RAFAEL
The night air whipped against my face as I pushed the matte-black sports bike harder through Barcelona’s winding streets. No Harley tonight. I needed speed. Something raw and violent to match the storm in my head. The engine roared like a beast unleashed, tires eating up the asphalt as I leaned into every turn. I needed this; the release, the control, the illusion that I could outrun the mess I’d created.
I tapped the helmet’s voice command.
“Siri, call Isabella.”
The line rang twice before she picked up.
“Where are you?” I asked, voice tight.
A pause. Then her quiet reply:
“I’m at my apartment. With Luna.”
Irritation flared hot in my chest. She had defied me again. After everything, after I had told her the villa was where she belonged, she still ran back to that shithole
