Chapter 24

ELLA

Half an hour later, we were back at the airport. Another one of Andrea’s men had driven us and left us. I had no idea where he was taking me, of course, because why would I get to know details like that.

The air in the terminal was thick and hot. Every breath I took of it filled me with an unpleasant warmth that clung to me and suffocated me.

My stomach was sickened by the musk that lingered in my nose, and when Andrea’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, it lurched.

“Remember, your son is a phone call away before you consider making a scene,” he whispered as we reached the front of the line for the ticket counter. “Don’t think I wouldn’t do it.”

I nodded.

“I think a lot of things about you, Andrea, but not once have I underestimated your intentions,” I replied, trying to ignore the nausea from my stomach and the dizziness in my head.

“You think a lot about me? All good I presume?” he said as we approached the woman at the desk.

He turned to her, put on a friendly smile, and placed our passports and his credit card on the counter and asked for two tickets to Venezuela.

They were speaking in Spanish, and I, unfortunately, was unable to catch the airport name. Venezuela was a huge country. I needed a more exact location if I were ever to manage contacting Leo again.

After he had been given the tickets, Andrea held on to mine so I couldn’t read it from there either.

As we approached security, his phone began to ring.

“Que?” he grumbled.

By the sounds of things and by the way his grip was ever tightening on my wrist, he wasn’t particularly happy with whoever was on the receiving end.

I scanned the airport, not for any particular reason. I wasn’t looking to escape, I wasn’t looking for salvation, I wasn’t looking for a plan B. Well, not until Cato was safe anyway.

I watched a family, two daughters and a son, rush through the wide hallway. The children skipped and laughed as the parents desperately tried to hustle them to wherever they were going.

I then noticed a couple, standing hand in hand, looking like they were having the time of their lives. The woman, about my age, noticed me staring, and I quickly took my gaze to the floor.

A few moments later, Andrea was finished on the phone. He let out frustrated noises as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“Come on.” He growled, gripping my upper arm and dragging me closer to the bag and passport check. Just as we reached the end of the queue, I heard footsteps approach us.

“Excuse me, miss. Are you okay?” a kind voice asked.

I looked up to see the woman from the couple I’d been watching. From her accent, she was clearly American, and her eyes were full of concern and agitation.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Andrea interrupted me.

“She’s fine,” he said bluntly.

“The blood on her nose—” she began.

“I said she’s fine,” Andrea repeated firmly. He then placed his hand on my back and turned me away from them.

“Go to the restroom and clean yourself, then come straight back. I don’t want you drawing any more attention to yourself, understand?” he said quietly in my ear.

I nodded, stepping forward in the direction of the restroom. Before I got far, he grabbed my wrist again and pulled me back in.

“And remember what is at stake if you do anything to piss me off,” he added in a deep, menacing tone.

I gulped and walked quickly to the restroom. It was empty, so I took the opportunity to allow the tears I’d been holding back to fall as I dabbed my nose with a tissue.

When I had just about cleaned away all the blood, the door opened, and the American woman walked in.

“Are you sure you’re okay, baby? Did that man do this to you?” she asked, noticing my tears and rushing up to me.

My eyes flickered to the door. Closed. The walls. Thick. The restroom. Empty.

She placed a hand on my back, and I hesitantly nodded, my heart rate rising. Could I be compromising my son’s safety?

“How can I help? Call security? The police?” she asked.

“No, no, no. Please. You can’t tell anyone. Please don’t tell anyone,” I begged. “Can I use your phone?”

“Of course,” she said, fumbling with the buckle of her handbag and thrusting her phone into my hand.

I quickly dialed Leo’s number as she stepped away from me a little and gave me some privacy.

“Leo, it’s me,” I said as soon as he picked up.

“Ella? Are you okay?” he began.

“I don’t have much time. Cato is okay, and he is on his way home,” I said. “And Andrea is taking me to Venezuela. I don’t know whereabouts or why, but he says he isn’t going to kill me yet if I do everything he tells me to do.”

“‘Yet’? What do you mean by ‘yet’?” Leo asked. “Isn’t going to kill you in the next week, month, year?”

