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Where the fuck am I?
Let me go, cabron!
I’m going to kill you.
Mauricio Hernandez is a loud one, yelling and threatening from his place inside of the De Leon compound in Cuba. He’s been here a few days now, a place where those who enter do not escape, and I admire the colonial facade and isolated structures.
No one to hear you for miles.
No one here will lift a finger against this family.
The doors are closed to the main area, and a quiet Casper opens them without pause.
Archie will stay outside with the De Leon guards, awaiting orders, while Ivan, the second-in-command and youngest son, walks beside me in silence. He’s a lot like me in a way: easygoing until you touch one of ours. And the putrid twat inside did just that.
All the women in crime families are sacred. Untouchable, but to kill a mum?
That’s an instant death sentence.
My nostrils flare as I step inside. The stench is rotten—disgusting—but it only makes the demon within me happy. Because I know the smells will match the almost corpse tied up and awaiting trial.
Bright lights turn on, and the noise level rises. Animals—large hogs—make their presence known within empty cells. Each door is open, the inhabitants quiet and watching now, while surrounding the lone figure at the center. I’m pleased with the hospitality he’s been shown.
Dirt-caked blood on bruised skin, a dislocated shoulder taking the brunt of his weight from his restrained position.
For a second, I close my eyes and breathe in deeply. Ire pulses through my veins. Heat licks at my flesh.
I’ve come to accept a long time ago that I crave moments like this. I need the violence, but today it’s more. It’s personal while signaling a rebirth.
Casper’s and mine. Two different paths, two syndicates to run, and yet, we’ll always be intertwined by more than familial ties because of the women we love.
Because I do. It’s been there the entire time.
No hiding. No denying. The moment she sassed me inside that lounge, she owned me.
Burn him alive if you must, Callum. Just take me away when you’re done. ~Venus
Her text from this morning replays in my mind then, and I can almost hear Aliana’s sweet voice utter her plea. Her need. Something is off with her. I notice it each time we talk now.
It’s been that way since finding out she’s going on holiday with her family. As if she hates the idea. No excitement. No funny quip or mention of the things she’ll be doing while at some all-inclusive resort in Mexico.
Something that further cements she needs me as much as I breathe for her.
“I will, sweet girl.” No one hears my words, and I open my eyes to meet Mauricio’s.
He’s dirty. Smells like utter shit. An old cunt with a big mouth.
“Who the fuck—”
“Evening,” Casper says, tone even and calm. Mauricio’s eyes turn to look at him, squinting due to the bright lights before looking at me again. He does this a few times. Back and forth before pausing on my cousin.
We’re both dressed similarly; all black and wearing the damn suspenders I hate, but his mum thought they were dashing. And like him, I carry with me a piece of jewelry she had blessed when we were young—his by the Pope, and mine by a Buddhist monk.
He has a chain, while I have a bracelet with an attached medallion: a Greek warrior’s helmet on the front.
“Who are you?” he asks again. “Why am I here?”
“Why is he here?” Casper repeats, looking back at me, then Ivan. His eyes hold a feral tint I’m sure reflected in my own, but we’re not here for a quick death. Hernandez will hurt. Bleed. “The man’s asking why he’s here?”
