Page 73 of Hostile King

I glare at him, jittery from nerves and shaking from the decision I have to reach. “I’m not Tomás’ prisoner. It’s up to me what happens next. If I decide to leave, he’llneverfind me. None of you will. I’ll become a ghost—as if we never met.”

“Except we did meet. Whatever you think you can do to disappear—it won’t erase our memories, unless we get amnesia.” His head cocks. “And I don’t think your brother works for the Men in Black who use flashy devices to wipe a person’s short-term memory.”

Of course, he’s right.el Fantasmacan expunge my existence, but he can’t obliterate the passion, the intoxicating desire—the love I have for Tomás.

“I have to speak with my brother. This is my decision to make. No one else's.”

“Carina!” Sal spins on his heels. “They aren’t your friends.” He scolds, sharp and direct. “Get in the chopper. We’re going off grid.”

It’s only then, when my gaze slides behind Shane that I see the helicopter, its blades stationary, the sleek obsidian shell blending into obscure shadows, camouflaged like its owner—el Fantasma.

The vein in my neck goes berserk and my little heart levitates, the expanse of it swelling as the man himself disembarks the waiting helicopter. He wears his signature dark baseball cap to hide a ferocious gaze, head to toe in camo combat attire. His hair scattered jawline makes him barely recognizable as he stalks through the twilight, heading my way.

But I see him.

And I know exactly what his vengeful capabilities are.

I close my eyes for a beat and then draw back my shoulders, embracing my newfound inner light. “Stay here, Shane. Please…don’t wake him up. This is a family matter.”

He grabs my arm as I go to walk away. “I’ll stay put for now. But the second I think you’re making a run for it; I’ll sound the alarm.”

I nod at him and continue walking when he releases me. If I board that chopper, it doesn’t matter how many flares Shane shoots into the sky. Our paths would never cross again.

My pace gathers momentum when I near Sal andel Fantasma, both of them staring at my disheveled state. Tangled strands drape the bold yellow print of an ill-fitting shirt that belongs to a complete stranger and my legs that are uncovered, but confident in their strides.

As soon as we reunite, a dysfunctional trio of raw emotions, I hitch to my tip toes and fling my arms aroundel Fantasma’ssinewy neck. He cradles me in his strong arms and nuzzles the side of my face with his beard.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” I choke out, aware that things are different now. That I’m different.

“I’d never give up your identity.”

He unhands me. “I know. I don’t give a fuck about that right now. I’m here for you. It’s time to come home, Carina.”

He orders me with no hesitation, no room for argument, no questioning if that's what I want to do.

The power of his statement winds me. All it takes is for Sal to drag me into him and secure me tight to his chest, and I almost burst into tears. I love these men. They live inside my heart rent free.

However, the problem is, Tomás owns the heart they reside in.

“The only way to get out of the cartel is to vanish. You know that, right?” Sal cups my cheeks. “They’ll look for you everywhere, but Carina Ferreira won’t exist anymore. It's the only way. They’ll never find you again, Cari. I promise.”

I swallow the truth of my predicament and feel it spread. Not with fear or dread, with sadness. “I can’t go with you, Sal.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose asEl Fantasmalashes out and snares my wrist, whether his intention was to startle me or drive home his authority, it works. I instantly hone in on how his mood has switched from brotherly to volatile in the bat of an eye.

My heart sinks to the dry earth beneath my bare toes.

His hellish gaze snatches mine, pouring the intensity of his tragic past into the words he bites out. “I won’t let them drag you into their shitty fucking world of cocaine and butchery. It won’t happen while Sal and I walk this earth to protect you. Those cartel scumbags won’t steal another member of my family.”El Fantasmatakes a quick breath, his composure slipping, until the hand around my wrist squeezes harder. “We're not leaving here without you, even if that means I have to walk over their corpses on my way to Hell.”

My ribs cinch, restricting my breath. No one crosses this beast of a man and lives to brag about it. He’s the king of his jungle—the world is in the palm of his hand. And Tomás, he’s the king of Colombia—his domination reaches across the globe.

They’re parallel rivals. A match made in Hell, brandishing weapons of red-hot steel and ropes of fire.

Only one of them would come out on top if this becomes a war of hearts.

Then it hits me, the cold hard facts. They’re the same—fiercely loyal and unquestionably ruthless. Psychotic and compassionate, both of them wrapped up in the guise of immortal gods.

I brace my shoulders in preparation for what he has to say next, blinking in the fiendish whites of his eyes. “There were photos of him and a Mexican girl all over the internet, Cari. He was going to marry her. Is that what you want, to be some guy’s whore?”

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