Page 36 of Death By Chocolate

“And why should we trust you, Cookie?”

“Because I’m the cook who slipped her the knife five years ago to escape.”

I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “Why?”

Cookie swallows, but I don’t miss the flash of pain. “Dani’s mother was stolen from her family by Luis Alonzo. Her father was made to pay for his crimes—eventually,” she looks away but continues. “We couldn’t get Celeste back, once she had kids, Luis had leverage.”

Silvio steps up. “Athalie is Dani’s first cousin. It’s why I brought Dani here and hired Athalie to protect and train her.”

The truth hits like a blade between my ribs. Her father sold her? The nightmares, the trauma, her trust issues, are because of him. Luis and Oscar, monsters who taught her that love was just another word for control.

"Get me my sword," I tell my brother. This ends tonight. “We’ll need a blow torch, slim grenades, stun guns, zip ties, duct tape—”

"You can barely stand," he protests, but he's already moving toward the door. He knows that tone in my voice.

“Fuck all that.” I think of Dani’s taste, her laugh, her deadly grace, and I know.

I know I’ll walk into hell with this woman, and we’ll dance through the flames to see who’ll burn first. I force myself to my feet, letting rage burn away the weakness. "Cookie, what else?"

Cookie pulls out her tablet, fingers flying over the screen. "Omar's compound is officially a hunting lodge. Unofficially, it's a fortress. Private army, state-of-the-art security. And..." She hesitates.

"Spit it out." Dani thinks she doesn’t need me, but I need her to see how I love. I won’t be the man to fail her.

"It's where they used to break people. Before Omar took over the family business. It's where he learned his trade."

The implications turn my stomach, but I force the emotion down. Later. I'll feel it later, after I've painted that compound red with the blood of everyone who thought they could take what's mine.

"How long until they land?"

“Two hours, maybe less." Cookie's already coordinating with her security team. "We can have a jet ready in twenty minutes."

"Make it ten." I check the tracker again. Still moving, still alive. "Corso, you with me?"

He chambers a round in his pistol. “Till the end. But you should know—her crazy ass almost shot me. She thought she was protecting you."

"I know." And I do. My fierce, broken warrior, trying so hard to trust nothing but her precious House. "That's why we're going to get her back. So I can spend the rest of our lives giving thanks at her altar.”

My phone chimes—the tracker's moving. They haven’t landed.

"Time to go hunting," I say, and feel my lips curl into the smile that made me infamous in certain circles. The one thatreminds people why the Voss family name is whispered with fear.

“I’ll bring added supplies. Just in case,” Corso says, typing something into his phone.

They took my woman. They’re gonna learn today about the hell that awaits. Fuck being a hero. I’m the dark horseman of the apocalypse—I will slaughter. The retribution I plan to mete out darkens my already damaged soul, from protector to executioner. All I feel is ice in my veins and fire in my heart as I prepare to paint these walls with the blood of the men who hurt, ma cherie amour.

18

DANI

WE ARE FAMILY

They've stripped me of everything—my uniform, my weapons, my connection to House. The freezing tile floor bites into my bare feet as I pace my old Alaskan bedroom, ten steps each way. The thin white lingerie they've put me in offers no protection against the cold, but I barely feel it. Rage burns hot enough to keep me warm.

Through the small window, I can see nothing but endless snow and dark pines. The glass is bulletproof, triple-paned. I checked. The door is steel, the hinges welded on the outside. Professional work. They know what I'm capable of.

I've counted three guard rotations, andmemorized their patterns. Four cameras in blind spots I'm meant to think they missed. Two air vents too small for escape. They want me to try. Want to remind me I'm trapped.

The door opens with a whisper of well-oiled hinges. I brace for Omar, but instead, it’s a ghost. My father stands there, looking as confident and powerful as I remember. My heart hammers in relief. But the job, the fifteen years of threat analysis, whispers a warning. A warning I heed. My capturehappened because I chose to doubt Xeno, a man who showed me what love is. It does not resemble the parental package regarding me. Steel-gray hair swept back from a face that could have been carved from granite. An expensive suit, and Italian leather shoes that don't quite hide the predator's grace in his movements.

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