Chapter 10
ISABELLA
I stood in the middle of my living room, the early morning light spilling in through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors.
My suitcase stood zipped beside the couch, another one by the door.
Kellan and Ash were in the kitchen, quietly drinking coffee and going over something on Ash’s phone, but I wasn’t paying much attention.
My mind was elsewhere.
I’d already said goodbye to Anna. I visited her last night. She’d tried to act unfazed, but I could see it in her eyes. Worry, tension… the kind only a woman like her could bury beneath practiced smiles and soft reassurances.
“Colombia is dangerous,” she’d said as she poured me tea I never drank.
“So am I,” I’d answered, watching her face for any flicker. She gave me none.
I didn’t tell her much, of course. Just that I was leaving for a job. She didn’t ask more. Anna never did when she knew I wouldn’t give her answers.
I rolled my mother’s bracelet between my fingers now, the silver catching the light. I’d packed it at the very top of my bag, tucked in the lining of my coat. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was sentimental. But I wasn’t going without it.
“Iz,” Kellan’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You ready?”
I turned toward him and Ash. They were already dressed, black duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Matching expressions—calm, focused, but alert.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I muttered, grabbing my leather jacket off the hook and tossing my phone in my bag. “Let’s go ruin someone’s day.”
Ash smirked as he grabbed one of my suitcases, and Kellan lifted the other. I took one last glance around the apartment. Everything was silent. Still.
But something in my chest stirred. Not nerves. Not fear. Readiness.
I locked the door behind me and followed them to the elevator.
The elevator hummed as it descended. The silence between the three of us was comfortable. Heavy, maybe—but not suffocating.
I leaned against the mirror-lined wall, arms crossed, my fingers lightly tapping my jacket sleeve as my thoughts wandered. We were about to get on a plane to Colombia with a man I still hadn’t decided whether I was going to eventually kill.
Fun.
Kellan broke the silence first, his voice low. “You sure about this?”
I glanced at him through the mirror’s reflection, my eyes cool. “Sure about what? Trusting Rafael or going to Colombia?”
Ash gave a low chuckle from the corner, arms folded across his chest. “Those feel like the same question.”
I didn’t answer. Because the truth was—I wasn’t sure. Not about any of it. But it didn’t matter. I was going either way.
The kill switch flipped years ago, I thought. I just never flipped it back.
The elevator dinged and opened into the garage, the scent of oil and concrete wafting in. We all moved at once—like muscle memory. Kellan opened the trunk while Ash slung both duffels in with one hand and then dropped my suitcase next to his.
The car door shut behind me with a soft click, and I sank into the seat, exhaling through my nose as Kellan climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Ash slid in beside me, resting an arm on the door, tapping against the glass rhythmically with his fingers.
Kellan pulled up the location Rafael had sent him last night. It was encrypted through a burner app, the kind only people with dangerous lives and expensive toys used.
The car hummed down the ramp and into the city streets.
“Do you think it’s really cartel we’re dealing with?” Ash asked after a few minutes, his voice low but sharp.
“If it is,” Kellan answered, eyes on the road, “we’re not going for a casual drop-off. Cartel doesn’t just do dinner meetings and parting handshakes.”
I stayed silent, watching the city pass by through the window.
“It’s probably a warning,” I said eventually. “A show of strength. Or a power move. Rafael doesn’t do anything without a reason.”
Ash looked over at me. “And what reason are you going for?”
My eyes flicked to him. “To make sure he doesn’t get himself killed before I get the truth out of him.”
He didn’t press further. He never did when I answered like that.
We drove for a while in silence after that. The further we went, the more industrial the outskirts became. Buildings gave way to open space, long stretches of tarmac and metal fences.
When we finally pulled up to the private runway, the first thing I saw was the jet. Sleek, matte black, engines still, but ready. The type of jet that didn’t ask permission to take off.
The second thing I saw was him .
Rafael stood near the plane, dressed in dark jeans and a tailored black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was talking on the phone, his expression sharp, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the phone to his ear. A few of his men stood around him, all alert.
He looked like he belonged there. Like the jet belonged to him. Like the sky would bend if he told it to.
My stomach twisted—something cold and hot at the same time. I pushed the door open before either of the boys could say a word.
This wasn’t a vacation. This was war.
