Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
It was my turn to speak. “No, you won’t.”
At that moment, every face in the room turned to blink at me. I spoke again, “It was my job to judge. I judged wrong. I’ll fix this.” I added I low oath. “I’ll find her.”
Vito shakes his head, wiping tears away from his sleeve. “No. I don’t know you. And I don’t trust you.” He turned to his youngest son. “Luc. You’ll find her.”
Before Luc could answer, Gio was there. “No, Pops. Let me do it. Let me find her.”
Vito looked at his son, searching his face. “You never liked Alejandra. I could never understand why. But maybe you saw something in her that I did not.” A moment’s pause then he agreed, “Yes. You will find her.”
Gio responded, “It’s not that I don’t like her.” He turned to Miguel and Eduardo, smirking, striking where it hurt the most. “I just don’t care about her.”
Eduardo shook his head. “I want Julius to find her.”
I glared at Gio. “I will find her.”
Gio looked at me then, sizing me up. His lip curled as he looked at me like I was nothing but a bug. A bug that needed to be stepped on. “Well, then. I guess it’s a matter of who gets to her first.”
Eduardo, clearly panicked, muttered, “Please. I want her brought home.”
Vito’s head snapped around. “I want her dead.”
Eduardo stated, “She’s pregnant. She holds the heir of our movements inside of her.”
Vito boomed and pounded on his chest with a closed fist, “Then she will suffer the loss of a child as I have!” Nostrils flaring, he promised, “As you will.”
Eduardo didn’t say a word, but I saw his jaw tic.
Vito calmed himself and then straightened his tie. “If you want this alliance, I want Alejandra’s head.”
Miguel watched in horror as Eduardo reluctantly conceded, “Agreed.”
And as this was happening, Ling whispered behind me the very words that were running through my mind.
“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”
From the excited glint in Gio’s eyes, I knew one thing.
I had to find Alejandra first.
As I drive on for what seems like hours, possibly because it has been hours, I think back to a documentary I saw on TV a few years ago. The documentary was about scientists being able to pinpoint a psychopath gene in people. Most people with this gene are coldhearted and clinical. They don’t react to violence as other do, and they don’t recoil at gruesome scenes. They revel in it.
And in a mere moment, I wonder whether I have that gene.
Surely, people aren’t meant to smile and sing along to the radio, tapping their feet only hours after the death of their spouse.
Maybe I am a psychopath.
I frown in thought. If I’m a psychopath, then Dino would have been one also. My mind travels a distance inside itself, trudging up memories I had long since locked away.
The first time Dino punched me and split my lip.
The first time Dino kicked me so hard that my ribs broke.
The first time Dino yanked me by my hair so hard that I needed to cover a bald patch for six months till new growth set in.
No.
I am not a psychopath.
I am merely a hardened woman tired of being some asshole’s punching bag.
I’m glad he’s dead. I’m glad he died feeling fear. I’m glad he felt wronged.
He deserved it all and more.
I suppose I’m too relieved to grieve.
I don’t know where I am, but I do know I’m hungry, the constant knot of fear at the mere presence of my husband now gone. A quick glance at my fuel gauge tells me I need to fill my car with gas, especially if I’m going to be driving through the night. Pulling into a diner at the side of the road, I step out and hand my keys to the young attendant. I throw the duffle over my shoulder and hand him two hundreds. “Fill her up and clean the windshield. I’d also appreciate if you checked and topped up the oil and radiator fluid. Whatever is left over from the charge, you can consider a tip.”
The Sunnyside Up Diner looks like a decent place to get some lunch. I don’t have a lot of time to spare. I approach the counter and am greeted by a mature waitress with a wrinkly smile. “What can I get ya, sweetie?” she asks, her voice hoarse.
“Whatever is the quickest to go, please.”
The waitress doesn’t skip a beat. “Egg salad sandwich, coming right up.”
Making my way over to the refrigerator, I pull out four bottles of water and a sports drink. I place them on the counter then skim the snacks by the cash register. I quickly add two packets of potato chips, sugar-free gum and a handful of Twizzlers. The waitress comes from the kitchen not a minute later with a brown, wrapped package and, looking at all the things I’m buying, reaches into the baked goods display and adds a small package of cookies to my things. As I’m about to argue, she rings up my total, and mutters, “I baked those myself, honey, and they’re about to go bad. You see that you finish them by tomorrow, you hear? Besides, you look like you need some meat on your bones.”