Page 2 of Echoes and Oaths
Jinx had never needed to seduce or threaten her. He’d just listened.
In the rare, stolen moments when other guardshad been elsewhere and when the walls of her gilded cage had felt suffocating, Lucía had talked. The liquor in her glass had loosened her tongue, but he’d sensed an overwhelming sense of exhaustion that made her confide in him. The woman had grown weary of Montoya’s paranoia, cruelty, and, recently, his lack of obsession withher.
She’d thought Jinx was just another enforcer. Another soldier in Montoya’s war. She’d never realized the truth. And that was what had sealed Montoya’s fate.
One night, as candlelight had flickered against the darkened glass of her half-drunk rum, she’d given Jinx exactly what he’d needed.
"He’ll be at Hacienda Roja tomorrow night," she’d murmured drunkenly, running a finger absently around the rim of her glass. "No security cameras. No armored walls. Just him, his guards, and his paranoia. And if rumors are true … a new selection of women. A new mistress. One to replace me."
For the first time, Montoya would stay in one place long enough to die.
It had been time.
It had been time to shed the life he’d built. To burn the persona of Mateo Rivas. To leave behind the woman he’d never meant to love. The one who’dwrapped herself around his soul so tightly that just the thought of walking away had felt like ripping himself apart.
Eira.
The one thing in Venezuela he’d wished he could keep.
She’d never been part of the mission. A woman who’d found him in the quiet moments between violence and lies. He’d loved her in ways he hadn’t even realized he was capable of. She’d made him dream of something more. A small home in a forgotten Venezuelan town, where the air smelled like fresh rain and burning wood. A life that wasn’t built on bloodshed.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
He’d told himself it was for her. That killing Montoya would keep her safer and make her life easier. That when he walked away, she would grieve but survive.
Maybe that had been a lie. Maybe it had been the truth. He never thought he’d be going back to find out. He knew what his fate was in life. He was a killer. A decision he’d made long ago had set him on this path. He had no right to love a wonderful woman like her. He was filth, and she was purity. He was death, fear, and the worst nightmares imaginable.She was life, happiness, and the dream people like him couldn’t touch or it would shatter into a million pieces. She was unattainable, and even if he wanted a life with her, which God knew he did, his very presence could be her death sentence.
That thought was the grounding force of his decision. One mistake or misplaced word was all it would take to shine a light ontowhohe was andwhathe did. Enemies would flock to see his execution or line up to help pay for the act. Then smugly smile if or when his family was wiped out in the process of taking him out. No, he’d made the only decision he could.
He stared at his shoes as he remembered the day he made his way to Montoya. Jinx had crouched in the undergrowth, his body a shadow amid the tangled jungle. Hacienda Roja had loomed ahead. It was an isolated estate, miles from the nearest city, swallowed by the rainforest. The thick canopy above had muffled the moonlight, casting the world in deep blues and shifting shadows.
Security had been tight but predictable. Jinx had studied the men for years, memorizing their patterns, weaknesses, and habits.
Jinx had waited until Brando let him know his exfiltration was on its way before he moved. Theguard at the western perimeter had turned his head, just for a second. It had been enough.
A flash of steel. The sluicing sound of tendons and cartilage being severed. A gurgled gasp. A body slumping silently into the brush. His training and his work for Guardian had been his only focus.
Knives over bullets. No sounds. No warnings. No mercy.
Jinx had moved through the jungle. He’d moved silently. A breath over the land, a shimmer against the contours of the forest around him. Another guard. Then another. Each man had had a name. Each man had had a life. But that night, they’d been obstacles. They’d fallen where they’d stood, their flowing blood fed the earth.
He’d moved quietly after checking for cameras, alarms, or any electronic monitoring system. There’d been none. Why? Because Montoya had trusted the ones who knew he was there. That was his only mistake. Jinx had moved silently through the grand old home. Women's laughter behind the doors of several rooms had given credence to Lucia’s belief she’d be replaced. Jinx had moved on with Brando guiding him through the hacienda.
Brando had given him directions to the study. That had been where Jinx found him. Montoya hadbeen sitting in his private lounge, the rich scent of whiskey mingling with the slow-burning tobacco from an expensive cigar. An empire of blood and cocaine rested in the ledger on his desk. He hadn’t been celebrating. He’d been too paranoid for that. He’d been counting his money, counting his enemies, and waiting for the next war he needed to survive.
He’d never even seen the Shadow approaching.
Jinx had stepped into the room, a silenced pistol raised.
Montoya had looked up.
And at that single moment, he’d known. Recognition had flickered in his dark eyes. No panic. No pleas. Just the quiet acceptance of a man who’d lived his life knowing it would end like this. Montoya had exhaled, his sigh carrying the weight of finality. His hand had twitched toward the pistol at his side.
Jinx hadn’t hesitated. He’d fired two suppressed shots. Clean. Precise. Absolute. And fucking anticlimactic after almost three years of his life. A double tap. One to the brain, the other to the heart. Less than two seconds of effort after years of work. There had been no feeling of remorse, just a faint sense of relief the mission was over.
His bullets had hit true. Montoya had jerked, hisbreath escaping in a wet, gurgled gasp. He’d collapsed back into his chair, blood blooming across the silk of his shirt and dribbling down his face. His fingers had twitched against the ledger he would never finish balancing.
The drug king had died.
