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“Idiyot,” he mutters, fitting his goggles back over his face. “Don’t ever accuse me of not being supportive of your crazy-ass.”
CHAPTERFORTY-ONE
BIANCA
I gasp for air,rousing as a rough hand slaps my face. I open my eyes to find my uncle’s harsh nose mere inches from my own.
“Wake up. The fun is about to start,” he growls.
What?
Wiping something warm and sticky from the side of my face, I force myself to calm down and breathe, but my chest burns with each desperate gulp of air. My hand comes up covered in blood,myblood judging by the coppery taste in my mouth and headache pounding my skull.
And then it all comes back to me. I killed Jorge, then my uncle knocked me out cold. I spit blood and struggle to sit up, but Emilio pushes me back down onto the floor. My back is slumped against the wall of what appears to be a little sitting area tucked away beyond the main foyer. He towers over me, a smarmy expression on his face. He’s gloating because he thinks he’s won. But this battle is far from over.
I cast a glance around the dark room, looking for anything to use as a weapon. A lamp, a statue, a spoon to gouge his eyes out. Because I have no doubt this is our last standoff. One of us isn’t walking out of here alive.
He bends, grabbing my chin roughly so I’m forced to look him in the eye. “You can thank your friends for the power outage. It ended up being quite convenient for my purposes.”
It comes back to me now. The power outage followed by the explosion. The feds are making their move. I jerk my chin out of his grasp. “Good luck taking down the FBI. The only way you’re getting off this property is in cuffs or a casket. And I truly hope it’s the latter.”
His delighted laugh reverberates through the small room. “Oh no,puta, it’s not the FBI. It’s your beloved Kozlovs. Can you believe they came all this way to get you back after you betrayed them so ruthlessly? They are stupider than I ever imagined.”
Heat shoots up the back of my neck.
He came for me. Daniil is here!
My happiness is short-lived; if Daniil is here, he’s in danger. My uncle is planning something.
In the shadows, I recognize two of Emilio’s most loyal guards, the ones who are always by his side. They are using me as bait, dragging me into a tucked-away corner in order to ambush Daniil and his team. The fine hairs on my neck stand up in alarm. I can only pray Daniil has the sense not to come in here, that he recognizes it for what it is. A trap.
My uncle’s lips curl back in an approximation of a smile as he watches me piece it all together. His loafers make a shuffling sound as he paces the natural stone floor, gun in hand. “The Kozlovs can’t blame you entirely. Betrayal is in your blood, isn’t it? Your whore of a mother betrayed her whole family. I suppose the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
My chest hollows at the mention of my family. A reminder that I’ve failed them, again. Jorge may be dead, but my uncle has the upper hand.
“Either let me go or kill me,” I demand. “I’m not here to chitchat, especially with a man so fucking twisted he killed his own flesh and blood and then raised her orphan. You make me sick,” I scream, spitting in his direction.
His upper lip pulls back into a sneer, and he delivers a hard kick to my legs. “Don’t make demands of me, stupid girl. And Iwillkill you once you serve your purpose.”
I refuse to cry out in pain and give him the satisfaction. Instead, I hug my arms around my legs and make myself as small as possible. It occurs to me that I’m not restrained in any way. Yes, there are two lunatics sporting AR-15s on either side of me, but if I’m going to die anyhow, I’m going to drag my uncle down to the depths of hell with me.
“And what exactly is my purpose?” I ask to keep him talking. Outside, I’m vaguely aware that the gunfire has died down, replaced by an eerie quiet.
“You haven’t figured it out yet? I’m after Kozlov territory. Prime shipping routes. An open door to the New York market. It’s quite remarkable how your little stunt worked out in my favor.”
My stunt? As if I orchestrated being traded like cattle at an illegal poker game. But it’s a useless point to make now. “You think you can best the Kozlovs? They’re better than you. They’ve always been. You may inhabit the same underworld, but they’re nothing like you. Daniil is a better man than you could ever dream of being.”
Every cell in my body is ready to spring into action, primed with the crackling tension in the room. I expect my uncle’s fury, but instead he grabs me by the hair, the cold glint in his eyes shining bright. “Was, my dear. Hewasa better man.”
The ache in my gut blooms, a sick feeling crawling up my spine like ants. “What… What do you mean?”
His face falls in mock sadness. “Poor Daniil, still in love with the traitorous women that double-crossed him. He just couldn’t resist coming to your rescue. At least he died a hero.”
I explode from the floor. Despite the pain and my injuries, I charge my uncle, spurred on by the ghosts of my family. The pain of the past mingles with the horror of the present, and I slam into him, both of us tumbling onto the hard stone floor. Landing flush on my side, the wind is knocked out of me.
The guards raise their weapons, but my uncle stops them with harsh words. “No, she’s mine,” he spits. “Get your asses out there and kill anyone who makes it in the house.” He points towards the door, and then he’s on top of me, pinning me down, his hands around my throat.
I fight for air, swinging at him as best I can, but he only squeezes tighter, and a shiver of excitement runs through him. “It’s like I’m punishing your mother all over again. Your father, your sister. She thought she was better than all of us setting up her life in America, fighting the cartels when we put food on her table, clothes on her back. She was the worst kind of traitor.”
