There’s not much to do here but lie around on the thin mattress. I have no concept of time. I’d say I’ve only been here a few days, but shit, Gabriel needs to hurry up. Shitting in a bucket is not my idea of fun. I need a shower and a decent bed, and far away from Don's intermittent bullshit he spews every time he decides to stop in. On the bright side, he hasn't tried to fuck me again, and the thought makes me laugh. I stand, stretching my arms above my head. The over-sized t-shirt I'm wearing lifts slightly, reminding me that I’m without underwear. Even by my standards this is uncivilized. God, Ronan would be horrified. My gaze drops to the healed spot where Ronan stabbed me with a letter opener. Absentmindedly, I touch the base of my throat, feeling over the thin line of damaged skin that's hardly distinguishable now. His cuts are fading, and once they do, what will I have to remember him by, what will I—Bang!

The loud noise is followed by the rapid pop of gunfire. Explosives rumble somewhere outside the house accompanied by the harmonious screams of men dying. Gabriel! I pace the room, waiting for Gabriel to free me from this shithole. Finally, the lock clicks. I take a step back when the door opens and two of Don's men walk in, one pointing a rifle at my head.

"They won't take me alive, is that it?” I stare down the barrel.” Because you know, that's very counterproductive."

"Shut the fuck up!" He swings the butt of the rifle at my face. A sharp pain explodes over my cheek and blood fills my mouth as I collapse to the the floor. Fucking asshole. One man remains next me as the other paces the floor in front of me. I can't help but smile as I push to my feet. They're scared. I'll be honest, I didn't think Gabriel had it in him to avenge me so ruthlessly.

The ground continues to shake like a war zone. And then, suddenly, it all stops. There's an ominous silence that infuses the air.

The man with the rifle jumps when his phone rings, and I tense. "Either get your shit together, or stop pointing that fucking gun at me," I snap.

He glares at me as he takes the phone from his pocket and answers it. "Boss?" There's a beat of silence, and his face pales before he tentatively hands the phone to me. "It's for you."

What the hell? Frowning, I press it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Little kitty,” Ronan purrs, “you made me bleed." He’s not dead! My heart rate picks up, pounding frantically in my chest. An overwhelming relief at the sound of his voice washes over me before being replaced with a sweet sense of fear.

"You survived. You might actually be the devil," I breathe, a smile touching my lips.

"I must say, I'm shocked you're not dead. Savages must be immune to poisoned vodka..."

He tried to kill me? He tried to fucking kill me! I knew something was off with his declarations of love. It's the age-old adage: I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you. Fuck, I should have seen it coming. "Well, I was feeling guilty, but now, I guess I should have cut a little deeper, Russian."

The man across from me points his gun impatiently, his brows pulled into a deep frown. I glare at him and he jabs the barrel of the gun against my chest, holding out his hand for the phone. "As lovely as it is to talk to you, I'm a little busy with some armed men."

"I see." There's a pause. "Is there a table in the room?"

"No," I say. What is he up to?

"Very well, then duck!"

"What the..." I hear the first loud crack of gunfire before I throw myself to the floor. A series of ear- splitting bangs echo around me and the room fills with dust. By the time the commotion stops, I can barely see through the debris. Bright sunlight streams through the massive hole in the far wall, shining over the two dead guards at my feet.

"Are you wounded?" Ronan's voice drifts from somewhere beyond the carnage.

Coughing, I wave a cloud of dust away as I stumble toward the hole. I squint against the daylight and glance down to see Ronan parked on Don's front lawn in a tank. A. Fucking. Tank. His men dot the grounds with military precision, each clutching to an automatic weapon as they, I assume, wait for their mental boss to stop blowing shit up.

"What the hell, Ronan?"

"They made you bleed." He flippantly dusts debris from the sleeve of his suit as though this is all completely normal.

"You tried to kill me!” I fold my arms over my chest and lean against the crumbling wall.

