Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
As much as papá tries, he’ll never be able to keep up with the payments on my medical bills. And that’s okay, I’ve come to terms with dying. I’ve prayed to a god I never believed in, and if I ever came face to face with the Devil I know exists in our world, I’d beg him, not for riches or power, just for a chance at life.
Making my way into the kitchen, I pull the meat from the freezer and pop it into the microwave to defrost. I asked my father to do it before he left for work, but clearly, he forgot about it.
The chicken slowly spins on the glass plate. I watch the meat turn around and around. The medication I’ve taken is slowly wearing off, and I feel sick, once more, watching the rotating item.
Holding my stomach, I race into the bathroom and spill my guts into the toilet bowl. The lunch I’d managed to finish earlier is now lying in the pool of water. Sadness washes over me when I realize I’ll never be able to afford treatment, or the transplant that would possibly save my life. Even though papá works for one of the richest men in Colombia, I know he’ll never be able to pay for me to get better.
On my knees, in the tiny bathroom, I heave once more, and then again. The emptiness of my body offering nothing more to expel. The thought of my father’s boss makes me dry heave, one more time, before I stand on shaky legs.
The man they’ve named, The Devil, is every bit as evil as the title ensures. He lives in a castle, a monstrosity on the beautiful coast of my small city. Santa Marta is pristine, bar for one dark noose—the Cordero Castle.
It was built years ago by the man who ruled Colombia with an iron fist, and now, his son is as bad as he is. Papá has worked for the Cordero’s all his life. Since he was sixteen, he’s been pulled in by their dark promises of riches and wealth, only to be rewarded with a small house and meager earnings. But my father is loyal to a fault, he goes back each day with the promise that he’ll be able to pay for my medication.
Even though I beg him not to go back, I know there’s no running from Victor Cordero. The man is ruthless, he doesn’t take kindly to anyone going against his rules, and the thought of ever coming face to face with him sends a chill racing down my spine.
If I had a choice between death and the man my father is so loyal to, I’d choose the former. It seems an easier way of leaving this world. I’ve heard the stories, I’ve heard it from the girls who ventured into his domain—stories of his sick needs, his violent tendencies, but I’ve also heard that he’s never kept one woman in his life for longer than one night.
Shaking my head once more, I try to focus on dinner. But I can’t, whenever I think about Victor, there’s something that niggles deep in my gut, and I know that sleeping serpent will want to play. Each time she awakens, I tamp her down. But there are moments where I crave it, the darkness, the danger.
I wouldn’t back down if he were to summon me. And perhaps, that’s what I hunger for so deeply. The fire between two people. I want to experience the sting of pain and taste the drop of poison, just to feel alive and bask in the passion I crave. And I know not many men can offer me that. Not many men who I want can give me that.
But Victor is a bad man.
And bad men get killed.
Or they kill you first.
3
Victor
The moon hangs high in the dark sky tonight, surrounded by the tiny pinpricks of white. I’ve always loved the night, there are so many things you can do under the cloak of darkness. Lifting the tumbler to my lips, I take a long swallow of the dark rum that I favor.
Most of my men prefer beer, but I’ve always enjoyed the burn of liquor. The sweet, strong alcohol warms my blood as it burns through my veins. Javier informed me they have a lead on the asshole who’s been selling coke in my territory, and I’m certain, by tomorrow, I’ll have him bound and bleeding.
Anyone who crosses me pays. Either with their life or with their families’ lives—no exception. A sweet scent of perfume comes from behind me, and I expect her hand to slide over my shoulder any moment. I don’t turn around. I don’t acknowledge the woman who’s here for the night.
“Señor,” she utters in a sultry tone.
“Helena,” I turn to face her. She’s one of the prettier whores who frequents my estate. Most are older, but this young one just turned twenty-one. Her long dark hair hangs in waves down her back. Big hazel eyes shine with excitement to be called to my room. They know if they please me, they’ll be able to frequent the compound, get any drugs they want, and even get paid.