Vera's POV

Claire's lips parted slightly, but no words came out. I could see the flicker of frustration in her eyes, the way she was trying to decide whether to play it off or take the bait.

I leaned in just a fraction more, watching her closely, enjoying this more than I probably should. "You're quiet, pastelito," I murmured, the amusement lacing my words. "That's rare."

Claire scoffed, but it wasn't as sharp as usual. "I just wasn't expecting you to dodge the question."

I smirked. "Who said I was dodging?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Then answer."

She wanted me to say no. I could see it, could feel it in the way she was holding her breath, waiting for confirmation.

I dragged it out, watching her squirm just a little, just enough to make her feel it.

"Would it matter if I was?" I mused, tilting my head slightly, my gaze flickering down, catching the way her fingers curled against her knee, restless. "Would it change something for you, Claire?"

Her breath hitched for half a second, and then she scoffed, leaning back, trying too hard to look unaffected. "I'm just making conversation."

I laughed, low and quiet. "Is that what this is?"

Claire exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "You're annoying."

I grinned, stepping back just slightly, letting the tension stretch between us. "And you're avoiding the answer."

She rolled her eyes. "You're the one avoiding answers."

I hummed, amused by how stubborn she was. "If you must know, no," I said finally, watching her carefully as I delivered it. "Gabriel and I are not together."

She didn't react right away, but I caught it—the subtle shift in her posture, the way her shoulders relaxed just the smallest amount.

Satisfying.

I smirked. "Satisfied?"

She shot me a glare, but I could tell she was trying to ignore the way her face had heated up. "You wish."

I let out a soft chuckle, shaking my head. "Careful, pastelito," I murmured. "You might start making me think you want me all for yourself.

She didn't say anything at all.

And I wasn't sure why that made my smirk falter just a little.

She hesitated, lips pressing together like she was trying to come up with something quick and sharp to throw back at me. But instead, she just looked at me.

Not with amusement, not with her usual defiance.

She really looked at me.

And for the first time, she didn't try to laugh it off.

She didn't say anything at all.

Something inside me tightened, a flicker of something I didn't want to acknowledge. I forced it back, my smirk still in place. I leaned in slightly, letting the moment stretch between us, watching the way she tried to avoid my eyes.

"Now you answer me," I said, my voice low, measured. "Why do you want to know?"

Claire stiffened, her gaze flicking anywhere but at me.

I grabbed her chin, not gently, forcing her eyes back to mine. "Is it too hard for you to look at me?"

She shook her head, but I felt the tension in her jaw, the way her pulse jumped beneath my fingers.

"Answer."

Nothing.

My patience snapped. "Answer, Claire."

Her lips parted, something struggling to make its way out, but it took another second before she finally muttered, "Because... of that night. In the kitchen."

I hummed, the sound low, approving. "What about that night?"

Claire hesitated again, her shoulders tightening. I raised an eyebrow, waiting, watching as she swallowed hard.

"You... uh... he was—" She struggled, her voice barely above a whisper, but my eyes didn't leave hers, unrelenting.

Her breath stuttered, her eyes going slightly teary under the weight of it.

"He was what?" I pressed, voice softer now but no less intense.

She didn't answer.

Claire's voice was barely above a whisper. "Kissing you." Her eyes flicked away, her body tense, like saying it out loud had stripped her of something. But my grip on her chin remained firm, keeping her right where I wanted her.

I hummed, dragging my thumb along her jawline, slow, deliberate. Testing. "That's not all he did to me that night, mi vida."

Her eyes snapped to mine, no longer clouded with hesitation. Now, they burned. Fury. Frustration. A storm of something raw and unchecked.

Her chest rose and fell sharply, her breath uneven as she shoved me back, her hands shaking. The tears in her eyes weren't just anger. They were something deeper.

I smirked. She pushed me again, harder this time, her body coiled tight, like she didn't know whether to fight me or run from me.

"What's wrong with you?" she snapped, her voice breaking at the edges, as if she hated how much I was getting to her.

I tilted my head, watching her unravel. "He meets my needs," I said smoothly, letting each word land like a strike. "When I need him, he pleases me."

The impact of my words hit instantly, like a slap across the face.

