Thunder rumbles in the sky.

I roll over, looking out of the window. I believe this is the first time it’s rained since I was brought here. The sky is gray, and the clouds are thick with water.

It’s a dark, gloomy morning.

To my right, Draco is still sleeping. His hair is a mess, and he’s not wearing any clothes. The sheet covers only his manhood, which seems to be growing harder as I rub my hand over his chest.

After what I did last night, I feel like I owe him more than just sex. He doesn’t know about it yet, but I have this feeling deep in my gut that he will find out soon. Very soon.

Tugging the sheet down, I lean on my elbows and bring my lips toward the head of his cock. I lick the length of him, sliding it down to his balls and then up to his tip again.

He shudders in his sleep, eyes rolling behind his eyelids like his dream has been heightened tenfold. Gripping his thickness in hand, I apply just enough pressure with a squeeze and wrap my lips around the head. Pumping slowly, while sucking him there, he groans deep and twitches in his sleep.

I watch him, enjoying the way his skin slides through my lips and over my tongue. The saltiness lands on my tongue too, and I swallow it down, bringing my other hand up to play with his warm, taut sack.

“Shit,” I hear him croak, his voice thick with sleep. When I look up, his eyes are open, lazy but heated.

I don’t stop. I keep going, feeling him tense up beneath me. I continue pumping his cock with one hand, using the other to caress his balls again. His hands go behind his head and he watches me. No words are spoken. All I hear is the slurping and smacking. I circle my tongue around the head and he shudders again, his abs contracting.

I pump him a little harder. He’s so hard in my mouth. I don’t know why I get satisfaction out of knowing he’s close. He’s so close. Rock hard and ready to explode at any second.

He squeezes his eyes shut, panting now as he jerks his hips. I move my hand and lean forward, taking his entire length into my mouth, gradually pulling away. I do this repeatedly, drawing out a rise in him.

“Fuck,” he groans.

I do it again and again. His hand comes to the back of my head and he forces it down, causing me to choke around his massive length. He doesn’t ease up until I feel him shooting his hot release down my throat.

His entire body vibrates, a deep sigh filling the bedroom, fingers still tangled in my hair.

“Goddamn, niñita,” he murmurs when I lick his tip again, making sure he’s completely clean. I pick my head up and he swipes a thumb across the edge of my lips. “I love what this pretty little mouth of yours can do.”

Loud footsteps sound, getting closer and closer, and then there is insistent banging on the door. Draco jerks away from me with haste, brows furrowed, and I sit up, watching as he hops up and walks to the door, completely naked.

“What have I said about interrupting me before seven, Patanza?” he snaps after yanking the door open.

“Jefe—it’s important,” she says, and she sounds serious. Breathless. I swallow hard, forcing my back against the upholstered headboard. “If we could handle this on our own, we would, but this is different. You need to come see for yourself.”

He stands there for a moment and then he steps back, peering over his shoulder at me. I look away, toward the window, swallowing my guilt. “Fine. Give me a minute.”

He shuts the door in her face and marches for the closet. He takes down some boxers, jeans, and a T-shirt, and gets dressed in a matter of seconds. He slides his feet into a pair of tan loafers that somehow match well with the outfit and then he rakes his fingers through his hair, going for the door.

“Don’t leave this room. I’ll be back.”

He shuts it before I can speak. I rush to the door on tiptoes and put my ear to it, listening to Patanza speaking rapidly in her native tongue as they walk down the hallway. “He’s not in there, and we can’t find him anywhere around the property. I sent Simon and Diego on the boat to look for him, in case he took one of your canoes, and sent the newer guards out to town to look for him. The chains look like they were cut, Jefe. Like someone did it for him. I bet it was fucking Thiago. Told you not to let him stay here. Fucker can’t be trusted.”

Draco curses beneath his breath, and I don’t hear anything else from them after that.

My eyes are wide as I pace the bedroom. I have to act normal. I don’t care if he blames Thiago. It’ll get him out of this house. Draco already doesn’t trust him. This would be the icing on the cake—more than enough reason to get rid of him.

“Calm down, Gia,” I whisper to myself, walking to the closet and pulling down a black dress. It’s a spaghetti strap, loose and gauzy. I hang it on the doorknob and walk into the bathroom to freshen up.

He wouldn’t suspect me to do such a thing. There is nothing that can give me away—nothing but my shaky hands and frazzled nerves, that is.

My whole body is shaking, surging with adrenaline. I grip the edge of the counter, breathing deep. Then I turn on the water, sticking my hands beneath the stream and bringing the coolness to my flushed cheeks.

But when I look up, I don’t see my reflection. I see white hair and hard, dark eyes. I see a twisted smile and blood spilling down his throat.

Bain.

I gasp, jolting as I back away.

“You’re still a stupid fucking bitch,” he chuckles. “Stupid to think Jefe won’t find out. What’s done in the dark always comes to light. Puta.”

I drop my head again, bringing the water up, clearing my face, squeezing my eyes tighter. I look up again and this time I only see myself, face paler, eyes even bigger.

“Calm down,” I tell myself, shutting off the water and walking to bedroom. But telling myself to be calm is stupid.

Even more so when I’m finally dressed and hear Draco start to shout about fifteen minutes later.

Something crashes. It sounds like glass.

Then I hear stomping. Closer and closer.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The door is kicked open and there he stands, teeth clenched, fists balled, seething like a raging bull. He’s blind with fury, ready to charge. Ready to destroy.

He pulls out a gun from his waistband and points it right at me, nostrils flaring as he charges forward.

I stare at the barrel of the spotless silver gun, but I’m speechless. I can’t explain, as badly as I want to—as much as I need to save my own ass, I can’t. My tongue feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

He knows. I know he knows. I did this. I let Henry go. I . . . betrayed him.

The gun presses down on the center of my forehead, cold and hard, and through gritted teeth, he shouts, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?”