Claire's POV

Antonio didn't look at me as he hauled the sniper up by the collar, dragging him out of the room. I still caught his hesitation, though—felt the weight of what just happened settle deep in my bones. I met his gaze for half a second, silent, but the apology was there.

Not that it mattered. Vera barely acknowledged him. Her focus was entirely on me.

Her steps were slow, measured, the kind of deliberate movement that made the space between us shrink in a way that felt intentional. The kind that sent something sharp crawling up my spine.

Her eyes flickered down to my shoulder where my hand was still pressed against it. I hadn't realized I was gripping it so hard.

I must've winced, because her expression darkened.

Without looking away, she jerked her chin at Gabriel. "Leave us."

Gabriel hesitated. Only for a second. His gaze flickered between us, assessing, before he exhaled sharply and disappeared through the door.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Vera didn't speak. She just stood there. Watching. Waiting.

Her gaze, cold and unreadable, pinned me in place. And I hated how my pulse reacted to it.

I shifted under the weight of her silence, forcing out something that sounded like a smirk. "If you're about to yell at me for getting involved again, can we skip to the part where I tell you I'm not sorry?"

Her lips twitched—just barely.

"You should be."

Her voice was soft. Too soft. The kind of quiet that wasn't gentle, but sharp.

I rolled my shoulders, ignoring the way my entire body screamed in protest. "Regret's never been my thing."

Her eyes flickered back to my shoulder. I knew what she was thinking.

I looked like hell. I felt like hell. But I wasn't about to admit that.

I forced myself to straighten, swallowing back the pain. "You gonna keep staring, or do we have another one of our deeply meaningful conversations coming up?"

Her gaze snapped back to mine, and for the first time since I walked in, something flickered behind her eyes.

Then, slowly—too slowly—she took a step closer. The air changed.

My breath hitched. Not in fear. In something worse. Something I didn't want to name.

She tilted her head slightly, voice dropping into something almost thoughtful, something dangerous.

"Tell me, Claire..." Her eyes dragged over my face like she was searching for something, picking me apart piece by piece.

"... what is it that you really want from me?" The words should have landed as a threat.

But they didn't. They landed like a question. A real one.

My lips parted, but I hesitated—because for the first time, I wasn't sure if she actually wanted an answer.

The silence stretched. Something unreadable flickered behind her gaze. And then, just as quickly, it was gone.

She exhaled through her nose, her expression shifting—calculating again, like she was trying to figure something out about me.

And the worst part?

I think she did. Her voice, softer now but still cutting, slipped through the space between us.

"If you keep this up..."

Another slow step forward—closer, closer. The heat of her, the scent of smoke and leather, curling into my lungs like a brand.

"... you won't survive long enough to win whatever game you think you're playing."

The air felt thin.

Too much space had vanished between us, and yet there was still something unspoken, something hanging there between us.

I swallowed. Forced out a smirk, even as my heart pounded.

"Good thing I don't lose easily."

A muscle in her jaw flexed. Her lips parted slightly—just for a second—before she shut them again.

And then, slowly, too slowly—

She smirked.

It was sharp. Dangerous. The kind of smirk that made my stomach tighten in the worst way.

"We'll see about that," she murmured.

And then, finally, she stepped back. Letting me breathe again. But it didn't feel like a victory.

It felt like a warning. And worse?

I liked it. I was still catching my breath when she turned, her voice calm, almost casual.

"By the way," she said, her back to me now, "I'm almost certain Leo knows about you."

Everything in me went still.

My body locked, but my mind was already racing. I should have seen it coming. I should have known. Vera looked back over her shoulder, watching the way my pulse jumped at my throat.

"You made yourself visible," she said smoothly. "Leo doesn't let things like that slide."

A slow smirk curled at her lips.

"Good luck, mi vida."

Then, without another word, she walked away. And just like that— The ground beneath me shifted.



Vera's POV

I was already walking away when I heard her voice behind me.

"Wait."

I ignored it.

"Vera, wait."

Still, I kept moving.

I expected her to give up. Maybe curse under her breath, maybe roll her eyes and storm off. But Claire—Claire was nothing if not persistent.

A hand wrapped around my wrist.

Instinct took over. Before I could think, I turned, yanked her forward, and slammed her against the wall. My forearm pressed against her collarbone, keeping her there, my grip firm but not crushing. Yet.

