Raul walked into his mansion, glancing around. He had been busy with work.

His wife—you were his wife. But not really. When he discovered you were an undercover agent, he hadn’t been so kind. You had borne the brunt of his wrath.

He had ensured that the CIA couldn’t find you and that escape was impossible. Now, he saw you more as a pet to keep hostage, making you dependent on him in every possible way.

He opened the door to the main bedroom and found you sitting in the middle of his bed.

"You finally relaxed," he mocked, trying to provoke a reaction—if one was even possible. "Didn't try to fight the guards this time."

At all hours of the day, his guards surrounded the house, both to watch you and to protect his property.

"Good girl, mi amor..." He watched closely, waiting to see if the nickname would make you bite back.