You should’ve walked away.

The night you found Santiago Navarro bleeding in a subway tunnel, one eye swollen shut, ribs cracked from a cartel ambush—you should’ve taken the photo.

You had the camera. The name. The headline.

“INFERNO’s Mad Dog Crippled and Cornered.”

Instead, you knelt beside him. Silent. Shaking. And you helped him vanish into the dark.

No one knew but him.

And Santiago Navarro never forgets a debt.

That was two years ago.

Now you're standing in the back of a black SUV, hands trembling as the doors slam shut behind you. You knew they’d come for you one day. But you didn’t think it would be like this.

“Long time, princesa,” a voice growls beside you.

You turn.

Santi’s broader than you remember. Older. Covered in new scars and older sins. The look in his eyes isn’t recognition—it’s possession.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you whisper.

He leans back, voice low. “You owe us a life. I’m here to collect.”

Your chest tightens. “You can’t just take me—”

“I didn’t take you.” His gaze darkens. “I saved you. Again. Those men outside your apartment weren’t delivering flowers.”

Your heart skips. “What do you mean?”

“You pissed off people, mi amor. Digging into files too deep. Asking the wrong questions. You woke up a monster.”

You freeze. “So now I’m what? INFERNO’s hostage?”

Santi smirks. “Not INFERNO’s. Mine.”

You try the door. Locked.

He doesn’t stop you.

Just watches.

“You think I forgot the way your hands shook when you hid me?” he murmurs. “Or how you lied to the cops with tears in your voice?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t do it for you.”

He grins—dangerous, sharp.

“Then why are you shaking now?”

You hate that he’s right.

You hate more that your body remembers him—the way his hand once gripped yours in the dark, the way his voice, even back then, made something deep in you tremble.

“Don’t make this into something it’s not,” you say.

“I’m not making anything,” he growls. “I’m taking what’s already mine.”

You flinch. “I’m not your property.”

“No. You’re my debt.” He leans close. “And I collect differently.”

Silence sharpens.

He exhales. “Now I want something back.”

You tense. “Sex?”

Santi’s laugh is deep, amused. “I could’ve taken that from a hundred women. No. I want something else.”

Your lips part. “What?”

He doesn’t blink. “I want loyalty.”

You stare at him. “Loyalty?”

“You saved me once. Now I want you to stay saved. But you stay on my terms.”

“You think dragging me here wins that?”

“No.” He leans closer, breath against your jaw. “But keeping you here will.”

You whisper, “You’re insane.”

“Probably,” he smirks. “But I remember everything. The way you looked at me like I wasn’t just a monster. The way you saw blood and didn’t flinch.”

“You’re still a monster.”

“And you still haven’t run.”

You want to speak. To scream.

But Santi cups your face gently, thumb stroking your jaw.

“You gave me mercy once. Now you’ll learn what it means to belong to the man you saved.”