Page 61 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

Before she can finish, the sharp, unmistakable sound of a knock echoes through the house. My attention snaps to the noise, and I can feel the atmosphere shift around us. It’s not just any knock. It’s too loud, too deliberate, too insistent. The FBI.

I can see my father’s eyes narrow in recognition of the threat at the gate. His eyes flicker toward me for a split second, assessing, calculating. I know what’s coming. The game is about to change.

I turn to my men stationed around the room, my tone cold and commanding as I speak in rapid Spanish. "Llévenselos, por el túnel. Limpien sus platos."Take them through the tunnels. Clear their plates.

The guards move quickly, without hesitation, their footsteps muffled as they approach Willow and Vincent. The moment I speak, they know what to do. They’ll get Willow out of here, and they’ll make sure she’s safe, hidden away from whatever’s about to go down.

Vincent’s grin falters for just a second, his eyes narrowing as he tries to gauge the situation, but he doesn’t protest. He’s smart enough to know when it’s time to step back. He’s in this world too, but he knows not to challenge me when it counts.

The knock at the gate rings out again, sharper, louder, like a call to action.

My father’s voice breaks through the silence. “Ve,” he says, his tone a low growl. “Go.”

The command is clear, but I don’t budge. I don’t even flinch. Instead, I meet my father’s gaze, steady and unwavering. The room feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting for my next move. This isn’t just about the FBI—it’s about the Castillo name. And I’m not going to let anyone see us bend.

“No,” I reply, my voice cool and defiant. “Castillos stick together.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning. My father watches me for a long, tense moment, the weight of years of unspoken history between us. Then, slowly, the edges of his lips curl upward just slightly, the faintest glimmer of approval in his eyes. He doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans back in his chair, a silent acceptance of my decision.

The guards begin to usher Willow and Vincent away, their hands gentle but firm. I keep my arm draped protectively around Willow as she stands, her eyes wide with confusion anduncertainty, but there’s a spark of something else too. Maybe fear, maybe something deeper.

I smile at her, that devil-may-care grin of mine creeping across my face. “Don’t worry, mi amor,” I murmur softly. “You’re going to love the tunnels.”

She snorts, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she looks at me, that mischievous glint in her eyes. I growl low in my chest, a sound that’s part warning, part desire. She jumps back, startled by the intensity in my gaze, but there’s something there in her—something she’s trying to hold back, to mask. Before I can speak, she leans in, her lips brushing my cheek in a swift, soft kiss.

It’s unexpected. Sweet. Tender.

And it drives me wild.

The shock doesn’t have time to settle. The moment her lips leave my skin, I’m on her, my hand shoots out, gripping her throat just firmly enough to steady her. I pull her into me, crushing her body against mine. My lips crash onto hers, hard, desperate, and every inch of me is consumed by the need to claim her. She’s mine. She belongs to me.

The kiss is wild, messy—a collision of hunger and control. Her breath catches, her hands grabbing at my shoulders as I deepen the kiss, tasting her with a possessiveness that burns through me. I want to feel every ounce of her, want her to know just how far I’m willing to go to keep her.

But then, too quickly, I feel the pull, the hands of my guards, ushering her away. A sharp tug at her waist, Vincent’s voice in the background as he’s already stepping in to help her move.

I pull away from the kiss reluctantly, my breath ragged as I stare down at her. Her lips are red, swollen from our kiss, and her eyes are wide with shock—or maybe something else. But I see it, that flicker of understanding in her gaze. She knows now, just a bit more, the kind of game I’m playing.

The moment passes, and I let her go, my grip loosening on her throat just enough to let her breathe. "Get her out," I command my men, my voice low but laced with urgency. “Now.”

Willow doesn’t fight. She glances at me, her expression unreadable for a moment, and I see that she’s learning the rules—learning what happens when you step into my world.

Seconds later, she’s gone—taken by my guards, hidden away through the tunnels, and out of sight. My heart is still racing, the taste of her kiss lingering on my lips when the door bursts open. I barely have time to react before two men step into the room, their guns drawn and trained on my father and me. The air thickens with tension, the oppressive weight of their presence making everything else feel irrelevant.

One of them steps forward, a cold, unreadable expression on his face. He holds up a piece of paper, the edges crisp and white against the dimly lit room. “Warrant for search, seizure, and arrest,” he says, his voice clipped. “On cartel-related charges.”

The words hit like a hammer to the chest. My father, Tito, doesn’t flinch. But I can see it in his eyes—the flicker of recognition, the knowledge that this moment was coming. The weight of his past, the sins of the Castillo family, finally catching up with him.

The agents move swiftly, no time wasted. One of them grabs my father by the arm, pulling him roughly to his feet as anotherwatches me. There’s no question, no negotiation. It’s happening now.

“Get your hands off him,” I snarl, my voice low and dangerous. But I know it’s pointless. My father doesn’t even need me to intervene. He’s already resigned to the fate unfolding in front of him.

Tito casts me a glance, calm and collected despite the chaos unfolding. “It’s alright, mi hijo,” he says, his voice steady. “This is just business. We’ll see each other again.”

I don’t believe him, but I don’t argue either. There’s no room for emotion now.

The agents begin to lead him out, and I watch with a quiet fury building inside me. Every inch of my world, everything I’ve worked for, is about to change. My father—my king—taken away in cuffs, his empire crumbling with the flick of a wrist.

I stand there, my mind racing, but there’s no time to mourn, no time to waste. The moment the door slams behind them, I turn toward the other members of the cartel in the room—men I’ve known all my life, men who have sworn loyalty to my family. Now, that loyalty will be tested.

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