Emilia's POV

I knew there was no way out now.

Everything was set in motion.

Valeria knew it too.

But for now, we had time.

And I refused to waste it arguing over something that was already written in stone.

"Princess," Valeria murmured as she approached me, her voice softer than usual, her eyes searching mine.

I didn't let her speak further. I grabbed her shirt and shoved her onto the chair, my movements swift, deliberate. She looked up at me, startled but intrigued, her lips parting slightly as she processed what had just happened.

I exhaled slowly, threading my fingers through my hair, twisting it into a loose, messy bun. Then, I took two steps forward, slow, deliberate movements, letting her feel the shift in the air between us.

She adjusted herself, already assuming I was going to climb onto her lap as I always did. Her legs started to close slightly, expecting to make space for me.

But I didn't sit.

Instead, I kept her legs open with my knees as I knelt between them, my hands resting just above her knees.

She arched a brow, tilting her head slightly, as if to silently ask, What are you doing?

I didn't answer.

I let my touch speak for me.

My fingers traced slow circles on her thighs, moving upward, feeling her muscles tighten beneath my hands. Her breath hitched slightly, a subtle intake of air as realization dawned on her.

Last night had been burned into my skin, into my mind. It had been perfect, it had been everything. But it hadn't been enough.

I needed more.

I needed her.

I reached for the buttons of her pants, undoing them one by one, slow and teasing. When I tugged at the fabric, she tensed, her body rigid.

I paused.

Then leaned in, pressing soft kisses against her abdomen, trailing down to her hipbone. Her hands instinctively went to my hair, her fingers tightening slightly, her breath uneven.

She was watching me carefully.

I tugged again, this time whispering, "Let me."

She hesitated for a moment, and then—she shifted, lifting her hips just enough for me to slip them off.

This time, she didn't stop me when I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties.

I didn't use my hands to pull them down.

I used my teeth.

A sharp inhale. A small, strangled breath from above me.

I smirked, pressing my lips just below her hipbone before finally freeing her completely.

And then, I tasted her.

God, she was intoxicating. Smooth as silk, warm and inviting, her scent, her taste—everything about her called to me, as if she was made to be here, beneath my lips, beneath my tongue.

Her body tightened instantly, her thighs pressing in slightly, fighting for control even as she fell apart. She let out a quiet, almost reluctant sound, like she was too proud to moan, like she was trying to hold herself together.

I wasn't going to let her.

"Relax," I murmured against her, my breath sending a shiver through her skin.

Then, I went back to devouring her.

I slid my fingers inside her, slow, deliberate, never stopping the rhythm of my lips.

Her grip on my hair turned almost painful, her fingers digging in, pulling me closer, as if she was afraid I would disappear if she let go.

She could have suffocated me in this moment, and I would have gladly let her.

I felt her body tremble, her breath turning ragged, her walls clenching around my fingers.

A soft gasp escaped her lips, and then her entire body arched slightly, her muscles tightening as she unraveled completely.

She let go.

Completely.

Her hands loosened in my hair, her body melting against the chair as waves of pleasure coursed through her. I took my time, savoring her, not stopping until I had tasted every part of her release.

Only then did I start kissing my way back up her body, over her abdomen, her chest, until my lips finally found hers.

She kissed me back instantly—aggressive, breathless, desperate—pulling me in like she never wanted to let go.

When she finally pulled away, her dark eyes locked onto mine with something so deep, so raw, that my chest ached.

I opened my mouth to speak, to say something—anything—but before I could, she stood up, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me toward the bed.

And I had no objections.

Emilia's POV

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the city outside barely reaching us. The world felt distant, muffled, as if it didn't exist beyond this bed, beyond her.

Emilia was lying beside me, her body warm and bare against mine, her head tucked under my chin, her fingers lazily tracing patterns against my skin. Her eyes were closed, but I knew she wasn't asleep.

She hadn't slept since I came back.

Neither had I.

I kissed the top of her head, then her forehead, my lips lingering there for a second longer than necessary. She let out a soft breath, nuzzling closer, her body fitting against mine like she had always belonged here.

My arm was wrapped around her, holding her to me, my fingers playing with the ends of her hair. I wanted to memorize every strand, every inch of her, just in case.

