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“With my money. My contacts. My protection.” His gaze dropped to the stitches at the corner of her mouth. “And still your appetite made you careless enough to let a bound man mark your face.”

“I can destroy Isabella Delgado before sunset. Empty every account. Erase every privilege. Turn every official who shakes your hand into the man signing your warrant.”

He pointed toward the door.

“Then I’ll leave Marcela Reyes in a cinder-block room in one of the districts my soldiers own. No money. No papers. No guards. No one calling you Mistress.”

Marcela stepped back into Mateo.

“By morning, every man you bought will have forgotten you existed.”

Ciro faced Mateo.

“And anyone stupid enough to forget who owns him will disappear beside you.”

Mateo’s right hand slid toward the pistol at his hip.

Marcela saw it.

So did I.

Ciro followed it a second too late.

Mateo had the pistol clear of its holster when Marcela grabbed the grip.

For one suspended moment, they both held it.

Mateo looked at her.

Then he let go.

Marcela ripped the gun free, swung toward Ciro, and fired.

The bullet struck between his eyes.

Bone, blood, and gray matter burst from the back of his skull in a dark spray across the wall. His head snapped backward, and his body dropped beside the camera setup, one shoulder slamming into the folding table hard enough to make the laptop fall to the floor.

The image on its screen jumped.

The red light on the camera lens stayed on.

Nik and Lucian had seen everything.

I’d wanted to drive a wedge between Ciro and the people already circling his throne.

Isabeast had given me an execution.

I could work with that.

Ciro’s loyalist at the door reached for his weapon.

Marcela brought Mateo’s pistol around, but Mateo moved first.

He caught the man’s wrist before his gun cleared the holster and drove him face-first into the stone doorframe. His nose broke with a wet crunch.

Mateo wrenched the pistol from his hand.

The loyalist twisted toward him.