Chapter 45

The fire on the docks was still burning when Ricardo Cruz arrived.

His black car rolled to a stop, headlights cutting across smoke and ruin. The air stank of ash and twisted steel. Flames licked the night sky like demons dancing, devouring what was left of the warehouse.

Ricardo stepped out slowly, cane striking the pavement. His men stood silent around him, too afraid to speak. The heat of the blaze painted his sharp features in orange light.

He stared at the destruction for a long time, breathing in the smoke as though it were poison, and perhaps it was. His fortune, his power, his reputation, burning right before his eyes.

Finally, his voice cut through the silence. Low. Deadly.

“Mateo.”

Two guards shoved the younger man forward. Blood streaked Mateo’s face, his shirt torn, his wrists bound with rope.

Ricardo’s jaw tightened as his eyes burned into him. “You did this.”

Mateo lifted his chin, despite the bruise on his cheek. “Yes.”

The answer was sharp, like a blade. No excuses. No