by M. Robinson
I cocked my head to the side, feeling the wrath of his statement. “Who do you work for?”
“Now where’s the fun in that, if I told you? You’re El Diablo, right? Interesting, because all I see is a pussy standing in front of me. You want to know where your sister is? You’re going to have to play his game. It’s actually really fucking entertaining to watch. So dance, devil, dance.” Abruptly, he nodded to his men. “Let’s go, I’m done with him for now.”
I stepped toward him, instantly halting my steps. “I swear to God if you take my wife with you, I will find you and make you suffer a thousand deaths, before I let you die. So think twice,” I warned, meaning every last word. “I won’t stop until you’re mine.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
His seedy glare shifted to Gino when he added, “El Capo, her father.” The expression on his face filled with rage. “Will bring you back from the dead just to kill you all over again. Think before you do something you’ll regret. Do you have any idea who she is?”
Vitale mocked, “Mafia princess, right?”
“You’re signing your death certificate if you leave with her.”
“What can I say?” He shrugged. “I like to live life on the edge.”
“Sienna,” I called for her and our eyes connected. “I’ll find you. I promise.”
For a split second, I saw everything I wanted through her stare.
Loyalty.
Love.
Trust…
In me.
Without thinking twice about it, I mouthed, “I love you.” For the first time.
Her eyes closed, and I knew she shut them for one reason and one reason alone. She wanted those words to be the last memory she had of me, before I found her again.
“That was precious,” Vitale taunted. “I’ll try my best not to make her fall in love with me, but I have that effect on women. You can just ask your sister the next time you see her.”
“What the fu—”
He jerked around, yanking my wife with him. Rendering me speechless.
What the hell did he mean by that?”
Seconds later, we watched his men surround him as he exited the church with Sienna still in his arms.
Compliant.
Surrendering.
Needing to stay alive…
For me.
It took everything inside of my body, not to chase after them and tear off his limbs with my bare hands.
I’d find him.
I had to.
Not only did my sister’s life depend on it, now my wife’s did too.
Immediately upon hearing their cars drive away, I nodded to my men and we hauled ass behind them. Quickly realizing I was right as soon as I saw my car.
Gino rushed out of the church with his phone in his hand.
“Don’t,” I ordered, aware he was going to call El Capo.
“Cruz, he’ll kill you if you don’t tell him.”
“And they will—” I nodded at my car “—kill both of them if you do.”
The ringleader was sending me on a wild fucking goose chase. An address was written out on the windshield in Sienna’s blood…
Threatening, “Come alone or else.”
Chapter 38
—Cruz—
Three hours later, I was driving down an old dirt road into a community that looked like it was deserted. Almost as if it was a ghost town. A lot of the houses were run down, the grass was unkempt, and no vehicles were parked in the driveways.
No kids playing outside.
No husbands or fathers driving home from work.
There was no life in this neighborhood. They chose it for that reason in itself. Anyone could get away with murder when there was no around to rat them out. I parked my car outside what appeared to be an abandoned home.
Alone.
Unprotected.
Fully armed.
I stepped out onto a dimly-lit driveway in a seedy ass neighborhood, suddenly questioning why the fuck I was here of all places. My eyes scanned the area one last time before I started mentally preparing myself for the unspeakable.
“I’ll try my best not to make her fall in love with me, but I have that effect on women. You can just ask your sister the next time you see her.”
The piece of shit’s words pounded in my head, along with the never-ending questions of what the hell was going on.
Was my sister in love with him or was he just baiting me?
Did he break her?
Why?
What was the point of all this?
Memories of the women I’d broken for the sole purpose of trying to find Adriana consumed my thoughts. I was no better than Vitale and his men. My conscience always found a way to prove that I’d forever hear that little voice in the back of my head. There was no escaping it.
Repeatedly shouting, “You’re the same! You’re the same! You’re the same!”
I tried to refocus my attention on the task at hand, listening to the clacking sound of my black dress shoes on the broken concrete beneath every step of my feet. Each stride echoed profoundly through the obscurity ahead of me. Taking the shattered steps up to the porch two at a time, I stopped at the front door of the condemned structure.
Once again, that little voice screamed, “No good will come of this.”
More blood.
More deaths.
More souls.
Possibly mine this time around. I wasn’t concerned with the fact I was unprotected, I could handle my own. It was what I’d be walking into that had my nerves on edge. I’d lose my shit if I saw my sister or wife in any compromising situation. Based on my brief encounter with Vitale, I was worried about what condition I’d find Adriana. Emotionally and physically.
What did he do to her?
What was he doing to her?
How much psychological damage had he caused?
