Rafael stood motionless in the dimly lit bedroom, his fingers curling into fists. The scent of Alina’s perfume still lingered in the air, mingling with the tension that crackled around him.
She had run.
She had chosen to leave him.
His jaw clenched as his gaze fell on the open drawer, where her passport had been. A hollow laugh escaped his lips. She had planned this—calculated it. His Alina, the woman who had once sworn to stand by him, had been slipping through his fingers right under his nose.
And Damian.
That bastard had been waiting for this moment. He had always despised Rafael, always whispered warnings into Alina’s ear. And now, he had turned her against him.
Rafael exhaled slowly, forcing down the storm of emotions raging inside him. This wasn’t just betrayal—it was war.
A sharp knock at the door made him turn.
“Sir.” Mateo, one of his most trusted men, stepped inside. He was tall, built like a soldier, and his expression was unreadable. “She’s gone.”
Rafael smirked, though there was no humor in it. “I know.”
“We intercepted some radio chatter. Damian had a car waiting outside. They must have gone through the east road.”
Of course. The east road was the fastest way out of the city, but also the most dangerous. Damian knew Rafael would come after them—so he had taken the risk.
Good. Let him run.
Rafael turned to the window, staring out at the night sky. The city stretched beyond the estate walls, but there was no place in the world Alina could hide where he wouldn’t find her.
“She thinks she can leave me,” he murmured, more to himself than to Mateo. “That she can just walk away after everything.”
Mateo remained silent. He knew better than to speak when Rafael was like this.
Finally, Rafael turned back to him, his expression cold and sharp. “Mobilize the men. Check every road, every safe house. Contact our informants at the border. I want every exit locked down.”
Mateo nodded. “And when we find her?”
Rafael’s eyes darkened.
“Bring her back to me.”
A pause. Then, softer—more dangerous:
“By any means necessary.”
---
The underground warehouse smelled of oil and gunpowder. The sound of shifting crates and hushed voices filled the air as Rafael walked through the rows of weapons and supplies. His men moved quickly, preparing for what was to come.
A man stood waiting for him at the far end of the room. Dark-haired, scarred, and deadly, Javier Cortez had been Rafael’s second-in-command for years.
“She finally did it, huh?” Javier smirked, arms crossed. “Ran off with her brother like a thief in the night.”
Rafael didn’t respond. He simply grabbed a gun from the table, checked the magazine, and shoved it into his holster.
Javier chuckled. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Love makes people blind.” His eyes gleamed with amusement. “But you, my friend, are not blind anymore.”
Rafael tightened the strap of his bulletproof vest. No. He wasn’t blind anymore.
He had given Alina everything—his trust, his protection, his love. And she had thrown it all away.
If she thought she could escape him, she was wrong.
Because Rafael De Luca didn’t just lose.
He hunted.
And this was only the beginning.
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