She gasped—not in fear, not in pain, but in frustration. "You don't get to touch me, Pastelito."

Her breath hitched and her eyes locked onto mine, stubborn, unwavering. "Leo knows about me."

"Yeah, I just said that."

"And if he finds out I'm connected to Valeria—"

I cut her off, cold and final. "That's your problem, not mine."

The moment the words left my mouth, something twisted inside me.

Liar.

But I didn't let it show. Didn't let her see the way my fingers twitched against her jacket, how my pulse hitched when I thought about Valeria being dragged back into this mess.

Valeria. Fuck!

Claire, of course, had other ideas.

"Then I'll stay with you."

My grip tightened. She saw the flicker in my expression—saw it, registered it, and didn't back down. "You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

No. She didn't.

I searched her face, looking for the angle, the trick, the part where she'd turn this into some foolish, reckless game. But all I saw was conviction.

I should've laughed. I should've told her to go to hell. Instead, I found myself leaning in slightly, just enough to see the pulse in her throat kick up.

"So what, you're offering yourself to me, Part of my crew?"

"I'm offering a deal." Her voice didn't waver. "You keep me close, make sure Leo's men see it, and in return, Valeria stays off his radar. Simple."

Simple.

Nothing about this was simple.

But Claire didn't know that. She didn't know that Valeria haunted the back of my mind more than I cared to admit. That for all the anger, the resentment, the bitterness—I didn't want her dead.

She had abandoned this world, but that didn't mean I wanted to see her buried by it.

And now Claire was standing in front of me, practically handing herself over, tying her fate to mine—offering me a way to control the game.

I exhaled slowly, tilting my head as I studied her. "Fine," I murmured, watching the way her shoulders tensed, how she braced herself like she'd just sealed her own fate. "But remember, Pastelito—you walked into my world willingly."

I let her go.

Stepped back, turned away, left her standing there with the weight of her own choice pressing down on her shoulders.

I should've felt victorious. Should've felt like I had just won the round.

But all I felt was the dull, sharp ache of something I refused to name.

Claire's POV

The second Vera walked away, the weight of what I'd just done settled deep in my chest.

It wasn't fear—not exactly.

It was the cold, hard realization that I had just stepped over a line I couldn't come back from.

I had willingly placed myself in Vera's world.

And I had no idea what that really meant.

The air in the room felt heavier, thick with something unseen. I swallowed hard, trying to steady the thoughts slamming against the inside of my skull. My fingers curled into fists at my sides as I took a slow breath.

Valeria was going to kill me.

Emilia was going to worse than kill me—she was going to cry, and that was somehow even worse than getting shot again.

I could already picture the conversation in my head.

"Hey, Val, so listen... You know your sister? The one you just stormed into enemy territory to confront? The one who's actively trying to piss you off? Yeah, so, funny thing—I decided to stick by her side for a while. For safety. No big deal, right?"

God.

I rubbed my hands over my face, feeling the exhaustion seep into my bones.

It wasn't just about me anymore. If Leo was really watching, then Valeria and Emilia were in danger just by being near me.

That was the worst part of all.

I could handle the risks. The danger. The twisted games Vera wanted to play. But them? They didn't ask for this. They had fought like hell to escape this life.

And I wasn't going to be the reason they got dragged back in.

I turned toward the exit, my stomach twisting.

How the hell am I going to tell them?

They'd fight me on this. I knew it.

Valeria would throw her hands up, rage at me, call me an idiot—again. Emilia would be quieter, her disappointment sharp enough to cut through my ribs.

But I couldn't take it back. This was the choice I made.

Vera thought she had won this round, thought she had me under her control.

Fine. Let her think that. Because I was learning something about her, too.

Control. That's what she thrived on. It was her power, her currency, her entire damn existence.

So if I wanted to understand her, if I wanted to get anywhere near whatever the hell this was between us—

I had to play the game better than she did. And that meant walking straight into the fire. Even if it burned me alive.

I turned toward the exit, my thoughts tangled, my chest tight. Every step felt heavier, the weight of my decision pressing against my ribs. I had to tell Valeria and Emilia. I had to cut myself out of their lives before this spiral dragged them down with me.

I barely made it two steps before a solid mass blocked my path.

Hector.

His arms crossed over his broad chest, stance firm, immovable. A wall.

