“Draco—I—”

“No!” he barks, finger wrapped around the trigger. “Shut the fuck up! You know what fuck you did, and I should kill you right where you fucking stand for it!”

“I was trying to help him!” I shout back.

His head shakes roughly, but the gun doesn’t waver.

I hold my hands up, thinking that I must have been wrong about this. Us. Maybe he will kill me—if I do something stupid enough, like this. Doesn’t matter who my father is. I didn’t follow his rules.

“Draco, Henry isn’t your enemy. I believe what he says,” I say quickly. “Daddy hired him and trusted him to watch you. You say Daddy saved your life, treated you like his own son. Why would he send someone he couldn’t trust to come and look after you? Henry was only doing his job and was at the wrong place with the wrong people. I’ve been around Toni,” I breathe, “but that doesn’t make me anything like him.”

“I don’t give a fuck about any of that,” he growls through gritted teeth, grip tightening on the gun. “You let him go without my permission. You went behind my fucking back and freed him and now he’s out there somewhere. He saw too much around here! Knew too fucking much! He knows you are here!” he spews at me. “Have you forgotten there is a warrant on my head? Three million fucking dollars, Gianna, and all he has to do is lead the police back here to me! To my fucking home!”

My heart sinks.

Shit.

That’s right.

He’s wanted by many.

“B-but he won’t tell,” I assure him, hands still in the air. “He only wanted to be free. He knows how you are. He’ll run far away and won’t look back.”

“He has no fucking money. Nowhere to fucking go,” he grumbles. “He could quite possibly be working with Hernandez. He has a secret, and I was close to fucking cracking him, but you decide to be stupid by letting him go! I let you do this shit right under my fucking nose,” he scoffs. “And for that, you will fucking pay.”

“How do you even know it was me?” I ask, feeling foolish for even bothering to ask.

“Guillermo had eyes on Thiago the entire night. He watched him and followed him up to bed. Thiago sleeps with the door open just so my men can keep watch. I watched him all night at the party. The only time that armless fuck could have escaped was during the party, when we were all occupied, and you asked for your fucking space. I should have known better than to think I could give you that.”

I swallow, but it’s hard to do. My throat is so dry.

He takes another step forward, gripping the back of my neck. The gun pushes down harder on my forehead, enough to leave an imprint behind. His forefinger tightens around the trigger.

“Draco, please,” I beg. He’s so close to pulling it. “I didn’t do this to betray you! I promised I would help him!”

“I don’t give a fuck about your promises, Gianna. They’re fucking worthless.”

“But what if you’re wrong about him? What if he really only wanted to be free? Free from you and this place! It’s what I wanted before, too, and I wouldn’t have told. I would have just run and never looked back.”

“I’m not wrong. I know a fucking con artist and liar when I see one. But that’s the thing about you—you’re so blind to all of it. Hell, you fell for the man who murdered your own father. Of course you’ll fall for the next man’s bullshit, too. Especially one related to him.”

He squeezes my neck until it hurts. I wince and cry out a little, but my eyes don’t move from the trigger. He continues squeezing down. More. More. More.

“Draco!” I plead. “You said you wouldn’t kill me.”

He fastens his jaw and squeezes the trigger all the way down. I flinch, expecting a loud noise and some bright light to follow, but there’s nothing. Only a solid, hard click.

He pulled the trigger, but the safety is on.

The safety . . .

Jerking away, he shoves me down on the edge of the bed and steps forward. “You feel that? I know you do, because I can see it so fucking clearly. Fear. That fear in your eyes still brings me joy,” he rasps, towering over me. “I said I wouldn’t kill you—that I can’t kill you—because I respected your father too much. I won’t. But it doesn’t mean that I can’t hurt you.” He grabs my hair and tugs on it, getting in my face, making me whimper. “I am going to hurt you so fucking much you’ll hate me again, Gianna. I’m going to teach you that fucking me over and going behind my fucking back gets you nowhere! I tried with you, I really did.” He pulls away, holding the gun up in the air. “But don’t think you’re safe with me by any means. No,” he laughs, a sinister one I haven’t heard since I was first brought here. “I’ll be back, and you better be fucking ready, because I am done being fucking lenient with you. By the end of the night, you will worship, obey, and submit to me. You will be mine all over again. No more fucking freedom for you.”

And with those words, he’s walking out of the room, storming down the hallway.

Though he’s gone, the atmosphere is still thick with tension. Sweat has beaded up on my forehead, my palms clammy. I look down, realizing my hands are shaking, my breath is erratic, and my legs are wobbling like mad.

I am terrified all over again.

Of him. Of what he’ll do to me.

And . . . deep down . . . I’m glad to feel this way.

Glad, because I can’t like him. I don’t want to like him. I don’t want his charm to win me over. I don’t want him to ever trust me, because I don’t ever want to trust him. I can’t trust a man like him.

I need to hate him again. I need the fight. I needed a reason to kindle my fire inside, and he’s going to hand it right to me.

El Jefe vs. La Patrona.

I guess the question now is, who will win?