(Car pov)

  I pressed the tip of my pen against the polished surface of the desk, leaving a faint dent where the pressure lingered too long. I didn't even realize I was doing it at first. I just needed something—anything—to fidget with.

  Normally, this was the moment I'd reach for the snow. Muscle memory. Habit. Relief.

  But I didn't.

  I'd promised Miguel.

  And I don't break my promises.

  "Miguel..." I murmured, the name slipping out with a soft, almost embarrassing sigh. My beautiful boy. Perfect in ways that still caught me off guard.

  There wasn't a single thing about him that needed fixing—not his body, not his softness, not the way he looked at me like I was something more than what the world said I was.

  My grip on the pen tightened.

  "I'll get out of this shit eventually," I said to the empty room, more vow than reassurance. "Then we won't have to worry about any of it."

  I rested my chin in my palm and stared at the door, half-expecting him to walk through it, half-dreading how much I wanted that to happen. The house was quiet, but my head wasn't. Pns, exits, contingencies—it all churned constantly.

  But for once, my thoughts didn't spiral toward power or control.

  They circled him.

  I was pulled out of my thoughts by the quiet click of the door opening.

  "Melia."

  I said her name before she even spoke. One of my top leaders—always composed, always sharp. She stepped inside wearing her vest, posture straight, jaw set. That alone told me this wasn't good news.

  "Boss," she said, no wasted breath, "CJNG is making a move. They're pushing hard to take Nayarit. Full pressure."

  I felt my jaw tighten as she continued.

  "They're throwing everything they have at it. If this keeps up... it's a losing battle for us."

  For a moment, the room felt smaller. Heavier. I pressed my tongue against the inside of my cheek, weighing the cost of every possible response.

  Every decision meant bodies. Every hesitation meant weakness.

  "I don't want to waste any more womanpower," I said finally, my voice steady even though my chest felt tight. I hated that this was the nguage of survival now—numbers, losses, trade-offs.

  I lifted my gaze to her, resolve settling in.

  "Lock down their movement. Make every step forward hurt," I said. Then, firmer: "That's an order."

  Melia didn't argue. She never did. She gave a sharp nod, turned on her heel, and was gone just as quickly as she'd arrived.

  The door closed behind her with a soft click.

  I exhaled slowly, staring at the space she'd left behind—already feeling the weight of what I'd just set in motion.

  "If they take Nayarit..." I murmured to myself, barely louder than a breath, "...shipments from Guadajara will slow to a crawl."

  Just saying it made my temples throb. This business had a way of crawling into my skull, twisting every thought until even silence felt loud.

  I pushed back from the desk and stood, the chair legs scraping softly against the floor. Staying any longer would only make the pressure worse. Orders were given—that was all I could do for now.

  I stepped out of the office and closed the door behind me.

  As I descended toward the second floor, something inside me loosened. Each step down felt lighter than the st, like shedding yers of armor I didn't want to wear anymore. The farther I moved from that room—from maps, screens, decisions—the more my breathing evened out.

  Down here, I wasn't just a boss.

  I was human again.

  I found myself standing before our bedroom door once again, my hand hesitating for just a moment before grasping the cool metal knob and pushing it open.

  Inside, Miguel was sprawled across the bed, his hand wrapped around himself, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Soft moans escaped his lips, low and breathy, filling the quiet room.

  The moment his eyes caught mine, he froze, yanking the sheet over himself, his dark gaze wide with surprise and a flush creeping up his neck.

  "It's okay..." I murmured, my voice soft and reassuring as I approached him.

  The mattress dipped under my weight as I crawled onto the bed, settling behind him. My body pressed against his warm, tense frame as I wrapped my arms around him.

  My fingers trailed up his chest, finding his nipples, and I gave them a firm pinch, feeling him shudder under my touch. My other hand slid lower, brushing against the sheet before slipping beneath it to curl around his hard length, still slick from his own ministrations.

  "Just let go," I whispered into his ear, my breath hot against his skin as I began to stroke him, my grip tight and steady.

  "Fuck, Car... just like that," he groaned, his voice rough with need. His back arched against me, pressing his body harder into mine, his hips twitching with every slow, deliberate movement of my hand.

  I could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his muscles tensed and released under my touch, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as I worked him with a passionate intensity.

  "Ruin your underwear for mommy..." I purred into his ear, my voice a sultry whisper as I leaned close, my breath hot against his skin.

  A sharp, desperate moan escaped his lips, his body trembling under my touch. I teased the sensitive tip of his cock with a slow, deliberate swirl of my finger, tracing the ridge before sliding my hand down his throbbing shaft, stroking him from base to tip with a firm, rhythmic grip.

  "Oh... god~" he whimpered, his voice breaking with need, his hips jerking involuntarily as I worked him. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his cock pulsed in my hand, and then, with a shuddering gasp, he erupted. Thick, hot spurts of cum soaked into his underwear, the fabric darkening as it absorbed his release.

  "That's it... such a good boy," I cooed, my tone dripping with approval as I kept stroking, milking every st drop from him.

  His balls twitched with each spurt, the mess pooling in the fabric, sticky and warm against his skin.

  I finally pulled my hand away, gazing at the glistening sheen of his cum coating my fingers.

  Bringing them to my lips, I licked slowly, savoring the rich, sweet-salty taste of him, letting it linger on my tongue. I cleaned every bit, my eyes locked on his flushed face.

  The poor thing had came so hard, his body couldn't handle it—he'd passed out, exhaustion ciming him.

  Soft, adorable snores slipped from his parted lips as his chest rose and fell steadily, completely spent under my touch.

  "You make me so proud..."