Chapter 5: The Chains of the Past
Chapter 5: The Chains of the Past
Evangeline’s fingers trembled around the doorknob, her pulse a thunderous drum in her ears.
She was locked in.
Luca Devereaux had trapped her. Again.
Slowly, she turned back to face him, fury burning in her chest. He stood by the table, perfectly composed, sipping his coffee like he hadn’t just stolen the last shred of her freedom.
“You bastard,” she whispered, her voice shaking with rage.
Luca set his mug down with an infuriating lack of urgency. “You should be thanking me.”
Her hands clenched into fists. “Thanking you?” she echoed. “For what? For turning me into a prisoner?”
Luca’s smirk didn’t fade, but his gaze sharpened—watchful, predatory. “For keeping you safe.”
Evangeline laughed bitterly. “Safe? You think this is about safety? My father is out there, kidnapped by people who could be torturing him as we speak, and you’re—”
“Handling it,” he cut in smoothly.
Something snapped inside her. “No,” she seethed, storming toward him. “You’re playing your little power games. You think if you trap me here, I’ll just—what? Fall in line?”
His smirk widened. “It would make things easier.”
She swung before she could stop herself.
Her palm collided with his cheek, the sharp crack of the slap slicing through the air.
Silence followed.
Luca didn’t flinch.
He didn’t stagger. Didn’t reach up to touch his face.
He just stood there, his jaw tight, his eyes burning with something unreadable.
A storm raged beneath the surface, but he refused to let it break.
Her breathing was ragged, her heart hammering so hard it hurt.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then, Luca’s lips curved into a dark, knowing smirk.
“There she is,” he murmured.
Evangeline’s stomach twisted.
She had played right into his hands.
He wasn’t angry. He was satisfied.
Like he had been waiting for her to fight back.
She took a step back, suddenly needing space, but Luca moved faster.
His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist.
“You’re angry,” he murmured, his voice a dangerous caress. “Good.”
She struggled against his grip, but he tightened it just enough to hold her still—just enough to remind her who had control.
“Let. Me. Go,” she bit out.
Luca leaned in, his breath brushing against her ear. “You think you can hit me and just walk away?”
She glared up at him. “I think I can do a hell of a lot more than that.”
His smirk widened. “I’d love to see you try.”
For a second, the air between them crackled—charged with rage, with heat, with something dangerous that neither of them wanted to name.
Then, just as suddenly, he let her go.
Evangeline staggered back, her wrist tingling from the warmth of his grip.
Luca watched her, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the moment.
“Pack your things,” he said, voice suddenly calm. “We leave in an hour.”
She frowned. “What?”
“You wanted to find your father.” He gave her a lazy shrug. “Then let’s find him.”
Suspicion curled in her gut. “And just like that, you’re letting me go?”
Luca chuckled. “Oh, sweetheart.” He stepped closer, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear—a possessive, taunting gesture.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured. “You’re coming with me.”
Her stomach dropped.
Of course.
This wasn’t freedom.
This was another leash.
The Flight to Hell
One hour later, Evangeline found herself sitting in the back of Luca’s private jet, seething in silence.
She had changed into black jeans and a fitted leather jacket, her hair swept into a high ponytail. If she was going to be dragged back into this world, she would at least look like she belonged.
Across from her, Luca sat completely at ease, sipping a glass of whiskey, his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the edge of a tattoo she had never seen before.
She tore her gaze away before he could catch her staring.
He already had too much power over her.
“So,” she said, forcing a neutral tone, “where exactly are we going?”
Luca leaned back, tapping his fingers against his glass. “Mexico.”
Her stomach tightened.
The cartel.
Of course.
The people who had taken her father weren’t just some street-level criminals—they were tied to the most dangerous cartel in the country.
Luca had warned her once to never get involved with them.
Now, she had no choice.
“Tell me everything,” she demanded. “Who took him? What do they want?”
Luca studied her for a long moment. Then, with a slow sigh, he set his glass down.
“This isn’t about money,” he said. “It’s about revenge.”
Her blood ran cold.
“Revenge?” she echoed.
He nodded. “Three years ago, your father made a deal with the wrong people. When he backed out, they lost millions.” His gaze darkened. “And now, they want blood.”
Evangeline’s hands trembled in her lap.
This wasn’t just a kidnapping.
They weren’t holding her father for ransom.
They were punishing him.
Luca studied her reaction, his smirk gone. “Now do you see why I didn’t just let you run around playing hero?”
She swallowed, looking away. “What’s your plan?”
Luca’s voice was calm, controlled.
“We go in, we negotiate.”
She frowned. “Negotiate?”
His smirk returned, slow and deadly.
“Well,” he mused, “if that doesn’t work, we start a war.”
Midnight Landing
By the time the jet landed in Mexico, the air was thick with humidity, the scent of the ocean mixed with the undercurrent of danger.
The moment Evangeline stepped off the jet, she felt it.
They were being watched.
Luca, as always, was completely unfazed.
He guided her toward a black SUV where a broad-shouldered man in a tailored suit waited.
The man gave Luca a curt nod. “Welcome back, Mr. Devereaux.”
Luca’s smirk never faltered. “I’d say it’s good to be back.” His hand ghosted over Evangeline’s lower back—a brief, possessive touch that sent a shiver through her.
Not out of fear.
Out of something far more dangerous.
She ignored it.
The drive to the cartel’s compound was long, silent.
And when they finally arrived—greeted by armed guards and cold, unforgiving eyes—Evangeline realized one terrifying truth.
She was in way over her head.