37
Rafael
Isa’s warmth in my arms felt like perfection, like contentment and something I hadn’t known I was missing until I found her. She was my home, the one who mattered to me most.
“The baby?” I asked.
“We’re fine,” she mumbled against my chest.
“Have you seen a doctor?” I asked, staring at the almost empty rendezvous point. Most of those we’d brought along with us who had medical training had already evacuated, tending to those with physical injuries.
“They went back to Dimitry’s home,” Joaquin said, opening the door to the last remaining SUV. I stood, ignoring the pain that I suspected was a broken ankle in favor of standing with Isa in my arms. She put her feet to the ground, determined to walk alongside me as we made our way to the vehicle. “Where’s Gabriel?”
“Guarding Pavel. His legs were crushed in the explosion, so he’s probably not going anywhere. Aaron has Dima,” I explained. Joaquin raised a brow, asking if I had Isa without voicing the words. Nodding, I gestured him on and he retreated back into the woods to go for his brother.
They knew better than anyone that I wanted the Kuznetsovs alive, so that I could kill them slowly, but only one of their deaths would rest on my shoulders in the end.
Dima belonged to my vicious little nightmare.
Isa fussed over me as we climbed into the backseat of the vehicle, making our way to Dimitry’s estate that wasn’t far from Pavel’s. It served as the perfect jumping off point to find where the women from the basement belonged.
“What happened?” she asked, grabbing me around the calf and shifting me until my legs were draped over her lap. Peeling up the pants carefully, she stared down at the burned flesh in horror. Her fingers hovered over it, trembling along with her bottom lip.
“Pavel blew his escape tunnel. My leg was caught in the rubble,” I said, explaining the limp.
“The burns,” she said, the well of tears making her beautiful eyes shine an even brighter hue of green. “Did this happen when you came for me?”
“I’ll be fine,mi reina,” I promised, looking down at the bright red, patchy skin where the flames had burned my legs briefly when I walked through them to get to her. “Better me than you.”
I touched my fingers to the brand on her arm, not regretting the mark for a single moment. Hers echoed the contact, seeking out her name on my skin and I knew in that moment that she understood what I’d sought to do.
I’d made her mine, but not just as property. I’d marked myself alongside her to make her my equal in every way, the queen to my king.
La reina y su diablo.
Any woman could wear a brand on her skin, that was put there by force, but only Isa could see the beauty in my mark. Only she could understand what it meant to be mine.
Only she could possess the devil himself.
The vehicle pulled into Dimitry’s driveway, the Russian himself standing on the steps in front of his home that was straight out of a gothic fairytale. His wife, Montana, stood among the women at the foot of the steps, guiding them where they needed to go.
“Rafael,” he said as Isa threw open the door and I slid out of the seat. She fussed, trying to help me stand. I didn’t need it, but the care she showed in helping me to my feet warmed something inside me that I’d feared might die forever.
If I lost her, there would be nothing worth living for. Nothing worth saving left within me.
I would burn the world down to get my vengeance for what it had taken from me.
Two of the medics in his employ moved to take me from Isa, muttering as they glanced at the burns on my legs where she’d left my pants rolled up. She trailed behind, talking in a rush with the female doctor who peppered her with questions. “Have you had any bleeding or cramping?” she asked, jotting notes down on the clipboard she held in her hands.
“Nothing like that,” Isa said after only a moment’s consideration.
“Where were you hurt?”
Isa detailed all the injuries she’d suffered since being taken from Stockholm, and, knowing that I would consider them minor had they happened to anyone else, I needed the exam and medical attention to be over and done with.
I had a Russian to kill, as did my wife.
“What’s he doing here?” Isa asked suddenly, coming to a stop in front of Dimitry. She glared at him, glancing toward me in concern when I wasn’t bothered by his presence.