Diego O'Mendoza

The men who owed Diego O’Mendoza money usually understood one thing very quickly.

Running only delayed the inevitable.

It never prevented it.

For four days now, a pathetic gambler named Arturo Salinas had been hiding from the debt he owed the wrong people. Arturo had taken money from underground tables he should never have touched—tables that ultimately belonged to Diego.

Diego had given him time.

Time was generosity.

And generosity was something Diego rarely offered twice.

The apartment building looked exactly like the kind of place a desperate man would hide his family in—peeling paint, dim hallway lights, neighbors who minded their own business because they valued staying alive.

Diego exhaled slowly, cigarette smoke drifting into the cool night air.

It was just past nine.

His patience was already thin.

“Knock.”

Javier stepped forward and slammed his fist against the door. The sound echoed through the hallway.

No answer.

Another knock.

Harder this time.

Still nothing.

Diego tilted his head slightly, listening.

Inside, he could hear movement.

Soft.

Careful.

Fearful.

“Hiding like a weasel, I see,” Diego called lazily toward the door, his deep voice carrying through the thin wood. “You know we have no problem breaking it.”

He flicked ash from the end of his cigarette and sighed, glancing up at the dark sky above the stairwell.

“But I almost feel bad,” he added with dry amusement. “Doors are expensive. I wonder how you’ll afford another.”

A beat passed.

Silence.

Diego’s expression flattened.

“Break it.”

The door splintered beneath two heavy kicks. Wood cracked loudly as it gave way, the cheap lock tearing apart.

Diego stepped inside as if entering a café instead of someone’s home.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

Black shirt rolled to his elbows.

The broken pieces of the door creaked under his boots as he walked further in, cigarette still resting in the corner of his mouth.

“Tsk,” he muttered under his breath, glancing around the cramped apartment. “What a ditch.”

His men immediately began moving through the place, opening cabinets, knocking things over, checking rooms.

Anything valuable would be taken.

Payment was payment.

Diego barely paid attention.

Until he saw them.

Two women standing in the living room.

One older—tired eyes, fear written across every line of her face.

The other...

Diego’s brow lifted slightly.

Young.

Too young to belong in a place like this.

Her posture was rigid, her body angled slightly in front of the older woman like a shield.

Interesting.

“Where’s the rat hiding?” Diego asked casually.

The older woman’s fear turned into desperate anger.

“What are you doing?!” she shouted. “Don’t you have any shame? Breaking into someone’s home like this?!”

Diego’s expression didn’t change.

“Hm.”

He rubbed his ear lazily with his pinky as if the yelling bothered him physically.

“Stop shouting, señora.”

He stepped further into the room.

Behind him, drawers slammed and glass shattered as his men continued searching.

Diego stopped in front of the couch.

“Mind if I sit?”

It wasn’t really a question.

He dropped down onto the cushions with a quiet grunt, spreading his legs comfortably, one arm stretching across the backrest.

And that’s when he heard it.

A soft metallic click.

His instincts noticed it before his eyes did.

Knife.

“Interesante,” he murmured to himself.

His gaze shifted slowly toward the girl.

She was gripping a small pocket knife behind her arm, the blade half-hidden as she held onto her mother with the other hand.

Protecting her.

Or protecting herself.

Diego dragged slowly on his cigarette, studying her through the thin veil of smoke.

“You mistake stupidity for bravery, chica,” he said calmly.

Javier appeared in the hallway behind him.

“Se ha ido, jefe. Aquí no hay nada que ver.”

Diego leaned his head back, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

“You’re telling me I came all the way here for nothing?”

Javier shrugged faintly. “No lo diré... pero esa rata escapó.”

Diego scoffed.

“¡Maldita rata!”

For a moment he looked genuinely irritated.

Then something changed.

A slow grin spread across his face.

Because sometimes fate handed him something better than money.

His eyes slid back to the girl.

To the knife still clutched in her hand.

To the defiance burning in her eyes despite the fear.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Diego leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked directly at her.

Then he spoke three simple words.

“We’ll take her.”

The room went silent

The moment I see the empty room, something inside my chest snaps.

For a second, the world goes quiet.

Then all I see is red.

She should be here.

In her room. In my penthouse. Exactly where I left her fifteen minutes ago.

But the balcony door is open.

The curtains sway slowly in the night wind.

And she’s gone.

The realization burns through my veins like gasoline catching fire.

“She escaped.”

The words leave my mouth slowly, dangerously calm.

