No Saints in Nuevas Fuentes

Chapter 3: Blood and Velvet

Enzo’s POV – Yesterday

I visited El Rita. To see her.

Vierra.

A name from a past I’d buried under blood and ash. She was eight the last time I saw her, barefoot, wild, always trailing behind Ramon like a shadow. I doubted she remembered me. Over time, Ramon stopped bringing her to the hacienda. Maybe he didn’t want her to see who he really was.

Ramon taught me everything. How to shoot, how to kill, how to run an empire. Even how to f**k a woman right.

I arrived just past midnight and sat in the glass-enclosed VIP booth across the room. She was already on stage, dancing under the lights.

I swallowed hard, jaw tight.

She slid down the pole, slow and smooth, her thighs parting as her hands ran up her body. She licked her bottom lip, then stuck her tongue out at the crowd.

When her panties hit the floor, the animals roared. She dropped to a crouch, legs wide, grinding low as smoke coiled around her like a second skin.

Then she turned. Bent over. Peeled her last piece of fabric down her thighs. The crowd hushed then erupted like f*****g dogs.

She was bare. Fully bare. Pink, glistening under the spotlight. She spread her legs wider, riding the pole like it was made for her. Showing every bastard in the room what I shouldn’t be seeing—but couldn’t look away from.

My c**k twitched.

She had no idea what she was doing to me.

My heart pounded, heat crawling up my neck. Lust clawed at my control.

She couldn’t know I was watching. She couldn’t know that her father, Ramon Eliazar was a cold-blooded killer. My father’s right hand and he was shot because of who he was. A man who once slit a man's throat with a dull blade just to send a message. And the only person who ever shielded me from my father’s rage.

Now, his daughter was stripping in this club for dollar bills and leering hands. I couldn’t interfere. Not until Ramon woke up.

But then—chaos.

A group of men near the front started shouting. Drunk. Hands reaching, groping. One of them grabbed her thigh. Another tried to lick her hip. She slapped a hand away, but more replaced it.

One bastard yanked her off the stage, grabbing her leg, pulling her close. My ears burned. Rage pounded in my skull.

I walked through the back alley with my men following. We circled around the front to make it seem like I’d just arrived—let her think I wasn’t watching the whole damn time. No suspicion.

The moment I entered, the club froze.

No one dared to breathe when they saw me.

I walked straight to her. She looked terrified. The drunk bastard still had his hand on her arm, another creeping up her thigh.

I exhaled slowly and cracked my fist into his face.

One punch. His nose shattered. He screamed like a child.

I signaled my men. They knew what to do.

I brought Vierra to the VIP room. She sat quietly, still shaken. Her hands trembled as she fixed her clothes, trying to make sense of what just happened.

I leaned back, eyes dragging across her chest. “Take your bra off,” I said.

She hesitated—then did it. Slowly. Her breathing shallow. Pink n*****s exposed under the low light.

My c**k hardened just watching her.

I touched her. Just once. A slow brush of my fingertip against her skin.

She didn’t flinch.

She liked it.

But I stopped. Not here. Not yet. My house would be a better place to ruin her properly.

She passed out not long after—too much alcohol, too much emotion. Her breasts still bare. Her face calm, like the child I once knew.

I stared at her for a long time.

Covered her with my coat.

Then I carried her out to my Porsche, made sure my men surrounded her like a fortress. She was safe. For now.

I returned to the club. Unfinished business waited for me.

They’d already dragged the bastard into one of the side rooms. Tied to a chair, face bloodied, nose bent the wrong way. He sobbed when he saw me.

“Please… Don Enzo… have mercy…”

I walked in slowly. Lit a cigarette. Pulled my gun from my belt.

“Do you love p***y?” I asked calmly.

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me,” I said, voice cold. “Do you love p***y?”

He nodded desperately, trembling. “Yes, Don Enzo. I—I love it—please don’t—”

Bang.

I shot him. Right in the crotch.

He howled like an animal, the scream tearing through the room. Blood gushed down his legs. He thrashed in the chair, but my men held him still.

I blew the smoke from my lips. Looked him in the eye.

“Congratulations,” I said coldly. “You’ve just got yourself a brand-new pussy.”

Then I turned and walked out, leaving his screams behind me like music.

-----

I drove home with Vierra. We arrived at my house and I carried her to my bed. Vierra didn’t stir, her lashes soft against her cheeks, her body warm in my arms. I laid her down gently, not planning to do anything but watch her breathe.

We were two people from two f****d-up worlds, trapped in a moment that shouldn’t exist. I sat beside her, just looking. I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep until I felt her move.

Her hand slid across my chest. Then her thigh, warm and bare, hooked over mine.

I stayed still. Her n****e brushed against my skin.

So I went for it. We shared the most delicious night and she wanted every second of it.

Vierra’s POV – Present Time

“Mr. Salamanca, you’ll have to pay me three grand for last night,” I said, arms crossed. “Just like a regular guy, hmm?”

I was bluffing. Mostly. But I needed that money. Hospital bills didn’t wait, and dancing for scraps while being touched by strangers was slowly killing me.

Enzo leaned back on the velvet couch, his expression unreadable. Calmly crossed one leg over the other.

“Ohhh,” he murmured, tongue resting against his molar like he was chewing on the price. “That is one hell of an expensive night.”

His smirk was slow and sharp.

“How about I offer you a deal instead? What do you say, hmm?”

I raised a brow. Was he serious? Was this his idea of a game?

I stepped closer, arms still crossed. “Tell me, Mr. Salamanca. What kind of deal are we talking about?”

He stood slowly, boxer shorts low on his hips, abs on full display, every movement soaked in quiet power.

He walked toward me, eyes locked on mine. I stepped back, heart pounding, until my hip hit the table behind me.

He leaned forward, hands planting on the table’s edge, arms brushing against my thighs. His body pressed close—too close. I held my breath. His lips hovered just above mine.

“Tell me, Vierra,” he whispered, voice smooth and dangerous, “how much should I pay… to keep you this close?”