Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Nero’s eyes locked on his, two bright dots of green Miguel wanted to take a dive into and forget his responsibilities. “I’m yet to meet a man who’d actually want to keep me around for longer, but maybe that alternative Nero would not be a scumbag either.”
The villa emerged from behind the trees, a square shape on the slope of the mountain, with the most spectacular view of a vast, flat valley. Miguel wished he could slow down time, because his end was approaching all too soon. There were so many things he hadn’t yet seen, so afraid to lose sight of the end goal that he’d wasted innumerable opportunities.
But it was too late for second chances.
“I’m not surprised they don’t keep you,” Miguel said, holding Nero’s gaze. “You antagonize everyone you meet. Maybe if you showed them something real, they’d stay. Then again, we don’t always get to be our real selves. Over time, we become what others see in us.”
Nero smirked as the elongated pool touching the very edge of the terrace glimmered in the sun. “Maybe if you stick around, you’ll get to be what I see in you.”
Miguel went silent as a shiver went down his arms, because the Miguel Nero seemed to see through the walls Miguel had erected around himself was the man he couldn’t let himself be. That Miguel wasn’t afraid to express his desire, nor was he confused about his identity. He fucked Nero Moreno without a second thought and didn’t care what the Correas might think of him. He wasn’t concerned with what his mother might do if she found out he was gay, or that he’d abandoned his mission to share his bed with a Caiman. That alternative Miguel might have been happier, free of obligations that weighed him down like cement boots.
He cleared his throat and took off his jacket. “It’s getting hot again.”
A tall man in black stepped out of the villa, waiting for them at the top of the stairs, but Nero didn’t hurry and smirked. “Sometimes, it’s easier to just be hated. Then, you don’t have to risk trusting people. It’s been a while since I spoke about those kinds of things with anyone.”
Miguel’s heart sped up even though its emotional center was supposed to be dead and buried under the blood and guts of the men he’d killed. He’d had so little time with this new Nero Moreno, and now he’d betray him and once again prove that Nero could trust no one. He hated himself for it. Once he was dead though, another man’s disappointment wouldn’t matter. Maybe Nero would at least get some solace from being free of his father as a result of Miguel’s sacrifice. But what could have been, would have been. Now, he just needed an opening.
“I’m glad we had these few days to get to know each other. Even if the Correas are assholes about it.”.
“Fuck them. And the world,” Nero said, and as they approached, the main entrance to the villa opened wide, and Raul Moreno stepped out to join his man.
The smile was gone from Nero’s mouth, replaced by the neutral grimace of disinterest. It was as if his soul had left his body, leaving the lizard brain at the reins.
If Miguel hadn’t known what to expect, he would have been disappointed. Raul was the kind of man whom some people would have called forgettable. Of average height and build, he was like every other middle-aged man on the streets of Medelín or Bogotá, complete with a receding hairline and a bit of a pot belly. Only his eyes, as bright as Nero’s, would have set him apart with their utter lack of emotion.
Miguel became a statue, a soldier saluting his general just before the coup he was to take part in. He itched to reach for his gun now, but too many people were close, and they all eyed him with suspicion. He needed to lie low until the moment was right. He should only take the shot if he knew he’d kill. That was the only thing that mattered.
Moreno descended the steps, dressed in swimming shorts and a cotton robe revealing the graying curls on his chest, but he might as well have been a king about to step on the head of the snake that had gotten way too close to the throne.
Miguel was drenched with sweat by the time he reached the entrance but kept his eyes low and nodded to show his respect. At his side, Nero spoke.
“Afternoon.”
Raul’s fist came out of nowhere, heading right for Nero’s face. Miguel froze, caught between the instinct to save Nero from the blow and allowing the big boss to do as he pleased. But the big fist collided with Nero’s mouth before he could have made up his mind.