I exhaled sharply, already exhausted. "Move."

His expression didn't shift. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Out." My voice was steady, my patience already hanging by a thread.

He let out a low chuckle, one that sent irritation prickling down my spine. "Out where?"

I clenched my jaw. "I need to talk to Valeria."

Hector tilted his head, mock consideration flickering across his face. "Oh, sure. That's easy. You can—" his smirk widened, eyes glinting, "—once the boss says so."

I took a slow, controlled breath, my fingers twitching at my sides. "Hector," I said, voice tight, teeth gritted, "move."

"Can't do that." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to something that made my stomach coil. "Boss says you don't go anywhere."

I forced myself to hold his gaze, even as my pulse pounded. "She doesn't own me."

A slow smirk pulled at his lips, but his eyes stayed unreadable, dark, amused. "That so?" He shifted just enough to block any attempt at squeezing past. "Because from where I'm standing, you belong to her now."

The words struck something deep in my chest, something I refused to name.

I swallowed hard, my voice rough. "I don't belong to anyone."

Hector let out a dry, knowing laugh. "You keep telling yourself that."

I could feel the heat of his presence, the way he stood just close enough to remind me I wasn't going anywhere unless Vera allowed it. And that—that pissed me off more than anything.

But what pissed me off even more?

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice whispered—

Isn't that exactly what you wanted?

Vera's POV

The room smelled of blood and sweat, thick and suffocating. The only sounds were the ragged breathing of the sniper tied to the chair and the dull, wet impact of my blade against his ribs. He choked on a groan, his head lolling forward, but I wasn't done with him yet.

I could feel Gabriel watching me, his gaze assessing, waiting to see just how far I'd go.

And then—Hector's voice cut through the tension.

"Boss."

I didn't turn immediately. My knife pressed a little deeper, the sniper hissing in pain as fresh blood dripped onto the concrete. I needed an answer from him, and I was losing patience.

Then I heard it. A sharp inhale. Not from the sniper. From her.

I turned my head just slightly, and there she was—Claire.

Standing stiff in the doorway, her expression locked somewhere between shock and something sharper. Something hesitant.

And then—she stepped back.

It was small. Barely a shift. But I saw it.

She recoiled. From me.

Gabriel's eyes flicked between us, unreadable, waiting. I could feel the question behind them. How are you going to handle this?

I didn't answer.

Instead, I gripped the sniper's chin roughly, forcing his head up. "Still nothing?" I murmured, my tone almost bored. He groaned, barely conscious. A disappointment.

I drove the handle of my knife into his gut, watching as his body jerked. Then, just as smoothly, I wiped the blood off my blade, turned, and walked toward Claire like she hadn't just hesitated at the sight of me.

I kept my pace slow, deliberate, dragging the moment out just long enough to watch her stiffen.

"What is she doing here?" I asked, voice smooth as I looked at Hector.

"Caught her trying to leave," he answered, his grip still firm on her arm.

A smirk tugged at my lips. I tilted my head, amused. "It hasn't even been ten minutes, and you're already trying to run?"

Claire's jaw tightened, her breath sharp as she yanked her arm free. "I wasn't running," she shot back. "I didn't realize that staying here meant needing your permission to leave."

I let out a soft, amused hum before reaching for her.

She tensed instantly, but she didn't pull away fast enough.

My bloody fingers pressed against her jaw, tilting her chin up so I could see her face properly. A streak of red smeared across her cheek, stark against her pale skin.

Her pulse jumped under my grip.

"You gave yourself to me," I murmured, my voice dipping just enough to let the weight of it settle over her. "That means I am your boss. You will do as I say. You will show respect." My grip tightened, not enough to hurt—just enough to remind her who was in control. "You have nowhere to go now."

Her breath stuttered.

I leaned in, my lips barely moving as I spoke the next words, deliberate and cruel.

"This is your familia now."

Her throat bobbed, her lips parting, but no sound came out.

Then—her eyes glistened.

Tears.

Not from fear.

From something else.

"I need to warn Valeria," she whispered, voice cracking.

For the first time since she walked in, something in me faltered.

It was slight. Barely a breath.

But I felt it.

My hand dropped from her jaw, my fingers curling at my side instead. I exhaled slowly, stepping back just enough to let the moment stretch between us.

