Veracruz, Mexico – 1880
"Not the land," Juan said, his voice low as thunder. "The woman."
The storm arrived not from the sea, but from the south. A lone rider, cloaked in black, spurred his stallion through the mud-soaked streets of the coastal town. Men whispered and crossed themselves. Women pulled their children inside. They didn't need to see his face—they knew the horse. They knew the whip-crack of its hooves. They knew the devil had returned. corazon salvaje capitulo 1
"You," he whispered. Not a question. A recognition.
He stopped before the great iron gates of the Hacienda del Cielo. The house where his father's true family lived. The house that held the two women who had sealed his fate. Veracruz, Mexico – 1880 "Not the land," Juan
Juan smiled—a cold, terrible thing. "I am no brother of yours. I came for what was stolen from me."
Andrés raised the pistol. "Leave now, or I will shoot you like the dog you are." Men whispered and crossed themselves
Aimeé froze. Andrés stepped forward, drawing a pistol. "You are not welcome here, brother."
His name was Juan del Diablo. Illegitimate son of the late Marqués de Montemayor. Outcast. Bandit. Rumor said he had been dragged to prison years ago. Rumor lied.