Around me my men freeze.

They know that tone.

I step further into the room, scanning it once, twice. My jaw tightens as I notice the broken bracelet on the floor near the bed.

The bracelet I forced her to wear.

The one with the microchip.

Fifteen days.

Fifteen damn days of watching her, containing her, learning the way she moved, the way she looked at doors and windows like they were puzzles waiting to be solved.

And tonight—

She solved one.

My fist slams into the wall hard enough to crack plaster.

“Find her.”

The words come out low. Cold. Final.

Then the fury finally breaks through.

“FIND HER!”

My voice echoes through the penthouse as I storm toward the elevator.

Men scatter immediately. Phones come out. Orders fly.

Javier catches up beside me, already speaking into his earpiece.

“Lock down the blocks around the building. No taxis, no buses, nothing leaves without being checked.”

Good.

Very good.

Because she isn’t getting away.

Not from me.

I step into my car moments later and slam the door. The engine roars to life beneath my hands as I pull my phone from my pocket.

The tracking signal glows faintly on the screen.

A small red dot.

Moving.

My lips curl slowly.

“So you didn’t destroy it immediately,” I murmur.

Smart girl.

But not smart enough.

I drive.

Fast.

The city blurs past in streaks of neon and shadow as several black cars follow close behind me. Javier’s voice continues through the comms, coordinating the search like a war operation.

But I barely hear him.

All I can think about is her.

Barefoot.

Running through streets she doesn’t know.

Terrified.

Determined.

The image sends something dark and electric through my chest.

She’s like sand.

The harder you try to hold it...

the faster it slips through your fingers.

But sand always leaves a trail.

Twenty minutes later I reach the signal.

The car stops hard in front of an empty alleyway.

I step out slowly.

My men spread around the area immediately, weapons ready, scanning shadows and rooftops.

But the moment I look down at the ground—

I understand.

The bracelet lies there.

Broken open.

The tiny chip glints under the streetlight.

Javier walks up beside me.

“She isn’t here, capo.”

His voice sounds distant.

Muted.

Because the pulsing in my ears is louder.

For a long moment, I just stare at the shattered bracelet.

Then a low laugh escapes my throat.

Dark.

Almost impressed.

“I knew it,” I murmur.

The gun appears in my hand before anyone notices.

BANG.

The bullet shatters the microchip into dust.

“I knew you’d try eventually,” I continue quietly.

My hand drags slowly down my face as I stare at the empty alley.

She ran.

She planned it.

She removed the tracker.

And now she’s somewhere in this city thinking she’s free.

My mouth curves into a slow, dangerous smile.

“You want to play cat and mouse, chica?”

The words come out softer now.

Almost amused.

“Fine.”

I turn back toward the car.

“Spread out,” I order calmly. “Search every street within a mile.”

Javier nods immediately, already relaying the command.

I slide back into the driver’s seat, the engine rumbling again beneath my hands.

“She couldn’t have gotten far,” I mutter.

Barefoot.

No money.

No allies.

No idea how far my reach actually goes.

The city lights reflect across my windshield as I pull back onto the road.

Somewhere out there, she’s running.

Panicking.

Believing she escaped the cage.

But she doesn’t understand something yet.

The more she runs...

The deeper she buries herself under my skin.

And when I finally find her—

I won’t cage her again.

This time...

I’ll make sure she never wants to leave.

The memory shouldn’t be distracting me right now. But it is.

“I want to cook myself a dessert.”

She hadn’t asked. She had simply said it, standing in the doorway of my office like she owned the place. Arms folded, chin lifted, that stubborn fire in her eyes that always made something dangerous stir in my chest.

I didn’t look up from my laptop. “You ain’t touching a thing in the damn kitchen, osito.”

Silence followed. Heavy. I could practically feel the glare she was burning into the side of my head. Five seconds passed. Ten. She didn’t move.

“I’m not asking.”

That made me look up.

She stood there, unmoving, daring me to deny her again. The audacity of it almost made me laugh. Most people in this city tremble just hearing my name. Yet this girl—my captive, my responsibility, my problem—looked at me like I was simply a man in her way.

I sighed, leaning back slightly in my chair and gestured toward Javier. “Fine. Get her whatever she needs.”

Her expression had shifted immediately then, something between victory and suspicion, like she didn’t quite believe I’d allowed it. That had been hours ago. And now, as Javier drives the car through the quiet streets toward my penthouse, the memory keeps replaying in my mind.

