Then Lycos had arrived. Lycos had been just as dangerous then as he was now. The eyes were the windows to the soul, some said. Jinxknewthey were. He could still remember how the older man had looked at him, assessing him like a weapon someone had forged in fire. Jinx had been reminded of a bobcat they’d once saved. The animal’s eyes had seen everything. Fear included. He’d treated Lycos the same way he had that wild animal, with respect and honesty. Something had told him it was the reason he’d been given the opportunity to work for Guardian.
“You have two options,” Lycos had said, his voice cold, merciless. “You can rot in a cell for the rest of your life for killing a monster … or you can work for us and put your skills to use hunting them.”
Jinx had only needed a second to decide.
He exhaled sharply, pulling himself back to the present. The past was the past. And yet, it wasn’t because part of his past was still there.
And Raven knew it.
She dried her hands on a towel and glanced over her shoulder at him. “So, do you want to talk about her?”
He didn’t answer. But in the silence, they both knew the truth. He wasn’t avoiding talking about Eira because he didn’t care. He was avoiding it because he still did.
CHAPTER 3
Eira Isaacson rocked gently back and forth on the weathered wooden swing that hung from the covered porch of her farmhouse. The creaking of the chains blended with the soft hum of cicadas and the distant rustling of cattle shifting in the pasture beyond. Dusk had begun its slow descent, painting the Venezuelan sky in hues of amber and violet. The scent of hay, sun-warmed earth, and distant woodsmoke lingered in the air, grounding her in the world she’d built with her own two hands.
Cradled in her arms, her son Teo dozed, one tiny fist curled against her chest. His weight was warm and reassuring, a steady heartbeat against her own.
Her gaze swept over the land. The rolling fieldsof deep green, the modest barn with its fresh coat of red paint, the chicken coop alive with content clucks, and the dairy shed where her cousins were finishing the evening milking. It wasn’t the animal hospital she’d dreamed of during long nights at veterinary school, but it was real. Tangible. A living, breathing thing she’d carved from hardship and heartache.
Dreams, she had learned, often clashed with reality in brutal, unforgiving ways.
As she rocked with her child nestled close, Eira wondered if the foolish dreams of a headstrong woman were always destined to teach humility.
When she’d returned from school, her heart had burned with purpose. She would save animals. She would build a sanctuary. Her affinity for creatures, wounded, wild, or unwanted, had never waned. There had never been a question of who she would become. From the moment she could walk, she’d tended to injured birds, bottle-fed abandoned kittens, and whispered to horses.
Her mother had once dreamed big, too. She’d married a foreigner swept into Venezuela by the booming oil business. They’d met in the city, fallen in love, and married within three months. But her father’s promises had faded fast. Venezuela hadn’tbeen for him. He’d left, first emotionally, then physically. He’d sent money, yes, but never returned.
Heartbroken, Eira’s mother had retreated home to the small community tucked at the base of the Cordillera mountains. And that was where Eira had been raised, among strong women, hard workers, and the quiet resilience of people who didn’t expect anything they hadn’t earned.
Now, Eira was back in the same village. History repeating. The dream of a modern veterinary hospital had evolved into something more practical. More necessary. Since Mateo disappeared, she'd turned her animal rescue clinic into a functioning, self-sustaining dairy farm. She raised chickens for eggs and meat. Sold cheese and milk. Employed her aunts, uncles, and cousins. Every cent went back into the land, and into securing a future for Teo.
The man she’d fallen in love with had also vanished. Mateo Rivas.
But maybe he hadn’t just disappeared. Maybe he’d died in one of the countless cartel wars that swallowed men whole. She didn’t know.
The only thing she did know was that her son had no father.
She’d made the same mistake her mother had made. Trusted a man who didn’t stay.
But Eira wouldn’t make that mistake again.
She would raise Teo to be strong. To stand on his own. To avoid the cartels at all costs. To build something real, something enduring, something no man could take from him.
The cartels wanted everything. They wanted men for their wars. Women for their beds. But they needed food. And Eira provided it. Her dairy, her chickens, her eggs fed men who made war. And not surprisingly, due to Ortega’s interest in her, she was paid a fair price. The arrangement bought her peace, for now.
Her gaze dropped to the black lab mix lying at her feet. The dog thumped its tail when her eyes met his, and she reached down to scratch behind his ears.
He’d been brought to her by Mateo. Horribly wounded, the poor creature had dragged itself halfway to death before being found. The leg had been too far gone to save. She’d had to amputate, but the dog had healed because Mateo had brought him to her.
Staying by its side, day and night, his gentleness had been undeniable. Mateo understood animals with a depth that seemed almost otherworldly.
He’d calmed a panicked bull with nothing more than a quiet presence and slow breaths. He’dhaltered a wild horse that had thrown every man who dared approach it. Strays followed him like loyal disciples. And the first time she saw him holding that broken dog in his arms, she’d felt her world shift.
She closed her eyes and rocked slowly, letting herself remember him.
Mateo had been tall, at least six feet, with strong shoulders and a quiet intensity. His hands were calloused and rough, but his touch with her and the animals had always been gentle. Tender.