“I don’t know, Leo,” I replied in a sob. “But please don’t come and look for me until Cato is safe. Promise me.”

“Okay, yes. I promise.”

“I have to go. He’ll be wondering where I am,” I said, after a little pause.

“This saying goodbye thing isn’t getting any easier,” he answered.

“I love you,” I told him, which appeared to now be the routine.

“I love you too,” he replied, before I hung up.

I walked back across the restroom to the woman and handed her her phone.

“Did he see you come in?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said, looking worried. “Are you sure I can’t help in any other way?”

“You already have. So very much. Now all you can do is make sure he doesn’t find out that I used your phone and definitely don’t call the police.

“He has connections with them, and it will only put me in more danger,” I replied, striding to the door. “Thank you.”

I then left the restroom and rushed back to where Andrea was waiting in line.

“What took you so long, Blanca? I didn’t make you bleed that much,” he said in a growly tone in my ear.

“I’m sorry, Andrea,” I mumbled. “I had to pee too.”

“Tell me next time,” he replied, taking my hand.

So I had to share my excretion needs with him now too?

“Can I ask where we are going?” I asked.

“I have a house in Venezuela. You don’t need to know where exactly, but it’s big and nice.”

“Is your drug-cartel business not here in Mexico?” I asked.

He stifled a laugh.

“Oh, Blanca. You have no idea,” he said in an amused tone as he ran a finger along my cheek. “I don’t run no pussy Mexico-America business. It’s a worldwide organization. We have people everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” I asked, longing to slap that cocky smirk off his face.

“Everywhere,” he confirmed.

“How did it take you so long to realize that ‘Eleonora De’Meritchi’ was actually Ella Loren then?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

His face dropped, and he let out a short, low, pissed-off breath.

“I had an inkling that she wasn’t who she said she was, but I’ll admit the truth was far greater than I could ever imagine. Leonardo Loren…

“Now his luna wasn’t someone I ever thought I’d be able to kiss,” he said as his hand made its way to my hip, and he placed his lips on my cheek.

He closed his eyes and let out a soft moan as he left the lingering kiss. I could only stand frozen and let him.

“What happens when you find your mate?” I asked quietly.

He took my hand again.

“You’re worth a lot, Blanca. People will pay millions for Alpha Leonardo Loren’s luna,” he said as we got to the front of the queue. “Or perhaps I’ll just dispose of you. But don’t you worry, I’ll think of something.”

I gulped and shuddered internally.

How very reassuring.

Although I guessed in my experience, bad people didn’t tend to be blessed with mates. Luciano being a prime example.

When we had our bags and passports checked, we entered the gate.

Andrea led us to a bench that was coincidentally opposite the couple from earlier.

The woman immediately spotted us and nudged the man.

“There’s that poor girl from earlier,” she whispered to him.

Of course, Andrea and I with our werewolf hearing knew exactly what they said.

Andrea narrowed his eyes and sat up straighter.

“Is there a problem?” he asked assertively with a raised eyebrow.

“Andrea,” I began, placing my hand on his arm.

And I was the one drawing attention?

He turned to me and brought his finger to his lips before glaring back at the couple.

I sat quietly on the edge of my seat and watched as they exchanged nervous looks, unsure of what to say.

“How do you know this woman?” the man asked eventually.

“She is my girlfriend. What is the problem?” Andrea replied quickly.

“She doesn’t look too happy, and we were just a little concerned,” he said, thankfully not mentioning the phone call.

“I’m okay, really,” I reassured. “I just get nervous about flying.”

“The bloody nose?”

“She suffers from nosebleeds. It’s the heat,” Andrea said deeply, as he in turn he stared them both hard in the eyes.

I could tell by the way they shuffled on their seats how uneasy they were feeling. Andrea had that effect on people. And they were only human, they couldn’t even smell the authority leaching out of his every vent.

Andrea refused to look away, relentlessly glaring, until they finally stood up and moved to a different bench on the far side of the gate.

“They think that just because I’m a Mexican man and you’re a white woman that I must be abusing you. Stupid fucking American prejudice,” he grumbled.

“But you did hit me,” I pointed out.

“They don’t know that,” he said. “They are just assuming.”

