Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
"Then we'll die together, Rojas."
He eyes me critically, assessing, calculating, trying to find a way out of this, one where he manipulates me, I'm sure. But that isn't happening. There is no way out for him this time. I should have done this shit a long time ago, but he's always seemed untouchable, the goddamn boogey man I had to fight. Not anymore. I don't care if it throws the entire fucking region into chaos, upends the drug market, and my own empire. He dies tonight.
"What's in the bag, Leyva?" He nods at it.
I scoop it from my lap, tossing it across the room toward him. It lands at his feet, blood splattering the pretty white carpet.
Rojas glances at it warily.
"You like to collect things from your victims, no? I've heard that about you, Rojas. A finger. An entire hand. Some fucked-up momento so when their families look at the body, they know who was responsible and they fear you." I motion at the bag with the gun. "I collected a few for you."
He glances at me, amusement curling his lips. "These are not my victims, Leyva."
"Yeah, they are," I say softly. "All twenty-three men you planted in my organization are your responsibility, you prick. They're dead because of you. Because you can't stand to fucking fail."
"I've failed at nothing."
"The fact that I'm alive says otherwise." I smirk at him, cold and vicious. "You wanted my family gone, wanted the Leyva name to fall. You massacred my entire goddamn family to achieve it. But you never could kill me, Rojas. You were too fucking stupid to accomplish it."
"If I had wanted you dead, you would have died, Leyva," he snaps, his voice hard, angry. "Perhaps you lived because you were more useful alive. Look at what I've done, malparido. You were on the throne, and I've still infected your organization. I've still taken what I wanted, when I wanted. Your father's people wouldn't follow me outright so I gave them war. They've marched to my orders and thought they were railing against me for years."
Shit. Maybe he's right. He's kept this entire country at each other's throats, kept the entire damn drug trade in turmoil. We've fought and clawed for as long as I can remember, trying to hold him off. And he's the only one who has come out ahead.
But the game has changed. I have. I'm done dancing on strings just because I've got a fucking crown on my head. I didn't sign up for this life any more than Brynna did. So I'm not doing shit his way or anyone else's. Not anymore. It's my motherfucking way. The god of war needs to die. And so does the motherfucker who birthed him.
"Maybe so. Maybe you did infect my organization. Maybe you did have us dancing on your strings," I acknowledge, pointing the gun at him again. "But I'm fucking done, Rojas. This war is over. You never should have let your men touch her. That's what kills you in the end. Not your fucking drugs. Not your goddamn empire. A girl." My lip curls in a snarl. "You pathetic piece of shit."
Desperation lights his eyes as he lunges for me, reaching for his gun at the same time. But I've said what I came to say. Seen what I need to see. I stare him in the fucking eyes when I pull the trigger.
And I smile when his blood paints the walls.
Chapter Sixteen
Brynna
Waiting for Naz to return to me is a special kind of hell. It burns every minute of the day. Fear and anxiety are my constant companions, sinking their claws in deep and refusing to let go.
No matter how many times my father tells me that he'll be fine, I can't catch my breath. No matter how often Niall tries to make me laugh, I can't see beyond the overwhelming emptiness.
For once, neither tries to hide what's happening from me. They keep me informed, as if they're afraid I might break if they don't. It's a small silver-lining in a starless night.
He's killing everyone, their god of war set loose on the battlefield like a demon. I don't feel sorry for them. For the first time in my life, I don't feel guilt or regret. I just feel…relief. Rage.
And that's the freedom he gave me. He snatched me out of my cage and taught me that I'm allowed to embrace the dark. I'm allowed to roll in it. It doesn't change who I am. It's just one part of me. And that part is no less worthy than the darkest, deepest, bleakest pieces of his soul. We are who we are, predator and pawn, monster and princesa. Naz and Brynna.
On day six, he finally returns to me. I finally breathe again. The moment he steps through the front door with my father at his side…I crack. And break.