Page 18 of Blood Queen
I grin. “If you ever need… a favor, let me know.”
Lucia holds my gaze for a beat longer before nodding. It’s not acceptance. Not yet. But the seed has been planted.
I stand and make my way back toward Leo’s table. I smooth my silk dress as I take my seat next to him. His phone vibrates on the table. I watch him glance at the screen—face morphing in annoyance.
Then, without shifting his gaze, he murmurs, “There’s a situation at the warehouse. Handle it.”
I exhale through my nose. A wedding full of backstabbing criminals, and he’s sending me to deal with some bullshit at the docks.
But I don’t argue. I just rise and step silently away from the glittering crowd.
The car is waiting when I step outside and drops me where I am needed.
The warehouse is dimly lit, the scent of salt and steel thick in the air. It’s quiet except for the occasional clang of metal and the rhythmic clicks of my stilettos.
I step into the back room.
A man sits bound to a chair, his head caught between the iron jaws of a vice bolted to a steel table. His face is slick with sweat, veins bulging in his neck as the pressure builds. Blood drips from his nose, his split lip, staining his collar.
Beside him, one of Leo’s men—Cruz—leans against the table, expression bored.
“Caught him dealing in our territory. Right under your nose.” His gaze flicks to me, challenging. “Brought him here as a courtesy.”
This does not look good. I’ve slipped. Been called out. I roll my shoulders to relieve the stress building.
Leo’s men tolerate me because they have to, but they like to remind me that I have something to prove.
I step closer, dragging a gloved finger through the blood on the man’s cheek. “And?”
Cruz shrugs. “Figured we’d let you handle it.”
The man jerks against his restraints, wild eyes darting between us. “I—I didn’t know it was your territory! I swear! I just—I saw the jewels at the docks. Thought I could—” His words choke off as Cruz tightens the vice another notch.
Cruz watches me. Waiting.
I grip the handle of the vice, twisting it ever so slowly. The man whimpers, his breath hitching.
“You saw them where?” My voice is soft. Almost bored.
“An open shipping container—some crates were open. I saw diamonds. Didn’t think.” His breath shudders. “I—I was just trying to unload them! Didn’t even know it was yours!”
I study him. Just some dumb street thief who got too greedy. No ties to the families. No real threat.
But that doesn’t matter.
I grip the handle again. Twist.
A strangled sob leaves his throat as the vice grinds his skull.
“Who did you try to sell them to?”
“I—” His voice breaks. “Some guy in Little Havana. Goes by Nico. Please—I swear, I won’t”
I release the handle. Step back.
He’s talking.
Cruz’s lips twitch, almost like he’s impressed. “So? What do we do with him?”