My pulse quickened, feeling the significance of those questions. The repercussions of what I allowed to happen to my sister was a burden I’d bare for the rest of my life. It was hard imagining Ari as a broken spirit. She was always so full of life. The level of trauma she may have experienced wasn’t something I considered until Vitale spoke about her in such a derogatory manner.
My sister wasn’t street smart, she had no real-life experience. She was sheltered, guarded, anyone could take advantage of her innocence and genuine kindness. She was an easy target.
Trying to steady my composure, I inhaled a deep breath of stale air. There were too many questions and emotions all happening at the same time, and I couldn’t control any of them. Deciding at the last second it was best to prepare myself for the worst outcome.
Was Ari here?
Was Sienna?
Vitale?
The man who orchestrated their kidnappings?
Gripping my gun firmer in my right hand, I opened the door with the other. It was unlocked, waiting for me to enter the unknown. The point of no return. Right when I stepped inside, I reached for the lights and turned them on. Quickly realizing this home wasn’t abandoned at all.
It was full of life.
Ours.
Mine.
The air from my lungs drained as I jerked back, not believing the scene I was observing.
“What the fuck?” I breathed out, shaking my head. Shocked by what I was seeing.
Closing the old wood door behind me, I leaned against it. Needing the support to hold my body up. I was overwhelmed with the scenery, a sensory overload of the timelines in front of me.
Pictures.
Newspaper clippings.
Birthdays.
Family vacations.
Monumental moments.
Sienna’s graduation party.
Our wedding.
I couldn’t keep up with all the photos, there were so many. Inhaling another deep breath, I reined in my emotions. I had to. It was the only way I’d get to the bottom of this senseless pursuit that was dragging me down. Pushing off the door, I took a few
steps further into what appeared to be the living room. Slowly, turning in a circle with my gun still tightly in my grasp, I stood near the grungy couch in the center of the space, expecting the unexpected.
“The fuck,” I rasped, my eyes shifting from one article to the next.
New York Times.
The Guardian.
Daily News.
One right after the other.
My father’s corruption through the years filled the torn wallpapered walls as if it were a summary of his life.
Ari’s.
Sienna’s.
My mother’s.
Mine.
We were all there, taped to the walls in black and white. None of the images had any color. Some of them were older than others, while several were new pictures. Including my wife riding her horse that morning.
“You motherfucker,” I gritted through a clenched jaw.
I didn’t understand, and the more I tried to come up with answers, the less I had.
My mind spun.
My body throbbed.
My eyes were wide open, pitifully trying to connect the dots. A puzzle that felt like it was missing more pieces than I had to paste together.
“What the hell—”
My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. I reached into the inside pocket of my suit jacket and grabbed it. Looking down at the screen, I saw my father was calling.
Should I answer?
Could I play it off like I wasn’t in the lion’s den?
I ignored it, thinking back on Vitale’s threat.
Come alone or else.
Almost instantly, he called again. On the third attempt, I knew I had to answer it.
“Papá, I’m in the midd—”
“Cruz…”
One voice had the power to bring me to my knees.
Literally.
Chapter 39
—Cruz—
There were several situations in my life I knew would infinitely be a part of me. Engraved so deeply into my skin, it blended perfectly. Seamlessly drenched in my blood, becoming one with my veins. I wouldn’t know who I was without its presence inside of me now.
The day my sister was taken.
My first kill.
My baptism in mafia blood.
Those were just to name a few.
The moment I heard my sister’s voice on the other end of our father’s phone, my heart shot to my throat.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t fucking see straight.
A butterfly affect. Every action triggered a reaction. Once something began, there was no changing the chain of events that followed.
I didn’t want this.
I never prayed for this.
That little voice in the back of my fucking head, yelled…
“This is where you die!”
“Ari?”
She bemoaned, “You need to turn on the TV.” Her voice shook with anxiety. It sounded like she’d been balling her eyes out, but she was trying to keep it together for me.
Call it instinct, our connection, fucking foreshadowing…
She wasn’t safe.
He didn’t rescue her.
My intuition was correct when she repeated, “You need to turn on the TV,” in the same tone.
“Ari, tell me where you are.”
Silence.
My patience could only take so much, I snapped, “Jesus Christ, Ari! Tell me where you are!
“You need to turn on the tv.”
“Ari—”
“Just fucking turn on the TV, Cruz!”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, as I hurried around the room. In a rush, I frantically searched for the remote.
“It’s on the mantle.”
Coming to a complete stop, I felt her response in the core of my stomach. “You know where I am?”
“I can see you.”
My gaze flew through the living room. “Were you here, Ari? Is this where they had you?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not there anymore. You are.”
“Enough with the cryptic bullsh—”
The brutal smacking sound across her face, shadowed by her whimpering in pain was enough to render me speechless.