Because we both knew what was coming.

And we both knew there was a chance this was the last peaceful moment we would ever have.

"I can hear you thinking," she murmured against my chest, her voice groggy but laced with something deeper.

I exhaled, running my hand up and down her back, feeling her heartbeat against mine. "And what am I thinking about?"

She opened her eyes now, her deep gaze locking onto mine. "You're thinking about tomorrow."

I didn't respond, but she knew she was right.

She sighed, shifting so that she was lying more on top of me, her arms resting against my chest, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the old scars that lined my skin.

"Tell me you'll come back to me," she whispered.

Her words hit me harder than I expected.

I swallowed, tightening my grip on her, my fingers pressing into the small of her back. "You know I can't promise that."

Her brows furrowed, frustration flickering in her expression, but there was something else too—fear. The kind neither of us ever admitted out loud.

"Try anyway," she murmured, her lips brushing my collarbone.

I let out a slow breath. "I will do everything I can to come back to you."

Her hands flattened against my chest, as if she was trying to ground herself in me, to hold onto something solid in the middle of a storm.

"You better," she whispered.

I tipped her chin up gently, making her look at me. "You know I don't run from fights."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she admitted.

I smirked slightly, but there was no humor in it. "You're stuck with me, princess."

Her lips pressed together, her expression softening. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

I kissed her, slow and deep, wanting to imprint myself into her, to let her feel everything I couldn't say.

She kissed me back just as fiercely, her fingers gripping my face, holding me like she never wanted to let go.

I rolled her onto her back, pressing my forehead against hers, my body covering hers, my heart pounding just for her.

"I love you," I murmured against her lips.

Her breath caught, but she didn't hesitate. "I love you too."

I closed my eyes for a second, letting that be enough.

For now.

Because tomorrow, I would walk into the fire.

And I didn't know if I'd make it out.

---

The walk back to Claudia's safehouse felt heavier than usual. My body was running on exhaustion and adrenaline, but my mind was sharp, focused.

I had made my decision. There was no turning back now.

When I entered the dimly lit room, Claudia and Salvador were already waiting.

Claudia sat on the edge of the table, arms crossed, her expression unreadable, though I could already hear the lecture forming in her head. Salvador stood by the window, peering outside, always watching for threats.

I barely had time to close the door before Claudia was on me.

"You actually did it," she said, her voice edged with disbelief. "You handed Dominic the documents and now he wants you by his side for his big revenge tour?"

I nodded, ignoring the way her eyes narrowed at me, Juan already filled her in.

Salvador exhaled sharply, finally turning away from the window. "Then it's happening. Ignacio is about to have a very bad day."

I walked past them, setting my gun on the table, scanning my surroundings as if looking for a way out—not of the fight, but of the inevitable.

"It has to be done," I said finally.

Claudia scoffed. "Says the woman walking straight into the lion's den."

I met her gaze, and for once, she didn't challenge me further.

"Tell me we have a backup plan," I said, moving to pour myself a drink, though I knew it wouldn't ease the weight pressing against my chest.

Claudia exchanged a look with Salvador before nodding. "Juan has been listening in—he says Ignacio is suspicious."

"Which means this could still go very wrong," Salvador added.

I threw back the drink, letting the burn settle before setting the glass down. "It always could."

Claudia sighed, rubbing her temples. "Then we need an escape plan in case Dominic loses his mind and turns on you."

Salvador sat down, pulling out a rough blueprint of the area where the confrontation would take place. "The meeting is set for Ignacio's estate—full of guards, tight security. Juan says Ignacio will likely have a sniper on standby, he doesn't understand why Dominic called for this meeting when they rarely ever meet, so we need to be smart."

I traced my fingers along the layout. "If things go south, I'll need a way out fast."

Claudia nodded. "We'll have a car waiting three blocks down. If you get caught up, there's a back hallway that leads to the garden area. If you can get to the garden, Salvador and I can cover your exit."

Salvador leaned forward. "But Valeria, if Dominic doesn't buy Ignacio's denial, he's going to kill him right then and there."

"I know."