Her expression twisted, like she couldn't believe I had actually said it, but why? She couldn't be that stupid. She knew what I was. She knew I used people. Even now, she could see what I was doing—pushing, testing, playing with her just to see how she'd react.

And yet... her pain was real.

That almost made me pause.

Almost.

"Does that bother you?" I pushed, my voice low, taunting.

No answer.

Claire's lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes burning into mine like she wanted to rip the words out of my mouth and shove them back down my throat.

I stepped closer. "Come on, pastelito." My voice dipped, teasing, a challenge woven into every syllable. "If you hate it so much, maybe you should satisfy me instead."

The way her expression shattered was exhilarating.

She lunged at me before she could think, her hands pushing against my shoulders, but I was faster. I caught her wrists, twisting the moment against her, turning the tables.

In one swift motion, I shoved her back onto the bed.

I fell with her.

The breath rushed out of her, her back arching slightly against the mattress. My body pinned hers before she could even process what had just happened.

Her lips parted. Her head tilted back slightly, exposing the soft line of her throat. Her hands flew to my waist—not to push me away, but to hold on.

Something inside me shifted.

She was soft beneath me. Warm. The way her body trembled under mine, the way she instinctively pressed against me instead of away, the way her fingers tightened at my waist—

I hadn't planned for this.

Hadn't planned to feel anything.

But my control wavered. Just for a second.

Claire noticed.

Her eyes locked onto mine, and I saw it—the realization. The moment she felt the shift in me, the second she knew I had slipped.

Her fingers curled against my waist.

"Vera," she whispered, voice unsteady, uncontrolled.

I swallowed, my breath heavier than I wanted it to be.

I had slipped. And Claire knew it.

Claire's POV

Vera's weight pressed against me, warm, solid, impossible to ignore. My breath came uneven, chest rising and falling too fast as I stared up at her, feeling everything at once. The tension. The heat. The shift.

She had me pinned, her body flush against mine, but it wasn't the position that made my pulse hammer—it was the way she hesitated.

The way her eyes darkened, lips parted slightly, her breath fanning against my skin.

She had slipped.

For the first time since I'd met her, Vera wasn't in control.

"Vera," I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice.

Something flickered across her face, quick but undeniable. Her fingers flexed against my wrists, her grip tightening just slightly before she released them. But she didn't move. She didn't pull away.

Her gaze flickered to my lips.

I felt it in my bones, the weight of something unspoken lingering between us, pressing in like a storm about to break.

I should say something. I should shove her away, break the moment before it broke me.

But I didn't.

Because I wanted to see what she would do next.

Vera's hands moved, slow, deliberate, sliding down from my wrists, over my arms, the touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Her breath was measured, like she was trying to convince herself this wasn't affecting her, like she wasn't seconds away from either pulling back or falling deeper.

I swallowed, my throat dry, my voice unsteady when I finally spoke. "Let me go."

She didn't.

Not yet.

Her fingers hovered at my waist, her body still pressed against mine, her expression unreadable. For a second, I thought she might actually listen.

Then she smirked. Slow. Dangerous.

"Is that really what you want, pastelito?" she murmured, voice dipping into something lower, rougher.

My breath hitched.

I hated that she could see right through me. I hated that I didn't have an answer.

A sharp knock on the door shattered the moment, jolting me back to reality. Vera was up in an instant, slipping away from me like nothing had happened, like she hadn't just pinned me down, shaken something loose inside both of us.

I was still lying there, my breath uneven, my body still buzzing from whatever the hell that was.

The door swung open without permission.

Gabriel stepped in, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room. He took one look at Vera, then at me—still on the bed—and his expression darkened. His eyes flickered between us, something unreadable tightening his jaw.

"What's going on here?"

Vera didn't even blink. She shot him a look, lazy, unimpressed. "Did you need something?"

Gabriel didn't budge. His focus stayed locked on her, suspicion clear in his face. "What is she doing here, Vera?"

Vera's eyes narrowed slightly, her voice dropping into something slow, deliberate. "Did. You. Need. Something?"

Gabriel exhaled sharply, clearly biting back whatever he actually wanted to say. "We need to talk about what you just did to Hector." His gaze flicked to me again, pointed.

