and braced his palm against the wet floor. A part of him wanted to recoil away from the water, the grim walls of the prison, but he didn’t have that privilege now. By someone’s grace, the place didn’t stink to the point of torture. The odor wasn’t pleasant by normal standards – it reeked of soiled concrete and wood, but it was bearable. It was all he could hope for.

He pushed himself up on the palm of his hand and placed his weight on his elbow, grunting at the sudden wave of dizziness washing over him–

Angel’s world turned, his eyes going into the back of his skull as he lost whatever balance he’d gained and fell back with a loud splash. The action came with its own nauseating repercussions, with the shot of pain down his wounded arm and the pounding of his fucking head.

All thanks to whatever poison he’d ingested.

“Fuck.” He murmured and took a second. A breath .

And turned to his side again. Trying the same thing. His focus on the task at hand was so honed to perfection that he barely noticed the shadow that loomed at the entrance of the prison he’d been sitting in.

Not until the soft voice echoed through the dark place.

“Won’t work.”

Angel froze through the haze in his mind, the movement leaving behind a faint ringing in his ears.

The voice was female but unfamiliar. Hadn’t been even remotely close to the one he’d been expecting. Angel grit his teeth, his hands balling into fists as he slid his leg up and finally, finally pushed himself upright. His eyes widened as his body swayed back, threatening to fall. Angel scrambled to the ground and righted himself, not yet looking at the woman up ahead. He couldn’t deal with bad surprises anymore.

But then the woman sighed, and he heard her faint footstep near the rotten metal of the prison that kept him inside and heard her sigh deeply.

“Estás envenenado.” You are poisoned.

Angel blinked. Martin had forbidden any other language other than English in this household. He knew it was because of Isabella, because deep down, somewhere in that twisted heart, Martin had loved his mother back. So, he’d wiped every trace of her. Including her language. His head snapped up, his eyes widening with the rush of adrenaline,

“Quién,” Angel breathed, the action burning his lungs but giving him some strength, “Quién es usted?” Who are you?

It was still too dark to see, and her figure was hidden in the shadows of the dark hallway. From where he was sitting, she seemed about average height, something wary about her stance gave away that she might be older than he was .

But he didn’t have time to swell deep on that thought. Not when a soft click snapped him out of his daze.

He looked up to see the woman pull open the door with a soft creak and step in.

Angel’s eyes narrowed. His hands weren’t bound. There could be enough strength in him after lying down for so long. And judging by the way the woman easily strode forward, she didn’t seem to have a lot of training. He couldn’t see any tray of food in her hand, but everything about her screamed normal. He could take her. And leave this place before Ray came for him.

Or before she died.

“Stay still.” Her words froze him, and his eyes flared wide as she kneeled down in front of him. Her black curls were within his line of vision as she gazed down at him, her doe eyes wary and tired. Something like an alarm set off in his mind as she removed what looked like an injection from her apron’s pocket.

Apron?

Angel let out a rough grunt and responded by splashing the water on her face. He didn’t wait for her reaction though. Just scrambled back with whatever strength he had left until his back touched the wall. The woman was frozen in spot, watching him unflinchingly as he pushed himself up the wall– or at least tried to when she sighed again.

“Raylene Walker sent me here.” She said and Angel scoffed,

“And you want me to believe you.” He rasped, the movement taxing his body.

The woman just blinked back at him and got back to her feet with a resigned sigh, “I’m too old to deal with children.” She murmured.

“I heard that. ”

She arched a brow in his direction, “I worked for Lions.” She said, the accent coating her words as Angel shrugged, still not really believing her.

Not until she pulled back the sleeve, revealing the faint dark lines that every staff member bore in the Larsen’s household.

Angel blinked but still narrowed his eyes in her direction,

“You could’ve gotten that anyhow.”

The woman scoffed now, throwing her head back, “You think I’d get this ridiculous thing out of everything?”

Angel just stared at her in response.

