Page 144 of Heart of a Villain

“Who…who is Sayeda?”

“The name Juliana is an alias.” He stood. “You see, this is all your fault. You were so arrogant that you let her go, thinking that there was no way, in hell, you wouldn’t be able to get her back.”

“Chamas…” Lorenzo coughed. “Chamas will hunt you down and kill you for this.”

“Why would they? The last time they saw me, I was dying of nightshade poisoning. A poisoning that I took for Chefe. A poisoning that extended to his daughter. No, my friend. They will build me a monument.”

“Fuck off, puto.”

“Retire that fucking insult or get creative,” he hissed. “Do you know how long I sat here thinking about what to do to you? All the ways I wanted to make you suffer? Then, it dawned on me. I should drug you. Put you in a position where you’re forced to face your helplessness. The difference is, this position will kill you.”

His phone vibrated at his hip.

He looked down, expecting to see Sayeda calling as if he was working “at the office,” but his blood curdled when he noticed the call was from Joel.

He left the abandoned shack and stepped outside.

“Seda went over a bridge,” Joel said the second the phone touched his ear. “We’re on the tarmac. Where are you?”

“On my way now to…” He paused, midstep. “Wait, Sayeda, what?”

Lorenzo’s doleful cries sounded around him, muffled by the cabin walls, but he was already making his way back to the car. Lorenzo wouldn’t be going anywhere, and the stress position alone would render his fate.

“Why was she in a cab? I told her I would be right back. It’s only…” He glanced at his watch. “Fuck.”

“Find her, or I will kill you.”

“If I don’t, I will beg you to. Let me know when you arrive in Brazil.”

“That’s what I said,” Joel pointed out. “We’re on the tarmac. Something didn’t feel right. So, we’re already here.”

CHAPTER

FORTY

Sayeda trudged through the rainforest, one hundred percent sure she would be dead shortly and no one would be able to find her. At the very least, she’d walked in a straight line, so theoretically, she would be able to make her way back if necessary.

Theoretically.

Seconds before her legs gave out, she heard what sounded like rushing water. Adrenaline shot a dose of energy into her muscle fibers, and she followed the sound until she arrived at what appeared to be a cabin.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre killer could have been inside. Still, she dashed toward it and peered through a window. It looked largely abandoned, but it had four walls and a roof, and she was exhausted several leagues beneath the sea.

She tried the back door.

Like a horror movie, it squeaked as it opened, and like a group of college friends who swore they didn’t believe in ghosts, she entered the haunted structure. Tonight, if a ghost messed with her, she would be the first person in history to knock one the fuck out.

At the very least, she didn’t call out.

Instead, she examined what appeared to be a front room. The word “roof” had been a suggestion as one-half of the ceiling was gone, replaced by hanging ivy.

Or moss.

Hell, if she knew.

If it wasn’t something she used to cook, like oregano or thyme, she didn’t have a clue what it was called.

There were wooden structures, one of which looked like a chair. A quick examination revealed four legs that appeared to be sturdy enough to support her weight, but looking at the chair made the backs of her thighs itch.

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