I spend the next three days preparing for my mission—learning everything I can about Theo’s life. There isn’t much on the internet, except the same whispered fear that follows his name. They say he’s been feared in the underworld since he was nine years old. They don’t specify why, but it must’ve been something psychotic—something fitting for the devil he is.

  Before leaving, I tell Sarah about my assignment, that it could take days, weeks, maybe even months before I return. But Sarah… she’s more excited about something else.

  She’s two months pregnant.

  I was surprised. She was always careful.

  "What are you going to do now?" I ask, already knowing she’ll say something reckless.

  She doesn’t hesitate. "I’m keeping the baby. And I’m leaving the Syndicator."

  I stare at her. "Are you kidding me? Do you know what they do to people who betray them? They’ll hunt you down. They’ll destroy everything."

  She looks at me, unshaken. "Being the Syndicator’s weapon was never the life I chose for myself. But now, I have a choice. And for once, I’m choosing my happiness. I want to know where it will lead me. I know it’s risky, but at least it will be my decision. I want a normal life… even if, in the end, it destroys me. I just want your support."

  I don’t know what to say. So, I just sigh, pull her into a hug, and whisper, "Be careful. Run as far as you can. And keep in contact with me."

  And now—now I stand here, chained.

  A thin white robe clings to my body, sheer enough to expose every curve, my long hair cascading down my back. The air in this club is thick with the stench of power and filth, filled with mafia bosses, corrupt politicians, and every kind of high-level criminal who came here to buy.

  To them, I’m just another item for sale.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I’ve used seduction before to get close to a target—but none of them ever survived long enough to really look at me. Yet here I am, exposed, their hungry gazes crawling over my skin like insects. Disgusting. But my eyes aren’t looking at them.

  I’m searching for him.

  The auction has begun, but my target is still not here. And I—I am desperate for him to show up. To bid on me.

  Except some other asshole just did.

  He’s old. Fat. In his sixties. He grins like he just won the lottery, climbing onto the stage, circling me like a prized possession.

  "Now you… you look like something worth spending my fortune on," he sneers, his beady eyes crawling over me. "That body… those breasts… that ass… will look real good in my hands."

  My stomach twists. I want to puke.

  He lifts his hand, reaching for my breast—his fingers mere inches away from my skin—

  POP.

  A loud gunshot.

  Warm blood splatters across my face and robe.

  I flinch, my breath catching as the old man collapses beside me, a bullet hole clean through his skull.

  The room is silent.

  Slowly, I turn my head toward where the shot came from. And there he is.

  Theo.

  Standing at the back of the room, gun still in his hand, how did he managed to make clean shot with so much distance, his ocean-blue eyes locked onto mine with amusement. Those eyes—dark, deadly, consuming—steal the air from my lungs, just like they did all those years ago.

  Fear spreads through the crowd. No one speaks. No one moves. The most feared men in this world are lowering their heads, bowing in silent obedience.

  Theo doesn’t even look at them.

  He’s looking at me.

  He moves. Slowly. Deliberately. A predator closing in on his prey.

  And now he’s in front of me, towering over me, blocking everything else from my view.

  He’s bigger now. Stronger. More powerful than he was nine years ago. His presence consumes me, and I can’t breathe.

  Those ocean-blue eyes drag over my face, filled with something dark, something wicked. His scent—sinful, intoxicating—wraps around me like a noose.

  His thumb traces the blood on my cheek, sliding down to my lower lip. He leans in, breath ghosting against my ear, his voice a low, possessive whisper—

  "Moya dyavolita."

  My little devil.

  And then—he lifts me into his arms like I weigh nothing.

  A single gunshot shatters the chain around my wrists.

  Theo walks out. Just like that.

  Without turning back, he gives a single nod to his man.

  "Burn it down."

  Like he owns the world.

  I’m thrown into his Mercedes, my body still trembling, my mind struggling to process what just happened.

  A man slides into the driver’s seat, the engine purring to life.

  Theo sits beside me. Silent. Staring out the window. Not looking at me.

  But I still feel him. His presence. His control.

  I don’t know where he’s taking me.

  I don’t even have my gun. Just the small knife hidden beneath this ridiculously transparent robe.

  And I don’t know if this path leads to my salvation—

  Or my ruin.