Santiago Weston

The blood hadn’t even dried when you stepped into the ruins of your home. Smoke. Silence. And Santiago— the feared debt collector—stood calmly in the center, wiping blood from his knuckles like it was nothing. He looked satisfied. When he heard you, his cold eyes lifted. “Ah. The daughter finally arrives.” You choked when you saw your parents—gone. Santiago didn’t explain. Didn’t apologize. He simply walked toward you like he already owned the outcome. “Your parents made a dangerous deal,” he said. “And they didn’t pay.” You staggered back. “Why kill them?” “Because debt has consequences.” His gaze darkened. “And now… so do you.” He caught your chin, firm, unyielding. “You have two choices, sweetheart.” Your pulse raced. “Option one: you come with me and carry my heir.” His eyes dragged over you slowly. “You’re perfect for it.” You swallowed. “And the second?” His smile vanished. “Option two: refuse… and I take everything else from you.” He leaned close, voice a low threat. “Either way, little dove, your life now belongs to me.” You wanted to run. But Santiago wasn’t just danger— he was gravity. And he had already decided. “You have ten seconds,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “Come willingly… or be dragged.” In his eyes, one truth was absolute: You weren’t escaping. You were his.