⊰ Marcel ⊱ The sound of the gunshot echoes through the empty warehouse, reverberating off the metal walls. The man before me slumps to the ground, a neat hole in the center of his forehead, eyes wide and unseeing. The acrid smell of gunpowder fills my nostrils as I lower my weapon, a sense of grim satisfaction settling in my chest. It’s done. I turn to Rick and Frank, both standing a few feet away, their own guns still trained on the other two men kneeling on the cold concrete floor. They’re beaten and bloody, faces swollen from the hours of interrogation carried out at the hands of my men. “Take care of them,” I command, my voice flat and emotionless. Rick nods, his expression hard as he steps forward, pressing the barrel of his gun against the back of one of the men’s heads. I don’t stay to watch. I’ve seen enough death for one day. Instead, I holster my gun and make my way out of the warehouse, the sound of two mor

The reception is a whirlwind of music and dancing, the grand tent filled to the brim with well-wishers and revelers. As Marcel and I make our way through the crowd, accepting congratulations, I can’t help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer extravagance of it all. Waiters weave through the guests, offering trays of champagne and hor d’oeuvres, and I find myself reaching for a glass, my mind still hazy from the joint Levi and I shared earlier. But before my fingers can close around the stem, Marcel’s hand closes around my wrist, his grip firm. “Careful, baby doll,” he murmurs, his voice low. “Remember, you’re pregnant.” My cheeks flush, realizing my mistake, and quickly snatching my hand back. He’s right. I can’t afford to slip up, not here, not now. With a tight smile, I grab a glass of sparkling cider instead, the sweetness cloying on my tongue. As we make our rounds, I can’t help but feel a sense of pride at the way Marcel commands th

I sit in front of the vanity mirror, my gaze flickering from my reflection on the mirror to Alessandra’s as she carefully removes the delicate pins and flowers from my hair. The room is quiet, save for the occasional clink of hairpins dropping onto the wooden surface. It’s the same luxurious bedroom where Valentina and Alessandra helped me get ready just hours ago. In the quiet of the room, my mind drifts to the scene that unfolded earlier—Catalina’s threat, the way Marcel’s body tensed with an anger that hardly seemed restrained. I know he’s out there now, talking with Guillermo, Santiago, and Levi, planning God knows what. And here I am, waiting, kept in the dark, as usual. “You’ll get used to it, you know,” Alessandra says softly, as if she could read my thoughts. “The secrets, the not knowing. They don’t involve us until they’re desperate and need something from us.” Us…as in the women. Right? I can’t help but scoff, a bitterness lingerin

With the vibrator wand in my hand, I draw a shaky breath as I press the power button, the device vibrating at its lowest setting. With nothing guarding me below, I hesitantly bring my knees apart, spreading my legs just far enough to place the wand between them. My eyes snap up to meet Marcel’s as I reluctantly lower the vibrator to my aching sex, my hand balling the bed sheets into my fist as I press it against my clit. A soft gasp parts my lips, my chest rising sharply. My toes curl, my back arching involuntarily as the wave of pleasure shoots through my core. Through the cloud that quickly hazes my vision and fogs my mind, I watch as Marcel brings his unoccupied hand up to his chin, his index finger brushing his plumb lips. His eyes darken in a lustful beam as his breathing quickly grows uneven. “Marcel…” I moan hopelessly, struggling to keep my eyes open in the midst of pure bliss. I feel myself at the edge of an orgasm, one push away from falling over th

This can’t be real… I sit on the cold bathroom floor, my back pressed against the locked door, and my knees pulled up to my chest. In my hands, I hold the pregnancy test, its two unmistakable lines staring back at me like a cruel joke. Positive. It’s fucking positive. I want to laugh, cry, and scream all at the same time. This can’t be happening… Not now. Not like this. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as I try to calm the storm raging inside me. It could be false, right? Don’t people get false positives all the time? … It’s the nocebo effect. I’m probably manifesting my own symptoms. … No. You’re in denial. I’ve been ignoring the signs for weeks now—my missed period, the constant exhaustion, the way my body feels like a stranger to me. I thought it was all because of the wedding and the stress that came with it, but I’m