When I return to the shed an hour later, after taking a brief visit to the library and talking to Draco for a bit, everything but Yessica’s bra is gone.

Her panties are shredded.

Her knees are dirty now, her mouth red and swollen.

She sees me coming in and goes still, breathing quicker, mascara running down her cheeks.

“Wow,” I breathe. “Were you crying?”

“Fuck you,” she spits at me.

I fold my arms. “I bet you’re hungry. Thirsty.”

Her eyebrows fuse together, lips pressing tight. I look back, nodding at the two butlers. They walk into the shed and set up a folded table and two chairs. Guillermo steps into the room and unlocks her shackles, like I asked him to do, and then slices through the thick rope around her wrists.

I walk over to pick up her dirty pants, handing them to her. She snatches them away, tugging them over her legs with haste.

“Siéntate,” I command. Sit.

She glares for a brief moment, but sits nonetheless. When she does, I nod my head at Guillermo who lifts his gun and aims it at the back of her head.

“You try to run, try to lunge for me, or try anything I don’t like, and he’ll shoot you. Maybe not in the head, like he should do, but somewhere where it’ll hurt.”

“Why are you doing this?” she says, voice dry. Coarse.

I sit back in my seat. “You treated me to a nice meal when your people took me, so I want to treat you to one, too. This will be the last meal you’ll ever have. May as well enjoy it.”

She doesn’t say anything, just glares at me, eyes misty. Her tongue runs over her lips as the butler places her plate down in front of her.

The butler sets some silverware down, pours water into a plastic cup, and then takes off, dusting his gloved hands off.

Sebastien comes into the cell with a handgun and gives it to me. Before he takes off, he gives Yessica a small sneer, grabbing his crotch, and she cringes, snatching her eyes away.

I place my Daddy’s gun on the middle of my lap, smiling softly at her. When I know she can’t stand the aromas smacking her in the face and making her belly rumble, I tell her, “You can eat.”

She digs in, eyeing me several times, scarfing down the French toast and eggs. She goes between the bread and the fruit, and then to her cup of water, guzzling it all down and then looking at my cup like she wants more.

I slide the cup toward her with the tip of my gun, and she glances at it briefly before picking it up and sipping it.

“I remember what it was like to starve. To be thirsty.” I sigh, sitting back in my chair, watching her eat some more. “I would have killed for a meal like this. Actually—I almost did kill someone when I was first brought here, and I ended up getting many meals like this later on.” I lean forward. “How does it feel?” I ask. “To be at the very bottom again? To feel worthless? All your men gone. Your money, gone. No one working with you anymore—all of them siding with The Jefe again. With a man that will never love you.”

She doesn’t answer, but her eyes scream it all.

She hates me. She hates me so much. She’s envious—wishes she was in my place so badly. This is torture for her, way worse than any kind of rape or punch or kick.

Hearing this, and the other things I have to say, is what will ruin her.

“Can I tell you a secret,” I whisper, leaning over the table a bit more. “It’s something I haven’t even told Jefe yet.” I run my finger over the lion’s mane on my gun. “I haven’t been feeling too well the past few mornings. It’s been maybe a week and a half now of this nauseous feeling, and the constant headaches that come in the mornings and late at night. It’s no coincidence. I knew what was happening to me before I even tested. I had one of his men buy and bring me a pregnancy test in secrecy, right before we found you. His name was Emilio. I liked him a lot. He was a good person, and you killed him.”

Her glistening eyes are wider now. She’s no longer chewing. Her face is pale. Eyes desperate and empty at the same time.

“I know you think it can’t get any worse than me being his queen, his woman, but it does for you. Because his bloodline will continue, and it will continue through me. A Molina-Nicotera baby. The Jefe’s baby.” I sit back. “Even now, I’m not feeling the best, but I’ve been pushing through the nausea. Luckily, it’s not too severe. No vomiting—yet.” I twist my lips, my eyes lowering to her plate. “I don’t know. I thought I would be…devastated or scared. I mean, I was scared of the idea of a baby at first—when we hadn’t caught you. But we have you now, and now that we do, well…I feel a little better. I don’t feel so bad about being pregnant with his baby. In fact, I’m kind of excited about it. Like I said, he doesn’t know yet. I want to tell him when all of this is over. When you are officially gone, and his head is a little clearer.”

She slams her empty fist on the table, dropping the plastic spork on the ground. Guillermo takes a big step forward, pressing the gun to the back of her head, but I hold my hand up, letting him know it’s fine. He doesn’t ease up.

“You think you’re getting anywhere by doing this? Telling me this? I’ve been through worse—heard so much that is way worse than this, sweetie. What you say doesn’t deter me. No one gives a damn about you or your baby. I hope that baby dies in your womb, and you bleed to death,” she growls through her teeth. “Now if you’re going to kill me, just kill me already and get it over with.” Her voice is thick. She’s so close to breaking down. She still wants to be strong.

I almost envy how strong she’s trying to be right now. I remember doing something similar—trying to push through the pain and the torture. Trying to see the lighter side of things.

“Oh, you think I’m going to kill you?” I laugh, folding my hands in my lap. Her eyebrows dip with my outburst.

A door slams closed and footsteps march down the hallway, measured, heavy. She glances over her shoulder, eyelashes damp.

When he appears at the door, brows knitted, wearing all black with his fists clenched, I look at her and grin.

“I was just warming you up for the real deal, sweetie,” I murmur. “Him.”