"And you tried to kill me." He grins.

"Yes, but you don't see me coming to your rescue in a fucking tank, or did you just want to make sure it was you who got to finish the job?" I smirk. "You'll have to let me out first. Door only opens from the outside." Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighs, and no sooner have the words left my mouth than the door opens to Donovan with a small, rare smile on his lips.

I walk straight past him, through the house, and to the front yard. Leaned against the tank is Ronan in his immaculate suit and face every bit as cold and beautiful as I remember. He looks like an avenging angel standing amongst sheer destruction, dying men sprawled at his feet and a weapon of warfare at his back. The Mexican sun plays through the dark chocolate of his hair, making it shine in a way I never saw in cold Russia. The bandage over his throat is the only thing out of place. But why did he come? Did Gabriel call him? No, Gabe thinks he's dead, just like I did.

"I'm starting to think subtly isn't in your vocabulary," I say, attempting to breathe through the awkward, staggered thumping of my heart. I said goodbye to this man. I kissed him as I dragged a blade over his throat, and it broke a little piece of me, I won't deny that.

"And I don't believe thank you is in yours." He takes my hand, dragging me toward a waiting Hummer limo. Only Ronan. The back door opens and he guides me inside before climbing in after me.

The limo pulls away, leaving behind Don Cala's ruined house and slaughtered cartel.

When we turn down the desert highway, I glance over at him typing away on his phone as though nothing has changed. He came for me. Was it simply because he found me? Or because he thought I needed him? Surely he wants to kill me for what I did? One brow quirks and he looks over at me. "Something you'd like to say, little kitty?"

"How did you find me?"

He simply smirks.

"Even if you knew I was alive, you couldn't have known I was with the Los Zetas without a rat, Ronan." My gaze drift to the window behind him. "Tell me you aren't planting people in every cartel."

"I can tell you anything you would like to hear." He grins like the bastard he is.

"Except how you found me," I say with a wry smile.

He grabs my chin, pulling me toward him and planting a hard kiss on my mouth. My fingers instinctively seek out the rough stubble of his jaw, stroking over it as my tongue meets his. And those feelings, those swirling, consuming emotions that I locked in a deep dark box that first day I woke up, they all break free. I climb into his lap, straddling him, trying to get as close as possible. My need for him crushes me until I can barely catch a full breath. He's darkness and sin, and I crave his absolute depravity because without it, my existence feels mundane. Pointless.

He finally breaks the kiss and moves back, swiping at something on my cheek. "You have no idea how you've messed up my plans."

Frowning, I press my fingers to my temples in an attempt to ward off a headache. "So why not just leave me? You could have simply turned a blind eye and pretended I was dead. Your plans would be intact. I'd never have even known you lived, Ronan."

"Because…” his face crumples, his eyes flickering with guilt, "they made you bleed."

"Many men have made me bleed. I assumed your lust for my blood ended when you tried to poison me." I raise a brow at him. This man makes no sense. He wants me dead one minute and plays the White Knight the next. Though we both know Ronan is not here out of a chivalrous need to protect, but more the driving need to claim what he deems as his.

"Even when I believed you were dead, I still wanted you, Camilla."

I swallow hard and rip my gaze away, glancing through the window just to escape him.

"It is hard, isn't it?" he says. "Believing that people such as us can actually love."

I slowly bring my gaze to his. His fingers skate over my cheek, and I close my eyes as I lean into his touch. His touch which has become so comforting. "I loved you enough to kill you for it," I whisper.

"As did I."

I touch my forehead to his, inhaling the scent of his cigar tinged cologne. "So, what now, Ronan? We could have let each other go, but you came for me." I take a deep breath. "I'm not sure I can say goodbye to you twice," I confess.

"You can't." He grabs my thighs and shifts us until my back hits the seat and his body lands over me. He shoves the shirt around my waist. "I won’t let you."

