“Shouldn’t have.”
“Don’t act like you didn’t want me back. I know you did. I can see it in your eyes.”
“You spend less than two months with me and think you know everything about me.” A dry laugh escapes me. “You are sadly mistaken. Now shut up before I send you back to the house.”
Through the corner of my eye, I spot her fist clenching in her lap, edging to the strap on her leg where her knife is.
Her hand stops, and she groans, annoyed.
She knows better than to try me right now, but I’m a little amused that she considered it, however briefly.
We board the already running jet with haste, buckle in, and take flight in less than ten minutes. Gianna doesn’t bother sitting next to me. Instead, she sits beside her cousin, and Patanza is seated across from him, keeping watch like the hawk she is.
After landing on my private airstrip, we load in another van and drive through Lantía, the city I have admired since I was a niño.
I grew up here during my teenage years. Back when my life was easy. I was always on the beach, always playing fútbol, living a careless life. But then my father got deeper into the business. Life became even more dangerous. We bounced from house to house like a game of ping-pong.
The threats started coming left and right. My freedom, as I knew it, was over. Just like that.
As we pass by one of the elementary schools, I remember the teacher my father had to take and beat down because he would constantly grip the back of my neck and leave bruises. He pulled me from public school and had me homeschooled that same month. To this day, I’m not sure if that was a wise choice for him.
My thoughts were always closeted. I had no one my age to talk to, besides Thiago, and I only saw him once a week.
Fuck.
Thiago.
Mi primo. My throat thickens, remembering his eyes that day. The blood. His words. He was a fool. He thought I didn’t need him. He was wrong. We had our differences—I have differences with everyone—but he was family. The only family I had left, besides my mother.
I rub the back of my neck, looking out the window, at the children playing outside, some of their parents watching from the shade of their porches.
It doesn’t take long to reach the path leading to my favorite mansion. If I thought the rides were quiet before, it’s even quieter now. I don’t hear a single breath, just the crunch and pops of the rocks beneath the tires.
The palm trees clear up and the home appears.
My home.
The creamy stucco was always my favorite, the roof a dark chocolate, offsetting the overall appearance. There are no lights on. The house looks completely vacant and dark inside. Every window is pitch black, the curtains drawn.
Guillermo pulls up to the front of the house and parks.
“No cars,” Clark says, peering around. “Sure about that lead, man? Or are we wasting our time?”
“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” Guillermo grumbles.
“Unlock the doors,” I order. The doors unlock and I ease out, the bottoms of my boots crunching on gray and ivory pebbles. My eyes shift up to the open gate ahead. My men know never to leave my gates open. Someone has trespassed and may very well still be around. “Keep quiet. Don’t shut the doors.”
Gianna steps out of the car, leaving the door open for Clark to follow after her. Patanza comes out behind me, strapping her AK-47 around her. She looks up at me and then over at Gianna, who side-eyes me.
“Someone was here,” Patanza murmurs, looking at the open gate. We get to the gate, and I look down when pebbles transition to sand. There are thin, straight tracks of a wheelchair, along with footsteps.
A noise sounds from a distance, a familiar one. The creak of my backyard bridge. Loud and rickety. Mamá has bugged me to get it fixed for years, but I kept it that way so no one could sneak to or from my house without me seeing them.
As a child, it would wake me up at night, and sometimes I’d see my father walking to the shed, going to handle business.
Gianna rushes ahead as soon as she looks up from the tracks and hears it.
“Gianna!” I snap in a low voice, but she ignores me, still running.
30
DRACO
“Shit!” Clark hisses. He takes off after her, and Patanza runs after them. I rush ahead, snatching the gun from my holster and hustling across the thick sand.
All I hear is the roar from the ocean and the howl of the wind as it whips against me. I see Gianna with one of her pistols in hand now, running through the sand, up the hill that leads past the shed.