Andres scooped Maeve up and carried her to the bed.
As he walked, he said, "If that day ever comes, remember what I'm about to say."
"I'll do whatever it takes to go to hell with you."
Once he loved, it was for life.
In this lifetime, Andres had already chosen Maeve—completely.
That night, they were unexpectedly in sync—bodies and breath and rhythm, as if the fight between them had never existed.
To Andres, the fact that Maeve had opened up at all meant something.
It meant she trusted him.
It meant whatever they were was finally deepening.
And deep inside, he made himself a vow: whoever her enemy was, once he had a name and a weakness, he would personally send them straight to hell.
While the couple melted into each other in the main house—heat and hunger and tangled sheets—Natalia was having the worst night of her life.
With the snakes tearing through her things, her room looked like a disaster zone.
Worse than the shredded bedding and overturned drawers were the bottles of carefully prepared medicine—spilled everywhere, smashed, cracked, crushed into the carpet and across the floor.
It was beyond "messy." It was a ruin.
No wonder Maeve hadn't worried about taking samples.
From the start, Maeve had built this trap and patiently waited for Natalia to step into it.
The guards only dragged the snakes away.
As for the damage the snakes caused?
Natalia could live with it. She'd earned every bit.
On the phone, she complained bitterly to Anya.
"Why didn't you tell me that Maeve Vance and Andres are living together?"
On the other end, Anya felt a cold knot tighten in her chest at the words living together.

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