Sinful Desires

Survival

Victor woke up in a secluded villa, his body battered and weak from the near-fatal betrayal he endured. The room was dimly lit, the soft hum of distant waves providing a stark contrast to the turmoil within him. As he attempted to sit up, a sharp pain coursed through his torso, reminding him of the bullet wounds that nearly claimed his life.

"f**k," he hissed, his hand instinctively going to his bandaged chest. Even breathing hurt.

The door creaked open, revealing Jordan Valdez. The man's face showed a mixture of relief and concern as he approached the bed.

"He f*****g lives," Jordan remarked, pulling a chair beside Victor's bed. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, evidence of sleepless nights spent watching over his boss.

Victor's throat felt like sandpaper. "Where are we?"

"Italy." Jordan replied, as he picked a glass cup from a table.

"How long?" Victor rasped as he struggled to sit up.

"Three weeks," Jordan replied, pouring a glass of water. "The doctors weren't sure you'd make it the first few days."

Victor took the glass with shaking hands, the simple movement exhausting him. As he drank, memories flooded back—the ambush, the gunfire, Selena's face as she walked away with Xavier.

"Why?" Victor asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jordan looked confused. "Why what, boss?"

Victor's eyes, once sharp and commanding, now burned with a mix of pain and confusion. "Why did you risk everything for me? You could have joined them. Saved yourself, Why did you answer my call Jordan?"

Jordan's face hardened. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

A slight smile crossed Jordan's face. "My twenty-seventh birthday, three years ago. I was just another soldier in your ranks then."

Victor frowned, struggling to recall.

"You took me to that club in the Marina District," Jordan continued. "Said a man needed to celebrate properly."

Recognition dawned in Victor's eyes, but before he could speak, Jordan chuckled.

"It was the night you took my virginity boss."

Victor's eyes widened in horror.

Seeing his boss's expression, Jordan quickly clarified, "No, no, no, Gods no!—I mean, you paid for the night that I finally lost it. Best night of my life. Three beautiful women, all sisters, the finest champagne, and a boss who gave a damn about his men."

Victor relaxed slightly. "That's why you saved me? For some hookers?"

Jordan leaned forward, his voice low and serious. "I've served a lot of men in this business, Victor. Most would step over their dying mother for an extra dollar. But you? You cared. Anyone who treats their people like that deserves loyalty—real loyalty."

Jordan began to recount the harrowing events that led to their escape: the ambush orchestrated by Xavier, the betrayal by Selena, and the m******e of their loyalists. His voice tightened as he described smuggling Victor out of the country.

"We had ten minutes to get you out before Xavier's men came back to confirm you were dead," Jordan explained. "Rodriguez helped me get you to the service elevator."

At the mention of Rodriguez, Victor's eyes sharpened. "Where is he?"

Jordan's face fell, his gaze dropping to the floor. "He didn't make it, boss. Bled out in the car. His last words were, 'Make the bastards pay.'"

Victor closed his eyes, his jaw clenching. Another name added to the list of debts that would be collected in blood.

"We used your emergency protocols," Jordan continued. "The offshore accounts, the false identities. We were lucky to have Gerald's connections in Italy."

Victor's eyes snapped open. "Gerald? He's here?"

Jordan nodded. "He's been running interference, making sure Xavier thinks we're both dead. He's good, Victor. Very good."

"We were lucky," Jordan concluded, his expression grave as he ran a hand through his hair. "But luck won't protect us for long. We need to rebuild, gather our strength, and plan our next move."

Victor struggled to sit up fully, grimacing through the pain. "And Xavier? Selena?"

Jordan's eyes hardened. "Xavier's taken over everything. Your territories, your businesses, even moved into your penthouse. As for Selena..." He hesitated.

"Tell me," Victor demanded.

"She's by his side. Playing the grieving lover in public, but word is she's running half your old operations now. They're a team, boss. And they think they've won."

Left alone with his thoughts, Victor stood by the window, looking out at the Mediterranean Sea. The setting sun painted the water in shades of blood and fire, a fitting backdrop for the storm brewing within him.

The faces of his fallen comrades flashed before him—Garcia, who had a daughter starting college; Martinez, whose wedding Victor had attended just last year; Rodriguez, who had saved his life at the cost of his own. And beneath it all, the sting of Selena's deceit cut deep, a wound more painful than any bullet.

"Why did you do it?" he whispered to her ghost. "What did he offer you that I couldn't give?"