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He must be our in.
With a nod of his head, we’re all following him through a locked gate—which he thankfully leaves unlocked when we pass through—and around a couple of buildings before coming to a stop at a metal door being propped open with a brick. He pulls it open and gestures for the four of us to proceed. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch to ensure he leaves the door propped open before following behind us.
The last thing I want is for us to all be fucking stuck in here.
He leads us through the labyrinth of hallways, until we come to a halt. Looking up, I read the sign: Visitación
The guard gestures for us to enter, and Alejandro wastes no time turning the handle. He is the first to step inside, with Andres and Gabriel filing in behind him. I am the last to enter the room, my smaller stature completely hidden behind the three of them.
“¿Quien eras?” my father’s aged, deep voice fills the room.
“Who are we?” Andres asks. “The men that came a long way to bring you something.”
“After being pulled from my fucking bed and shoved in this room, it better be a fucking whore.”
“Buenos dias, Papa.” I push my way through the boys until I am face-to-face with my father, nothing but a steel table separating the two of us.
“Well, I then they definitely brought me a whore,” he scoffs as his eyes roam over me with disgust.
“Nice to see you too.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes at him.
“Truth be told, I’m actually quite surprised to be seeing you. Although, based on your face it looks as though you received my messages.”
I don’t have to turn around to know that all three men are seething behind me.
“You’re a fucking disgrace,” he spits at me. “You think I didn’t come in here with a plan? That I didn’t have an army of men ready to run things for me? Had I wanted you to run things, I would’ve fucking told you. You wouldn’t have been navigating things blind and fucking over your countrymen.”
“Fucking over my countrymen?” I scoff.
“Taking everything I built and turning it over to a fucking Mexican cartel,” he speaks the words through gritted teeth. “All so you could fuck your way around the world.”
His eyes roam over the tall, muscular wall of men standing behind me. “So. Which of them are you fucking? Or are you exactly like your mother? You’re probably fucking all of them, following in her dirty fucking whore footsteps.”
“Don’t fucking talk to her like that,” Gabriel snarls as he stalks toward the table.
“You don’t even have fucking hair on your balls yet.” My father roars with laughter. “What the fuck are you going to do to stop me?”
Gabriel throws a right hook, hitting my father in the jaw hard enough to daze him momentarily. Taking advantage of those few seconds, Gabriel fists Papa’s hair and violently pulls his face down to the steel table. A loud thud fills the room, nearly overshadowing the stomach-churning crunch.
Using the fistful of hair, Gabriel yanks back Papa’s head up until he is forced to meet my gaze. Blood flows over his lips and down his chin, practically pouring from his visibly broken nose.
“All three of these men would end you in a second if I asked them.” I lean over the table toward my father. “This one though. He’d take great fucking enjoyment in making you suffer for having the audacity to speak to me the way you do.”
“And that’s why you could never run my fucking empire.” The blood on his lips flies at me like spittle.
“I said they would do it for me.” I pull the gun out from the waistband of Gabriel’s pants as I shake my head. “Not once did I say that I would need them to do it.”
Lifting the gun, my father stares back at me over the barrel. For the first time in his life, I think he realizes that I’m not the poor, helpless woman he has always assumed me to be.
I squeeze the trigger without an ounce of remorse, the bullet entering between his eyes and exiting in a spray out the back of his head.
“Maybe your men will find me a suitable leader now,” I spit on his slumped body as I turn from the table.
Walking from the room, I watch Andres shove a bag into the hands of the guard that let us inside as he says, “Señor Guerrero had an accident.”
“S…si. Si, señor.”
Not a word is spoken between the four of us as we leave the prison and head to my villa.