Did she actually make that damn dessert? Did she burn the kitchen down? Or... my lips almost twitch upward. Did she leave some for me?

The thought barely forms before my phone rings.

The sound slices through the car.

—riiiiiing—

I glance down at the screen. Unknown number. Digits I don’t recognize. My eyes narrow slightly as a strange tightness curls in my chest. Instinct. The kind that has kept me alive long enough to build an empire. Javier glances at me through the rearview mirror. I can feel the weight of his eyes because I’m taking longer than usual to answer.

Finally I pick up the call and bring it to my ear. I say nothing.

A beat of silence stretches across the line before a voice speaks.

“Diego O’Mendoza.”

My name rolls slowly from his tongue, like he’s tasting it.

Romano Alberto.

I recognize the voice immediately.

A parasite who runs scraps of territory near the edges of my operations. Someone who’s been testing my patience for months.

I lean back slightly in the seat, still silent.

He chuckles softly. “I wonder if there’s something precious you fear losing.”

For a split second, something flashes through my mind before I can stop it.

Her.

Standing in my kitchen doorway with that stubborn glare. The way she bites back her words when she’s angry. The fire in her eyes when she looks at me like she refuses to break.

My hand tightens around the phone until the casing creaks.

“Don’t you dare touch her.”

Romano’s amusement grows instantly. “Ah... so there is something.”

Javier shifts slightly in the front seat, straightening as he hears the tension in my voice.

“She isn’t a thing,” I correct quietly. My blood begins to boil beneath the calm surface. “If you so much as lay a finger on her—”

Romano laughs under his breath. “Relax, Diego. I’m not an animal.”

I say nothing.

Because we both know that’s a lie.

“What do you want?” I ask finally.

A small pause follows, like he’s savoring the moment.

“You see, I happen to have something that belongs to you. A girl with a very sharp tongue and a very interesting habit of trying to stab people with kitchen knives.”

My jaw tightens.

Images flash in my mind uninvited—her fighting, resisting, refusing to bow even when surrounded by men -not mine- his.

Her. Scared. Confused. Screaming.

I shut my eyes as if stopping myself from further imagining the worst.

“You’ll get her back,” Romano continues lazily. “Without a scratch.”

The next words land like a blade sliding between ribs.

“Hand over the contract you signed with the Salvic Organization.”

For a moment, the car feels suffocatingly quiet.

That contract isn’t just paperwork. It’s the foundation of a future expansion—territory, supply routes, protection deals. Months of negotiation. Billions at stake.

If Romano gets it, he gains power overnight.

If I give it to him, I practically declare war against myself.

“Tell me where she is,” I say slowly.

Romano hums.

“With me.”

My eyes darken.

“Now the real question,” he continues casually, “is where I am.”

I don’t speak.

Because I already know the game he’s playing.

“That,” Romano says with a faint chuckle, “you’ll have to figure out yourself.”

Then his voice drops, losing the playful tone.

“But be quick about it. And don’t come empty handed.”

My hand tightens around the phone again.

“Before the sun rises,” he adds calmly. “Until then...”

A pause.

“Adios, Diego.”

Beep.

The call ends.

The phone slowly lowers from my ear.

For a moment I simply stare ahead at the road stretching into the night.

Javier finally speaks. “Capo?”

I don’t answer immediately.

Because something inside my chest has just shifted.

That contract represents power. Influence. The next step in building my empire.

But the thought of Romano having her—

Touching her.

Hurting her.

Using her.

A slow, dangerous heat spreads through my veins.

My fingers curl into a fist.

“Turn the car around,” I say quietly.

Javier doesn’t question it.

The car swerves sharply at the next intersection.

My gaze fixes on the dark road ahead as the engine roars louder.

Romano thinks he’s clever.

Thinks he’s forcing my hand.

What he doesn’t realize... is that tonight he just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Because now this isn’t about business anymore.

It isn’t about territory.

Or contracts.

Or power.

It’s about her.

And if Romano thinks I won’t burn half this city to the ground to get her back—

A low, humorless chuckle escapes my throat.

He’s about to learn exactly what kind of monster he provoked.

“Call the men,” I tell Javier coldly. “Wake everyone.”

He nods immediately, already reaching for the radio.

My eyes remain fixed on the road ahead.

Romano wants to play a game.

Fine.

But he forgot one thing.

I’m not the prey.

And when the sun rises tomorrow...

Someone in this city will be dead.