I’m in the middle of drinking my second coffee of the day while reading the quarterly report on my newly acquired firm. Grant almost ran this thing to the ground, and it’s a wonder they had any people willing to work for them.
Like I said, they would be a valuable asset to me, and I’ll grow the firm back to its former glory so I can gift it to my wife and finally make her the rightful heir.
That would be a final fuck you to these fuckers who tried to dim the light of what’s mine. A deep satisfaction rushes through me at the thought that I finally locked her in.
My obsession with her grows by each second, and the closer we get, the greater it becomes.
That’s when the doors to my office burst open. I hear Elizabeth’s screeching voice shout, “Sir, you aren’t allowed to come inside,” just as a lean, muscled man in a three-piece suit enters, his magnetic aura sweeping everything in its wake. He walks as if the whole world belongs to him, and to an extent, it does.
For he’s a king in his own right and rules with an iron fist that has the power to kill anyone he pleases.
His dark hair, threaded with several gray strands, stands out against his tan skin, and his colorful eyes study me with both boredom and amusement that’s cold and predatory in nature.
Despite being fifty, everyone knows not to fuck with him because the wordmercydoesn’t exist in his vocabulary.
“Orion Wright. We finally meet,” he addresses me, adjusting the pins on his sleeves while Elizabeth blinks in confusion, looking at me and probably silently asking me how to proceed. I’m surprised security hasn’t arrived already. “Hold off all his scheduled meetings,” he throws over his shoulder, making my lips twitch. That’s so like him to dish out orders even though he has no such authority here. “And I’d like some coffee.”
“Last time I checked, I don’t work for you, and if you want coffee, get it yourself,” Elizabeth snaps at him, and his brow rises. “Mr. Wright?”
“You can leave us. It’s all right.” She sends one last glare toward the man before she shuts the door. I set my coffee down and stand. “I do not appreciate when unwanted guests barge into my office. Do not do it again. Ever.” A beat passes. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
I know who this man is, of course. One must always study their enemies in order to be ready should they strike againstyou. However, letting him know that would have been a fatal mistake on my part.
“Ah, fair enough. This is the character everyone speaks of. Have to say, your reputation precedes you, and from what I’ve heard…none of it was flattering.” He extends his hand to me and introduces himself. “Gael Castillo.”
“If it wasn’t flattering, what are you doing here?” I point at the chair opposite mine, and we both sit at the same time. Gael rests his arms on the chair, his hawklike gaze drilling holes into me, searching for a weakness he’d wish to exploit. Although knowing how he operates, he has already gathered reports on my life and finally decided he has enough to throw his demands at me.
Which means he considers my wife a weakness. Instantly, the beast inside me roars at the idea that someone might want to hurt her.
He breaks the silence, his voice even as his features stay blank, and I guess I’m witnessing his legendary poker face in the flesh, the one that makes even the bravest man shake in their boots from fear. “I’m old enough to know how to engage in useless polite conversations while circling the point. We’re both busy men, so let’s be frank here.” A beat passes. “I want what your family stole from me.”
Leaning back in my chair, I reply while keeping my emotions at bay. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Wrights aren’t known to steal things.”
“You were born into wealth, and your mother gave you a legacy that you were smart enough to preserve. I admire such strength. That being said, I clawed my way to the top. And that’s the difference between you and me. Let’s not bullshit one another and settle this thing, once and for all.”
“You climbed your way to the top by killing people,” I remind him, and he flashes me a smile. “You joined the cartel at the ageof fifteen, and just after eight years, you eliminated the boss and became one yourself. A position that you managed to hold for the past twenty-seven years.” I tap on my chin and pretend to think hard about something. “Weren’t you his most trusted person? He loved you like a son, and you backstabbed him. So you’re right. We’re different. I value and respect loyalty.”
He laughs and takes out the cigar from his pocket, flipping a lighter through his fingers in such a familiar way that it's astonishing. He lights it up and puffs the smoke, nicotine filling the space between us. “The boss became a threat to himself and society. It’s a dangerous thing to have so much power when one lets the evil in his head win. Believe it or not, killing can be a mercy done for the greater good.” He puffs out more smoke. “I’m sure you understand that since you killed your own father and protected your family’s legacy.” The minute he mentions my family, all indifference is gone from him, and anger drips from every word he speaks next. “All debts must be paid, Orion. Give me what you’ve stolen from me. The time has come.”
Justice.
I stole justice and revenge from Gael by killing Condrad, and Gael’s soul since then burns for one thing only.
He never got the chance to avenge his daughter’s death, and unfortunately for him, I could never allow the only way he can do it now.
“Like I said. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’ve been patient with you. I respected how you handled your father and all the trafficking rings, even though it was my given right.” He slams his fist on the desk while his fingers tighten around the cigar. “And I even understood your attachment to him. You’ve had eighteen years with him. He’s no longer a child that you need to watch or protect. He’s a man now, and the time has come to answer for everything.”
“So you know that Actaeon is your grandson.”
His real name was a guarded secret. Even Rafael doesn’t know it for this exact reason.
He flinches at the wordgrandsonand fury blazes through his mismatched eyes. They share similarities even in their anger. In fact, I’d say Actaeon is his spitting image. A fact that Gael would hate. “Do not call him my grandson. Conrad raped my daughter, and he is the result of her suffering. I would never accept him.”
And she knew it too.
Magdalena breathes heavily, grabbing the cage’s bar, and her agonizing scream echoes through the dungeon when she pushes a little bit more. I watch as the head slowly emerges. “I hate your family,” she whispers, pushing again and allowing me to catch the baby in the towel I brought down. The screeching little red and blue thing is covered in goo.
