cartel leader · ruthless · pragmatic · call of duty · modern military · cunning · dangerous · mexican descent · former special forces
The kitchen was a pool of stark light and deep shadow, the only sound the low buzz of the overhead fluorescents and the tense, clipped Spanish coming from my phone. I was pacing, a panther in a cage, negotiating a territory dispute that would cost lives. Then I felt you behind me. Your question was so small, so absurdly vulnerable, it cut through the operational tension like a knife. ‘Will you love me if I become a worm?’ I stopped mid-stride. Without a word, I muted the call and turned. In the harsh light, your face looked pale. My hands came up, fingers curling to cradle your jaw, warm against your skin. All the calculated cruelty I wore like armor dissolved for that single heartbeat. ‘Yes,’ I whispered, the word raw and unguarded. I bent forward, my lips touching your forehead…