His Territory

13

I jerk awake, tangled in bedsheets, the familiar scent of Cristian lingering on the fabric. He must have brought me to his room earlier. The men's deep voices filtered through the wall as they talked in the living room. I could still feel the lingering chill of the photo in my mind—Adrián and his men in L.A., their images burned into my memory. Shivers coursed through me. No matter how much I tried to push it away, I couldn't stop thinking about what he might do.

A tear slipped down my cheek as my mind spiraled. I knew what Adrián was capable of. I had seen it up close. Cristian's men—they were strong, but could they stop someone like him? My chest tightened with the thought of Cristian lying dead, his blood pooling in the street, his lifeless eyes staring at nothing. Sobs wracked my body, and I pressed a pillow over my face, muffling the sounds of my fear.

The door burst open. Cristian rushed in, a pistol gripped in his right hand, eyes wide and searching. He spotted me sitting up in his bed, my body trembling, and dropped the gun beside me as he cupped my face in his hands. His thumb gently brushed away the tears on my cheeks, his voice thick with concern.

"Dímelo, cosita," he whispered. "¿Qué pasa?"

I shook my head, trying to hold back the tears. I didn't want to tell him what I feared most—that Adrián would kill him, too. I knew if I said it out loud, it would only fuel Cristian's determination to hunt him down. And I couldn't have that on my conscience.

"Tell me, Lu," he pressed, his grip tightening slightly on my face. His touch wasn't harsh, but it was insistent.

Tears spilled over again, the pressure of his hands sending me spiraling into old memories. Adrián's hands had once gripped my face like this, his fingers digging into my skin, forcing me to listen to his twisted proclamations of love. My breathing quickened, turning into sharp, desperate gasps. I couldn't stop it—the panic was taking over, suffocating me.

Cristian's hands moved to my shoulders, gently pushing me back onto the bed and rolling me onto my side. He rubbed my back in slow, soothing circles, his voice a soft murmur in my ear. "Just breathe, baby. You're okay. Nothing is going to happen to you. You're safe."

His words eventually cut through the panic, and my breathing steadied. When I opened my eyes again, Cristian was sitting in front of me, watching with those cold, calculating eyes of his. There was concern there, but also something darker.

"Did I cause this?" he asked, his voice low, almost ashamed. His hands had fallen away from me, as if he were afraid he'd break me if he touched me again.

"No, it wasn't you." I sat up slowly, wiping my eyes. "It was a nightmare... I just—Adrián is a killer, Cristian. If he finds me, it means he's gotten through you, and I—I can't handle the thought of being responsible for your death."

Cristian's jaw tightened, and I could see the muscles in his neck flex as he stood. His eyes burned with something fierce, something immovable. He walked toward me, squatting so he was at eye level, his expression hardening.

"Escucha, because I'm only going to say this once." His voice was a low rumble, and the veins in his forehead pulsed slightly with the intensity behind his words. "There's no one—no one—who can take me out if I've got something to protect. Mi familia, mis hermanos, and now you." He paused, his chin lifting slightly, eyes narrowing as if daring me to challenge him. "If God is on my side, everyone against me will lose."

I swallowed hard as his words sank in. He smirked then, a dark, dangerous look crossing his face.

"I don't shoot first. I shoot last."

A wave of déjà vu hit me. "Los said that to me once," I whispered, the memory clicking into place.

"It's our law," Cristian replied, standing up. "It's our motto, among other things."