"So let me get this straight," I said, my voice smooth, slow, laced with mock consideration. "You gave yourself to me because you're worried Leo's men would connect you to Valeria..."

I tilted my head, watching as she blinked rapidly, barely holding it together.

"And then you go and lead him right to her?"

Silence.

I let it hang.

Then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, I clapped my hands together, the sound sharp in the heavy air.

"Amazing plan, pastelito," I murmured, voice dripping with amusement. "Truly. Genius-level thinking."

Her breath hitched, her body rigid, but she didn't break eye contact.

She still had fight left in her.

Good.

I wasn't done with her yet.



Claire's POV

The slow, mocking clap sent something sharp and hot through my chest.

My fists curled, my nails biting into my palms. I knew what she was doing.

Pushing. Testing. Trying to see how much she could unravel before I snapped. I wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

I swallowed hard, steadying my breath. "I won't lead him anywhere," I gritted out. "I will be careful."

Vera's smirk didn't budge. "Oh, careful?" she mused, tilting her head. "Careful would've been keeping your ass inside, not running around the city playing detective."

A muscle in my jaw twitched.

"I didn't ask for your permission," I shot back.

Something flickered in her eyes, and for a second—just a second—her smirk faltered.

Then it was back.

"Funny," she murmured, stepping closer, voice dropping into something lower, softer. "I don't remember asking if you did."

The air between us stretched tight. Her presence was a weight, heavy and suffocating, curling around me like smoke.

I hated how easily she did this. How easily she made me feel small and reckless and foolish—like I wasn't already punishing myself enough.

Like I didn't already know how stupid I'd been. But I wouldn't let her see it. I lifted my chin, meeting her gaze head-on.

"You don't control me."

Something flashed in her eyes—something dark and sharp—but she only smiled, slow and knowing.

"You sure about that, pastelito?" she murmured, her voice like silk over steel.

"Fuck you," I muttered under my breath, barely audible.

Vera only chuckled. "You would love that."

I ignored the heat curling low in my stomach, the way my pulse jumped at the way she said it. Instead, I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to stay calm.

"I have to warn Valeria," I said, voice steady despite the way my chest felt tight.

Vera hummed, unconvinced. "And then what?"

I hesitated.

"What do you mean?"

She took another step closer, and I forced myself to hold my ground.

"You tell Valeria, you freak her out, she goes on high alert—" she lifted a brow, her voice dipping into something almost amused. "Then what, Claire?"

I swallowed hard, keeping my voice calm. "So what do you suggest?"

Vera smiled. Not the kind that was meant to comfort. The kind that made my stomach twist.

"You stay here," she said simply.

I blinked. "What?"

"You stay here," she repeated, her voice smooth, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Under my protection."

I felt my pulse stutter. "I—" I shook my head. "I can't."

Vera lifted a brow. "You can."

I took a shaky breath. "No."

She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming. "Then go."

I stared at her. She stepped back, lifting her hands in mock surrender. "Door's right there."

I didn't move.

She smirked. "That's what I thought."

My hands curled into fists again. "You're an asshole," I muttered.

She grinned. "And you're stuck with me."

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering. "If I go off the grid, Valeria will come looking for me." My voice was steady, but my body betrayed me—my fingers twitching at my sides. "And if she finds me here, you know how that'll end."

Vera's smirk was slow, calculated. "Do I?"

I exhaled sharply. "You want her storming in here again?"

She said nothing.

I pressed on. "Because she will. And I don't think even you want that kind of mess."

Vera studied me, her eyes cold and calculating. Then, after a long beat, she sighed. "Fine."

I blinked. "Fine?"

She smirked at my disbelief. "I'll send someone who actually knows how to lay low."

I stiffened, my stomach twisting.

"I'll make sure Valeria knows the mess you've made," Vera continued smoothly. "And that I have you—" she paused, tilting her head, "for everyone's safety."

My jaw clenched. "You think she'll be okay with that?"

Vera's smirk deepened, her voice turning soft—dangerous. "Doesn't matter what she thinks."

I felt my pulse in my throat.

"You don't belong to Valeria anymore," Vera murmured, stepping closer. "You belong to me."

My stomach flipped, heat and defiance curling through my veins in equal measure.

My voice came out hoarse. "Like hell I do."

Vera only chuckled, tilting my chin up with a lazy finger. "Oh, pastelito," she purred, her breath brushing my skin.

"You already do."