Page 24 of Duty Devoted

Font Size:

Page 24 of Duty Devoted

The world tilted. My ears rang. Everything sounded distant, distorted—like I was underwater. I couldn’t move. Could barely breathe.

Diego’s voice cut through the static, smooth as silk. “Well. Now, you don’t have to worry about ethics. We’ve taken care of that for you.”

He turned toward the waiting SUVs, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve. “My son will expect you at eight. Our men will come for you.”

And just like that, they were gone. Diego never looked back. Mateo followed, his shame leaking out around the edges of his rage.

I tried to go to Carlos, but Logan wouldn’t release my arm. “He’s gone. There’s nothing you can do.”

I knew he was right, but still… Carlos had been alive yesterday. Laughing a little. Asking when he could return to work. I’d told him soon, even though I hadn’t been sure.

And now, he was dead. Because of me.

Logan’s hand tightened, steadying me. Only then did I realize he was the only thing holding me upright. Beneath my shock, I could feel the fury coiled in him—tight, hot, dangerous. It was taking everything he had not to draw his weapon.

The SUVs rumbled off, leaving Carlos facedown in the dirt, his blood soaking into the earth, the sharp metallic tang of death thick in the humid air.

I stood there staring at the blood that was pooling in the street, at the village women who had emerged to cover their children’s eyes, at the space where a living, breathing human being had existed moments before.

“Lauren.” Logan’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “We need to go. Now.”

But I couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond the horrible understanding that Carlos was dead because I had tried to protect myself. Because I had made an excuse instead of just saying no.

The gunshot echoed in my mind as Logan guided me away from the village, away from the blood and the horror and the terrible knowledge that nowhere in Corazón was safe anymore.

Not for Carlos. Not for my patients. Not for my team.

And definitely not for me.

Chapter 8

Logan

God fucking damn it.

Finding civilian casualties after a battle was one thing. Watching as they were killed firsthand when you couldn’t do a single fucking thing about it was another entirely.

The walk back to the clinic passed in a haze of tactical assessment and barely controlled rage. Lauren moved beside me like a sleepwalker, her face pale and eyes unfocused. Every few steps, she’d stumble slightly, and I’d steady her with a hand on her elbow. The shock was setting in hard.

I kept my eyes moving, scanning the path around us for threats while my mind processed what I’d just witnessed. Diego Silva had executed an unarmed, wounded man in cold blood. Not in anger, not as punishment for some perceived slight—but as a demonstration.

It wasn’t even so much a message for Lauren as it was some sick life lesson for his son:less talk, more demonstrations of power.

But no doubt Mateo wasn’t going to take it that way. He was going to blame Lauren for being made to look the fool publicly.

She was not safe here anymore, not that she ever truly had been. We needed to get out and get outright fucking now. When Silva’s car showed up to pick her up for dinner, she would need to be long gone.

“Almost there,” I said quietly as the clinic’s blue walls came into view through the trees. Lauren didn’t respond, but her pace quickened slightly.

The moment we reached the building, I guided her through the front door and directly to the nearest chair. She sat heavily, her hands shaking as she stared at the floor.

“Jace,” I called out, my voice carrying the edge of command that meant business. “Ty. Conference. Now.”

They appeared within seconds, taking one look at Lauren’s condition and my expression before Jace grabbed his laptop and Ty checked his sidearm, looking over my shoulder for trouble.

“Sophia,” I called to Dr. Yang, who was emerging from one of the treatment rooms. “Stay with Lauren. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

Sophia took one look at Lauren’s face and immediately moved to her side, medical training kicking in as she began checking for signs of physical injury.