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“What you propose could change everything, my brother.” Thiago smirks, and I know he’s in. We’ve talked about this; Luna and Aliana have become close since our last trip to Miami, both women bonding over their growing up Latina. “The way we operate, live—how the world moves.”
“The world.” Malcolm shakes his head, but he’s smiling. Santis and Flavio have been brought out to the enclosed space; they’re sweating and complaining—waving their arms around and frowning. They’re still blind to their reality. “We would be above the law.”
“Yes. We would.” My eyes look over to Casper, and he nods. He wants to make the move. “Aliana’s father wasn’t fully aware of either artifact’s worth. The jade statue in Brazil, that one holds a heavy price tag, yes, but etched at the bottom is a set of numbers that belong to that government’s missiles. Then, there’s the vase in London. That beauty is the only way in and out of the underground vault, the same one where Spain and the United Kingdom have their secrets and crimes stashed away deep underneath their largest bank. We are talking about war, civilian, and every worldwide transgression committed, which isn’t public knowledge between the two.”
Javier chuckles, fixing his cufflinks. “It’s a good start, but the US will hold some leverage. Our hit has to have ramifications for them as well.”
“That’s the beauty of it.” A whistle rends the air then, and we all turn our heads. My animal’s handler holds a large red flag high above his head, and I pick up the matching one, waving it twice. He knows to exit swiftly, and he does, backing away slowly so as to not startle my pets. “With treaties come favors. With alliances come expectations, and the US has skeletons in both closets.”
Malcolm raises his glass, his eyes ahead while the others follow suit. “To immunity.”
“Aye.” Every family present agrees. This would change the world’s dynamic, our stronghold in every bloody thing a government does or prosecutes.
Flavio and Santis look at the keeper, then at us and wave back.
Somehow, they’ve come to think we’re friends.
We’re not. They’re nothing more than overgrown catnip.
And while they watch me, walking a little closer to the high, above-ground terrace we stand on, the keeper walks out and locks the exit. A whirring sound fills the air, a loud rattling of metal, and then white and orange paws come into our line of sight.
The Gaspar siblings startle and take a few steps back. They scream, nothing of what they say making sense, and it won’t matter for long anyways.
Zeus and Hera stalk their prey slowly, lowering their bodies to the ground and inching forward. The Gaspar siblings freeze, but their eyes are on me, on the megaphone in my hand that Casper was so kind as to grab from the table.
It clicks on, an annoying whine that settles into a low static until I speak. “I warned you.” Their heads shake, bodies moving closer to the enclosure’s gate. “You had multiple opportunities to walk away, to stay clean, but you didn’t listen. Here you will reap what you sow—just like your cunt of a father who aligned himself with people he shouldn’t have—interfering with my family and the Boston organization.”
Their family name will end here.
You don’t make moves against this family.
You touch one—you bloody deal with all.
Flavio is angry, but scared. Santis is close to pissing himself, and yet, he’s saying something I can’t make out. He could be blessing or cursing me, I have no clue, nor do I give a bloody fuck.
However, the noises he’s making Hera doesn’t like, and hisses. Her nails dig into the ground, but both cats haven’t lunged yet. These animals are hunters by nature; they wait and wait until the right opportunity arises. Or in this case, fucks up.
“I slit his throat.” They both swallow hard at that, hands clenching. “Now, I’m going to make this fun. I’ll have the keeper unlock the door and give you thirty seconds to make it out. You win, you walk out. You lose, my pets will pick their teeth with your bones.”
I don’t wait for their agreement and give the okay to unlock.
“Go.”
Eyeing my tigers, they move a few steps and Hera remains low while Zeus rises midway, poised, yet he makes no move to attack. At the ten-second mark, though, both brothers turn around and run, pushing their bodies as far as they can, but it takes three full strides from each cat to reach them.
They pounce, forcing the men to the ground while locking their jaws at the back of their necks, shaking them from side to side. Horrified screams reach me, and I’m impressed by how far the sound travels when a true panic-induced cry for help is unleashed.
Zeus tosses Flavio aside like a rag doll, his body bouncing a bit on the ground, before pinning his chest with a front paw. Blood and spit dribble from the animal’s muzzle and onto his prey, the latter of which is pushing with all his might but the beast remains unmovable.
For her part, Hera is already enjoying a chunk of flesh, taken from the still-alive idiot. It’s from his leg, the thigh area to be precise.
Yet, this is nothing compared to what they deserve.
Yes, Flavio wanted to wed my Venus, but she would’ve become property of the family and would’ve been used as such. They spoke about it a week after their capture, unaware of Ezra recording this conversation. Back then, they had hope. Thought their organization—father—would come to save them, and they made plans.
The brothers wanted to share her. Lend her out. And eventually, when she’d become older and loose—their words—they’d whore her out to their seedier clientele with no limits to their depravity.
For that, I could never forgive them.
