Page 36 of The Love Language of the Cartel

My heart pounded in my chest as rage and fear coursed through my veins. How dare he touch her? How dare he threaten what was mine? And on my wedding day, no less? But beneath the anger, there was a trace of something else—a protectiveness I hadn’t expected to feel.

“Let her fuckin’ go, Joaquín,” I growled, my hand racing toward my holster. “This shit is between us. She has nothing to do with it.”

In one fluid motion, I unholstered my gun and aimed it at Joaquín’s arm. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the study, followed immediately by Joaquín’s agonized scream. His grip on Demi’s arm loosened as blood spurted from his wound.

“Have you lost your mothafuckin mind? You’re going to pay for touching what belongs to me,” I snarled.

Demi stumbled away, her eyes ballooned with shock. I wanted to go to her, to make sure she was alright, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Joaquín. He clutched his bleeding hand as his face contorted in pain and fury.

“You have no idea what Cyrus has done!” Joaquín spat out between ragged breaths. “The Malones have been a thorn in our side for years. This little bitch—”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I barked, cutting him off as my finger tightened on the trigger. “Demi is my wife. Her father’s business is not her burden to bear.”

Joaquín’s pain-stricken eyes darted between Demi and me, a sinister smile twisting his features despite the discomfort. “You think this is over, Ozias? You and your pretty little bride better watch your backs. The Malones have made powerful enemies, and now, so have you.”

I saw the movement before it fully registered—Joaquín lunging toward Demi again, his good hand outstretched. There was no hesitation, no moral dilemma. My body reacted on instinct, honed by years of being at the top of the cartel food chain.

The second gunshot was louder than the first, or maybe it just felt that way. Joaquín’s body jerked, a look of surprise frozen on his face as he crumpled to the floor. The bullet hole in his forehead was neat and precise—a perfect kill shot.

Still, that wasn’t enough for me. He’d laid his fucking hands on my bride not once but twice and was stupid enough to have done it in my presence. His demise was too clean, and the last thing a messy mothafucka deserved was a clean death. I stepped over to his lifeless body, screaming my war cry as I grabbed his face, and squeezed it so hard his jaw snapped like wishbones. I split the lower half of his face open like a juicy watermelon, rendering him unrecognizable. The warmth of satisfaction washed over me as I dropped him to the ground and pulled out my handkerchief to wipe the blood splatter off my face and lips before looking up at Demi.

There I was—El Diablo in the flesh with my claws out, fangs showing, or however she pictured the monster I tried my best tohide from her. For a moment, the room was deathly silent, no pun intended. Then I heard Demi’s shaky breath, and it snapped me back to reality. I slowly moved toward her, my eyes scanning her for any signs of injury.

“He touched you,” I muttered.

“O-Ozias . . .”

“He touched you,” I repeated, my voice softer than I intended. “Are you okay?” I asked. Her face was colorless, making the barely visible constellation of freckles across her nose stand out even more. “I need an answer, Demi.”

She nodded, but I’d already noticed her hands trembling. “I’m . . . I’m okay,” she managed to whisper. “I—you h-have blood everywhere.”

“He shouldn’t have touched you.”

Her chest rose and fell. It was almost as if I could see her heart beating through her clothes. “T-thank you for not letting him hurt me.”

I reached out, hesitating for a moment before reeling back. I didn’t want his blood on her. “You’re safe now,” I told her, surprised by how much I meant it. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Demi’s eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of trust. It stirred something in me, something I thought I’d buried long ago. I’d never even considered letting my heart go all the way before, but Demi had the type of pussy that could bring even a man of steel to his knees. She was my kryptonite.I was ruthless about her. I thought I didn’t have a weakness. Turns out, it was her all along.

I ran a hand over my nape, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. The smell of gunpowder still hung in the air, mingling with the metallic scent of blood. I needed to reassure her, to make her understand.

“Demi, like I said, I’m not a bad person. You’ve just heard bad things about me,” I explained, gesturing toward the body onthe floor. “This . . . this was necessary. To protect you, to protect us.”

She looked at me, her brown eyes wide and searching for answers I didn’t know if I could give her. I saw her trying to merge the man who just killed someone in cold blood with the one who was about to become her husband. The conflict was written all over her beautiful face. Even in conflict, she looked like an angel.

“I know it’s a lot to process,” I continued, taking a step closer to her. “But everything I do, I do for a reason. For survival, for power . . . and now, for you. I promise I’ll do the worst for you, Demi.”

Demi gulped, her gaze darting between me and the bloodied corpse. “I . . . I understand,” she sputtered.

I nodded, relieved she wasn’t running screaming from the room. “Good. Now, I need you to go upstairs and rest. Get ready for the ceremony,” I declared while glancing at my watch. “We don’t have much time, and I want everything to be perfect.”

She hesitated for a moment then dipped her chin. As she turned to leave, I caught her arm gently. “Demi, I meant what I said. I’ll always protect you. You’re mine now, and I always take care of what’s mine.”

A slight shiver ran through her at my words, and I couldn’t tell if it was fear or something else. She was probably wondering how I was able to switch from a savage killer to a man about to be married at sunset. She gave me one last look before hurrying out of the room, leaving me alone with the consequences of my actions and the anticipation of what was to come.

Four hours later, I stood on the pristine sands of the secluded beach on my compound, watching the sun dip lower and lower beneath the skyline, painting the sky in pastel hues of orange, lavender, and pink. The gentle lapping of the ocean’s waves provided a soothing backdrop to the intimate gathering. Only a handful of my most trusted associates were present. Their faces were a blend of curiosity and respect.

I adjusted my diamond cufflinks, a nervous energy coursing through me that I hadn’t felt in years. Our union wasn’t just another business deal or power play. It was my wedding day, and I was determined that Demi would be my wife. The soft strains of a violin filled the air, and I turned to see her. My breath caught in my throat.

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