A bomb that has set us free…for now, anyway.
“Where do we go now?” I ask.
“We take everyone to safe places,” Draco answers, his gaze ahead, focused on the fiery flames. I bet he’s thinking the same as I am—about all he is losing with that home. It was his favorite. He had everything there. It’s where he spent most of his time growing up. “And afterward, I’ll be taking you and Mamá to a place I hope you’ll enjoy.”
Patanza slides closer to Mrs. Molina, handing her a spool of thread she dropped. Mrs. Molina takes it, giving her a complacent smile, and Patanza nods once.
For the first time, their shared smile is not cold or filled with indifference and bitterness. It is real. Respectful.
I look at Clark, who has an unlit cigarette pinched between his lips. He smiles at me behind it and then winks. I smile back, mouthing the words “Thank you.” He and I made a pretty good team.
My eyes shift over as mangled curls whip at my face from the growing winds. Draco’s arm tightens around me, his throat clearing.
My eyes travel over until it lands on something that will always stand out to me.
The brown shed.
It still stands, tall and proud, with not a scratch on it. It’s still the same—sturdy, rough, filled with the horrors of my past. Somehow, I know that shed will always be there. That memory will never fade—the memory of how we came to be.
The start of us, though tragic and frightening.
The story that went from hate, to war, and then to the one thing I never thought it would become: love.
El Jefe y La Patrona.
The fucked-up story of how we came to be.
Of how we became one.
Of how we fell in love.
Epilogue
DRACO
14 MONTHS LATER
After bombing the only house I ever loved, the home I became a man in, I sent Patanza and Clark to America to visit his family and fill them in on everything.
I had him deliver a message for me—that Gianna will be staying with me for as long as she sees fit.
I won’t make her stay against her will. If she ever wants to leave, she can. If she thinks, in the future, that my child is better off without me, then I won’t stop her.
It would break my heart—probably kill me—but I won’t stop her, because if it comes to that point, she’s probably right.
My three best guards—Guillermo, Sebastien, and Diego—are with me on this island, watching my back, keeping their eyes peeled and their ears open.
No one in the world knows where we are, besides Patanza and Clark. I bought this island a long time ago—a private island in the waters between Morocco and Portugal. It’s used for tourists looking for a getaway spot, but we keep our distance from them. We’re never bothered.
My mother lives in an upgraded hut on this island, not too far away from Gianna and me. Though I’m not fully out of the business, I am close to being so. I’ve handed most of my assets and territory to Clark and Patanza, who are working hard to keep the Molina-Nicotera cartel up and running.
Patanza always reports back with good news, despite the many hiccups that come along with the job.
Fourteen months have passed, and the world wonders where I am. They wonder how I’ve suddenly disappeared, speculate that perhaps I died in the explosion that took my home.
The best things that have happened to me have happened while away from the chaos. Gianna and I got married when she was six months along. The wedding was very small—probably nothing in comparison to her first one, but it was real. A marriage built on sacrifices and promises. A marriage that was destined to happen. She is mine now, just like she was meant to be.
I know we can’t stay here forever.
In a few months, we’ll have to relocate again. I hate constantly being on the run, but I have no choice. To keep her and my child safe, I must. I will do anything for them. My own life is nothing without them.
An arm wraps around my waist, and I look from the stretched ocean, down at Gianna. Curled up in her arm is a baby with tan skin, chubby cheeks, fingers, and thighs. On top of the baby’s head is a curly bundle of shiny, ebony hair, and the baby’s eyes are the greenest I’ve ever seen. Greener than her mother’s.
My baby girl.
Mi hija.
Mi princesa.
“My girls.” I kiss Gianna on top of the head and then step around to pick Leona up. Leona, named after her grandfather—Lion. “Como esta mi niña!” My princess giggles, a sweet, innocent giggle I love hearing every single day. I curl her up in my arms, rocking her gently, letting her listen to the roar of the ocean. It always soothes her.