"And if Dominic realizes you're the one who played him?" Claudia asked, voice quieter now.

I didn't hesitate. "Then I'm dead."

Silence filled the room.

Claudia slammed her hand down on the table, frustrated. "You act like that doesn't bother you!"

I met her gaze, calm, steady. "It doesn't matter if it bothers me or not. It has to be done."

Claudia ran a hand through her hair, muttering curses under her breath. "You are impossible."

Salvador, surprisingly, just smirked. "That's why she survives."

I took another deep breath, pushing aside my exhaustion. "We don't have time for doubts. Ignacio won't hesitate. Neither will Dominic. I have to be in that room to make sure it goes the way we need it to."

Claudia pinched the bridge of her nose before sighing in defeat. "Fine. Then at least let us watch your back. If things go to hell, we get you out."

I nodded. "Deal."

Salvador leaned back, arms crossed. "Then tonight, we end this."

And we all knew—this wasn't just about Ignacio or Dominic anymore. This was about survival.

One way or another, by the time the sun rose, everything would change.

--

I shouldn't have come back.

I should have left straight from Claudia's and headed to Dominic's warehouse. I should have gone over the plan one more time, checked my weapons, done anything but walk into this house where I knew she would be waiting for me.

Because leaving her again was going to be the hardest thing I'd ever have to do.

The door was unlocked—of course it was. Emilia knew I was coming.

She was standing in the living room, arms crossed, staring at the clock on the wall as if she could stop time by willing it. When she heard the door shut behind me, she turned, her eyes scanning me as if memorizing every part of me.

"You have ten minutes before you're supposed to be at the warehouse," she said quietly.

"I know," I replied.

"Then why are you here?"

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I crossed the space between us, letting my fingers graze her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin under my touch.

Her breath hitched.

She swallowed, tilting her chin up, her composure almost unshakable—but I knew better.

"I needed to see you," I admitted.

Her jaw clenched, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "You mean you came to say goodbye."

I didn't correct her.

She shook her head, stepping away, running her hands through her hair, pacing now. "You don't have to do this, Valeria."

"Yes, I do."

She turned back to me, eyes blazing. "You're walking into something you might not come back from. How am I supposed to just sit here and—"

I grabbed her face gently, forcing her to stop moving, forcing her to look at me.

"I need you to be strong for me, princess," I whispered. "I need you to trust that I know what I'm doing."

Her lip trembled. "I do. But I also know that the people you're dealing with? They don't play fair."

I exhaled, resting my forehead against hers. "Neither do I."

She let out a breathy, almost broken laugh, but there was no amusement behind it. Just pain.

"Then fight dirty," she whispered.

I pulled back just enough to look at her, to really look at her.

"I will."

She swallowed hard, reaching for me, gripping my shirt like she could hold me here forever.

I kissed her, deep and slow, letting every unspoken word pass between us.

I kissed her like it was the last time. Because it might be.

Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, but I could feel the way her body shook slightly against mine. When we finally broke apart, her eyes were glassy, but she didn't let the tears fall.

Not yet.

"I'll be back," I told her.

"You better be," she whispered.

I stepped back, forcing myself to let her go.

She stood there, arms wrapped around herself, as I walked to the door.

Right before I stepped outside, she called after me, voice barely above a whisper.

"Valeria."

I turned.

She inhaled sharply, then exhaled slowly, before saying, "I love you."

A lump formed in my throat, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I gave her a small, knowing smile. "I love you too."

Then I walked out the door, not daring to look back.

Because if I did—I wasn't sure I'd be able to leave at all.

--

The warehouse was buzzing with tension when I arrived. The air was thick with cigarette smoke, the scent of gun oil, and the low murmur of men preparing for something that could easily turn into a bloodbath.

Dominic stood at the center of it all, his presence commanding, his men gathered around him like loyal dogs waiting for orders. Some checked their weapons, others stood with arms crossed, listening intently.

When he spotted me, he gave a sharp nod, gesturing for me to step into the circle.

"Listen up," he started, his voice firm, carrying over the room with authority. "Ignacio agreed to meet—but he refused to do it anywhere but his own estate."

A few murmurs of disapproval spread through the group, but no one dared to voice it.