My pulse races, heat rising within me as his hands force my legs apart. One finger skims my pussy and a tremble works up my spine. I want this man to take me. Desecrate me. "Ronan," I moan, threading my fingers through his thick hair as my back bows.

He throws me to the floor of the limo before grabbing my hips, flipping me over, and yanking me up onto all fours. There's no warning before he's slams inside me. A twinge of pain shoots through me and I welcome it, craving the edge of madness that only he can drive me to. I push back against him, needing more. He grips my hair at the roots, twisting my head around and slamming his mouth over mine in a brutal kiss. "You are mine, Camilla," he whispers against my lips.

"Show me that I am," I dare.

My muscles tighten and his pace quickens, and within moments I'm spiraling over the edge. My body heats with endorphins, my ears ringing as black edges pull at my vision. I moan his name and he drives into me so hard and fast that I don't know where I end and he begins. His short fingernails bite into my hips as he tenses behind me on a feral groan.

I remain where I am, my fingernails digging into the floorboard as his hot breath washes over the back of my neck. His lips press against my skin, lingering for several beats before I roll onto my back.

"I'll take you to say goodbye to your brother," Ronan says, kneeling over me and fastening his pants.

My eyes go wide. "Oh god." He tugs my shirt back down. "If I asked you to wait outside, preferably off the property, would you?"

"No." He moves back to the seat, his attention going back to his phone.

"Of course not.” I roll my eyes. “You're aware that he and all his men will be armed?" I sit up and slide onto the seat, trying my best to adjust the dirty, tattered shirt. Ronan glances at me with a look of annoyance before looking back to his phone. "Please don't kill him," I say quietly. This is going to be a bloodbath of epic proportions. I can feel it.

All he does is sigh. Great.

By the time we pull in front of the villa’s gate, I'm struggling to sit still. Nervous energy fires through me. Gabriel thinks Ronan is dead, and Ronan doesn't give a single fuck that Gabe loathes his very presence. Guards step up to the gate, glaring at the unknown and ridiculously obnoxious vehicle.

When I open the door, they tense and point guns at the car, only lowering them when I step out. "Let us through," I tell them, and the gate immediately starts to open.

Deep breaths, I think to myself as I get back inside the car. Gabriel is going to shit on himself. The second the car pulls in front of the house Gabe comes storming out. Closing the door in Ronan’s face, I rush to intercept him and Gabe slams into my outstretched hands, his nostrils flaring as he scowls over my shoulder. "Who the fuck is in the car?"

I firmly place my hand on his chest. "Don't get mad. I thought he was dead—"

"The fucking Russian?" His eyes pop wide and his face turns blood red as he starts around me swearing in Spanish.

"Gabriel!" I shout.

The door to the limo slowly swings open. A cloud of cigar smoke billows out as Ronan places one shiny, black shoe on the drive. Gabe stops dead in his tracks, and Ronan steps all the way out. His cold blue eyes locked on Gabriel. "So, we meet again?" Ronan chuckles.

Gabe's fists clench at his sides. "I want to kill you."

Ronan throws his head back on a laugh. "Tsk-tsk, Gabriel. Is that any way to speak to the man who just saved your beloved Mila?"

A low growl rumbles from Gabe's chest, and I place a hand on his shoulder. "I didn't ask him to. I told you, I thought he was dead." Gabe yanks away from my touch.

"Camilla doesn't let anyone save her."

"Until now..." Ronan quirks a brow, and I feel Gabe bristle.

"Enough with the dick measuring,” I say, turning him away from Ronan with great effort. “Gabe, we need to talk.” Ronan strolls up beside me, placing my arm through his. Gabe growls and I glare at Ronan. "Really? You can't make this easy, just this once?" I hiss.

"He's not going inside my house!" Gabe shouts. "The pale fuck is not setting foot in my fucking house, Mila!"

"My house, Gabriel. I won't let him touch your stuff."

