Alejandro's POV:
The ride back to the penthouse was silent, save for the hum of the engine beneath us. My team knew better than to interrupt my thoughts, especially after a night like this. But it wasn't the destroyed shipment or the look on Viktor's men's faces as they realized what had happened that occupied my mind. It was her. The woman at the docks. She was a wildcard, and I couldn't afford any unknowns, especially not now.
I glanced at Carlos, who was sitting beside me, his gaze fixed straight ahead. "I want everything on her," I said, my voice cutting through the silence. "Find out who that woman is, where she came from, and why the hell she's with Viktor. I want to know everything before morning."
Carlos nodded, already pulling out his phone to make the necessary calls. He was efficient, reliable, and most importantly, discreet. If there was information to be found, Carlos would get it.
The car pulled up to the underground garage of the penthouse, a hidden gem in the heart of the city. To the outside world, it was just another luxury building, but the top floor—my floor—was entirely off the grid. Accessible only through a private elevator, it was my sanctuary, my fortress. No one came here unless I allowed it.
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped into the dimly lit space, the city skyline stretching out before me through floor-to-ceiling windows. The lights of Mexico twinkled like a million stars, but all I felt was a growing sense of unease.
I headed straight for my private chambers, a place even my men didn't venture into without my express permission. It was where I kept the things that mattered most, the reminders of a life I once had and the reasons I was on this path of destruction.
Inside, the room was a stark contrast to the rest of the penthouse. The décor was simple, almost spartan, with only a few personal items scattered around. I walked to the wooden dresser, my fingers brushing over the worn surface, and opened the small drawer at the top. Inside, nestled among the velvet lining, was a locket. That's what it was called—a locket.
I lifted it gently, the cool metal warning in my hand as I flicked it open. Inside was a picture of my mother, Maria, her face frozen in time, her smile a bittersweet reminder of everything I'd lost. She had been beautiful, strong, and kind—the exact opposite of the world I now found myself in.
As I stared at the photo, a wave of emotion crashed over me. I had spent years building up walls, fortifying myself against the pain, but here, in this room, I couldn't hide from it. The memories flooded back—her laugh, her touch, the way she'd read to me at night. And then, the image of her broken body, lifeless on the cold floor, after Hector took her away from me.
I clenched the locket so tightly that it dug into my palm, the pain grounding me in the present. I had sworn to make Hector pay, to destroy everything he loved, just as he had done to me. Don Estabor, his family and Viktor—was just the beginning. But for a moment, in the solitude of my room, I allowed myself to feel the grief, the loss.
My breath hitched as the tears came, unbidden and unwelcome, but I didn't fight them. Not here. Not in this place where I could be Alejandro, the boy who lost his mother, instead of the man who would burn the world to the ground to avenge her.
Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours—I couldn't tell. But eventually, I forced myself to pull back from the abyss. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. I had work to do, and I couldn't afford to be distracted by the past, no matter how much it haunted me.
A knock on the door broke the silence, and I quickly stowed the locket back in the drawer, my mask slipping back into place. "Come in," I called, my voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil I'd just endured.
Carlos entered, a file in hand. "Boss, I've got the information you asked for," he said, his tone all business. He handed me the file, and I took it, opening it to reveal a photo of the woman clipped to the top of a stack of documents.
"She's not just anyone," Carlos continued, watching me closely. "Isabella Volkov, age twenty-seven. She's a Russian who moved here along with her family, not much is known about her family. She's been with Viktor for about eight years now, she began operations for him three years ago. From what we can gather, she's his right hand, handling all of his most sensitive operations. But there's something else…"
I looked up from the file, my interest piqued. "What?"
"She's also rumored to be Viktor's woman," Carlos said carefully. "But there's no confirmation on that. It's all hearsay, but if it's true, it could complicate things."
I stared at the photo of Isabella, her eyes cold and unyielding even in the still image. Viktor's woman? It didn't add up. She was too strong, too independent to be just another of Viktor's playthings. There had to be more to the story—there always was.
But the why didn't matter, not really. What mattered was that she was in my way, and if she chose to side with Viktor, then she would fall with him. Still, a small part of me—a part I wasn't proud of—wondered what it would take to turn her. To bring her over to my side. She was a valuable asset, and in the game, assets were everything.
"Keep digging," I said, closing the file and handing it back to Carlos. "Find out how she ended up with Viktor and what her real motivations are. I want to know what makes her tick before I decide what to do with her."
Carlos nodded and left the room, leaving me alone once more. I walked over to the bar and poured myself another drink, the burn of the whiskey doing little to numb the storm inside me.
I looked out at the city again, the locket's weight in my pocket a constant reminder of why I was doing this. Hector, Viktor and the rest of the mafia gang responsible for my pain would pay for what they'd done, and if Isabella Volkov was foolish enough to stand in my way, she would learn just how far I was willing to go.
But as I downed the last of my drink, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was on the edge of something bigger than I'd anticipated. Isabella wasn't just another enemy—she was a player in the game, one with her own agenda. And I needed to figure out what that was before it was too late.
The night stretched out before me, filled with possibilities and dangers alike. I welcomed it all, knowing that whatever came next, I was ready. I had to be.
The next move was mine, and it would be a decisive one. But I had a feeling that when I finally faced Isabella again, it wouldn't be as simple as I'd like. The game was only at its first moment, and the stakes were higher than ever. I could feel it in my bones—whatever was coming, it would change everything.
And as I stared at the city lights, the cliffhanger of uncertainty loomed large, casting a shadow over the path I had chosen.