Dominic continued, "I tried to get him to meet somewhere neutral, away from his security, away from his cameras, but the bastard knows better. He wants home advantage."

I crossed my arms, watching Dominic carefully. He was irritated—no, more than that. He was cautious. A rare thing for him.

"So here's the deal," he went on, looking at each of us. "We're only going there to talk. No unnecessary moves, no hostility. If we go in and start something in his own damn house, we're already dead."

One of his men, a guy named Raul, frowned. "And what if he's the one who starts something?"

Dominic smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Then we end it. But only if it comes to that."

I leaned against a crate, watching the men soak in the information. "What exactly are you planning to ask him?" I asked.

Dominic turned to me. "I want to hear him lie to my face."

A slow, cold smirk curled at my lips. "And when he does?"

Dominic exhaled sharply. "That's when we'll see what needs to be done."

Another one of the men, a younger guy named Luis, glanced between us. "We walking into a trap?"

"Maybe," Dominic admitted. "But that's why you'll all be on standby. You hear one shot, and you protect me at all costs. Get me the hell out of there. Understand?"

A chorus of nods and murmurs of agreement followed.

I exhaled through my nose. So that was it. Dominic wanted to hear Ignacio lie, wanted to see if the man could keep up his charade, or if the doubt I planted would make him slip.

It was a power move. And a dangerous one.

Because if Ignacio saw through it—if he even suspected for a second that this was a setup—he wouldn't let us walk out of that house alive.

Dominic turned to me again, his gaze unreadable. "You ready for this, Alacrán?"

I met his stare without hesitation. "Always."

He nodded once, then turned to his men. "We leave in an hour. Be ready."

The warehouse emptied out quickly, the men leaving to gather their weapons, prepare their gear, and say whatever goodbyes they needed to. I, on the other hand, sat on a crate, sharpening my knife, watching the dim light flicker above me.

I had no one to say goodbye to.

I had already done that.

The weight of what was about to happen settled over me like a thick fog. This was it. After tonight, Ignacio would either be dead or angrier than ever.

And Dominic... he wasn't a man to take betrayal lightly.

I took a deep breath, checking my gun, my knife, my vest. Everything was in place.

I felt the presence before I saw him.

"You're quiet," Dominic said, leaning against the metal beam beside me, arms crossed.

I didn't look up. "I am always quiet"

He huffed a small chuckle but didn't deny it.

"You've got doubts?" he asked after a moment.

I finally glanced at him. His expression was unreadable, his usual arrogance tempered by something else—calculation.

"Not doubts," I said. "Just... preparing for every possibility."

He nodded once, pulling a cigarette from his pocket, but he didn't light it. "Ignacio won't go down easy," he muttered. "He's too damn stubborn to see what's coming."

"Good," I said, slipping my knife into my belt. "That makes him predictable."

Dominic smirked, his eyes glinting with something dark. "That's why I keep you around, Alacrán. Always thinking three steps ahead."

I pushed off the crate, meeting his gaze. "You sure you're ready for this?"

His smirk faded slightly. "If it goes the way I think it will, then yeah. I'm ready."

There was no more need for words.

It was time.

Dominic crushed the unlit cigarette in his fist, tossed it aside, and gestured for me to follow.

We were walking into hell. And we both knew it.

The moment we arrived, I felt it.

The shift in power. The difference in control.

Ignacio's estate wasn't just protected—it was fortified. This wasn't some run-down warehouse or a secret hideout in the city. This was a fortress, built on old money and even older corruption.

The mansion sat behind towering stone walls, lined with security cameras and guards who didn't just carry guns—they carried authority. Men in tailored suits stood like statues near the iron gates, their expressions unreadable, their hands resting too comfortably near their weapons.

It was a reminder.

We were stepping onto his turf now.

Dominic's men tensed beside me as we were led through the entrance. I kept my posture relaxed, my hands at my sides, but my mind was working overtime—memorizing exits, scanning for weaknesses, calculating the odds of walking out of here alive.

At the door, two guards blocked our path. One of them, a tall man with a scar running from his cheek to his jaw, held out his hand.

"Weapons."

