5. Chapter Five

Rylan nervously bit his lower lip as he trailed down the corridor behind his scarred guardian. Or was he more like a warden? It wasn't clear if the man was ensuring Rylan did not attempt to escape, or guarding Rylan from Bautista's savage henchmen. Perhaps it was both.

The man had burst into Rylan's room that morning without knocking, which gave Rylan a good idea of his remaining privacy or lack thereof. He'd given Rylan a cool, expressionless once-over. Rylan had stared back, taking in the aura of danger this man exuded. He was somehow more real than the other guards, something stronger and more dangerous about him. Perhaps it was the jagged scar that marred his otherwise handsome face, or the long, black hair he kept pulled into a tail at the base of his skull. Rylan felt his gaze keenly, and blushed, looking down.

The man had introduced himself as Carlos, and then instructed Rylan to follow him. When Rylan had asked where they were going, Carlos had simply shrugged and said nowhere in particular. It had sounded ominous.

Now, as they walked down the corridor, the hairs on the back of Rylan's neck prickled. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he tried to swallow his apprehension, but curiosity proved to be a stronger pull.

Carlos led Rylan through the sunlit hallways, each step echoing with purpose. The compound exuded an almost palpable power. It was a far cry from his father's house. Both were equally opulent, but the West mansion was cold and dignified. This place was like a beautiful snake, ready to constrict at any moment.

"Where are we?" Rylan asked.

"Casa del Rey," Carlos said succinctly.

Rylan wet his lip, eyeing Carlos sidelong. "Is that a town?"

"It's the home of Los Hermanos, and Bautista. "You won't find it on any map."

Well, that didn't mean much to him. "But this is…Mexico?"

"Colombia," Carlos said with a warning edge to his voice. "Be careful what you ask. Too much information can be deadly."

"You mean, ‘if you're too smart, you'll cut yourself'?" Rylan asked.

"No. As in, if you have too much information, I have to slit your throat." Carlos wasn't smiling, but he seemed faintly amused by this. "Here. You should be aware of our security measures." He led Rylan onto a balcony and gestured toward a tower that seemed to be at the corner of two tall, wire fences. "Those guard posts are manned at all hours. Nobody comes in or out without permission from Bautista." His dark eyes turned to Rylan as if assessing his reaction. "It is impossible to escape, and those who attempt to do so...well, there are always the crocodiles."

"Crocodiles?"

Carlos bared his teeth in a nasty grin. "Sí. Maneaters, all of them."

The thought was visceral and sickening, but Rylan knew better than to show fear. He had been thrust into this world and there was no turning back now. He met Carlos's intense gaze, and he managed a slight nod. "I see."

Rylan couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking a tightrope. Yet, despite the fear gnawing at the edges of his mind, he couldn't quell the spark of curiosity that pushed him further into the shadows of Casa del Rey. If he could explore…but he suspected Carlos would never allow it.

Feeling the need to break the oppressive silence that had settled between them, Rylan tried to make conversation with Carlos. "So, what was your life like before you started working for Bautista?" he asked softly, hoping to forge a connection with the man who guarded him.

Carlos simply grunted, as if the inquiry was beneath him.

"Fine," Rylan muttered under his breath, his unease growing. Carlos seemed so dangerous, his body taut, ready to strike. Rylan wondered what secrets were hidden behind those unyielding eyes, what darkness Carlos carried within him. I wonder how many men he has killed?

He grit his teeth, following Carlos through an ornately decorated foyer and out onto the veranda. Below it lay a lush green lawn surrounded by glorious flowerbeds, the vibrant, blooming roses incongruous in this setting. He tried to ignore the compound and its dangers and focus on the beauty surrounding him—the way the sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead, casting dappled shadows on the ground, the soothing sound of water cascading down a nearby stone fountain.

"Such a peaceful place, isn't it?" Carlos remarked, his voice temporarily pulling Rylan from his thoughts.

"It is," Rylan agreed.

"You could not even imagine how many bodies are buried here," Carlos said, as casually as if he were remarking on the weather.

Rylan stiffened. He looked at Carlos, trying to gauge whether or not the man was serious. "So you don't feed them all to the crocodiles?" he asked with false lightness.

Carlos seemed vaguely pleased with the question. "Not all of them," he said.

Rylan chose to take it as a joke. If it turned out to be true later, well, there wasn't anything he could do about it.

As they walked through the lush gardens of Casa del Rey, Rylan tried not to imagine the cold hands of the dead reaching up through the earth to grasp at him. He was wondering if it made more sense to bury the bodies in the garden beds or under the paths when he caught a glimpse of a young girl running between the garden beds. It struck him as incongruous—what could a girl like that be doing here?

