Page 110 of Convenient Vows

Another movement catches my eye, and I swing the scope back toward the main entrance as Cristóbal steps into view, flanked by two guards. He’s smiling, gesturing, and feeling cocky as ever. And beside him is Mara.

Finally.

I zoom in.

She has on a light blue top and Navy blue trousers. Her Jewelry glints in the sun, and she is tightly clutching a purse in her hand.

My fingers curl against the window ledge as I watch her walk half a step behind him. She’s poised, calm, her chin held high, and her movements are smooth.

Maybe a tad too smooth.

I zoom in behind her and notice the boy isn’t with them.

Where is he?

My eyes sweep the doorway, the flanks, the windows behind them. Nothing. No sign of him. Panic starts to claw at my throat, but I shove it down. I have to focus and think.

Cristóbal’s got one hand tucked into his jacket pocket. The other hovers casually behind Mara’s back. A possessive gesture disguised as nothing. She doesn’t flinch and doesn’t pull away. Because she can’t.

The absence of that child—my son—confirms what I’ve suspected for days. He’s not just keeping them. He’s using the boy to keep her in line.

My rage simmers lower now, focused and intensified. I don’t just want to retrieve them.

I want to end him.

I barely blink before the next movement catches my eye.

Cristóbal turns to Mara, his hand lifting—palm open and raised high.

My breath seizes. Time halts.

If he dares hit her, those hands will be the first thing I cut off from his corpse.

Rage floods my chest like kerosene meeting fire. My hand flies to the rifle beside me, finger already slipping toward the trigger.

But he doesn’t strike. Instead, he lowers his hand and pulls out his phone. I watch as he makes a call, holding the device like a weapon. Seconds later, Mara flings herself into his arms and kisses him.

No.

My vision tunnels. Everything else disappears. I see only them. Her hands are clinging to his chest, and his mouth is on hers. My blood turns to molten steel even though I know she’s kissing him under duress.

“Zasha,” Lev says sharply. “Don’t.”

I don’t hear him. My body lunges forward, but Lev grabs my arm. “Don’t blow this.”

I am going to kill this fool a hundred different ways.

“She’s kissing him because he’s holding something over her,” Lev says, voice taut. “Probably the boy.”

I close my eyes for half a second.

“She’s not free,” Lev says. “This confirms our suspicions.”

I nod once. But inside me, there’s no calm. Only fire. Because now, I’m not just thinking about getting her and the boy out. I’m thinking of how to make Cristóbal pay. And death is the kindest thing I can offer him.

I signal to Lev. “Call Viktor. Tell him we have confirmation.”

Lev doesn’t need to be told twice. He grabs the encrypted phone and hits the line.

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