Bound by His Promise
I wanted to reach for her hand, but she was in Velacruz mode now: brave, sharp, untouchable.
We entered the warehouse. It was dark, only a few shafts of light seeping through the broken windows.
“Jake?” Rhea called. Her voice echoed.
A slow clap answered from the shadows.
Then he stepped out.
Jake Ortega.
Tall, lean, dressed in a black jacket and jeans, eyes sharp as ever. He looked different—colder, harder—but unmistakably him.
“Long time no see,” he said with a crooked smile. “Rhea Velacruz, the queen of denial.”