His eyes narrow as his gaze drifts from Ronan to me. He swipes a hand over his jaw before storming off like a spoilt child, and I throw my head back on a groan. "Fuck's sake." I turn to Ronan. "You"–he cocks a brow as though daring me to push him —"just please, please don't kill anyone while I talk to him? The Mexicans are...volatile."

Ronan holds up his hands in surrender. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"This is like watching a match hover over a tank of gasoline." I glance over his shoulder at Donovan and one other man still lingering about. "Okay, come in," I tell them as well, because fuck knows Ronan will need a body guard here. I show them to a sitting room and ask the maid to get them drinks before I go look for Gabe.

I find him in the office, with his back facing the door. Paperwork is tossed everywhere; a chair is on its side, and the lamp is in pieces on the floor. He's had a little fit. "Mature, Gabe," I say, closing the door behind me.

"This is not how we do things, Mila." He faces me. "He is the enemy."

"Don't you think I know that? I slit his throat for it. Or did you miss the bandage on his neck? It should have fucking killed him."

"I didn't miss the fucking way that you look at him!" He glares at me. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"He saved me. I'm grateful," I say defensively.

Gabe steps toward me, the muscles in his jaw clenching. "So grateful you had to fuck him?" He snarls his lip as his gaze drops to the ripped shirt.

"It's not like I haven't fucked him before." I throw my hands up in the air. "Sleeping with the enemy in case you forgot." I don't know why I'm denying it so much. I'm going to have to walk out of here with Ronan. I know that. I should just tell Gabe, but the look in his eyes lodges the words in my throat. In Gabriel's eyes, I'll be a traitor.

"I'm not a fucking idiot." He drags his hands down his face. "And this is not how we do things. Not in this family. Not in the goddamn cartel!" He shakes his head, his rage releasing in an angry growl as he spins around and crosses the room. He rifles through drawers before pulling out a shotgun.

"Stop! You'll die before you get within ten feet of him and you know it."

"Oh, of course, he's fucking god." He shoves past me, throwing the door against the wall. Before I can get through the door, I hear a single shot of gunfire ring out before something clatters over the floor. When I step around the corner, I find Ronan holding Gabe in a chokehold, the shotgun on the ground and a bullet hole in the wall. Both of Ronan's men have their guns aimed at Gabe's head.

"For fuck's sake, Gabriel. You never fucking listen." I spit a string of curses at him while he gasps for breath. "Ronan, let him go."

Ronan’s eyes flash and his hold tightens. "I should kill you, Mexican," Ronan whispers next to his ear before shoving him to the ground. "It's time to go, Camilla."

"I need a minute," I say sadly, watching Gabe struggle to catch his breath.

"Five minutes." Ronan glances at his watch as he turns down the hall, his shoes clicking over the tile. I wait until I hear the door open and close before I look at Gabe still buckled over on the floor.

"How many rape videos did Daddy get sent, Gabriel? How many have times have you had to leave me with an enemy? Because we cannot afford to look weak by negotiating, and a forced rescue is suicide." I squeeze my eyes closed. "But he came for me, Gabe."

"And?" shouting, Gabe staggers to his feet. "And that makes him god?"

I tip my head back and inhale. "No, it makes him a man who loves me," I whisper.

"Big fucking deal." He tosses his hands in the air. "Don't act like that's not what you do. Fuck men and make them fall in love with you to make them weak. It's not any—"

"I love him!" There's a beat of silence. "I love him," I say, quieter.

He tosses his head back, dragging his fingers through his hair. "Leave."

"No."

"Fucking leave!" He sighs. "Take your pale fucking lord and get the fuck out of this house."

"Fuck you, Gabriel. You think I wanted this? I tried to kill him when I realized. Have you ever had to kill someone you love? It fucking hurts. But I did it because I'd fallen for the enemy."

He claps his hand. "Well, congrat-u-fucking-lations! But you didn't fucking kill him."

