Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Walls speak evil.
Doors hide truths.
Monsters deceive.
Serpents collide.
Be scared of the rain.
Hide from the snow.
Beware of the man.
You think you know.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Our father stopped moving and the screen went pitch black. I didn’t know if he was knocked unconscious or dead.
“You monsters! I hope you all burn in Hell!” Adriana fumed, loud and clear through the phone.
I could feel her pain.
Her anguish.
Her downright devastation.
“Do you hear me?” she spewed, hanging on the same thin thread I was. “Are you listening? Fry in Hell, motherfucker!”
Bang!
My chest locked up.
My body froze.
All the battle in me vanished as it had moments ago for our father.
Instantaneously, a hard thud of a body dropped to the ground.
“Noooooooo!” I hollered, recognizing those two sounds. “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!”
The adrenaline soared to my head. My entire existence
erupted into a big burning blaze. The fire in my soul was bigger than the flames searing through my body, leaving scars that would never heal. It was the only reason I survived and came out on the other side.
Before I could say another word, the call dropped and a text message dinged with a New York address.
The message ended with, no guards, no guns. You come alone, unprotected. Now you know what I’m capable of…
If you don’t listen.
Chapter 40
—Cruz—
Seconds, minutes, hours later, everything blended together as darkness settled in every crevice of my mind. Memories of Adriana, Sienna, and now my father, made themselves at home inside of my head. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing him lying there.
Defeated.
Helpless.
Surrendering.
He was always so strong, so in control, so fucking powerful. It was hard to see him as anything but those traits. Not once did I hear him groan out in pain or show any sign of weakness while they kicked every limb on his body. He stayed strong, and I knew he did that for us. Our father was old but resilient. Marrying a woman twenty years younger than him was his saving grace. Mamá made sure he ate healthy, worked out, and kept his body active. You wouldn’t know his age unless he told you.
Alejandro Martinez was tough, and I continued to remind myself of this the entire private flight to New York City. The city that never sleeps was an accurate representation of what I was going through. I sat there thinking about the consequences I couldn’t change. I wasn’t scared for my life, I was terrified for theirs. It didn’t matter how many times I contemplated who was behind this, it all led back to nothing.
No one.
I was fixated on a man I didn’t even know existed. My head spun as I racked my brain for clues that could point me in the right direction. Eagerly, I tried to figure out who the mastermind behind all of this was, who was pulling the strings to this nightmare.
The task was easier said than done.
The sound of a solitary shot resonated deep in my thoughts as if I was at the receiving end of the barrel. Her kidnappers were trying to prove a point. They wanted me to know they were in control, and I had no say in what the future held.
For any of us.
The only hope I had was to believe they were still alive or else what was the point in all this?
What felt like an eternity later, the cab driver announced, “We’re here.”
I didn’t recall getting off the plane or into this car. It was like I blacked out, moving in a trance-like state. I handed him a hundred-dollar bill before getting out of the vehicle hesitantly, scanning the neighborhood with precise precision. This community was much different than the last. It was the fucking suburbs.
Million-dollar mansions.
The house was massive. Several thousand square feet ascended to the dark night sky. The only light was coming off the moon, illuminating the pathway to my final destination. The last time I was in New York, a couple of months ago, wasn’t for Ari. I had a meeting with some suppliers for the run runners I was in charge of.
There were a few cars parked in the long driveaway I spotted as I made my way up the cobblestone pathway. I was expecting to feel an intense, unbearable sense of rage for whatever was behind those doors.
I didn’t.
No weapons.
No security.
I surrendered.
It was the only choice I had.
With my hands in the air, I walked into the house announcing, “I’m here.”
As I stepped in, I locked eyes with the piece of shit who took my wife. I was face-to-face with Vitale. He was leaning against the fireplace with a gun in his hand, resting casually by his side.
“Welcome home,” he greeted with a sinister smile I wanted to slice clean off his face. His cheek sported a deep cut down the side.
When he realized I noticed, he shrugged it off, declaring, “Your wife’s a cunt.”