Cora had barely been awake for half an hour before there was a knock at her bedroom door. She sat up in bed, wincing when the movement tugged at her knee, and gathered the sheets around her. She was wearing a loose t-shirt and a pair of summer shorts as pajamas—after having rifled through her walk-in closet for close on ten minutes trying to find something that didn’t make her look like a swim wear model at a boudoir photo shoot.

Javier pushed open her bedroom door and came inside. His dual shadows, rifles tucked behind them as if they weren’t expecting any trouble from her, sidled into the room and took stations on either side of the door.

“Morning, mi reinita,” Javier said, beaming. “Another beautiful day.” He swept a hand toward her balcony, but she didn’t bother turning her head. “I trust you slept well?”

“¡Vete al infierno!” she sneered.

A flash of anger crossed Javier’s face, but it disappeared almost immediately. “I will ask the doctor to prescribe stronger pain—”

“I wasn’t in pain,” she lied. “Where are they?”

“Your…lovers?”

How she loathed the term he used to describe Lars and Finn. She supposed it wasn’t far from the truth, but he made it sound dirty. “Where are they?”

“Elle,” Javier said, coming to sit beside her on the bed. “I am not here to talk about them.”

“Then leave,” she said. “Because until you tell me—”

“There is something I must show you,” he said, as if she hadn’t even spoken. “Do you need crutches? There will be a fair amount of walking involved.”

“I can’t walk,” she snapped. “And I won’t eat, and I won’t—”

“I can make you eat,” Javier said. “It requires more effort than if you were just to eat by yourself, but never think I will let you starve, my dear Elle.”

This all would have been so much simpler if he ever broke that mask-like composure. But he could have been a guy having an inane conversation with someone at a bus stand for all the emotion on his face.

Just that same, studious smile.

For the man that had everything…

“Just tell me if they’re alive,” she said quietly, and wished she hadn’t. But maybe, if a show of strength wouldn’t work, a show of weakness would. That kind of twisted logic was all she had left now. She’d never had to play mind games with someone. Never had to out-think someone who’d been doing this for years, if not decades.

“Elle,” Javier crooned, reaching out and touching her hair.

She almost drew back, but controlled her spine just in time. He’d touched her yesterday too, and when she’d pulled away from him he’d slapped her.

The second slap had hurt more than the first. On first appearance, he didn’t look to be a violent man. But after feeling the apathy in that hand, she knew slapping her was the least creative thing he could do to get her attention.

To have her obey.

“You know I care deeply for you, don’t you?”

He wanted her to nod, perhaps even tear up, but she couldn’t. Her body had frozen at his touch, and it was like trying to move concrete. If she tried any harder, she might just crack.

“Likewise, I would never kill someone you cared for.” The lie bled into his eyes and made the smile on his face turn brittle.

Maybe not now. Not yet. So they were still alive, but for how long? Until he couldn’t use them to force her to do his bidding anymore?

“What do you want to show me?” she asked.

She hoped he thought it was curiosity. But if she could get out of her room, maybe she could get information. Even a snatch of conversation could prove helpful. About Finn, about Lars. She hadn’t expected that flash of ethereal pain in her heart when Lars had been pressed against the gravel yesterday.

You used his heart as a punching bag.

Maybe she had, but so had they. They were on their way out of her, leaving her behind, until a strange, twisted fate had brought them back to her. And she knew, without knowing how, that Lars felt as deeply for her as Finn. It was like the loyalty she felt pouring off Finn, especially when they’d been on the run. Just the them two against the world. That fierce possessiveness, almost a jealousy, that had turned him into such a terse, unforgiving protector.

“With your father…” Javier glanced away, and for a moment she could almost imagine that there was a tenderness—a sadness—in those dark eyes. But then the moment passed. “It’s time you start taking your position more seriously, Elle.”

Her position in the cartel, of course, now that she truly was capo.

Javier got to his feet and clicked his fingers. One of his sicario bodyguards slipped out of the room and returned a second later with a pair of crutches.

“Can I dress first?” she asked coldly, watching as the man brought the crutches and set them against the back of the settee.

“Of course.” Javier touched her shoulder before sliding his fingertips down her arm. “I’ll be just outside.”

Before he left her room, he added, “But do hurry.”

Javier stood waiting in the corridor for Cora when she emerged a few minutes later dressed in jeans and a light sweater. If he disapproved of the frumpy outfit, he didn’t say. He seemed in a rush to get where he was going; she could barely keep up on the crutches. It was her first time in a pair—she’d been surprisingly adept at not breaking bones as a kid—and her movements were clumsy at best. It probably didn’t help that she kept glancing around, trying to seek out a maid or anyone else besides Javier and his bodyguards. Even Silvia would have been a welcome sight.

But the villa was deserted. She didn’t see a living soul all the way from her bedroom to the doors that led to the stables. When she saw their direction, she stopped walking.

“I can’t ride,” she said.

It wasn’t just because of her leg. She doubted she could ever get on a horse again; not until she somehow forgot the intense trauma of being thrown.

Javier clicked his tongue, not slowing. “I underestimated your riding abilities. It’s obvious I should never have allowed you onto one of my steeds.”

Somehow, she was more pissed off that he called his horses steeds—like he was a damn knight—than at the fact he thought she couldn’t ride.

But she wouldn’t get any closer to seeing Finn and Lars if she didn’t keep up appearances. And right now, she had to appear to be a dutiful goddaughter. Fascinated with whatever it was Javier would show her. Bright eyed with admiration at what an amazing man he was.

She’d even lick his shiny shoes if it meant she could see her men again.

The thought was acidic, but she couldn’t stop it any more than she could ignore it. Maybe it was just some kind of post-traumatic stress that made her crave the sight of those two men so badly. Whatever it was, it would either fade or it wouldn’t. And while it was this strong, it would take energy she didn’t possess to fight it. She had to save her strength. What for, she didn’t know.

Her body, her entire being, felt like a coiled spring.