Page 2 of Valentine's with the Cartel

As a child, I knew that something was fundamentally wrong with our relationship. Anybody would have arrived at that conclusion, to be honest.

There was a hollowness in her eyes when she looked at me, a cold detachment that made my skin crawl. It was as if she resented me for being there, for being a constant reminder of the tragedy that had befallen our family.

But it wasn't my fault. I didn't have anything to do with what happened. Why would she think that way?

As I grew older and began to assert my independence, Aunt Mara's grip on me only tightened. She would fly into rage-filled tantrums when I tried to make decisions about my future, screaming at me until I cowered in fear. It was then that I realized the true extent of her selfishness and manipulation.

She never truly loved me; she just wanted to possess me, to keep me under her thumb for her own twisted purposes. And now, as I sat in the car beside her on the way to meet my unknown husband, I felt a wave of anger wash over me at the realization of just how little my aunt had ever cared about my happiness.

As the car pulled up to the curb, I hesitated for a moment before reaching for the handle. I didn't want to do it. I felt like it was the last step before absolute hell started to happen.

Aunt Mara's hand on my arm stopped me, her grip surprisingly tight.

"Anan, listen to me," she said, locking her eyes with me. "Whatever happens in there, just go along with it. Don't make a scene. It's for the best."

I stared at her, incredulous. Was she serious? How could she say that after everything I'd been through? But then I realized nothing was surprising about her behavior. It was expected, coming from her.

Before I could respond to her order, she was shoving me out of the car and onto the pavement. I stumbled, catching myself on the side of the vehicle as I straightened up and smoothed my shirt. Just like that, the moment when she was showing sympathy for me, it was over.

The air outside was cool against my flushed skin, carrying the distant sound of traffic and the sharp tang of exhaust fumes.I took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that were twisting my stomach into knots.

Aunt Mara emerged from the car behind me, her heels clicking on the pavement as she came to stand beside me. She had her game face on, all poise and confidence as she surveyed the imposing facade of the pack house before us.

I followed her gaze, my heart sinking at the sight of the towering structure. It loomed over us like a monolith, its dark windows seeming to stare down with an almost predatory intensity.

Suddenly, my attention was caught by a figure standing in the distance, partially obscured by the shadows of the building. I squinted, trying to make out his features as he moved into a patch of light.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair cropped close to his head. As he turned slightly, I caught a glimpse of a strong jawline and piercing eyes that seemed to bore into me from across the distance.

My gut clenched with a sudden, visceral reaction. This was him. I knew it with a bone-deep certainty. My unknown groom, the man who would be my husband in mere moments.

Aunt Mara must have sensed my unease, because she stepped closer and gripped my arm again, her nails digging into my flesh.

"Remember what I said, Anan," she hissed under her breath. "Don't do anything stupid. Just play along."

And I couldn't help but think that she had always known who my husband was going to be. Her reaction was telling me exactly that. Otherwise, she shouldn't have known that was really him and should be acting much more casually.

I tore my gaze away from the distant figure and met my aunt's eyes, seeing the steely determination in them. She was really serious about this. There was no backing out now.

With a deep breath, I straightened my spine and nodded once, telling her that, yes, I understood her. Whatever happened next, I would face it head-on. There was no other choice.

With me slightly behind her, we walked up the steps to the heavy wooden doors, our footsteps echoing in the sudden silence. The figure in the shadows watched us approach, his stance relaxed but with an underlying tension that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

As we drew closer, I could see him more clearly now. His eyes were a striking hazel, framed by thick lashes and set beneath a strong brow. There was a scar above his left eyebrow, a thin white line that only added to his dangerous aura.

He was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit that hugged his muscular frame, the material stretching across his broad shoulders before tapering down to his lean waist. Everything about him screamed power and authority, from the set of his jaw to the way he held himself with an almost predatory grace.

I never expected any different from that. I knew he was dangerous, considering that he was in the cartel.

Chapter 2

Rafael

The sun was just starting to set as I paced the length of my study, my mind preoccupied with the day's events. A lot was going to happen today.

The meeting with the pack elders had been tense, as usual, but I had managed to keep things under control for the most part. Not sure if it was going to work the next time, but it was a constant struggle to maintain order and keep everyone in line, and I was used to it by now.

I paused by the window, gazing out at the sprawling estate that stretched before me. The manicured lawns and carefully tended gardens were a stark contrast to the rough and tumble world of the cartel, but I took pride in maintaining this facade of civility. It was important for the pack to see that we could be civilized when we wanted to be, even as we dealt with the more... unsavory aspects of our business. It was important to me, too.

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