He snorts, then ignores me for the rest of the drive, speeding until Gael’s SUV disappears from our view. We pull up to my grandfather’s compound about an hour later, and I almost don’t recognize it. It looks like it’s been abandoned for a decade. The big wall that surrounds everything is solid, but the paint is rain-stained and faded, the beautiful landscaping now a graveyard where green things go to die.
We drive around to the back, which, as I suspected, is heavily guarded. Five men armed with automatic rifles surround the vehicle. I could start the killing spree here, but that would alert too many people, and it’s better to get an accurate count of all the guards now. Logistics first, murder later.
Odd, Anders’ twin, is the one who taught me that it’s better to be patient and get more data before you begin killing people. He’s right, of course. Anders calls him a stick-in-the-mud, but I think Odd’s onto something.
I should call him.
Me and Lefty roll into the compound, and the house, a large Spanish-style villa built around what was once a beautiful courtyard, is in even worse repair than the wall. The structure is solid, but a few windows are smashed out and the beautiful courtyard now houses a parched fountain and wild overgrowth. This place always had a remote feeling, but now it feels like a ghost town.
As we roll to a stop, memories of love, rejection, and alienation push in from all sides. I remember trips to the park with my mom, visits from Yaya and Gaelcito, followed by long stretches of loneliness.
There were lectures about my responsibilities as the last living Allende heir, followed by whispers that I wasn’t living up to the family standard. My mom tried to protect me from the worst of it, but I was a small kid with big ears, and I knew something was wrong with me.
It took being sold for me to realize that wanting to marry a man was the thing that was wrong with me. In that way, trafficking did what my grandfather’s sneering side-eye couldn’t do—I no longer wanted to marry a man once I saw what they were capable of.
My eyes fall again to the dried-up fountain, and I remember how lush everything used to be. A forgotten memory spins up. I'd been playing quietly with my cars under the shade of the elephant plant by the fountain because I found the splashing water soothing.
I suppose that’s why my grandfather and my mother never saw me. He’d pulled her into the courtyard by one of the trees, then started kissing her. Not in the way a father-in-law kisses his daughter-in-law, but the way lovers kiss. Worse, she’d kissed him back. My grandfather, never a soft man, pressed his forehead to hers, smiling as he palmed her belly.
“My heir,” he whispered sweetly.
Something in my mom’s expression faltered, but he kissed her again and took her by the hand, leading her to his side of the living quarters.
My memories shift to my heavily pregnant mother pushing me under the bed, telling me to cover my ears and close my eyes. Always a little defiant, I watched as booted feet stormed in through the door and listened as my mother’s screams filled the room.
My grandfather had always been involved in shady bullshit, and the men took delight in telling my mother this was payback. I never fully understood the details then, but I do now. When they left the room, my mother slid to the floor, staring at me with dead eyes as blood pooled around her.
It was hours before a maid finally found me.
The nightmare was far from over though. My grandfather still had a debt to settle.
I blink away the horror-drenched memories as the truck comes to a stop. The driver gets out and circles around to my side, opening the door for me. I undo my seat belt and step out of the truck, taking a neutral stance. I glance up at my grandfather’s window and startle to find him looking down at me. He drifts away like a ghost.
A man who looks to be in his forties—though who can tell these days—walks up to us. He’s handsome, tall, and has the beginnings of gray at his temple.
“So. You are the grandson causing your grandfather so much trouble.”
I grin, touching my fingers to my chest. “Me? Troublesome?Never.”
He looks me up and down, and I let him. While I appear disinterested, I am, in fact, cataloging every person in this compound. I count about a dozen men, and half of them are standing guard, immobile.
That’ll slow their reaction times, which is good for me. The others are milling about, which makes them a little more dangerous, but nothing I can’t handle. Better, the little truck partially blocks their view of us, which means I’ll get a few of them before all hell breaks loose.
It’s all about crowd control. Omar taught me that.
“Yes, troublesome. I hear you’ve been on a killing spree, one that’s cost me a lot of money. Thankfully, there’s a guaranteed way for you to be able to pay me back, and according to our records, you make a great whore. So, getting on your knees again shouldn’t be all that difficult.”
Ah, so this is the current asshole in charge. I do hope he caught the sunrise when he woke up this morning. It’ll be his last.
I respond to his threat by wrinkling my nose and tilting my head back to look him in the eyes. I do this to emphasize how tall and strong he is compared to how small and weak I am. His body is relaxed, without an ounce of muscle tension anywhere. So certain that I pose no threat to him or his men. Assuming the Silent One did all the murdering.
It's almost boring, really.
“No, thank you,” I answer brightly.
Amusement filters behind his eyes. “No, thank you? It wasn’t an offer, little one. It was a statement of fact. And hey, since you’re probably a little rusty, I’ve asked several of my men to help break you back in. You’ll be happy to know they were more than willing.”
Ah, I think to myself,that explains the men who are milling around.
