로그인Ricardo’s POVI am in the master suite of the secret mansion, adjusting the lapels of my suit jacket in the mirror. My reflection is perfect, I look like a picture of control and confidence.I smooth my tie twice. Today isn’t just any meeting, it’s with Linda Mayers’s sister. I am ready for my meeting. I am in charge. I have the upper hand.Just then, my phone buzzes on the dresser. I don’t leave the mirror; I tilt my head just enough to see the screen. It’s Angelo.I pick it up, slipping on that casual tone like it’s second nature. “Morning, brother. I’m sure you saw my text?”“I fucked up, Ric,” Angelo’s voice is a dead, flat line. “I fucked up real bad.”My face hardens and my jaw clenches. I press the phone tightly against my ear and my voice drops to a low and lethal tone. “What do you mean you fucked up, Angelo?”“I didn’t see your text,” he blurts. “And Antonella… she called me. Like you predicted. I was in shock, Ric. With the things she told me, I—fuck—I inadvertently outed y
Angelo’s POVI wake up with a strange kind of certainty. My birthday's slowly approaching and for some reason I’ve got this good feeling about it.My condo is quiet as I move through it slowly, savoring the peace, like maybe for once my life isn’t sitting on the edge of a blade.I cook my own breakfast: eggs, bacon and toast, nothing fancy. But it feels good doing it for myself. I plate it neatly and sit down with my fork in hand. Just as I’m about to take that first bite, my phone buzzes.Of course. No peace for the wicked.I pick it up from the table, glance at the screen, and groan so loudly I nearly choke on my own annoyance. It’s Antonella.I roll my eyes and loll my head back. What the fuck does she want? I knew that if she was calling me, it had to be a problem. A Ricardo problem.Still, I swipe to answer all the while trying to sound as unbothered as possible.“Angelo,” she says. Her voice is a little too bright, a little too casual. The way she says it, I know she wants somet
Charles’ POVAlma’s words replay in my head even after she finishes. My mind races, trying to process it all. For a while, I just stare at her, with my mind caught between rage and pity.Rage, because if she’d told me everything sooner, I might’ve been closer to tearing Ricardo apart by now. Pity, because she was only twenty when she had seen Linda die. A kid. And if her mother pimps out girls for a living, then Alma’s entire life must’ve been a hell I can barely imagine.She looks at me with wet, pleading eyes, waiting for me to cast judgment.But I can’t.Because I understand now. She wasn’t born a monster. She was made into one. Ricardo bent her until she broke, until she believed his lies. She was a victim of his Machiavellian games, same as Linda, same as the missing girls.I take her hand in mine and my thumb brushes over her knuckles. “You were a victim,” I murmur.Her lips part in shock, like she expected me to hate her forever. I don’t, and I can’t.Do I hate that she kept th
Alma’s POVThe line clicks dead in my hand. I stare at the phone for a long moment with a racing heart. Ricardo took the bait.I turn to Charles who is sitting across from me. His dark eyes are locked on mine, waiting. I don’t even have to tell him, he can read it all over me."He took the bait," I whisper with relief and dread. My words are like a quiet confirmation of Charles’s victory."Yes!" Charles exclaims, pumping his fist in the air. “Finally. We’re getting somewhere. I’m finally getting somewhere with him.”Then, his excitement fades and his facial expression softens. He takes my hand in his and softens his voice."Are you sure you want to do this, Alma? Because it’s not just your life on the line anymore. You’re putting Linda’s sister's life in jeopardy too. If Ricardo catches wind of what we’re up to…” His voice trails off.I had already thought about this, long and hard, before coming to Charles with this plan. I don’t hesitate. There’s none left in me.I meet his gaze. “I
Lana’s POVI stare at him, and all I see is a shattered man.Not a monster, not a kidnapper, not a killer. Just a boy who wants love. A man so fucking horrible at expressing love that everything he says sounds like a death sentence wrapped in candy.He thinks obsession is affection. He thinks possession is devotion. He thinks caging me is the same as keeping me safe.The rage and pain I see on his face when I question him, it’s not just about control. It’s about a need, a terrifying, all-consuming need for me. He just wants to be loved by me.I see the need in his eyes. It’s not just his dick, no matter how much he lies to himself, no matter how much he blames his hunger on it. It’s his brain. His heart. His pulse. His fucked-up head and his dangerous, restless soul. They all need me.He is the one falling in love with me, not his dick like he said earlier.Maybe that’s why those women died. The thoughts sneak into my head like poison, and instead of spitting it out, I let it fester.
Ricardo’s POVI can’t stand it.The sound of her sobbing kills me, and for once I don’t know whether I want to kill it or cradle it. I pace the room, fighting myself, and then, fuck it, I leave.I leave the room, slamming the door behind me with a force that rattles the frames. I go downstairs, not to escape her, but to escape the feeling she’s making me feel.I stalk down the stairs step by step. I need a drink. Something to burn through the noise in my head. Something to turn my blood to fire instead of ice.In the lounge, I take a bottle of brandy and pour heavy into a glass cup. I throw everything back all at once and the liquor scalds my throat.I pour again. Then again. And again. I just needed a drink. But one drink turns into four, and four into an empty bottle. My hand shakes when I set the glass down. And my head pounds.I can still hear her cries.“Fuck!” I yell, throwing the glass cup at the wall. It shatters, and the sound catches the attention of one of my security outsi







