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Chapter 1
Isabella
The crack of gunfire pierces my ears. To an amateur, it would sound like a car backfiring, but where I come from, I know a gunshot when I hear one. I sprint from the shed, gravel crunching under my boots.
"Papa!" My voice is lost in the roar of engines as tinted cars speed across the road.
I spot Papa ahead, his back to me, his shadow looming over the agave fields.
"Papa!" I call out again, in panic.
He whips around. The roar of engines drowns me out—a convoy of black SUVs barrels down the dirt road in a cloud of dust.
Papa gestures urgently. A warning. Hide! His eyes are wide with fear. I dart behind a barrel, pressing myself flat. Bullets pepper the air as the SUVs pass in a blur. Papa staggers, clutching his chest.Dios mío!Good gracious, what is going on? Before I can react, his body crumples to the dusty ground.
The last SUV fishtails around the bend, leaving silence in its wake. I race to Papa's side. His white guayabera slowly blooms red. Blood pools beneath him, turning the parched soil dark. I press my hands over the bullet wounds in his chest, slick warmth coating my fingers.
"No, Papa, no!" I kneel in the dirt.
His breathing is shallow, almost non-existent. I clutch his hand—his skin already cold.
"Mija..."My daughter. Blood bubbles on his lips. "The empire...yours now."
"Papa, no! Stay with me!" His breathing suddenly turns to ragged gasps as his blood spills over my hands.
I blink back tears, willing him to live through the sheer force of my love. His eyes, once shining with wisdom and humor, stare past me. His chest falls still. His fingers go limp in mine.
Papa's eyes stare vacantly at the sky.
"No, no, no. Papa..." I shriek, placing my two fingers on the artery on his neck, feeling for a pulse, for life.
I feel nothing.
Sobs wrack my body. My father - my anchor, my guiding light - is gone. Numbness spreads through me, even as my mind reels.
I look out over the acres of blue agave, blanketing the valley below. Hundreds of workers usually tend the plants that supply our family's tequila empire, but they're all gone now.Siesta –Resting hour. An empire that now falls to me.
I take a deep, steadying breath and gently close Papa's eyes. Though my heart is shattered, there will be time to properly mourn later. For now, I must focus. Tears stream down my face, but it comes to me like breathing. I barely even notice them until they fall on my hands.
I lower my head and sob. Around me, the field seems to bow in grief too. I am alone. I can't just leave him lying here. In the heat. It's too hot. He'll be hot.
Carefully, I lift Papa's limp body, half-carry, and half-drag him behind the shed. Out of sight, closer to our home. I swallow hard, fighting back a fresh wave of anguish.
"Stay strong, Isabella," I whisper to myself. Papa would want me to be strong. I can’t carry him back to the house. I'm too weak to make it the distance.
I sit behind the barn, cradling his head on my lap. Even in death, I failed him. I am filled with guilt, as the inevitable thought passes. Could I have saved him? Had the roles been reversed, he would have taken a bullet for me and… I failed him in his greatest hour of need. My chest begins to feel heavy, and in release, I begin to wail. Loudly.
I cradle Papa's lifeless body, unable to comprehend that he is truly gone. My tears fall onto his unmoving chest as I rock him gently.
"No, my dear Papa," I whisper. “Don't leave me.”
In the distance, shouts ring out as the staff notice us. Hurried footsteps approach. I clutch Papa tighter, even as his skin grows cold against mine. I cannot let him go.
Strong arms encircle me, lifting me up. I scream and fight against them.
"Señorita Isabella, por favor," Juanita, my old nanny, pleads.
I go limp, allowing them to pry me away from Papa's body. The men carry him inside while Juanita guides me back to the hacienda, our familial estate, her worn hands firm yet comforting on my shoulders.
