Page 138 of Heart of a Villain

“Querida, I’m just happy to see you.” He fell silent for a moment. “I think I understand. Being here is a different experience for you. It was more positive for me, so you think your reluctance is equal to my return to acceptance.”

“Sure, if you want to put it that way.”

“I won’t lie to you—a part of me likes to do evil things. I love revenge, minha amada. First, I saw you. Then, I watched Lorenzo and his mother eat their flesh and blood. Finally, I am face to face with the man who hurt you, and I know I won’t leave this country with him still alive in it. I am a little giddy, yes.”

“But you do want to go back.”

“To Sweden? Sayeda, of course. Our family is there, our friends.” He cupped her chin and turned her head to look at him. “Does knowing this about me turn you off?”

“No. I just don’t want to lose you. Adrían,” she faced him again, “let’s just run. Let’s go tonight.”

He stroked her cheek. “What are you afraid of?”

“What if Lorenzo finds out what you did?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“They love you now, but what if all it takes is his word for them to turn against you?”

“It could happen.”

“If we leave now?—”

“He won’t be dead,” he finished. “I won’t leave until he’s dead. Plus, I suspect he will show up here any day now once he finds out what I did.”

“I was just riffing. Outside of you telling him, I don’t know how he would find out that you served him his brother.”

“No, not that.”

Her mind returned to earlier that night.

That first stop.

The lift in his step as he’d left the house.

“What did you do?”

“I told his mother,” he said.

“And you think she’ll tell him?”

“She can’t, querida.” He slid his fingers into her mouth, deep until she gagged, and his eyes flickered. “I slit her throat.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-SEVEN

Sleep was a blessing in more ways than one.

Tonight’s blessing was in the form of Sayeda, sprawled on the bed, quietly snoozing while he tossed items into a black backpack. With her asleep, he wouldn’t feel pressured to answer any questions.

As suspected, the little warrior they’d encountered when she first arrived in Sweden took up much less space within her personality than she’d portrayed. Sayeda wasn’t the kind of person who wanted a life consumed by negative feelings and the need for retribution.

Sayeda wanted to cook.

She wanted to spend time with family and friends, run a restaurant and share her recipes with the world. Everything else, every other burden, belonged to him. As much as she could shovel onto his shoulders, he would bear; the mere act of taking them for the purpose of making her life easier made the weight lighter with each load.

Adrían watched through a pair of long-range binoculars as a group of men, guns raised, stormed into the apartment he’d let it “slip” that he was staying in. It wouldn’t take much longer for them to realize that the information they’d been fed was bullshit.

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