Chapter One
As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious. The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere. "Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late." She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul. "Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight." Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed. "Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here." Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated. "I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here." Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night." Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight. Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder. "I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle. Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor. "Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight." "Why?" Emily asked subconsciously. Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up." When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass. In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.
Chapter Two
In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter. Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant. It was Draco. "Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force. "How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist. Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?" The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him. "Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions. "You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything." At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second. "Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness. Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom." "The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable. Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose. Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home." As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared. Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance. "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice. Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction. "Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes. "Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you." Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.
Chapter Three
Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire. When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study. The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen. "She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future. "I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness." Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door. "Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room. The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes. "I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?" Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind. "Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes. Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond. She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?" Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power." Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself. "So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold. Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you." Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart. It was Draco. He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me." Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness." Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night. The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster. Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night." She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.
Chapter Four
As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless. That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow. "Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided." Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling." Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?" Emily froze. "What do you mean?" "The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you." A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat. Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?" The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within. "Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt. Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative. Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him." She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart. As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice. Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas. Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired. As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.
Chapter Five
The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating. One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold. 'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.' "Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this." Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?" Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice." "What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered. "There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything." Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence. "You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?" Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?" Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid. "Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!" She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable." When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first. "My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races." Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..." "She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies." The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy. "The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races." As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake. Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-" But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky. "It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily." In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.
Primera parte
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Primera parte
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Cabbezga nrGoYtwac, cYorLazón roctAo_,m FparqtfeBs sroBtasw
Capítulo 1
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Capítulo uno
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Su mirada pasó por encima de la mujer, que bebía tranquilamente su champán y su zumo de naranja como si no estuviera sentada en una mesa con cuatro de los hombres más peligrosos de la costa este continental. Dos capos y sus manos derechas. Sólo que Reyes no creía que estuviera tan tranquila como parecía. Su muñeca temblaba ligeramente, delatándola. Tenía la suficiente presencia como para asegurarse de que ese pequeño temblor cesara en el momento en que llegaba a sus delgados dedos, donde apretaban el cristal de su copa. No fueron los dedos ni su capacidad para mantener la calma mientras los hombres que la rodeaban hablaban de negocios lo que captó su curiosidad. Era la marca en el dorso de su delicada mano, las líneas de corte permanentes que estropeaban viciosamente su piel de porcelana.
La ira ardió en lo más profundo de sus entrañas, sorprendiéndolo. Reyes rara vez sentía algo. Nunca. Y menos por una mujer. Así era como tomaba decisiones eficaces. Así movía el comercio a través de las fronteras con facilidad y fría lógica. La emoción había sido eliminada de él. Primero por un padre despiadado, luego por una despiadada temporada militar en su país natal y, finalmente, por una implacable y despiadada condena a prisión que lo había destrozado sistemáticamente antes de que él, a su vez, destrozara la propia prisión y la poseyera desde dentro. Cuando fue liberado, se encontraba en un mundo creado por él mismo, un mundo formado por él en el interior y gobernado por él en el exterior.
Sin embargo, la visión de esta belleza rubia y fría, tan rota y a la vez tan resistente, le hacía algo, le obligaba a sentir. Se movió en su asiento, deslizando su brazo por el respaldo del cuero, sin dejar de mirarla mientras escuchaba a los otros hombres hablar. Negociar las condiciones. No necesitó añadir su voz. Alejandro, su mano derecha, conocía los términos. Sabía que no había que meter la pata mientras se buscaban nuevos tratos para el jefe.
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Reyes no tenía intención de ignorarla. Iba a tomarla y a follarse cada centímetro de ella, tal y como él quería. Duro, brutal, mezquino. Exactamente como era él. Exactamente como este mundo lo había formado. Porque podía hacerlo. Ella estaba a punto de convertirse en un botín de guerra.
No, él no estaba enojado por la marca en su mano en absoluto. Estaba enfadado porque la marca estaba torcida en forma de "H" y no de "R". Quería que ella le perteneciera a él, al Rey. Cuando tuviera a la mujer en sus manos, eso sería lo primero que cambiaría.