Vera leaned against her desk, looking thoroughly bored. "What about it?"

Gabriel's nostrils flared. "You killed him for..." His jaw tensed as he glanced at me. "Her."

Vera laughed. Sharp. Cold. Dismissive.

"No," she said, tilting her head just slightly, voice dripping with amusement. "I killed him because he disobeyed."

Gabriel's jaw clenched. "You could have warned him first."

Vera's eyes went flat, unreadable. "Gabriel, when have I ever warned any of them?" She straightened, her presence shifting, the air pressing heavy with who she was, what she was. "What I say is law. Did you forget how this works?"

Gabriel didn't flinch. "Maybe you forgot, Vera."

Silence.

The kind that warns.

The next second, she moved.

The knife left her hand in a blink—a flash of silver cutting through the air, missing his head by an inch, grazing the side of his ear before slamming into the door behind him with a solid, lethal thud.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

Gabriel didn't move. Didn't even blink. But I saw the way his hand tensed at his side, how his breathing shallowed just slightly.

Vera's voice cut through the air, calm and absolute.

"Next time, I won't miss."

A beat of silence.

"Get out."

Gabriel's jaw flexed, his fists curling at his sides, but he didn't argue.

His gaze flickered to me one last time. Something unreadable passed through his expression before he turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

Silence filled the room again, thick and heavy, pressing into every space between us.

Vera's POV

The door clicked shut behind Gabriel, but the tension in the room didn't ease. If anything, it thickened, pressing in on me like a weight I wasn't used to feeling.

I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down my jaw, but my gaze stayed locked on the door. Gabriel had pushed, more than I expected, and I knew what that meant.

Doubt.

He had doubted me.

And Claire—she had seen it.

I turned, my eyes settling back on her. She was still on the bed, watching me, something unreadable flickering behind her expression. She looked different. Or maybe I did.

Neither of us spoke.

I hated the silence.

I hated the way she was looking at me, like she was seeing something she wasn't supposed to.

Like she had peeled something back.

I moved, stepping away from the door, pacing once before stopping at the desk, leaning against it like the conversation hadn't affected me. Like she hadn't affected me.

"So," I murmured, voice lighter than I felt. "You enjoyed the show?"

Claire didn't answer right away, but she sat up, shifting until her feet touched the floor. I saw the way she was still processing, the way her body was still tense, like she didn't know what to say yet.

Then she scoffed, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, you're fucking insane."

I smirked, but there was no real amusement behind it. "You just figuring that out now?"

She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "He's your right hand, Vera. He's been with you longer than I have. And yet, you didn't hesitate."

I tilted my head slightly, watching her. "Is that your way of asking if I'd do the same to you?"

Her jaw tensed. She didn't answer.

Interesting.

I leaned in slightly. "Would that scare you?"

She scoffed again, but I saw the flicker of something real in her eyes. "Please. You'd never kill me."

I hummed. "That's a lot of confidence coming from someone who's still shaking."

Her lips parted slightly like she wanted to argue, but she stopped herself.

Smart girl.

I leaned back, watching her carefully, letting the weight of the moment stretch just a little longer than it should.

"You're quiet," I mused, tilting my head slightly. "That's rare."

Claire inhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair, her frustration obvious. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around what the hell just happened."

I smirked. "Let me help you, then. Gabriel questioned me. I reminded him why he shouldn't."

She gave me a look, something incredulous but laced with disbelief. "You almost took his ear off, Vera."

"Almost." I shrugged. "That was me showing restraint."

Claire scoffed, standing abruptly from the bed, pacing once before turning to me again. "You're insane."

"You've said that already."

She ignored me. "You just—acted like it meant nothing. You didn't even hesitate."

I let the words sit for a moment, studying the way she was looking at me. Like she didn't know whether to be impressed or horrified.

"You're still thinking like an outsider," I said finally, voice smooth, unwavering. "This world doesn't run on kindness, Claire. It runs on control."

Her jaw clenched. "And you think control comes from fear?"

I exhaled slowly, stepping toward her. She stiffened, but she didn't move away.