The child seemed carefree and happy as she chased after a brightly colored butterfly. Her laughter rang out like a sweet melody, contrasting sharply with the menacing atmosphere that hung over the compound.

A beautiful woman seemed to be overseeing the child. The woman was curvy, with luscious hips and breasts that seemed to defy gravity. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, framing a face that was both gentle and seductive. She looked like she belonged on a magazine cover, an alluring goddess come to life.

The little girl ran up to her and seized her hand, tugging the woman toward the garden beds to show her something. Rylan blinked, shaking his head.

"Why's there a little girl here?" he asked, tearing his gaze away to look at Carlos. It made no sense for her to be here.

"She is Bautista's daughter," Carlos replied simply, his expression unreadable.

"His daughter?" Rylan echoed, surprised. He hadn't expected the fearsome kingpin to have a child. It was hard to reconcile the ruthless, powerful man with the idea of fatherhood. But Carmelita looked...happy. "Then, is that his wife?" he asked hesitantly, glancing at the woman with her.

"Teresa," Carlos said dryly, "is one of the women Bautista keeps around for fucking." He said it as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.

Rylan stared at him in shock. "What?" He felt something icy in his gut. He didn't know what it meant.

The scarred henchman eyed Rylan in a meaningful way. "After you left his study last night, he summoned her to him." Carlos lifted his eyebrows. "Beautiful, isn't she?"

Rylan's face flushed a deep shade of crimson, betraying him. This must be disgust. Or was it…not jealousy, surely? It was difficult to pinpoint the exact emotion that gripped him so tightly as he imagined Bautista fucking Teresa on the desk of the office where he had humiliated Rylan last night. His gut clenched, and he could feel the heat radiating off his cheeks.

The thought of Bautista's strong, muscular body pressing against hers, his dark eyes filled with lust and desire—it was unnerving. Rylan knew he shouldn't let his thoughts linger on this, but the more he tried to suppress them, the stronger the images became.

Why had Bautista summoned her? Simply out of habit? Whim? What if Bautista had wanted her because of something Rylan had done?

What if it had been you?The vision turned. Instead of Teresa on the desk, in his mind it was himself, splayed out under the weight of Bautista's powerful body. The idea made him swallow, even as he blushed at the audacity of his own thoughts.

He shook his head, closing his eyes. I don't want that. I don't. That would be sick. I'd be totally messed up.

Carlos's gruff voice brought him back to reality with a jolt. "West," he said, his dark eyes narrowing as if he could see through Rylan's thoughts. "I advise you to be careful."

Rylan fought to maintain an air of nonchalance, forcing himself to meet Carlos's intimidating gaze. "What are you talking about?"

"Your...nature," Carlos said, choosing his words carefully. "Bautista is not one to tolerate any behavior of that kind. He will despise you for it, and you don't want that."

Rylan's heart twisted at Carlos's warning. What had given him away? Had his thought been so transparent that even the stoic bodyguard had noticed? He tried to brush off the remark, feigning ignorance.

"I don't know what you're implying. I'm just trying to stay on his good side."

"See that you do," Carlos insisted, his voice low and ominous. "You have no idea the things he has killed men for."

Rylan suppressed a flinch at the thought of being on the receiving end of Bautista's wrath. He imagined the kingpin's strong hands around his throat, squeezing the life out of him, while black eyes bore into his soul. Why did the thought of it thrill him as it did?

"Aren't I worth more to him alive?" Rylan replied, his heart fluttering with fear. "If he kills me, my father won't pay any ransom at all. And that's what you're after, isn't it?"

He looked Carlos boldly in the eye. Carlos simply stared back, his expression unreadable. Rylan felt that he had said too much, revealing more than he intended. His chest tightened, the fear of being exposed making it difficult to breathe.

"You had better hope his desire for money outstrips his desire for revenge," Carlos warned, his voice cold and serious. "Don't make the mistake of underestimating him."

With that, Carlos turned away, leading Rylan away from the house. As he followed, Rylan felt keenly that this whole situation was playing with fire. He knew he should heed Carlos's warning, but he felt it was already too late to avoid Bautista's special attention.

As he walked, Rylan forced himself to focus on anything other than Bautista—the sound of birds singing in the trees, the scent of flowers in the air, the warmth of the sun on his pale skin.

But deep down, Rylan knew that his fascination with Bautista was not something he could simply ignore. It was becoming increasingly difficult to deny the strange, dark attraction he felt toward the dangerous kingpin, even as it threatened to consume him whole.

He made a silent promise to himself: he would do everything in his power to keep his distance from Bautista, to avoid being drawn like a moth to Bautista's dangerous flame. If only it were that easy, he thought. If only he could keep from being consumed. If only Bautista would leave him alone.