Vegas lights taunted from the tall windows in my hotel suite, a gaudy masquerade of freedom that felt like a chokehold. Here I was, straddling the line between pleasure and a goddamn war zone inside my own family—inside my own mind. A future with Sophie seemed like a mirage in this desert of sin: a beautiful, unattainable dream.
The more I investigated the whispers about my dad’s side gig—the insidious, vile use of women as currency—the worse it became. Finally catching a breakthrough after I’d caught wind of it through encrypted messages I wasn’t meant to see, accounts I’d hacked into that reeked of human despair instead of just cold cash. The more I dug, the darker the hole got, and the deeper I sank into disgust.
The truth was so very clear now, and I’d only just discovered it all in the last forty-eight hours.
The warm water of the shower hadn’t washed away the grime of today’s violence—the kid’s blood still clung to me like a second skin. I scrubbed until my flesh felt raw.
“Fuck,” I whispered to myself as I slumped onto the edge of the bed.
Sophie was there in the sheets, my dark angel wrapped in white cotton, her breathing a soft lullaby against the Vegas debauchery outside. She didn’t stir when I slipped under the covers, her presence a grounding force in the chaos of my life.
I watched the rise and fall of her chest, her features softened by sleep and moonlight. How could I offer her Chavez, let her sink her teeth into the meat of her revenge? How could we claw our way out of this blood-stained pit and stand over the ruins of the empire my family stole?
“Shit,” I hissed under my breath, the thought of going against the cartel’s grain making my heart race. It wasn’t just about tearing down my father’s beloved empire—it was about survival, mine and Sophie’s. I wanted to be better, for her, but the darkness in me clung like a shadow. Sophie… she was the peace amid my storm, the fucking yin to my yang.
Can’t go soft, Mav. Not completely.I curled myself around her, though part of me craved just that—to soften in her arms, to forget the blood and the guilt.
Duane’s words echoed in my head. “Levelheaded” was a compliment where it mattered, but in the cutthroat world I was shackled to, it was a weakness.
I needed to keep the edge, to stay sharp. But the longer I let her warmth seep into my bones…
As I lay there, the contours of my hardened persona seemed to blur, merging with something more vulnerable, something that looked a lot like hope. The desire to feel hopeful after a lifetime of empty, unloving hatred and despair. Between the silence ofthe room and the noise in my head, I found solace in the gentle rhythm of Sophie’s breathing.
“Tomorrow,” I promised her quietly, “we start tearing them down. For us, for a damn future.”
My eyes finally closed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I let the fight in me rest.
35
Sophie
Iawoke to the light touch of Maverick’s fingers tracing my face, his movements slow, almost absentminded. His warmth seeped into my skin, a comforting contrast to the cold bed I fell asleep in. I was reluctant to leave the cocoon of his arms, where I felt shielded from the chaos of my own mind.
“Morning,” I whispered, my voice thick with sleep.
He turned his attention to me, a softness crossing his features that contradicted the hard lines of his jaw. “Hey,” he murmured, and it was like the entire room exhaled, the tension slipping away for a moment.
“Sleep well?” I asked.
“Surprisingly, yes,” he replied, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a half smile. It was our unspoken dance, this push and pull between what we said and what we meant. That while we were completely open with our bodies, we were still not completely honest with our feelings.
I stretched languidly, still caught in the remnants of sleep, my movements causing the sheets to slip down just enough to remind me of the nakedness beneath. His eyes darkened, a silent acknowledgment of the raw desire that simmered constantly between us.
“Got plans today?” I ventured, running a finger along the veins of his tattooed arm.
“Work,” he grunted, the word coming out like a curse. But then, wasn’t it always? We were always bound by our individual duties. Even if it meant compromising time together.
“Sounds thrilling,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood, but the gravity of our reality was a persistent shadow. Especially the dark thoughts creeping in on the edges of my mind. Being alone didn’t sound too appealing.
“Always is with you around,” he shot back, the glint in his eye telling me he appreciated the effort.
But it all felt… off. Solemn.
I nestled closer to him. Despite the grogginess clouding my senses—a side effect of ignoring Maverick’s request to eat last night—I felt an awakening within me, a determination to face whatever lay ahead. With him, I was more than just a piece in a game of power; I was a queen on the chessboard, fierce and unyielding. I just needed to grasp onto that and harness it.
“A girl could get used to this,” I admitted quietly. In his arms, I could be both the weapon and the woman, the strength and the softness. I just… needed more time with him.
“Good,” he said, his hand finding its way to the small of my back, pulling me impossibly closer. “Because I’m not letting you go.”