Dominic's lips twitched, amusement flickering across his face. He didn't like being disarmed. But he also knew we weren't in a position to negotiate.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he reached into his waistband, pulled out his gun, and handed it over. His men followed suit.

I hesitated.

A warning look from Dominic told me not to push it.

With a sigh, I handed over my gun—but not the knife tucked into my boot.

We were led inside.

The moment we crossed the threshold, the air changed.

It was thick with the scent of cigars and leather, aged whiskey and power. The walls were lined with bookshelves, polished mahogany desks, and expensive paintings that felt too perfect, too staged.

And then there was him.

Ignacio.

He didn't rise to power like Dominic did. He didn't need to. He was born into it.

A man like Ignacio didn't command loyalty through fear—he commanded it through influence. He could ruin your life with a single phone call and then sit back in his chair, sipping a drink, while you self-destructed.

He was old money, old corruption, and the kind of dangerous that didn't need weapons—just words.

His silver hair was neatly combed back, his suit impeccable, his demeanor calm—but his eyes? His eyes held calculation.

"You're late," Ignacio said, his voice smooth, but with an edge sharp enough to cut.

Dominic didn't even bother with pleasantries.

He stepped forward, tossing the folder onto Ignacio's desk.

"Got something interesting today."

Ignacio raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he flipped open the file.

Silence.

He turned the pages slowly, his fingers tightening just slightly as he scanned the contents.

Then, after a moment, he smiled.

Not a pleasant smile.

Not an amused smile.

A knowing one.

"Where did you get these?" His voice was eerily calm.

Dominic leaned back against the desk, his posture easy, controlled. "One of my men got it from Silas' office."

Ignacio turned another page. His lips pressed together, his face darkening.

And then he laughed.

A slow, quiet chuckle, full of condescension.

"These are fake."

Dominic's mouth twitched. "What proves they're fake?"

Ignacio's amusement vanished. His jaw clenched, his shoulders stiffened.

"They're fake because I said so," he snapped, slamming the folder shut. His voice dropped, thick with warning. "And how dare you question me?"

Dominic tilted his head slightly. "We're partners, Ignacio. We don't do deals behind each other's backs."

Ignacio's expression twisted in disgust.

"Partners?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "I am a reputable politician." He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. "And you? You are nothing but a lowly thug. You do my dirty work."

He smiled. Cruel. Dismissive.

"Don't forget yourself, Dominic."

The room froze.

The air turned to ice.

And in that single moment—I knew it was over.

Dominic's expression didn't change.

Didn't flicker.

Didn't hesitate.

He moved.

Fast.

In a single, fluid motion, Dominic grabbed the gun from the guard at his side, swung it upward—

And put a bullet through Ignacio's skull.

The sound shattered the silence.

Blood splattered across the polished desk. Ignacio's body jerked, his head snapping back—then he slumped, lifeless, into his chair.

A second of pure silence.

Then—chaos.

Shouting. Screaming.

Guns drawn.

The world erupted into war.

I lunged behind the desk, grabbing a gun off a fallen guard as bullets tore through the air.

One shattered the bookshelf behind me, sending wood splinters flying. Another whizzed past my ear.

Dominic's men were already firing back, taking cover, returning shots as they tried to push toward the exit.

I rolled onto the floor, took down an armed guard before he could aim at me.

Another bullet grazed my shoulder. The burn was sharp, hot—but I pushed through it.

I ducked behind an overturned table, my breath heavy, mind racing.

We were outnumbered.

We were in the heart of Ignacio's empire, and every single one of his men was about to hunt us down.

"Valeria!" Dominic's voice cut through the chaos. I turned just in time to see him toss me a second clip.

I caught it, reloading quickly before peering over the table.

Three men—moving in fast.

I didn't hesitate.

Two shots. One to the chest. One to the head.

They dropped.

But I didn't see the fourth.

Not until it was too late.

I heard the gun cock behind me.

Felt the cold press of metal against my back.

And then—

A gunshot.

But it wasn't mine.

The man behind me collapsed.

And when I turned—

I saw her.

A woman I had never met.

But somehow—she looked like me.

For a split second, my entire world shifted.

She smirked, lowering her gun.

"Hey, sis."