"He brought me Sebastian," I whisper. "And you know exactly what that means. So hate me if you want to, Gabriel, but it is what it is."

There's a moment where his jaw goes slack. His nostrils flare. I can see him fighting emotions as only Gabriel can. "Cortez?" he whispers, and I nod. There's a long silence that seems to stretch forever before his chin drops to his chest. "I will never hate you, but I will never agree with this. Cortez or not." He huffs before glancing back up at me, his eyes swimming with tears. "You cannot trust the Russian, Camilla. No matter what he's done for you, you cannot trust him." He shakes his head. "Why couldn't you just fall for a bad guy like everyone else? It had to be the Russian devil?"

"Because I am the bad guy. So, of course, I fell for the devil himself." I sigh. "I don't trust him, but I think I need him." I hate admitting that to my brother because ever since our parents were killed I've always been so ruthlessly strong. He says nothing because, I suppose, there's really not a lot to say. Gabriel will always hate Ronan and he has reason to. I expect nothing less of my brother.

I step forward, kissing his cheek. "I will be back. I leave the cartel in your capable hands." His eyes lock with mine. "I love you, little brother." And then I move away from him, going to the office and taking one of the credit cards before I leave the house.

I don't know what I'm doing, but for the second time in only a couple of weeks, my very essence is being torn in two. I'm walking away from everything I know and love for Ronan Cole. Last time I chose Gabriel, but what the fuck am I to do when my heart is so undeniably drawn to Ronan and the fucker won't die? A traitorous tear slips down my cheek and I angrily swipe it away as I approach the car.

"Ah, with one minute to spare," Ronan says when the car door is opened for me.

I slide across the back seat and his hand lands on my thigh. As the car pulls away, I watch the house slip from view. I have no idea when I'll be back and the thought saddens me, but I've made my choice.

For now, my future lies with the mercurial Russian next to me. For now...

RONAN

Thoughts of The Horseman kept me from sleep on the flight back to Russia. Who could he be? Who is his mole? I'm on the verge of madness trying to piece it all together. After a shower, Camilla slept for most of the flight, and has been silent the entire drive through Moscow—possible guilt? No, that's ridiculous.

Igor shifts anxiously in the seat across from us. A thin sheen of sweet dots his forehead, and I wonder... Is he to blame? You really can trust no one. When the car rounds the corner, Camilla places her hand on my knee.

"You missed, Russia, didn't you?" I smile, and she rolls her eyes.

Through the window, I notice a plume of smoke billowing into the bleak sky. I straighten in my seat, inching closer to the glass. "What is this?"

The limo pulls to the golden gates and stops. Beyond the gate lies nothing but smoldering rubble. My pulse thrums in my neck, my vision swimming from my sudden spike in blood pressure. "Igor!" I shout, my voice reverberating around the back of the car.

He hangs his head and wrings his hands. "I didn't know how to tell you."

"You knew?" I swipe my hand over my mouth, flashes of red spotting my vision. "How long? How long did you know?"

"I was told before we boarded the plane in Jaurez." I want to kill him. "I...I... I didn't know how to tell you, and it wouldn't have changed anything. It was—"

"Silence!"

Camilla scratches her nails over the material of my suit pants, her gaze fixed on the smoking rubble of my once magnificent home. "Who the hell is stupid enough to take on Ronan Cole?" she whispers to herself.

The gates open and the car winds along the drive. As soon as it rolls to a stop, I throw the door open, stumbling out into the snow toward the heap of brick and ash. My heart hammers against my chest hard enough I think it may break the bone. Each uneven breath I drag in burns and stings. My blood literally boils beneath the surface. This was my home—not some godawful warehouse stocked with weapons, not a disease-riddled brothel—my home! My fingers draw into a fist, my knuckles cracking as the subtle crackle of the dying fire mocks me.

