Cora pushed back her chair, shooting to her feet and tugging away her hand from Zachary’s caress.

Closure.

The word repeated like a mantra in her head.

“What do you mean?” she asked, hating the way her voice shook.

Zachary also got to his feet, but he didn’t seem interested if she tried to run again. Instead, he moved past her as he headed for the kitchen with his empty plate.

“When he contacted me sixteen years ago,” Zachary said, aiming his voice over his shoulder as he strode into the hall, “I couldn’t believe his arrogance. El Calacas Vivo was an upstart cartel back then. Peddling low quality weed throughout Mexico. They hadn’t even broken ground in any of the southern states of the US yet.”

His voice grew fainter. There was a clink of dishes, and then footsteps.

Cora followed him hesitantly, peering back at Lady. The dog lifted her head, and then rose, shook herself, and came after Cora with a small swish of her tail.

Lady was Zachary’s dog. She would probably rip out Cora’s throat if he commanded it. But she felt safer with the dog around.

At least there would be a witness if Zachary tried anything. That had to count in Cora’s favor.

“At first,” Zachary went on, his voice now coming from the bedroom, “Javier insisted he wanted to form a super cartel. That his business partner at the time was reluctant, which was why he was reaching out to me. I laughed at him; an international drug smuggling operation when his cartel hadn’t even penetrated the border?” Zachary laughed, as if remembering the conversation in precise detail.

Floorboards creaked under Cora’s weight as she moved down the hallway after Zachary.

“But he had excellent connections in Mexico. More so even than Plata o Plomo back then.”

Cora stepped into the bedroom’s doorway.

Zachary glanced at her over his shoulder, and then turned his back to her again. He was fiddling with something out of sight.

“So you made a deal with him?” Cora prompted. She shouldn’t have been fascinated by Zachary’s oration, but she was.

If he could explain why her life had been so fucked up, she’d take it. Hell, maybe this would be her closure too, not just his.

“An arrangement, Zachary murmured. He paused, arms moving as if he was trying to fit the wrong pieces of puzzle together. “One that would take Antonio Rivera out of the equation, while keeping ECV whole.”

Her heart fluttered at the sound of her father’s name. Cora stopped, unable to force her feet forward.

“The kidnapping,” she said quietly. “It was you who—”

“I was only a lieutenant back then,” Zachary interrupted quietly. “But I took Javier’s deal to my capo, and he agreed to go forward with it. If Javier could provide the location for Antonio’s family, he’d take them and use them to break Antonio’s spirit.”

“Javier expected him to leave the cartel,” Cora said in a voice that sounded like it came from a mile away. “But he didn’t.”

“He didn’t,” Zachary agreed. “Even after we killed Sofia.”

He turned to look at her over his shoulder, searching her face. “You were next in line. Javier was leaving Naomie till last.”

Her heart lodged in her throat, pounding so hard that she couldn’t breathe.

“Unfortunately…” Zachary shrugged. “You escaped.”

Cora swallowed hard. “Who killed my mother?”

Another shrug. Something clicked—plastic—and Zachary dropped his arm to his side. Whatever he’d been busy with, it was small enough that she couldn’t see it while he cupped it in his palm.

“Javier. It was part of the arrangement.” He faced her, and a slow smile grew on his lips. “And I would have been your reaper, if you hadn’t escaped.”

Cora fell back a step, ice flashing over her skin.

Closure.

Her shoulder struck the side of the door, and she twisted away. Lady was behind her, staring up at her with godlike patience. She ran headlong into the creature, tripping over the pitbull’s stout body. Lady yelped, jumping to the side as if wondering what she’d done to deserve a knee to her ribs.

Cora scrambled up, a scream bubbling in her throat, but she was so terrified in that moment that she couldn’t let out anything but a low whine.

She struck the wall, caught off balance by her collision with the dog, and pushed away again.

No footsteps came after her. No yell for her to stop.

She ran all the way out of the beach house. Down the steps. Over the soft sand that sucked at her feet like wet concrete.

The ocean splashed up around her ankles. Her calves. Her thighs.

A wave tugged at her clothes, and then dragged at her, toppling her. Spluttering, she fought her way free from the water. She spun back, staring at the white beach house. From here, she could see the circumference of Zachary’s tiny island. It was long and thin, perhaps a mile by three.

A shadow moved in the beach house’s front entrance. Then a spark of light.

Zachary, lighting a cigarette. Leaning against the door jamb and staring out at her.

Watching.

Waiting.

Because there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

She’d have to kill him if she wanted to survive. And, even if she did, it would mean she’d be all alone on this scrap of land.

No—not alone.

She’d have Lady.