“You piece of shit!” Papá seethed through the phone. “Take it out on me! Not my daughter! Me!”
I ran to the mantle and grabbed the remote, clicking the button on. “All right! All right! Enough! It’s on!” I exclaimed, unable to do anything but follow orders like a fucking dog.
In a matter of seconds, the screen went from black to a live stream. My vision tunneled, and all the blood drained from my face.
“Nooooo!” I roared in one breath, gripping onto the phone tighter in my hand. The despair in my voice recoiled off the walls which were now caving in on me.
One by one.
I surrendered to the screen.
An undeniable sense of despair settled upon my whole body. I was drowning in the misery of what was unfolding. There was nothing I could do, other than watch my biggest fear become my greatest reality.
The Devil fell on his own free will.
Bloody.
Beaten.
Our father was laying on the ground in the middle of a room I didn’t recognize.
Broken.
“Please, God, no…” I cried out with fresh tears pooling in my eyes.
As soon as the words escaped my lips, the men surrounding my father started to kick him from his head to his legs.
Kick.
After kick.
After kick.
Over.
And over.
And over again.
“Stop it! Please! Stop it!” Adriana bellowed while two other men held her back. She was in the same room with him. Witnessing the gruesome truth of our world when she was the only angel present among demons.
“Take me!” I begged while tears poured down the sides of my face. “Please take me!”
His arm’s flailed, desperately trying to block their vicious assault.
His battered frame rolled on the ground, recoiling from the ruthless and malicious beating they were handing him.
His life was being ripped away, and little-by-little, the fight in him was gone.
“You’re killing him! Please! I’m begging you! You’re fucking killing him!” I pleaded, falling apart right there with him.
My vision blurred.
My lungs burned.
My chest throbbed.
This was what Hell looked like, felt like. I was being burned alive. Everything around me began to fade away.
Including him.
“Enough!” I demanded. “He’s had enough!”
Witnessing the strongest man I’d ever known appear weak, a man I respected all my life getting the shit kicked out of him, was such a helpless fucking feeling. If I was there, I’d be defending him with my last breath if I had to. There was nothing I could do.
All I heard was my sister’s sobs, her ragged breathing, and her heart shattering like mine was. Our father didn’t make a sound. Not a single noise.
Out of nowhere, the same auto-tuned voice echoed off the screen.
“Walls speak evil.
Doors hide truths.
Monsters deceive.
Serpents collide.
Be scared of the rain.
Hide from the snow.
Beware of the man.
You think you know.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Our father stopped moving and the screen went pitch black. I didn’t know if he was knocked unconscious or dead.
“You monsters! I hope you all burn in Hell!” Adriana fumed, loud and clear through the phone.
I could feel her pain.
Her anguish.
Her downright devastation.
“Do you hear me?” she spewed, hanging on the same thin thread I was. “Are you listening? Fry in Hell, motherfucker!”
Bang!
&n
bsp; My chest locked up.
My body froze.
All the battle in me vanished as it had moments ago for our father.
Instantaneously, a hard thud of a body dropped to the ground.
“Noooooooo!” I hollered, recognizing those two sounds. “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!”
The adrenaline soared to my head. My entire existence
erupted into a big burning blaze. The fire in my soul was bigger than the flames searing through my body, leaving scars that would never heal. It was the only reason I survived and came out on the other side.
Before I could say another word, the call dropped and a text message dinged with a New York address.
The message ended with, no guards, no guns. You come alone, unprotected. Now you know what I’m capable of…
If you don’t listen.
Chapter 40
—Cruz—
Seconds, minutes, hours later, everything blended together as darkness settled in every crevice of my mind. Memories of Adriana, Sienna, and now my father, made themselves at home inside of my head. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing him lying there.
Defeated.
Helpless.
Surrendering.
He was always so strong, so in control, so fucking powerful. It was hard to see him as anything but those traits. Not once did I hear him groan out in pain or show any sign of weakness while they kicked every limb on his body. He stayed strong, and I knew he did that for us. Our father was old but resilient. Marrying a woman twenty years younger than him was his saving grace. Mamá made sure he ate healthy, worked out, and kept his body active. You wouldn’t know his age unless he told you.
Alejandro Martinez was tough, and I continued to remind myself of this the entire private flight to New York City. The city that never sleeps was an accurate representation of what I was going through. I sat there thinking about the consequences I couldn’t change. I wasn’t scared for my life, I was terrified for theirs. It didn’t matter how many times I contemplated who was behind this, it all led back to nothing.
No one.
I was fixated on a man I didn’t even know existed. My head spun as I racked my brain for clues that could point me in the right direction. Eagerly, I tried to figure out who the mastermind behind all of this was, who was pulling the strings to this nightmare.
