
The honeymoon ended at sunrise, the way all fragile things end in Alejandro's world, abruptly, violently, without warning.
Mariana felt the shift the moment their plane touched down in Los Angeles. The villa in Tulum, with its moonlit cenote and tangled sheets and whispered promises, faded into memory as the black SUVs pulled up on the tarmac. Alejandro's hand was still on her thigh, his thumb tracing idle circles against her skin, but his jaw was tight and his eyes were already scanning the horizon. The husband who had made love to her under the stars was retreating behind the mask of El Demonio. She could see it happening, and she knew better than to stop it. The storm was coming. Ortega was still out there. The final battle was looming. And until it was over, the monster would be in control.



















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