“Assuming correctly,” I muttered under my breath.

“Dear Juan,” Andrea began, folding his arms over his chest and looking forward with a straight face, “please ensure that Cato doesn’t make it home. Unfortunately, his mother is being a bitch.”

I unfolded my arms, and my face scowl dropped to a quivering lip.

“You better learn to control that mouth of yours. I don’t know about your alpha, but I’m not going to tolerate it. You’ve caused me enough trouble already,” he replied sternly.

I nodded.

“Don’t make me tell you again or I might really have to text Juan,” he threatened just before the boarding announcement came through on the intercom.

We were soon on the plane to Venezuela. Caracas, to be precise.

I sat by the window and savored the view. I wasn’t exactly sure what was going to happen next in my life, so I wanted to ensure I appreciated it as much as I could.

The couple was nowhere to be seen, so I was able to rest assured that Andrea wasn’t going to find out about the phone call.

Although the effects of the pill had worn off, waves of extreme exhaustion swept over me, and I allowed myself to sleep.

The flight dragged on for hours; I was kind of thankful for that. I didn’t know exactly where we were going, but one thing was for sure, I didn’t want to get there.

Unfortunately, we did eventually get there. The plane landed with a shaking thud on the runway, and Andrea was soon tightly holding my upper arm and marching through the airport.

I practically had to run to keep up with his long strides, wondering why on earth he was in such a rush.

After only about half an hour, we were leaving the airport into the thick Venezuelan heat.

I was beginning to feel a little weak from hunger, and the humidity certainly didn’t help. The city was loud too. Andrea dragged me through it at breakneck speed until we reached a black truck parked down an alleyway.

“In,” he ordered, opening the door.

I slowly stepped into the cool, air-conditioned back seat before Andrea slammed the door and walked around to the passenger’s seat.

The driver eyed me through the rearview mirror but didn’t say a word and instead began driving out of the city.

I silently watched the view—the glimmering blue sea, busy street vendors, kids playing. Under other circumstances, I would have thought Caracas would be a wonderful place to visit.

I was sure we could all understand why I couldn’t really appreciate it alongside the devil himself.

After we had left the city and had been driving down a jungly track for some hours, Andrea’s phone began to ring.

The voice of a man, sounding vaguely familiar, came through talking in fast-paced Spanish.

It was the same voice from earlier, the one Andrea had been on the phone with in the Mexican airport, and he looked even more displeased than he did then.

He eventually hung up after growling deep, angry Spanish incantations down the phone line.

“Stop the car,” he ordered, and the driver brought the vehicle to a lurching halt.

Andrea got out and marched round to my door. He opened the door, and I shuffled away from his furious grasp.

“My patience is hanging on by a thread. Don’t make me fucking lose it with you and your fucking alpha.” He growled, grabbing my leg and forcing me out of the car.

“Your fucking alpha,” he repeated, pinning me against the hot, black paint of the car.

He then struck me across the face once again, this time on the cheek.

“I want him dead. I want to slowly squeeze the life out of him after forcing him to watch me make love to his luna.

“And kill every one of his stupid fucking kids with their big blue eyes and yellow fucking hair,” he continued as my eyes watered from the pain.

My stomach lurched at the thought of my eight children even within a hundred-mile radius of Andrea.

“Why are you so angry?” I asked. “What has he done?”

“Let’s see,” Andrea began, clasping my hair. “His men have killed Juan, taken your son, killed five of my men in Mexico, and somehow learned that you are in Venezuela.”

I looked up at Andrea and smiled as a flood of relief swept over me. Cato was safe.

“You’ve messed with his family, what did you expect?” I asked, before he gripped his hands around my neck tightly.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t end you right here and now?” he demanded. “Cut the bother.”

“It’s too late. He’ll come for you whether I’m dead or alive,” I replied, struggling for air. “And I’m worth more to you with a beating heart, right?”

He knew I was right. But although his grip loosened around my neck, his eyes and face hardened.

He struck me again, this time around the eye and with his fist. I whimpered, and my vision blurred for a moment or two.

“Don’t make me think you aren’t worth it,” he hissed, before lifting me up and throwing me back into the car.