Finalmente, después de casi una hora sentados juntos en la cabina, con los ojos de él rara vez abandonando su rostro, ella levantó los suyos para encontrarse con su mirada inflexible. Y por primera vez en su vida, sintió que el corazón se le paraba en el pecho. No estaba preparado para el impacto. Los ojos de ella, uno verde sorprendente y el otro marrón ámbar, eran vívidos, impresionantes e implacables. Aunque su expresión no cambió ni una sola vez de la máscara inexpresiva de gélida belleza, él vio el desprecio ardiente, la furia acalorada enterrada en lo más profundo de esos orbes de fuego para los hombres que la rodeaban. Ella los despreciaba a todos.
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Capítulo 2
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Capítulo 2
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Reyes seguía haciendo lo que mejor sabía hacer. Administrar su reino con puño de hierro. Aunque le quemaba dejar a la mujer en paz, había aprendido a tener paciencia a lo largo de los años con los métodos más brutales. Aprendió a entender a su presa antes de hacer un movimiento. Reyes se dirigió a su escritorio y se sentó. Cogió un Cohiba, lo encendió, dio una larga calada y se recostó en su robusto sillón de cuero. Rara vez fumaba o bebía alcohol, ya que prefería la claridad, pero se daba el gusto de vez en cuando, sobre todo cuando estaba agitado. Cuando su rígido control se ponía a prueba o se sentía de algún modo... demasiado restrictivo. Su mirada se dirigió a la última serie de impresiones esparcidas por su escritorio. Habían sido tomadas hace tres días.
Después de un momento, cogió una y dejó que su dedo índice rozara sus delicadas facciones. En la foto, ella estaba de compras, con sus dedos largos y perfectamente cuidados rozando sin cuidado un exquisito vestido de cachemira mientras su mirada vacía permanecía desenfocada. En otro lugar, en otro lugar que no era la habitación en la que se encontraba. Salvo por sus ojos, su aspecto era perfecto. Ni un pelo fuera de su sitio, su larga y alta figura metida en una falda lápiz de color crema y una blusa rosa floreada. Su cabello rubio pálido caía por su espalda como una cascada de seda. Reyes gruñó y aplastó la foto en su puño, arrojándola sobre su inmaculado escritorio.
Estaba dispuesto a admitir que, a pesar de sus esfuerzos, sabía muy poco sobre la mujer que le obsesionaba desde el momento en que la vio seis meses antes. Había hecho que la investigaran nada menos que tres investigadores privados. La había hecho fotografiar cada vez que salía de la chillona mansión de Hernández, lo cual, frustrantemente, no era frecuente. Parecía tener las marcas de lo que era exactamente: una mujer mantenida. Sin embargo, era más, un enigma.
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A Reyes no le gustaban los misterios y no le gustaban las mujeres que se le escapaban. Era directo en los negocios y directo cuando se trataba de follar. Quería que ambas cosas fueran rápidas y eficientes con el menor desorden posible en su vida personal. Sabía, sin lugar a dudas, que si continuaba con la creciente obsesión que sentía por la mujer Hernández, corría el riesgo de hacer algo que había jurado no hacer nunca. Creando un lío. Una debilidad por la explotación.
Su madre y sus hermanos habían quedado atrapados en el fuego cruzado de esa debilidad. Había acabado con su propio padre en una sangrienta represalia, acabando por fin con un hombre roto antes de desmantelar su imperio y reconstruirlo desde cero, mejor, más brutal e irrompible. Ahora tenía que decidir si iba a permitir que esta mujer se arrastrara más dentro de él, que se metiera más profundamente en su piel. Porque algo le decía que si no hacía lo que sabía que era correcto, y le metía una bala en la cabeza ahora, y se encargaba de esta debilidad, iba a sangrar por ella. Y él no sangraba por nadie.