She shook her head again, “ Fine.” She said, “The girl never said this would be so difficult.” She shook her head and put her hands into the pocket of her apron again,

“Look, I have the antidote of the poison she’s given you–”

“Why would you come to work for my,” he coughed and winced as a wave of pain washed over his chest, “ father. Especially, if you worked for The Larsens?”

“I owe Raylene Walker a favor.” She said, sounding exhausted.

“Okay if she sent you here, I’m sure she would’ve asked you to say something so you could prove–”

“Yeah yeah,” she snapped, and Angel shot upright in surprise. Suddenly she seemed far younger than he’d thought. Still older than him but, “I really didn’t want to say this.”

Angel crossed his arms, the dizziness of his mind suddenly forgotten as the woman sighed again.

“Any beach.” She began and Angel froze, that night tumbling back into his mind. With Raylene Walker drunk out of her fucking mind and her sitting up ahead on the sand .

Angel blinked now, the image forever embedded in his mind as she continued.

“Wherever in this world, I’ll ask you to dance, without any music. With or without any people around. I promise.”

And he would’ve smiled if it weren’t for the mock gagging that followed the words.

Angel shot the woman a glare as she shuddered and took a few steps forward in his direction. This time when she crouched down, Angel just looked away as she removed the injection again and grabbed his arm. He blinked, ignoring the slight prick that came when she pierced the needle through his skin as he just looked away.

“How did you get here?” he asked and almost shook when she pressed a soft cotton right at the point where she’d pierced his skin.

“It’s easy to get hired when there are fewer people here in the first place.” She said quietly and looked up at him, her eyes wide in defiance and alertness. One that jarred him enough to smile at the words hidden in her gaze.

You have a chance.

“Is she okay?” he asked after a moment. The woman in front of him let out a silent breath,

“She’s taken by your father.” She spat the last word. An odd sense of silence settled in his chest then, calming his hind until he could hear nothing but the soft pounding of his heart. But the smile remained on his face. It was all going well, he told himself, all according to plan.

“Do you know where she is?”

“You know where she is.” She responded and Angel’s brows arched.

The woman shrugged and removed the cotton ,

“That’s what she asked me to say.”

Angel sighed.

Well, shit.

“Gracias.”

He said finally and pushed himself to stand up. The woman up ahead hummed and got up as well, her hands on her waist as she waited for him to hoist himself up.

Angel grunted with his own weight but managed to scramble up the wall, some strength returning in him.

“Here.” She said and shoved a chocolate against his chest, “Eat.”

He blinked down at the wrapper but grabbed it out of her hands, “Thank you.” He said again and opened the wrapper,

“How do I get you out of here?”

The woman scoffed, “I don’t need your help.” She said as Angel bit into the bar, savoring the sweet taste, “I’ll get out the same way I got in.”

He nodded and grinned down at her. The woman only shook her head and took a few steps back, “You owe me a favor now, Angel De Santos.” She said and turned on her heels to walk out the doors,

“Cecilia.” She said, her eye glimmered as she looked over her shoulder and smirked, “Cecilia Rodriguez.”

Angel froze. No way.

But she only grinned wider, “Remember that name when I come to collect.”

He gasped, but the woman only strode out the unlocked doors and disappeared into the shadows. Just like his very own guardian angel. And he was about to go after her when he felt it. The uncomfortable lurch of his stomach and the –

Oh shit.

Angel snapped his head to one side as nausea clenched around his stomach and rose up his throat. His body dipped in reaction and all the bodily contents of his stomach came heaving down his throat.

He’d forgotten, it seemed, how repulsive vomiting was. It had been a while since he’d been poisoned after all.

Right now, he remained crouched until his body stopped heaving. Until it stopped getting rid of the poison he’d been injected with before.

“Oh right.” The same voice, Cecilia’s voice said from where she’d disappeared, “That’ll happen too.”

He could swear she was grinning when she said those words.

Angel didn’t have enough energy to lift his head and watch her walk away again, not until he was done. And when he was, he remained rooted in the spot, his eyes shut against the way his mind spun as he tried to calm his wildly beating heart. He counted. One. Two. Three.

And lifted his chin.