The air was crisp with that faint scent of jet fuel and the kind of money that didn’t blink when bodies dropped. I stepped out of the car slowly, my heels clicking against the smooth tarmac as I took it all in.
The sleek jet, dark, and silent like a predator waiting to strike. The metal gleamed under the morning sun, and I narrowed my eyes at the sight of a few of Rafael’s men loading what looked like large black crates into the cargo hold.
They were heavy. I could tell by the way the men grunted, how two of them had to steady the ramp as the others guided the crates in. Thick, bolted, unmarked.
Definitely not souvenirs.
I circled toward the edge of the lot, my gaze scanning the men, noting details.
Two were armed visibly. One had a knife strapped along his boot, the other a barely concealed handgun tucked into his waistband.
The rest kept their weapons out of sight—but I could still feel the weight of them in the air.
Kellan and Ash stayed behind, leaning casually on the car like they weren’t memorizing the positions of every man here. I didn’t need to look to know they were. That’s what made us different.
We didn’t let down our guard. Not for anyone. Not even him.
Especially not him.
As if summoned by the pull of my thoughts, Rafael ended his call and turned. And his eyes—those calculating, soul-piercing eyes—locked onto me like he’d felt me arrive long before I stepped out of that car.
Not even a minute passed before he started walking towards me, and god, he moved like he owned the ground. Like every inch of space was his to command. And maybe in his world—it was.
But I didn’t flinch. I didn’t shift. I stood exactly where I was, letting him come to me.
His voice was smooth, but laced with something sharp. “I didn’t think punctuality would be your strong suit.”
My eyes raked over him once. “And yet you’re still surprised when I exceed your expectations. That’s on you, not me.”
He smirked. “We’ll see if you keep that energy once we land.”
My gaze flicked to the jet behind him, then to the last crate sliding in. “What are you bringing?” I asked, eyes cold.
“A few things we might need.”
“Like enough firepower to take out a small country?”
He tilted his head. “You wound me. It’s barely enough for a hostile dinner party.”
Kellan approached, stepping just close enough to be heard. “We good to board?”
Rafael’s gaze cut to him, unreadable, then nodded once. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Ash didn’t say anything—just followed, his hand brushing briefly against the small of my back as a silent check-in. I gave a tiny nod. I was fine. For now.
As we ascended the stairs into the jet, the hum of its systems vibrated under my feet. And when I stepped inside?
Yeah. This wasn’t a jet. This was a declaration of power.
Cream leather seats. Gold accents. A full minibar. Hardwood floors that gleamed like they’d been polished with intention and wealth. The windows were wide and curved, and the entire interior smelled like dark cedar and expensive cologne.
Rafael didn’t sit across from me. He sat beside me. Of course he did.
I slid into the seat, crossing my legs, eyes forward. Kellan and Ash sat opposite us. I could feel their eyes on him—and his on them—but none of them said a word.
Until Rafael leaned in slightly and murmured just low enough for me to hear. “You keep looking at the crates like you’re trying to guess what’s inside.”
My gaze didn’t shift. “I already know what’s inside.”
He chuckled. “Care to bet on that?”
I finally turned to look at him, voice like ice. “I don’t bet on games I’m rigging.” His eyes flickered. Amused. Impressed. Maybe a little aroused.
The engines began to hum louder beneath us, and a soft jolt moved through the cabin as the jet taxied.
Ash leaned his head back. “You think we’ll get a warm welcome?”
Rafael answered without looking away from me. “That depends entirely on whether they think we’re coming in peace.”
“And are we?” I asked.
He smiled. “Not even close.”
The jet tilted, gaining speed. My fingers curled against the armrest, not from fear—but from anticipation. This wasn’t going to be smooth. It wasn’t meant to be.
But I didn’t want smooth. I wanted answers. I wanted blood. And I was going straight into the heart of it with the devil sitting at my side.
The jet was smooth, barely a tremor as it cut through the clouds like it owned the sky. The low hum of the engines was the only sound between us for a while.
I leaned back in my seat, my fingers tracing along the soft leather armrest, every breath controlled, every nerve still humming from the shift I felt the moment the wheels left the tarmac.
Rafael sat beside me, one leg crossed casually over the other, hands resting loose in his lap. He hadn’t spoken in a few minutes, but the air around him buzzed. It always did. Like even when he was still, his presence wasn’t.