Tenía menos de una semana para decidir. Iba a volver a Estados Unidos para ver a la mujer y ocuparse de la conexión con Miami. Era el momento de dar el paso del poder y crear su propia organización con hombres de su confianza en la cúpula. Miró la serie de fotos que tenía repartidas por el escritorio y sus ojos oscuros se dirigieron a una en particular. Un primer plano de su rostro mientras miraba por encima del hombro hacia la cámara oculta. Cada vez que la miraba, veía esa pequeña cicatriz junto a su ceja. Algo le molestaba. ¿Cómo se la había hecho y por qué sus investigadores no habían averiguado nada sobre ella? ¿Por qué era un misterio? ¿Y sobreviviría a la guerra que se avecinaba lo suficiente como para responder a sus preguntas?
Capítulo 3 (1)
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Capítulo 3
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"ElT (jefe dquDiere rv^erPtev".J
Casey dio un salto y dejó caer su barra de corrector. Se estrelló contra la parte superior de su mesa de maquillaje y rodó desde la superficie de cristal liso hasta el suelo enmoquetado. Respiró tranquilamente antes de girar ligeramente en su asiento e inclinarse para recogerlo. Sus largas y pálidas ondas rubias se agitaron alrededor de sus hombros mientras alcanzaba el tubo y lo cogía. Lo volvió a dejar encima de su tocador y luego miró por encima del hombro al robusto y fornido guardaespaldas que estaba en su puerta. No había llamado para anunciar su presencia. Ella habría oído y habría podido prepararse para la intrusión en su santuario privado.
Nunca llamaban a la puerta. Era como si se complacieran deliberadamente en irrumpir en ella cada vez que querían, interrumpiendo sus momentos de intimidad. Así que se aseguró de que esos momentos fueran escasos. Cerraba la puerta del lavabo cuando estaba allí y siempre se cambiaba en el armario. Cuando el respeto de Ignacio por ella había caído en picado, era como si hubiera dado rienda suelta a sus hombres en su desprecio por su mujer. Tal vez le había molestado en algún momento, pero ya no recordaba realmente lo que sentía. Ahora sus sentimientos estaban más orientados a la supervivencia. No le gustaba la forma en que sus hombres la observaban. Como una jauría de perros hambrientos, esperando la orden de liberación de su amo. Hasta ahora, la orden no había llegado; no se les permitía ni siquiera tocar un solo pelo de su cabeza. Parecía que seguía valorando su condición de trofeo.
El guardaespaldas que estaba en su puerta no era su hombre habitual a tiempo completo. Era uno de los tipos de relevo que la sustituían de vez en cuando. Asintió un poco y dijo en voz baja: "Saldré en cinco minutos".
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Sus ojos se entrecerraron y sus hombros se pusieron rígidos, pero se fue, cerrando la puerta con cierta fuerza. Casey suspiró aliviada y se desplomó un momento contra su tocador. Ahora tenía cinco minutos para prepararse para un encuentro con el diablo. Y había cabreado a otro guardaespaldas.
Se pasó un rápido cepillo por el pelo y añadió un poco de rímel a sus pálidas pestañas, y luego se apartó de su mesa de maquillaje. No tardó mucho en elegir un traje en el armario, porque sabía que el guardaespaldas volvería justo a tiempo para recogerla para la reunión con Ignacio. Tenía suerte de que le dieran los cinco minutos que había pedido. Cogió un par de vaqueros pitillo desgastados de la estantería y se los puso por debajo de la bata. Eligió un sujetador negro con pequeñas rosas bordadas, su favorito, y luego sacó de una percha un suave jersey de punto negro. Añadió un par de botas negras de tres pulgadas de tacón para completar el conjunto. Ignacio odiaba que ella fuera más alta que él. No es muy difícil, teniendo en cuenta que ella ya medía lo mismo que él, 1,70 metros".
