Chapter 51
Chapter 51
Vanessa doesn’t sleep.
She lies awake in the guest room Arturo insisted she take, staring at the ceiling, running everything in circles. The truth about her past. Victor’s betrayal. The quiet intensity in Arturo’s eyes that she pretends she didn’t feel curling under her skin.
Around four in the morning, she gives up entirely.
She throws off the covers, pulls on her boots, and slips out into the dim hallway. The house is silent except for the faint hum of security systems and the occasional groan of old wood settling. She moves through the shadows like she belongs there—even though she doesn’t.
Arturo’s office door is slightly ajar.
She pauses.
Light spills through the crack. So does the low murmur of voices. She leans closer, slow and silent.
Arturo.
And someone else.
“—you’re playing with fire,” the second voice says. Deep. Male. Unfamiliar. “She’s dangerous.”
Vanessa smirks. Already a compliment.
“She won’t touch me,” Arturo responds.
His voice is calm. Too calm.
“Won’t? Or you’re hoping she won’t?”
“She’s not the enemy.”
The second man scoffs. “She almost killed you. Twice.”
“And she hesitated both times.”
Vanessa’s stomach twists.
She doesn’t know if it’s annoyance or something she’s refusing to name.
“Arturo,” the other man says, “the council wants her gone. Word’s spreading. Victor’s looking for her. Your decision to keep her here—it looks like a move.”
“It is a move,” Arturo replies.
A long beat.
The man lowers his voice. “Are you sure you want to tie yourself to this?”
Tie?
Vanessa straightens.
Arturo doesn’t answer immediately. When he does, his voice is lower. Softer.
“She deserves the truth. And Victor deserves what’s coming.”
Vanessa pushes the door open.
Both men look up.
Arturo straightens in his chair. The other man—tall, sharply dressed, all suspicion and muscle—eyes her like he’s waiting for a reason to put a bullet between her eyebrows.
Vanessa walks in without fear, without hesitation. “Didn’t realize I was the topic of such an entertaining conversation.”
Arturo stands. “Vanessa—”
“Save it.” She glances at the stranger. “And who are you? One of his guard dogs?”
He bristles. “I’m Mateo. I handle Castellano security.”
“Ah.” She smiles, not warmly. “So a guard dog with a title.”
Arturo’s mouth twitches—like he’s fighting a smile. “Mateo was just leaving.”
Mateo doesn’t move. “Arturo—”
“Now.”
This time, Mateo goes. But not before giving Vanessa a look that promises violence if she steps out of line.
She winks at him as he passes.
When the door shuts, silence stretches.
Arturo watches her like he’s waiting for her to throw a knife at him.
She almost does—just for the tension in his jaw.
“Eavesdropping?” he says.
“Walked into a room. You left the door open.”
“Vanessa—”
“Don’t worry,” she cuts in. “I didn’t hear anything I wasn’t expecting.”
He studies her, eyes sharp. “And what exactly do you think you heard?”
“That your people don’t trust me. That they want me gone. That you’re making decisions you shouldn’t be making.”
He takes a slow step toward her. “I don’t make decisions lightly.”
“That’s the problem,” she says. “You’re making them for me.”
Arturo stops in front of her. Not too close—but close enough.
“You’re here because your life is in danger. You’re here because Victor wants you dead. You’re here because I—”
He stops himself midsentence.
Vanessa tilts her head. “You what?”
Arturo’s jaw flexes. “Because I made it my responsibility to protect you.”
She scoffs. “Please. You’re doing this because it hurts your pride to admit you care about someone who used to try to kill you.”
His eyes flash, a dark, heated flicker. “Don’t pretend you don’t care.”
She hates how her pulse jumps. “I don’t.”
“You do.”
She steps closer now, letting the space between them tighten like a wire pulled thin. “Say it again,” she whispers. “I want to hear the fiction you keep telling yourself.”
He doesn’t back away.
“If I’m lying,” he says, “why are you still here?”
s
She freezes.
He has her there.
She hates that he has her there.
Vanessa turns her head, breaking the eye contact before she melts into something weak and unrecognizable. “I’m here because Victor wants me dead. That’s all.”
“You’re lying,” Arturo says, echoing her earlier defensiveness.
She doesn’t respond.
He sighs, then gestures to the desk. “I found something. About your family.”
Her chest tightens. “What?”
“A list of names Victor targeted over a decade ago. People he needed gone. Your parents weren’t just collateral—they were part of a plan. A strategy.”
Vanessa’s throat closes slightly. “Show me.”
He hands her a folder.
The same handwriting she saw in Victor’s own files.
Cursive. Elegant. Deadly.
Vanessa flips through the pages. Her parents’ names appear more than once. Notes scribbled in the margins. Dates. Movements. Financial ties.
A slow burn builds in her chest. Fury. Grief. Certainty.
“He hunted them,” she whispers.
“Yes.”
“He watched them. Planned them. Tracked them.” Her hands shake. “They never even stood a chance.”
Arturo watches her shoulders shake—just slightly—and he steps closer, cautious but steady.
“Vanessa—”
“No.” She puts the folder down. “No sympathy. Not now.”
His voice is soft. “I wasn’t going to offer sympathy.”
She lifts her head.
He looks at her with that unbearable steadiness, the grounding type—the kind she’s not used to. The kind that feels like an anchor instead of a shackle.
“I was going to ask what you want to do next,” he says.
The question settles between them like an invitation.
Like a match waiting for a spark.
Vanessa straightens her spine. “I want Victor Santoro.”
Arturo nods once. “Then we’ll build a plan.”
“We?”
“You’re not doing this alone.”
She exhales sharply. “I’ve done everything alone.”
“Not anymore.” He steps closer, voice low. “I’m with you in this.”
She hates how much she wants to believe him.
How much it scares her that she almost does.
She turns away, pacing. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“What doesn’t?”s
“You.” She gestures at him. “Helping me. Standing with me. Acting like you—”
She stops herself.
Arturo waits. “Like I what?”
“Like you’re someone I can trust.”
He doesn’t hesitate.
“You can.”
The way he says it—it nearly knocks the breath from her lungs.
She doesn’t move.
She doesn’t speak.
She only stares at him, heat rising between them again like a tide pulling them closer.
Arturo’s voice drops. “Vanessa. Whatever you’re thinking—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” she whispers.
He doesn’t.
He takes just one more step, close enough that she can feel the warmth rising from him. His gaze drops to her mouth—barely, quickly—but she catches it.
She feels her pulse spike.
He sees it.
s
“Vanessa,” he murmurs.
She steps back.
One step. Two.
Just enough to breathe.
Just enough to keep from doing something reckless.
“We’ll make the plan tomorrow,” she says, svoice tight. “I need air.”
Arturo doesn’t follow her this time.
He only nods once.
“Tomorrow.”
Vanessa leaves the room, the file still burning in her hand, her heart beating too fast for reasons that have nothing to do with the man she plans to kill—and everything to do with the man who just promised to help her do it.