Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
It’s . . . just like me.
The hours go by in a flash.
I wrote during most of the day in the library, not giving a damn if I was supposed to leave that prisoner’s room or not. I got hungry, so I went to the kitchen, but a snack tray was already prepared for me, courtesy of the fucking Jefe himself. Orange slices, pretzels, Brazilian nuts, and water.
Eduardo couldn’t even look me in the eye. I could tell he was disappointed in me. I didn’t blame him, but it did sting a little when he didn’t speak to me.
I took the tray back to the library and ate it all, hating every bite as I thought of him. There are only three guards around and they are the weakest ones. Not too bright, either, and I honestly think they are afraid of me. They are newer, but just as willing to give their life for their boss as the older guards are.
As I wrote, I questioned myself. Why I didn’t just sneak out of the window in here and run away? Swim away, even?
But then, as I scribbled out all of my hatred, my craze, and the hostile words my beating heart could no longer contain, I realized that I couldn’t run. I wouldn’t. He didn’t scare me anymore. Even though I shook and trembled, it wasn’t out of fear, I realized.
It was out of adrenaline.
That toxic, dangerous rush I could never get enough of.
A rush I used to get when Toni would go for a drug run and the cops would show up, trying to bust him. We would have to ditch the brand new car he bought under a fake name and run as fast as our feet would allow.
Our hearts would be drumming and our minds would go numb, slipping straight into survival mode, until we were in the clear. And in the clear, we would laugh in each other’s faces, so hysterically that I really assumed we were insane.
It was fun.
It seemed real.
But it wasn’t.
Toni betrayed me. He killed Daddy.
And I think it’s because of him, and knowing that he could be the blame, that I’d rather stay here and deal with this monster instead of running away.
I’d rather face my fears.
Face the demon that dwells inside him.
Because, deep down, I know I have one of my own. Deep down, I know I’m not as innocent as I pretend to be. Deep down we have a connection—a brutal, twisted connection that is impossible to deny.
I wish I was innocent, but when you grow up the way I did, around men like Daddy and Toni and uncles who are just as crazy and bad, you know you can’t be.
You’re either just like them, or you don’t survive. I’m tired of being the fool, the stepping stool, and the clueless little girl surrounded by kings. Mama didn’t even put up with their shit. She handled it with grace and put those who stepped out of line back in their places in a heartbeat.
I remember it well. Daddy never disrespected her, and that’s because she earned that right. He was her queen. She was his ride-or-die.
I was afraid before. I thought I would be taken care of for life with Toni.
But I’m ready for my big crown now.
I’m ready to be queen.
Draco will not strip my power away from me. I’m close—so close to being at the top. So close to knowing how it will feel if it were my world. What I did only brought the real Draco back out again. The one whose passion runs deep, his viciousness so strong it could slay any man.
He shouldn’t be lenient with me.
He should teach me, just as I want to teach him.
He should show me exactly how he wants me to be.
It’s sad that I crave this, but this power—this hunger for the most ruthless man in the world—has been something I’ve longed for my entire life.
I’m fucking sadistic, and I know it. But I can’t go back now.
Not after all I’ve done. It’s too late for that.
It’s too late for me to be good.
At 9:55 I’m leaving Draco’s bedroom.
He didn’t come up to change, but I heard him return, making commands to the few guards and maids as he passed by the room.
I took a shower, braided my hair, put on a silk red robe, and no shoes. It’s what he told me to do—in the note that was slipped beneath the door of the library.
The robe was hung on the bathroom door, waiting for me. Why he wanted me to wear it and braid my hair and wear no shoes, I had no clue. I could have ignored it, but when I saw the note and his handwriting, my skin buzzed.
It buzzed because the main thing he wanted was: NO CLOTHES BENEATH.