Camilla moves beside me, gently rubbing her hand over my arm, and much to my surprise, I find the smallest sliver of comfort within her touch. "The Horseman is a very brave man," I mutter beneath my breath.

"The Horseman?" She frowns. "As in the supposed crime lord?"

"Yes." I walk to the edge of the foundation and pick up a piece of brick. "It's he who evidently wanted you dead, and has been stealing my supplies."

"Great." She drags a hand through her long hair. "That's definitely not someone whose attention I want," she mumbles. "I assume you're going to kill him."

Dropping the brick to the ground, I glance at her. "I don't even know who he is!" And for the first time in my life, I sound weak to my own ears. I stagger toward the open door of the limo, waiting for Camilla to slip inside before I fall into the seat. "Take me to my penthouse," I say.

Without a word, the car pulls away, barreling down the empty road.

An hour later, I'm stepping into my penthouse on the twenty-seventh floor of The Agustu. The lights flicker on, shining over the sleek marble floors and modern decor. I roll my eyes as swipe a finger over the entranceway table. Not near the elegance of my house, but for now this will have to suffice.

Camilla walks past me, straight to the bar tucked to the side of the room. She pours us both a drink and hands me a glass. I down it before moving past her to make another one.

"If you're about to get drunk and demonstrate a blinding lack of control, please tell me." Her teeth scrape her full bottom lip as she tilts her head to the side.

Cupping the back of her head, I brush my thumb over her cheek. "I'd rather surprise you."

Donovan turns the news on, the noise catching my attention. "...Charles White has been charged with treason regarding the ongoing Russian investigation." That's all I can bare.

"Turn it off, Donovan." I take a gulp of brandy. Charles White was one of my spies. Someone very close to me is a rat. I glance across the room at Donovan. He's busy typing on his phone. Igor's on a call, discussing the trade with Pakistan. It is usually those closest to you who betray you. After all, an enemy knows what information bares the highest reward.

Camilla trails her fingers over the side of my neck, tracing the bandage covering the deep cut she gave me. Her heated breath skims over my throat before she kisses me. "It will be fine, Ronan," she breathes.

I clench my jaw, swirling the drink in my glass as I move to the sofa and sit down.

On a sigh, Camilla rounds the sofa, straddling my thighs before she takes a seat, gripping my jaw. "You're Ronan Cole." Her lips press against mine, her tongue slowly teasing the edge of my lips.

"Go on..." I smile.

"Only a stupid man would fuck with you." Another kiss, deeper this time as she forces my head back and nips my lip. "Your enemy is beneath you." Her fingers rake into my hair. "You need only remind him of it."

Closing my eyes, I fist her hair, pulling her head to the side. "Are you still my enemy, Camilla?"

She huffs a small laugh. "Always, but I'm on top of you, Russian."

Donovan clears his throat behind me. "Sir..."

"What is it now?" I groan, glancing over my shoulder. "The Chinese declined your offer for another missile."

My nostrils flare. "What?"

Donovan takes a breath, exhaling slowly. "They've found another supplier."

I gently push Camilla off me and stand, rounding the couch with fury burning through my veins. "Another supplier," I say between hard breaths, "of my missile?"

"One very similar."

"That's impossible." I pace the length of the room. "Impossible!" I throw my drink against the wall. Glass shatters everywhere, brandy trickles down the wall. My shoulders rise and fall on ragged breaths. "Out," I whisper before glancing up. "Everyone out!"

Donovan and Igor leave without question and Camilla slowly slips through the doorway to the hall. My head is in a tailspin. How is it possible that I have lost this much control? Was I so preoccupied with Camilla that I missed something as important as a betrayal?

Everyone who knew the formula for that prototype has been killed, the files confiscated or destroyed. That information was stored in two locations and two locations only. A vault in this penthouse that only I know about, and the vault in my office. And there have only ever been three people who have had free reign of my home, and only one who has ever been my enemy.

Oh, little kitty...