“Hijo de tu puta madre.” Ignacio huffs when the men throw him in behind me.
“Is it customary for Mexicans to insult their host?” a man says, emerging from the shadows.
He’s in a green suit. The small amount of light showcases the almost God-like features of his straight nose and chiseled jaw. His eyes land on me first, then Ignacio, and he smiles like he’s been waiting an eternity for this moment.
“Untie me, motherfucker, and I’ll show you how Mexicans treat backstabbing Italians.”
“Backstabbing? Coming from you?” He tsks.
“Fuck you, Cesidio,” Ignacio spits out.
My head jerks up, catching the cold green eyes of the infamous Cesidio Biondini.
“Almita. I’ve been eager to meet you.” He looks at me curiously and then back to Igancio, searching for something.
What, I’m not sure. He takes a step forward and his hand extends, knuckles grazing my jaw.
“Extraordinarily similar and yet so different.” He observes.
My pulse raises, and I turn, my eyes pleading with Ignacio to do something. Anything to get us out of here.
“Where is she?” Ignacio says calmly before he shouts. “ADELINA!”
“Adelina!” he yells again, and something inside Ceisidio snaps.
His hand disappears beneath his suit jacket and reemerges with a gun. A shot fires, and Ignacio drops with a sound that’s half-gasp, half-choked scream. His leg folds under him, blood blooming across his pant leg. My ears ring, and my entire body goes numb. Cesidio exhales like he just corrected a minor inconvenience.
“Don’t you ever say my mother’s name! EVER!” Cesidioscreams into Ignacio’s face, and the walls seem to shake around us.
His fist clenches the gun as he moves back, and his hate filled eyes return to me.
“And you. You are the reason for all of this!” He stares at me like I’m the root of every one of his problems.
I try to make sense of his words, searching my memory for any idea of Adelina, or any connection to him or Cassiel. He stares at me, and I walk backward slowly until my back hits a wall.
“I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on,” I cry.
“Of course you don’t know anything. My family paid Missy so you wouldn’t know a thing. But the plan backfired. And you know why?”
He lowers the gun to my face, and I shut my eyes. The cold metal of the barrel grazes my chin.
“Because you just wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t just leave well enough alone. You want the truth, Alma? Here’s the truth. That man bleeding out right there. That’s your father.”
The words hit me so hard my lungs forget how to work. Something sharp twists behind my ribs, and for a second, all I can hear is my own heartbeat slamming in my ears. I shake my head.
Once.
Twice.
Too fast.
“No,” I whisper, looking to Ignacio, who’s staring up at me, his brows furrowed.
“How do you not see it!” Cesidio laughs. “The hair, the nose, your entire pathetic existence is thanks to this man.”
I’m stunned to silence—my body not sure if I should run or cry. Cry or scream.
“And Adelina?” I say looking to Cesidio.
