Page 13 of Forbidden Fate

My hand flies up instinctively, brushing against something soft and feathery. Some kind of dart.

Oh God⁠—

The room tilts.

“No—”

I try to turn. Try to move. But my body isn’t listening anymore. My legs give out beneath me. The file slips from my fingers.

And then⁠—

Nothing.

6

CRUZ

“Make sure she’s alive,” Vega told me. “Try not to use force. The Bellamys don’t like it when their women get roughed up.”

Since when does Vega care what the Bellamys think? And does anyone like when their women get roughed up? But I’m not that kind of man, so I wouldn’t do it anyway.

Men? For sure. I’m damned good at it, too. But I draw the line at women and children.

According to Vega, this woman has been popping up on his radar all week. He’s been tracking her Internet use and while the dark web is more difficult to track, this girl obviously didn’t know what she was doing and left herself open to malware. Then, when she was slinking around Adriana’s place in Austin, a security camera caught her.

That was the perfect chance to grab her. She’ll be some leverage, especially since her father is incompetent at the moment.

I’m supposed to take her back to Columbia.

I’m excited about getting home and getting some good food in my body, but I wasn’t planning on bringing a hostage.

Her name is Robin. Robin Bellamy. The second child of Austin and Starling Bellamy. Or maybe the third. She’s a twin and I don’t know which one came first.

A sweet little Robin who left the nest. Who spread her wings too far.

She’s still lying down, out cold from the tranquilizer dart I plunged into her neck.

And a beautiful neck it is. I lean down to pick her up, but then I stop and just stare at her.

Skin that is slightly tan, hair that is long, dark, and thick, like an ebony curtain. I’m not sure what color her eyes are, but I’d bet they’re dark brown. Bittersweet chocolate, much like my own.

All I know is that her lashes are long and thick and lying on her cheeks.

And her cheeks… Just a hint of coral rosiness. Her lips are perfectly formed, just the right amount of fullness.

She’s a fucking angel.

Leave it to Vega to make me the guardian over an angel.

I wouldn’t take a million dollars to rough this angel up.

I quickly pluck the tranquilizer dart out of the back of her neck. It leaves a slight pink welt. A tiny blemish on an otherwise perfect human.

Thank God Vega didn’t ask me to kill her.

No one knows, of course, that I’ve never actually killed. I have my own backstory that I’m happy to tell anyone over a few beers or a good bourbon. I’m a champion embellisher. No one spins a tall tale like I do, and more people in my circle are petrified of me than aren’t.

I’m still staring at her.