“How can you say that??”
“Tu sabes, tío,” I hummed. “Love is like any other riches people kill for. It’s a weakness, leverage. And my father died because he fell in love with someoneyouwanted for yourself.”
In that moment, I saw it in his eyes.
He knew that I knew.
Arturo Alvarez hadn’t killed my parents.Hedid.
“Because you were jealous,” I whispered.
Ocho jumped up from his seat, wobbling a bit. He was barely on his feet and my men were in motion, closing and locking the door to the bar, surrounding him, and taking his pistol.
“You little shit,” he growled, backing up, while I advanced on him. Slowly, regarding him with every bit of hatred in my heart for the man who’d murdered my parents. Thought it was contained. I harnessed it, like an unwavering power that only grew stronger with every step. “You think you’re so smart…”
“I know I’m smart,” I sighed. “And you, Tío Ocho, are not. You’re pathetic, and stupid, and fuckingdead.”
Lunging at him, I grabbed him by the collar, shoving him back against the door. “Thisis what comes of blood for blood,Ocho.Sangre por sangre.”
I reached into my pocket, pulling out the knife I’d taken from Arturo Alvarez… A bird in barbed wire, carved into ivory… Beside the initials AA.
There was fury in my veins.
Whipping it open at my side, I brought the blade up to my uncle’s throat. He was shaking, eyes wide, shining fear, but with a dash of rage. As if he wanted nothing more than to find a way to kill me for this.
He never would, but still, I liked the look. It enlivened me.
It reminded me of the boy in the closet… Arturo’s son, whom I’d left alive with the murdered corpses of his parents. Tearful green eyes blinking up at me, likely too young to understand what he was feeling in that moment. But Uncle Ocho understood it…
It’s the need forvengeance. To tip the scales back in your favor.
Slanting my head and lifting a brow, I murmured, “Long live the King.”
Then I plunged the knife into his throat.
I stabbed him seven more times after that…Ocho.
I thought it was funny.
With my last remaining connection to my parents lying dead on the floor, I brushed a white strand of hair from my face and breathed, “Get this cleaned up.”
And that was it.
After all, there can only be one king.
Me.I’d taken hold of this kingdom.
Myempire… Digno de el nombreIvory.
THE HISTORY OF ALABASTER ISLE
Part III: Alabaster
There I was, the youngest cartel leader in recorded history.
Twenty-six years old, and running an operation that spanned three continents, nine countries, four major trade agreements—and counting.
A hostile takeover I had bid successfully, andwon, after only five years of climbing the cartel ladder.
