AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Don’t throw up. Whatever you do, don’t throw up, I told myself for the millionth time since leaving the Miami marina. My knuckles were white and bloodless as I held onto one of the metal tie-offs: I wasn’t going to let this thing go for anything.
“We’ll be arriving in fifteen minutes,” a voice called out from the wheelhouse, and I nodded but didn’t actually look back.
Every time I did, Omar’s cousin glared at me like he wanted nothing more than to dump me in the Caribbean and run me over with the boat to make sure that I actually drowned. The hatred floated around him like a haze.
Looking in the direction of the island, I saw smoke in the distance. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing with the hand that wasn’t death-gripping the tie-off.
“Probably a fire.” The answer was curt.
“I got that,” I said, chancing a glance behind me. “What’s on fire? Is there anything else out here besides the island?”
The murderously annoyed look vanished from his face. “Mierda,” he muttered, and I felt the boat jerk as he forced it to go even faster. I whimpered but didn’t tell him to slow down.
Within moments, the island came into view, and we both swore again. The dry dock was on fire, and the whole thing had gone up like kindling. “Did one of thosependejosset off—” The man behind the wheel cut off whatever he was about to say, as if I honestly cared what the Castillos kept in the storage building. I just wanted to see Omar and make sure that he was okay.
The boat pulled up alongside the dock, and I scrambled off. My feet pounded on the newly finished dock. I could hear the water splashing against the pilings, but where that might have made me freeze before, I didn’t stop now. Nothing else mattered but getting to Omar. I spared a glance toward the dry dock — Pascal, Efrain, and Helena were doing what they could to control the blaze — but I turned in the direction of the house.
Something was wrong. If Omar wasn’t trying to put out the fire, he was in the house, and he wouldn’t be unless there was something keeping him in the house. It was a clear diversion. “Go help them,” I threw over my shoulder at Omar’s cousin.
He said something in return, but his words were carried off by the wind. Not that whatever he was saying would have stopped me or changed my course. I knew I was right: Omar was in trouble. Again. If we got through this, I was going to put him in a damn bubble and not let him out.
The front door stood open, but that could have been from Helena running outside. Do not panic, I told myself. Panicking will only make things worse. My foot snagged on something, nearly sending me toppling to the tile floor.
Looking down, I saw a 9mm handgun on the ground. Fuck. I bent and picked it up. Apá and Matteo hadn’t bothered to take me shooting, but I did know some of the basic safety rules, and I knew how to click the safety off.
I kept my finger off the trigger and crept farther into the house: if I was lucky, I could catch whoever it was unaware so that I could be useful. I rounded a corner and heard the sounds of the fight before I saw the two men.
“I can’t believe this isLa Bestia!” It was Jesus. I knew that Omar should have gone after him…but if Matteo was to be believed, my father would stop at nothing to wipe out the Castillos, even if that meant openly declaring war against them. “Come on now! You’re making it too easy.”
I peeked around the corner, and my heart seized in my chest. The furniture had been destroyed: not a single piece had survived. On the far side of the room, Jesus had Omar pinned to a wall; they were fighting over a knife that looked like its sole purpose was to slit throats. Jesus was a mess; his face was nearly unrecognizable, but a lot of that damage had been done the last time he’d come to the island. Omar was bruised nearly as badly, though his face didn’t have that crushed-in look, thankfully.
What scared me most about the scene wasn’t the knife, or the obvious damage to both of their bodies, it was the look on Omar’s face. His eyes were…empty. He was fighting, yes, and he was able to hold Jesus off, but he shouldn’t be struggling this much. He was either far more hurt than I could see, which was a possibility, or he wasn’t fighting back with the ability I knew that he was capable of.
Why was he letting my cousin win? Why would he give up like that?
“Were you in love with myprima?” Jesus mocked him, pushing the knife inward until it just nicked Omar’s neck. A spot of blood welled up, and my breath caught in my throat. “Did you think she would want to stay with you after everything you’ve done?” Jesus tried to keep pushing inward, but Omar held him back. He had enough sense of self-preservation not to allow his throat to be cut. “You don’t deserve her.”
Omar’s lips drew into a mocking smile. “You think I don’t know that,pendejo?” he asked, shoving Jesus back. “You think calling me a monster is new for me?” His smile became cruel, and it sent a shiver of horror and desire down my spine. This wasLa Bestia, not my Omar, and while a part of me would always be repulsed by how easily he transitioned into the killer that his father molded him into, there was an even bigger part of me that loved him for everything he was. This included.
Jesus puffed up his chest. “You think you’re a big man? Forcing yourself on a woman like that? Forcing her into thinking that she liked it?”
Well, that’s enough.I stepped around the corner and aimed the gun at Jesus, squeezing the trigger. A hole exploded in the hall just over their heads, and the gun kicked back, nearly hitting me in the face. My ears seemed to be stuffed with cotton.You weren’t wearing ear protection, I reminded myself.Keep your eyes on Jesus.
He wheeled around, obviously expecting one of the men, and his eyes went wide when he saw me. “Lyse? What are you doing?”
I aimed again. “Step away from him,” I said. “Now.”
Jesus didn’t budge, and Omar looked too shocked to move. “Prima, you’re confused. This animal has turned you against your own family.”
“My family turned against me,” I said. “The moment that I was no longer useful, Apá decided I wasn’t worth keeping around. He found me a new purpose, yes? Help him start a war?” I squeezed down on the trigger, and the floorboards in front of their feet exploded in splinters. My eyes met Omar’s, and there was a spark of something there, like he was waking up. "Omar only wants me for me," I said, though I wasn't sure if either of them heard me. "He's protected me and encouraged me. He's been more of a family to me in the last two weeks than you all have been my whole life."
"You've lost your mind," Jesus sneered at me. "His family will never accept you. Not ever."
I shrugged. "I'll work on it."
Jesus spat at me, but he was just distracted enough that he didn't notice that Omar had slipped out of his grip. Not until he grabbed the knife out of his hand and had him in a headlock. "I'll take good care of her," he said to Jesus, but his eyes were on me.
Jesus struggled uselessly, but Omar spun the knife in his grip, showing off, before he sank it into my cousin’s throat. Blood sprayed from the wound, drenching everything in bright red as Jesus's speeding heart pumped it out through his open carotid.
