Rafael had become a constant voice in my life at this point. What started as the occasional message had turned into a daily ritual; morning calls, late-night conversations, little interruptions in the middle of my day as if he owned the right to my time.
I should have hated it, should have shut him out, but instead, I answered every time. His persistence was as irritating as it was addictive.
He was clever, infuriatingly so. He spoke like he knew me better than I knew myself, cutting through silences with remarks that made me laugh despite myself, or infuriated me until my skin burned.
He promised things too; protection, alliance, his influence could give me the stability I needed. "You don't need me," he'd said, voice low and smug. "But you'd be smarter with me, safer. And I know you, Ariella. You don't like playing without every advantage at your back."
I hated that he was right. And so, I agreed.
