Chapter 69: Alejandro's Pov

I've always known Mariana to be a dangerous woman, have always been familiar with her darkness even when she played her role of a naive wife a little too well.

She's always struggled so well to keep her darkness hidden, to become more human, but now, in the cold night air, there's no pretending. No veil to hide the fury she carries.

We're out in the open fields, under the blinding white lights illuminating from the security poles. Soldiers and staff-everyone who's been close to the Denaro's since Mariano's disappearance-are kneeling on large plastic sheets, heads bowed.

Fear clings to them, their shoulders trembling under the weight of what's coming.

Mariana stands tall, her eyes dancing with wrath, her every step deliberate. She has her people here, her men and women, her soldiers. Each of them, over twenty if my count is correct, are shielded by their black hoodies.

They stand behind the kneeling figures, guns pressed to their skulls. A silent promise of death.

I heave out a breath and lean my back against one of the poles. And when Mariana starts to take her time in slow steps, hovering in circles around her preys, the underside of her boots thudding on the ground, my heart flutters.

God, she's beautiful. So fucking beautiful and sexy.

Her voice cuts through the tension, smooth but deadly. "Do you know what it means to love someone?" She asks, her tone light, as if this were a casual conversation.

No one dares respond.

She stops beside a man, her hand resting on his shoulder. He flinches under her touch, but she leans closer, her voice soft now, almost tender. "My brother, Mariano, is my everything. He's the reason I fight, the reason I breathe. We've been together right from the time of conception. . . and. . ."

She chuckles bitterly as she straightens herself, her eyes sweeping the crowd. "And someone here betrayed him. Someone here sold him out. Someone here is still selling him out."

The silence is suffocating. A sob breaks through from one of the maids, but it's quickly stifled.

Mariana smiles, the soft spread of her lips and the twinkle of her teeth holding no kindness. "I am not angry," she continues, her voice calm. "I am focused. And I will wait. But my patience is not limitless."

She gestures slightly, and one of her hooded men fires a warning shot into the air. The sound is deafening, making several people flinch and cry out.

"I will ask this only once," she says, her voice colder now. "Step forward. Admit your betrayal, and perhaps I will spare you. Perhaps."

No one moves.

She sighs, almost as if she's disappointed. Her eyes meet mine, and I see the sharp edge of her determination. She doesn't need to speak for me to understand what she's asking.

I step forward, my boots crunching on the gravel. My voice is steady, cutting through the quiet. "The truth will come out," I say, my tone hard. "And when it does, mercy will not be on the table."

As I speak, my fingers tighten into the hair of one of the men, a younger man. He screeches, crying out his pleas as I drag him to the middle of the scene, throwing him to the ground.

Mariana's lips twitch into a small, approving smile. She turns back to the crowd. "Do you hear that?" she asks, spreading her arms. "No mercy. Not for rats. Not for anyone who dares to harm my family."

Her gaze lands on a maid who's shaking uncontrollably, her hands clasped together in prayer. Mariana crouches, tilting her head to study her. "Are you scared?" she asks softly, brushing a tear from the maid's cheek.

The maid nods, her lips quivering. "P. . . please, señora, I don't know anything. I swear!"

Mariana watches her for a long moment, then straightens. "Perhaps you don't," she says, her voice almost kind. "Or perhaps you do. Either way, you will pay the price if the truth doesn't come out."

Our eyes connect and she offers me a stiff nod, an order.

I click my trigger once, twice, thrice. The sound pierces through the air, echoing, tearing screams from fearful throats. And then the man who my barrel was pointed at hiccups his last breath, his blood pooling around him.

"Shut the fuck up! All of you ungrateful bastards!" She growls, another gunshot splitting into the air. The kneeling crowd jerks, each one stifling their sobs.

She steps back, her voice rising again, sharp and cutting. "Five seconds, that's all you get before another body drops. We can do this all night, but by dawn, I will have the answer. Or every single one of you will regret your silence."

Mariana turns to me, her expression calm, but her eyes burn with fury. "We'll see who values their life more than their loyalty," she says.

Now, that is my woman.

The moments that follow pass in a haze. Every five seconds, just as Mariana promised, one person drops dead. Most soldiers have attempted a fight, but she always comes out the victorious one.

"I don't need any help!" she'll scream whenever I attempt to step in.

So, I've given her space, allowed her to take out her frustration whichever way she might prefer.

She's tired, I see it in the way she's almost staggering, in the way her words are becoming fewer by each second. She's soaked in blood, looking almost dreadful, and yet, my pupils are dilating for this merciless Mariana, my heart filling with more love for her.

Maybe she gets sick of the blood, but she suddenly moves to the edge of the field, arms crossed, her sharp gaze fixed on the group as if her eyes alone could search out the guilty.

And when the sun begins to rise slowly, the air shifts, heavy with expectation. Everyone knows Mariana's patience has nearly run out.

A faint sound breaks the quiet-a muffled cry, almost inaudible. My head snaps toward it, and I see one of the maids trembling violently, her hands clasped to her chest. Her lips move, but no sound follows.

Mariana notices immediately. Her movements are unhurried as she strides toward the woman. She crouches in front of the maid, tilting her head like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Something to say?" She asks, her voice low, almost kind.

The maid chokes on her words, her sobs making her tremble harder. "I. . . I didn't mean to. . ."

Mariana's hand shoots up, silencing the woman. "Spare me your excuses," she says, her tone dripping with venom as she rises to her full height. "Say it plainly. Was it you?"

The maid nods, a broken sound escaping her lips. "It was me. Please, I didn't have a choice! They threatened my family!"

"Threatened. . ." Mariana laughs, the sound bitter, hollow. She exhales a long breath as if she's been holding it in for hours. Then she turns to me, her expression calm, a contrast from the darkness in his eyes. "Take her," she orders, her voice steady.

I step forward, gripping the maid's arm firmly as she screams and struggles against my hold. She's small and weak, her resistance barely more than an inconvenience. My men move to assist, but I shake my head. This is something I'll handle personally.

As I haul the maid away, Mariana turns back to the remaining group. The fear in their eyes is indescribable, their bodies sagging under the weight of what they know is coming.

Mariana's voice slices through the air, devoid of emotion. "The rest of you," she says, "are useless to me. You failed to protect what matters most. And I have no use for failure."

Her hand lifts in a subtle gesture, and the hooded figures surrounding the kneeling group straighten, their guns snapping into position. A few cries of panic escape before Mariana's next words silence them.

"Kill them," she commands, her tone as indifferent as if she were ordering tea.

The sound of gunfire erupts for a moment, then choked breaths, then silence save for the chirping birds.

When she stumbles from fatigue, I push the maid to one of my men and rush up behind her, holding her firm, a quick breath tumbling out of me. "You've worked yourself too hard today, baby," I whisper, hoping to hold her a little longer.

But she spins around and the barrel of her gun is on my chest, her index finger threatening to push the trigger. "You're a stranger and therefore shouldn't be exempted from this punishment."

A small smile curves my lips upward and I step forward, my eyes challenging. "I've told you many times, I'll be a grateful man if I died by your hands, Mariana."

She smirks, holding my gaze for a moment.

And then she pulls the trigger.