"Control," I murmured, letting the word settle, "comes from the understanding that there is no other option. You obey, or you pay. Simple."

Her throat bobbed in a swallow, but her gaze stayed locked with mine, defiant even as she processed what I was saying.

She shook her head once. "No. You don't just want control, Vera. You want dominance. You want to crush them before they even think about challenging you."

I smirked, amused by how well she was starting to understand me.

She wasn't wrong.

I reached up, brushing my fingers along my jaw, thinking. "And what about you, pastelito?" I asked. "Are you going to challenge me too?"

Her lips parted slightly, her breath unsteady for just a second.

I watched it happen. That hesitation. That moment where she wasn't sure what to say. She was always quick with a response, always had something sharp to throw back. But now?

She had to think about it.

Claire's glare sharpened, her breath unsteady, but she held her ground. "So what? Whatever you say, I have to obey?"

I smirked, slow and deliberate. "Isn't that what it means when you give yourself to me?"

Her expression twisted, frustration burning in her eyes. "No! I stayed because you said you'd protect me. Because you didn't want Valeria getting involved."

I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. "And what's in it for me, Cariño ?" My voice dipped, mocking, teasing, but my eyes stayed locked on hers. "Tell me, do you actually believe I did this out of kindness? That I put my neck out for you, for free?"?"

Her jaw tightened.

She wasn't stupid. She knew I never did anything without reason. And yet, she was still looking at me like she thought this was different.

Like she thought she was different.

I took a slow step forward, watching the way her pulse flickered at her throat. "You really think I made that promise for nothing?"

She inhaled sharply, her hands curling into fists. "You—"

I leaned in, my voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down her spine. "I don't do charity, Claire."

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came.

She was caught now, trying to untangle my motives, trying to decide if this was a game.

Trying to decide if she'd already lost.

Claire's breath came sharp, her frustration spilling over, her hands clenched at her sides. "And what do you want me to do? I'm not killing anyone. If that's what you have in mind, you can just kill me now because I will disobey you."

Her voice didn't shake. That almost impressed me. Almost.

I let the silence sit, stretching it between us, watching how she braced herself for my response. She had thrown down a line, drawn it thick in the sand, convinced she had some say in this.

But she didn't. Not really.

I took my time, my eyes dragging down the length of her body, watching the way her chest rose and fell, the slight twitch in her fingers, the way she was trying so hard not to move.

I stepped forward.

Not fast. Not threatening. Just enough to shift the air between us.

Claire stayed still, but I saw it—the way she stiffened, the way her fingers curled tighter at her sides.

She was expecting something violent. I let the silence press in deeper, heavier. Let her wait.

Then, finally, my hand lifted.

Slow. Measured.

My fingers brushed the side of her throat, tracing lightly down to the pulse point there. The touch wasn't rough, wasn't forceful—it was deliberate.

Claire's breath hitched.

Her muscles tensed, like she was about to pull back, about to push me away—

But she didn't.

I smirked, my fingers continuing their slow descent, barely touching, barely teasing, just enough to feel the erratic pulse beneath her skin.

"I think you can be useful in other things," I murmured, my voice smooth, dragging out each syllable like I was tasting the words.

Claire's breath stuttered, her throat bobbing in a swallow. But she still didn't move.

Interesting.

She was too still, too controlled, like she was fighting herself more than she was fighting me.

I hummed. "That's not a no, pastelito."

Her jaw clenched, her lips pressing together as she sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. "You're disgusting."

I chuckled, slow and dark. "Am I?"

She wasn't shaking anymore.

No, now she was seething.

And yet... she still hadn't pulled away.

I leaned in, just enough for her to feel my breath against her skin, just enough to watch her struggle with herself, torn between pushing me away and something else—something she didn't want to admit.

Her pulse hammered beneath my fingertips.

I pressed just slightly, feeling the way her body reacted, unwillingly, uncontrollably.

She was trying to hate me. She was trying so hard.

I smiled, slow and satisfied. "Keep telling yourself that, mi vida."

I let go, stepping back, feeling the weight of her stare burning into me.

She was shaking now.

Not in fear. In rage.

I had just torn down another one of her defenses, ripped another piece of her certainty away.

And I was dying to see what she would do next.