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I look up and catch Isadora’s gaze, expecting to see an expression of horror or denial. Instead, I see determination. She nods. “Okay.”
Sighing, I rub my hands over my face before I finally tell her about Sara. “I was deployed when Sara met Tony. Atfirst, when the letters stopped coming, I thought she was happy. Thought she was too busy to write. That she was off with the man she loved exploring the world, living the life she always dreamed of.”
I take another long drink of water then drop into a seat at the table.
Isadora stays on the bed, a pillow propped behind her, and the blanket pulled up over her bent knees. “Tony? Was he one of my father’s men?”
My eyes follow a bead of condensation down the side of the bottle. “Nah. Just some lowlife drug addict who got in too deep. He started using her to move drugs, got her addicted, then started pimpin’ her out.”
When Isadora remains silent, I continue, “I called her the second I landed. She didn’t answer so I left a message.” I shrug. “It was late and there was no point chasing her, thought I’d just wait until mornin’, you know?”
Isadora nods and I continue the story, telling her how Priest and I drove out to Tony’s house, found out about the hooking, and drugs.
Her eyes grow wider as each sordid detail is revealed, and when tears pool in her eyes, I move over to the bed and take her hand in mine.
“That’s when I found out she’d been kidnapped. Everything led back to the cartel. Back to your father.”
“Oh my god,” Isadora says, eyes closed and a pained expression on her face. “I’m sorry.” She opens her eyes and squeezes my hands in her smaller ones before her fingertips trace over the letters that spell out Sara’s name.
“This doesn’t change anything.” I gesture between us, “I won’t spare him, not for you, not for anyone.” A tiny, and I mean fucking miniscule part of me internally flinches at the bite in mytone, but I’m not sugarcoating shit. Manuel Santos will die by my hand.
An unreadable expression crosses her face before she straightens her shoulders. “Do you think I love my father, Zain? You have no idea what I’ve endured at his hands since I was a little girl.” Her brows draw together and she shoves the blanket off her legs to get off the bed. Arms crossed, she paces the small hotel room. “I was barely in my teens when he started letting his men abuse me.” She cuts a hand through the air. “My father!” she spits. “My father let them push me around, grope me. And later…” her lip quivers before she purses them, fury blazing in her deep, brown eyes. “He let them rape me. And no one did a thing. I was a prisoner, a slave in my own home. Made to be broken, made to bend to the will of any man my father decided needed his filthy dick wet.”
She turns to face me head on, her face red with rage. “I will stand by your side and watch as you slit his throat. Put a gun to his head, tear him limb from fucking limb for all I care. I’ll watch him take his last breath and I will light the match anddance while he fucking burns.”
I adjust myself, realizing that this growing anger that burns inside Isadora, turns me the fuck on.
“What about your brother?” I ask.
Her anger is replaced with a blank expression, and she turns her back on me. Silence lingers for a long minute.
“What about Diego, Isa, will you watch me kill him?” When she doesn’t reply, I get up and pace toward the window. I check outside and notice the vehicle that’s been hanging around, is gone. I make a mental note to text Liam and thank him.
“He killed Raul… for me.” Her voice is so soft I barely hear her.
“Raul?” I question, recalling the name from the scene after the auction when Santos forced me to fuck Isadora in front of him and his men.
“When I escaped… with the other girl. He—” A sob breaks free from her chest and without thinking, I walk over and pull her into my arms. Through broken sobs she tells me how Raul held her down and sodomized her, and how Diego shot and killed him. I hold her until her hiccupping cries turn to soft sniffles and then I cup her cheek and lift her head.
I don’t lie and tell her that I’ll spare her brother’s life. I also don’t tell her that I think Manuel may do it before I get the chance.
Manuel Santos did not get to where he is by being stupid, and something tells me that soon enough, he’s going to figure out who killed one of his top men and Diego will have to answer for his sins.
“You think Diego will help us?” The last thing I want to do is trust the next bastard in line to the Demonio de Hielo cartel’s throne, but when my memory takes me back, I recall a man who was, it seemed, unwillingly living under the thumb of his father’s rule.
Fuck. Am I really going to risk everything on a man that couldbe good?
“I don’t know,” Isadora admits. “Let’s ask him.”
Chapter 16
Demon
Trusting Diego Santos is the last fucking thing I want to do, but right now, it’s the only way to gain access to the inner sanctum of the Demonio de Hielo cartel.
Isadora looks up at me from where she sits crossed legged in the middle of the bed, my burner phone, courtesy of Liam, clutched in her hand.
“Can you do this?” She nods, then dials the number to call her brother, the man who is next in line to the Santos throne.