Se apresuró a salir del armario justo cuando la puerta de su habitación se abrió con un golpe. Levantó la barbilla en señal de desafío y se dirigió hacia la puerta. El guardaespaldas, cuyo nombre desconocía, la cogió del brazo con un doloroso apretón que le indicaba que no estaba contento con su actitud actual, y la condujo hacia la puerta.
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Prácticamente la arrojó por un tramo de escaleras hacia su guardaespaldas habitual, Alonzo, que dio un rápido paso atrás antes de tocarla accidentalmente. El hombre echó un vistazo al control que ejercía su guardaespaldas temporal sobre ella y se acercó amenazadoramente a la pareja. Casey bajó los ojos y giró la cabeza, no queriendo ver la exhibición de postura masculina en su propio vestíbulo.
Alonzo envió al hombre una mirada siniestra y gruñó: "¡Quita las manos de la mujer!". Le clavó un dedo en el pecho al tipo, y luego agarró rápidamente un dedo de la mano que sujetaba el brazo de Casey en una brutal sujeción. Alonzo se lo arrancó con tanta fuerza que ella se fue tropezando contra la pared en cuanto se soltó. Oyó un fuerte crujido y un grito de dolor. Reprimió el sonido que amenazaba con escapar de su garganta y envió su mente a un lugar mejor. No era la primera vez que veía u oía algo horrible delante de ella y no sería la última. "Nunca toques a la mujer, joder. ¿Entendido?"
"¡Sí, tío!", jadeó el tipo, haciendo todo lo posible por no caer de rodillas ante el guardaespaldas más grande y enfadado.
"A_lZoXnzgo)", mwuarmur.ó felYla.L
"¿Qué?", gruñó él sin molestarse en mirarla.
"Yo... me caí en las escaleras y él me ayudó. Esa es la única razón por la que me tocó. Por favor, no se lo digas a Ignacio", susurró ella, manteniendo la mirada apartada del brutal retablo. Se dirigió a lo largo de la pared hacia el estudio de Ignacio. Aunque él era el amo de esos horribles hombres, normalmente mantenía cierta apariencia de calma a su alrededor. Mantenía a los salvajes a raya. A veces, como ahora, se les iba de las manos cuando se les permitía soltar la correa. Aunque si descubría que uno de ellos la había tocado... las consecuencias serían mucho peores. Se estremeció al recordar la última vez que uno de ellos la tocó.
"¿Esto es cierto?" Preguntó Alonzo al hombre cuya mano aplastaba sin piedad.
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Capítulo 3 (2)
"Sí, hombre", resopló el tipo. "Sólo estaba ayudándola. Nunca más la toques. Promételo, tío".
Se enderezó contra la pared, se sacudió el pelo hacia atrás y se obligó a afrontar la escena de frente. Encontró la mirada de Alonzo con una mirada gélida que pretendía transmitir su aburrimiento y desprecio. Sabía que su guardaespaldas habitual la entendía mejor que nadie en la mansión, incluido su propio marido, pero la actuación era lo único a lo que podía recurrir. Ella lo sabía. Él lo sabía. Y había cámaras por todas partes.
"¿Podemos tratar esto más tarde, Alonzo?", exigió ella, enviando una mirada molesta hacia el despacho de Ignacio. "Tengo cosas que hacer hoy".
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"Si la señora Hernández dice que sólo la estabas ayudando", dijo Alonzo, "entonces sólo la estabas ayudando". Inclinó la cabeza hacia un lado, y sus ojos oscuros adoptaron la mirada muerta que ella, por desgracia, había visto tantas veces. Casey bajó los ojos, esperando no tener que presenciar una ejecución. Joder, ya tenía suficientes problemas para dormir por la noche. Alonzo señaló con un grueso dedo al tipo, su anillo de oro, un regalo de Ignacio por sus años de servicio, brillando a la luz. "Pero si vuelves a tocarla, te mueres".
