Raina woke to cold sheets.
The bed beside her was empty.
Only the scent of clove, cigar smoke, and raw masculinity lingered a possessive ghost of Damián woven into the silk. Her muscles ached in a familiar way, sore from how rough and greedy he'd been the night before. He had said nothing after the way he claimed her on the floor of the wine cellar, and yet everything was said in the press of his body against hers.
But now silence.
Her fingers ghosted across her lips. They still tingled. Her thighs still throbbed from where his teeth had sunk into them.
Still, the air was wrong.
Too quiet.
A faint beeping pierced the hush.
Not the alarm.
Not her phone.
Something rhythmic and deliberate like someone was counting down and wanted her to know it.
Raina slipped out of bed, not bothering to cover the bruises painting her olive skin like forbidden art. She reached for a silk robe his, oversized, with the embroidered "M" in blood-red thread over the breast pocket.
Damián's study door was ajar.
That alone was a red flag. He never left it unlocked.
She stepped inside.
It smelled of danger leather, whiskey, and secrets.
The glow from the monitors cast an eerie light across the room. Screens lined the far wall, flashing between surveillance feeds.
And that's when she saw it.
Herself.
In the shower.
In the greenhouse.
Sleeping.
Every part of the estate she'd thought was private wasn't.
There was even footage of her first night in the mansion sobbing on the floor after Arturo's men threw her at Damián's feet like damaged goods. He hadn't touched her that night, just stood there, eyes like shadows, promising nothing and everything.
A quiet gasp escaped her lips.
"You weren't supposed to see that."
Her blood iced.
That voice.
Not Damián.
She turned sharply.
And her heart dropped to her feet.
Vico.
The devil with nine lives. Scar from his temple to jawline. Crooked smile. Two fingers missing souvenirs from a failed coup in Baja. The last time she'd seen him, he was handcuffed in the back of Arturo's SUV, swearing revenge after she spit in his face.
"You, you were dead," she croaked.
Vico chuckled, stepping into the light. "Apparently not dead enough."
Her eyes darted to the desk. No weapon in sight. No phone.
He took a step closer.
And another.
"Damián told me I'd like seeing your face again. Said you'd be softer now. Tamed." He tilted his head. "But I see fire still dances behind those pretty eyes."
"I'm not yours to tame," she spat.
He grinned, revealing a silver tooth. "You never were. But someone needs to remind your man that playing God has consequences."
From his coat, he pulled out a small black detonator. The blinking red light stole her breath.
"You're insane"
"No," he cut her off. "Just tired of playing second to a bastard who fucks women like you and thinks that's redemption."
Then a bang echoed through the estate.
The walls trembled.
Sirens blared.
Raina's panic set in heart racing, vision tunneling.
"Garage," Vico said casually. "Boom. Boom."
That snapped her out of it.
She grabbed the crystal paperweight and hurled it at his face. It cracked against his cheekbone. He roared, stumbling back, giving her just enough time to bolt.
Her feet slapped the tile as sirens flashed. Her name blasted through the security system.
"Raina do not stop. Keep moving. They're coming for you."
Damián.
His voice, cold and commanding.
Terror warred with rage.
She turned a corner and collided with muscle and cologne.
Strong hands grabbed her arms.
But it wasn't Vico.
It was Mateo, Damián's personal security chief. Bleeding from a gash above his brow.
"Come. Now!" he snapped.
"Where is he?"
"Secure room. Go!"
But Raina wasn't ready to hide.
Not when she didn't know who to trust.
Not when Vico's words still echoed in her ears
"Damián bought your freedom with blood. Now he's paying the interest."
She didn't get to ask what it meant.
Because as Mateo dragged her down a dark hallway toward safety, she looked back
And saw Vico watching from the shadows.
Smiling.
Alive.
And very much unfinished.
Bonus Smut Tease: Before the Morning
(flashback: a few hours before she woke up)
"Look at me," Damián growled, hand clamped around her throat not tight, just enough to force her gaze.
"I said look."
She did.
Naked beneath him, bruised and flushed, Raina saw something primal in his eyes. Possession. Regret. Need.
"Say it," he murmured, pressing into her deeper.
She gasped, fingers digging into his back. "I'm yours."
"Louder."
"I'm yours, Damián. Fuck"
He cut her off with his mouth, swallowing the words, owning her cries as her back arched off the floor.
And when she came broken and shaking it wasn't from pain.
It was from knowing she might actually love the devil.