18. Chapter 18 #3
“You needed me. You’ve enjoyed having me exactly as you wanted, and I’ve served you well. You gave him to me as an indulgence.” She gestured at me.
“I found you useful,” Ciro sneered. “Do not confuse usefulness with power.”
Her hands curled into fists.
“You gave me your name and access. I made the Delgado name powerful in rooms you could never enter yourself. I built relationships you couldn’t have bought, threatened, or reached without me, then turned them into an empire. Don’t stand there now and tell me I was merely useful.”
“With my money. My contacts. My protection.” His gaze dropped to the stitches at the corner of her mouth. “And still your appetite made you careless enough to let a bound man mark your face.”
“I can destroy Isabella Delgado before sunset. Empty every account. Erase every privilege. Turn every official who shakes your hand into the man signing your warrant.”
He pointed toward the door.
“Then I’ll leave Marcela Reyes in a cinder-block room in one of the districts my soldiers own. No money. No papers. No guards. No one calling you Mistress.”
Marcela stepped back into Mateo.
“By morning, every man you bought will have forgotten you existed.”
Ciro faced Mateo.
“And anyone stupid enough to forget who owns him will disappear beside you.”
Mateo’s right hand slid toward the pistol at his hip.
Marcela saw it.
So did I.
Ciro followed it a second too late.
Mateo had the pistol clear of its holster when Marcela grabbed the grip.
For one suspended moment, they both held it.
Mateo looked at her.
Then he let go.
Marcela ripped the gun free, swung toward Ciro, and fired.
The bullet struck between his eyes.
Bone, blood, and gray matter burst from the back of his skull in a dark spray across the wall. His head snapped backward, and his body dropped beside the camera setup, one shoulder slamming into the folding table hard enough to make the laptop fall to the floor.
The image on its screen jumped.
The red light on the camera lens stayed on.
Nik and Lucian had seen everything.
I’d wanted to drive a wedge between Ciro and the people already circling his throne.
Isabeast had given me an execution.
I could work with that.
Ciro’s loyalist at the door reached for his weapon.
Marcela brought Mateo’s pistol around, but Mateo moved first.
He caught the man’s wrist before his gun cleared the holster and drove him face-first into the stone doorframe. His nose broke with a wet crunch.
Mateo wrenched the pistol from his hand.
The loyalist twisted toward him.
Mateo shoved the muzzle beneath his jaw and fired.
The top of the man’s head exploded, and his body folded in the doorway.
Behind me, Isabella stayed silent.
The camera operator stared at the bodies.
Marcela stood over Ciro with blood spattered across her white blouse and Mateo’s gun clenched in both hands. She stared down at his body, breathing hard. A short laugh escaped her before she caught it.
She was fucking exhilarated.
She turned toward the camera.
“Cut the feed.”
The operator didn’t move.
Marcela aimed the gun at him.
“Now.”
He lunged for the laptop and killed the stream. The image vanished, and the red light above the camera went dark.
Nik and Lucian were gone.
The operator closed the laptop and started pulling cables from the transmitter.
The radio on Mateo’s belt crackled.
Then an older man’s voice came through, calm and clear.
“Ciro Delgado is dead. Marcela Reyes and Mateo Cruz killed him. Seal the gates. Secure the armory. Do not let them leave.”
Marcela spun toward the open door.
“Rafael.”
The corridor beyond the dead guard was empty.
She rushed to the doorway and looked both ways, but the older man I’d noticed in the corridor was gone.
A second voice broke over the radio, demanding confirmation.
Then another.
Men began talking over one another in rapid Spanish.
One ordered the southern gate sealed.
Another shouted that no one was to obey until Ciro’s death was confirmed.
A third voice reported armed men moving toward the armory.
The compound hadn’t exploded yet.
It was deciding which fuse to light first.
Marcela snatched the radio from Mateo’s belt.
“This is Isabella Delgado. Ciro is dead. I am in command.”
Static answered.
Rafael’s voice cut across hers, ordering Ciro’s men to secure the armory and detain anyone loyal to Mateo.
Mateo took the radio from her.
“We need the armory and the gates before Ciro’s loyalists organize.”
Marcela glanced at Ciro’s body.
Shooting him hadn’t made the compound hers. It had left every armed man in it choosing a side—or deciding what he could grab before someone else did.
“Get my men to the gates,” she ordered. “No one leaves without my approval.”
Mateo keyed the radio and issued a string of commands to names I didn’t recognize.
Some answered immediately.
Others didn’t.
The operator shoved the compact transmitter into a padded case and tucked the laptop beneath one arm.
Marcela looked at me.
Her chest rose and fell too quickly, but the smile she gave me was almost serene.
“Did you enjoy the show, pet?”
“Best thing you’ve done since bringing me here.”
“You think his death changes your situation?”
“Changed his.”
She glanced at Ciro. Blood leaked from the hole between his eyes and ran down the bridge of his nose.
Marcela stepped over his legs and came close enough to press the warm muzzle beneath my chin.
“You’re still cuffed to a chair.”
“Ciro’s chair.”
The gun pushed harder into my skin.
“Keep correcting me, and I’ll shoot you too.”
“No, you won’t. You’ve spent two days telling everyone how badly you want to own me. Kill me now, and you prove Ciro’s point—your appetite still makes you careless.”
Her finger tightened against the trigger.
Mateo caught her shoulder.
“We have to move.”
She didn’t look away from me.
Radio traffic kept climbing. Men reported gates locking, demanded ammunition, and shouted about moving vehicles. Someone ordered Ciro’s quarters secured before the traitors reached them.
Mateo tightened his grip.
“Forget him. Rafael’s organizing Ciro’s men while we stand here. If he gets the armory and the gates under his control, we’re trapped.”
Marcela lowered the gun.
She turned toward the door, then stopped and looked back over her shoulder.
“Keep the corpses company, pet. By the time I return, the smell of them rotting might make you grateful I still want you.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
Mateo pushed the camera operator into the corridor, stepped over the dead man at the door, and followed with the man’s pistol in his hand.
Marcela went last.
The dungeon door slammed shut.
A key turned in the lock.
Their footsteps faded beneath the growing noise of the compound coming apart.
I waited.
One breath.
Two.
No one came back.
Ciro lay sprawled on the floor, his eyes open and empty. The grip of his pistol showed beneath his jacket, no more than six feet from my chair.
Once the cuffs came off, it was mine.
Beyond the door, radios snapped back and forth. Boots pounded down the corridor. Men shouted over one another, and somewhere a gunshot cracked through the noise.
The scent of orange blossom reached me just before Isabella stepped in front of me with a small backpack over one shoulder and the key clenched in her hand.