Casey se estremeció y se dio la vuelta, satisfecha de que hubieran terminado. Se dirigió hacia la puerta del estudio y esperó a que Alonzo le abriera. Él se unió a ella y pasó por delante de ella, con su mano rozando ligeramente los moratones de sus brazos. Ella se hizo rápidamente a un lado y miró con rapidez bajo las pestañas al hombre que había estado a su lado durante casi una década. No le entendía. A veces creía que la odiaba a muerte y a veces... no creía que la odiara en absoluto.
Alonzo llamó a la puerta y esperó a que Ignacio la llamara antes de hacerla pasar. Casey entró en la amplia y opulenta sala y tomó asiento frente al marido que no había visto en una semana, ni siquiera de pasada. En parte porque lo evitaba como si tuviera herpes, rabia y gripe aviar, todo en uno. Además, sus horarios eran muy diferentes y Casey vivía recluida, eligiendo tomar la mayoría de sus comidas en su habitación. Por desgracia, Ignacio insistía en esas reuniones en las que ella no tenía más remedio que verle. Él estaba hablando por teléfono, así que ella esperó pacientemente a que terminara, cruzando las piernas y cruzando las manos sobre las rodillas.
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Ignacio terminó su llamada y Casey sintió el cambio físico de su enfoque en su cuerpo como un toque real, aunque ella era la princesa intocable en su torre de élite. Su mirada se fijó en una estatua que él tenía en un pedestal a unos metros de su escritorio. Era la horrible representación de un querubín con un arco y una flecha. Casey sabía que debía de ser increíblemente cara, pero no entendía qué más podía tener a su favor.
Ignacio golpeó fuertemente la palma de la mano abierta sobre el escritorio, lo que hizo que ella volviera a centrar su atención en él. Le había costado años de práctica, pero su corazón ya no se aceleraba de miedo ante su rostro frío y retorcido. Esa cara. El que se paseaba por el borde de sus pesadillas sin detenerse nunca a observarlo demasiado de cerca. Sobre todo porque no le quedaba el suficiente respeto como para tenerle miedo de verdad. A diferencia del payaso de IT. Ahora era digno de aparecer en una o dos pesadillas.
Ignacio tenía veintitrés años más que Casey y ella pensó que ahora mismo aparentaba cada uno de esos años. No por el estrés o la preocupación, sino por la autocomplacencia. Su cabello oscuro y plateado se había rellenado con tapones quirúrgicos y se había retirado del cuero cabelludo en forma de pico de viuda. Su traje gris claro no se complementaba bien con la horrible camisa de cuello ancho con motivos florales que llevaba debajo. El conjunto habría costado tanto como el llamativo escritorio frente al que se veía obligada a sentarse. Más bien pensó que debería haberse mirado al menos en un espejo antes de salir de su dormitorio. Se esforzaba tanto por parecer un mafioso de la vieja escuela. No sabía cómo todos sus socios no se reían en su cara antes de apuntarle con una pistola. Dios, cómo odiaba a ese hombre con cada fibra de su ser.
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Ella asintió con la cabeza, sin devolver la sonrisa. "Por supuesto", dijo en voz baja, su mano se movió involuntariamente. Ella juntó las manos, para detener el temblor antes de que sus ojos cayeran en su regazo. Como si tuviera otra opción. Si Ignacio exigía que su esposa se reuniera con él, entonces ella le dedicaba tiempo, sin importar lo que estuviera haciendo en ese momento.
"¿Cuáles son tus planes para esta semana?
Sus fríos ojos la recorrieron. Su mirada era posesiva, pero no en un sentido apasionado y cariñoso. No, la estaba analizando pieza por pieza. Comprobando que no tuviera defectos o fallas. Asegurándose de que la mercancía no le avergonzara. Ella resistió el impulso de moverse en su asiento, como una niña bajo inspección. Sabía exactamente lo que él vería de todos modos; su aspecto era impecable. No le gustaría que fuera de otra manera. Si él no tenía ninguna queja, no tendría ninguna razón para entrevistarla.
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