His head was still pounding, his breath coming out a bit harshly, as he regained a sense of balance. The first thing he did was take a step away from the vomit and force himself to not breathe or look in that direction as he turned softly and strode toward the open metal doors of the prison.

Water, he thought when he stepped into the dark hallway, he needed water.

And he needed to get the hell out of here.

Angel braced a hand on the metal pole of the open gates, the other balling into a fist before he slammed it harshly against his chest. The chocolate crinkled in his head as he coughed and pushed away from the empty place .

Martin had made a grave mistake in putting him here, a stupid decision in all honesty, all considering he’d lived here all his life and knew this place like the back of his hand.

And now it was up to him to decide whether he’d take an easy way out or–

Angel sighed. He could either turn right and walk out of this place without looking back. Could get to Ray’s friends, to Noah and everyone else, and get her out. Or he could gamble on his people.

So, Angel strode to his left, standing straighter with every step as he climbed the stairs that led up to the kitchen they’d all been barred from ever since Isabella had died. All because it led down to this hell. Angel had spent countless hours down here, usually the one outside the bars. Who knew he’d end up on the other side?

A humorless laugh left his lips as he reached the door and inhaled deeply. There was no doubt there were people, Martin’s and her people, standing on the other end of the room. But there was one misjudgment that Martin had made when he’d thought to lock him up here.

It was with that thought Angel grabbed the knob of the door and twisted it open.

The clicking of guns filled the air, but he stepped through without looking up at any of the men or women standing in the kitchen. A dangerous game, that’s all this was. And all Angel was banking on was Christina Morris and her words. Her conviction and whether or not she’d managed to get all of them to agree.

Maybe that’s why he walked through the faintly crowded place without a single one of them shooting his brains out. Maybe a mercy? He wouldn’t give them the same courtesy though .

Angel didn’t say a word until he reached the kitchen sink and grabbed a glass from the counter. An odd sheet of silence settled upon them as he filled the glass with water. Heard the faint shifting of feet behind him, the rustle of metal against skin as they all took a few steps toward him. None of them dared step within his attacking range though.

A faint smile tilted his lips as he gargled the water and spat it out before filling the glass again.

He drank to his content and set the glass down gently, the nerves in his veins calming with years of patience. He knew these people. Had worked with them all his life. And if they decided to go against him after all, he’d show them the same face he’d shown all his foes over the past years.

Unflinching. Painful.

Angel turned on his heels and faced the crowd.

Merciless.

“You all have five seconds.” Angel said calmly, his deep voice booming in the small area as he opened the chocolate. He saw them flinch, heard their sharp inhales as he looked at each one of them, “Five seconds to decide if you’ll walk with me, or Martin De Santos.”

No one said anything. The ringing in his ears became louder. He didn’t have time for sweet words like Christina. So he picked the next best thing.

“La muerte no te hace ningún favor.” Angel said softly, a pang going through his chest as his eyes sharpened with focus, “ Muerto, no puedes hacer nada.”

Death does you no favors.

Dead, you can do nothing .

He had a sudden urge to touch the glass shard sitting against his neck but knew it would be a show of breaking. A show of pain and fear. Right now, he needed pure, unrelenting strength. They needed strength and willpower. It’s what they would follow.

It took a moment.

Angel saw them exchange nervous glances and a shard of doubt carved up his chest when he saw them murmur to one another. He bit into the chocolate, using the flavor as an attempt to get his hands to stop shaking. Anticipation, fear, is what this was. Something new. The way his entire body shuddered, the way it wanted to go running out those doors and get to Ray.

A soft rustling brought him back to focus, and his chin tipped upwards with satisfaction when he saw them lower their weapons one by one.

“Have you made your choice?” he asked in Spanish and repeated the question in English until all of them had their weapons lowered, “Will you stand with me?”

Will you stand against a foreign enemy?

None of them replied.

But they all took one unanimous step forward. A loud step, one that sent a tremor running through the ground. One that made him grin again.

Their faces reflected the same expression he’d learned to hone over decades. Had the same promise written he’d repeated over and over in his head when he’d followed his father.

No regrets. No remorse.

No fucking mercy.