Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“Why did I save her?”
"Yes.”
I think for a moment, wondering how I can explain this bone-deep need, and all for Liliana, a girl marked by the Cartel. I’m supposed to put the Bratva first.
And yet here I am, risking it all for her. Because she’s worth it. She’s worth everything.
“I couldn’t let him do what he was going to do, not just because she said some words he didn’t like. Fucking hell, Max. I couldn’t let that happen. And even if it wasn’t wrong, dead goddamn wrong….”
My fists clench automatically as I recall the insults Gabriel flung and the promise I made.
You will pay, motherfucker.
“Think of how it looks. The Bratva letting the Cartel torture and kill women.”
I add this last part for his benefit. Even if it’s true, it’s not the main reason, or even close to being the main reason.
She is.
“I get that,” Max says. “That’s not what I meant. But we both know that girl would’ve just disappeared, the same way her dad did. Nobody would’ve known.”
“Are you saying I should’ve let him?”
He pauses, not answering. I watch the country drift by, every passing blur reminding me I’m getting further away from Liliana.
“Why do you care so much?” he finally says. “I’ve seen you help people before, even the tattooed Cartel when you get a chance, but coming here yourself. Spending the night here. And the way you’re talking, Damien, it’s like….”
“What?” I snap, even if I know better.
Max is my oldest friend, my second-in-command. We fought together.
But this thing I’m building with Liliana, I feel so protective over it, like nobody can touch it because it might shatter.
“You sound like you did when we were kids,” he says, sighing. “All… full of hope, excitement, I guess. Is there something going on with her? With the Lopez girl?”
I grind my teeth. “She’s not a girl anymore.”
“So you two….”
I look at him sharply. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing changes. We still have to smooth things over with Gabriel. We still have to make sure the Cartel doesn’t use this as an excuse.”
“Why did she have to say anything to him?” Max sighs.
My hands twitch again as though trying to clench into fists. I’d never attack Max, but hearing anybody criticize my woman sets my defenses to predator mode.
“It’s not her fault,” I snarl. “She wasn’t talking to him. She was talking to me.”
“With all due respect, Damien. Why was she saying that to you? She didn’t have to take that risk. Talking with the Bratva boss, in her position…”
She felt comfortable. She knew there was something between us, something far more than my position and her fate. She’s more than a tattoo.
“I’m not sure,” I mutter.
Max rubs his hands together. “We’ll have to pay him.”
“I think so.”
“Hopefully, he won’t be stupid enough to start a war over this. But yeah, a payment, done slyly. If he’s smart, he won’t come out and say it’s about this.”
“I agree,” I say. “If this gets out of hand, we might have to execute that plan we talked about.”
“Get the police involved?” Max whispers, despite the soundproofing of the car separating us from the driver.
I grit my teeth, shrugging. “Whatever it takes to keep this city safe. It’s all for that, Max.”
A moment later, a voice whispers inside of me.
No, it’s all for Liliana. It’s for our future.
The voice only gets louder as the car takes us closer and closer to the city.
CHAPTER
TEN
Liliana
“Is it okay, miss?”
I feel like a kid in a candy store. Or no.
I’m a wannabe chef in an expensive luxurious kitchen with the specific ingredients I asked for waiting on the sleek counter. That’s way better.
Despite everything, giddiness hits me as I turn to the butler. His name is Henrik, and he speaks with a soft Scandinavian accent. His hair is white, combed aside, his demeanor respectful.
He weirdly reminds me of Uncle Nick, even if they look nothing alike.
“This is amazing.” I sort through the ingredients, smiling. “You got all the spices and everything. Henrik, thank you so much.”
He smiles but maintains his stance with his hands behind his back.
Part of me thinks about Damien arranging this, making it so nobody else can touch me. Probably it’s because he can see the ugly red of the tattoo on my wrist, marking me as a traitor’s daughter.
Inked for life, that’s me.
“I’m making a new kind of pasta dish,” I tell him. “Maybe you could taste some when I’m done?”
I almost expect him to tell me no. He seems unsure, then he smiles gently. “I think that would be fine, miss.”
“Is something wrong?” I ask him.
Henrik quickly shakes his head. “No, no, not at all. Why do you say that? Nothing wrong here, miss. Shall I put all this away?”
“I’ll help.”
“But you don’t know where it goes.”
He rushes ahead before I can say anything, busying himself with the bag and the ingredients. I take a few steps back, making a hmm noise.