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I watched as his emotions battled.
Watched as he resigned himself to his fate. “Yes, sir,” he said.
Slowly, I backed away from the door and raced to the bathroom where I fell to my knees, leaned over the toilet bowl, and vomited.
Leila wasn’t the only one that died that day. My brother died too, and all that was left was the monster my father created.
Diego takes a step toward me. “Isa—”
I cut him off. “Why?” Lowering my voice to a whisper, I ask, “What did I ever do to you? What did I do to deserve this?” My resolve to remain stoic crumbles. Brothers are supposed to protect their little sisters.
“I’m sorry.” Diego drops his head, and when he raises it again, his face is red with rage. “Fuck!” His fist slams into the wall right beside my head and I flinch so hard I almost topple over. “I watched him kill her, Isa. He wanted me to do it, but I couldn’t—so I stood there,” his voice cracks, “I stood there, and fucking watched as she begged for her life.” He rubs his hands over his face. “She begged for me to help her. And do you know what he did? He fucking laughed. Stood there andmockedher like the sadistic fuck he is.”
I choke back a sob and press my hands to my mouth to muffle my cry. “God… Diego.” Tears stream down my cheeks and I tentatively reach out to my brother for the first time in years. When he pulls me in for a bone-crushing hug, I weep with relief while simultaneously realizing this is goodbye. “I’m so sorry.” I murmur.
I’m sorry for him.
Sorry for Leila.
Sorry for me.
He may be here now, but the bond we once shared was broken long ago. Diego can’t save me, and I won’t ask him to.
“I’ll be okay,” I mumble into his neck.
Diego steps back, “Listen to me, Isa, this next part… you have to do exactly what he says, okay?”
Nodding, I wipe my eyes. “Okay.”
A knock at the door instantly changes Diego’s features. “I’m sorry.”
Me too… me too.
***
Diego’s rough grasp on my arm continues until we reach the room where I was sold just a few short hours ago. This time, the crowd is gone, and in their place, my father sits at the head of a polished oak table. Behind him, two of his men stand, guns at the ready. The other six seats are filled by the familiar faces of the higher members of the Demonio de Hielo cartel. At the opposite end to my father, the man who purchased me sits, swirling a glass of bourbon between his thick, tattooed fingers.
Diego gives me a shove forward. “Your winnings, sir.”
The man who purchased me turns his head slowly. His uninterested gaze roves my body before it stops at my face. “Name?”
“Is—”
I’m cut off by my father. “She can be whoever you wish, there is no need for names. She is nothing but a hole to fill.”
The man leans back in his seat, takes a sip of bourbon, then tilts his head to the side. Without an ounce of fear or apprehension, he stares at my father. “I suggest you watch your tone, Santos.” He grabs my wrist and pulls me onto his lap. “She is no longer yours. And as Cyler property, you will address her with respect, or I will take my money and leave. I’m sure Phillip would like to hear about your lack of hospitality.”
My father’s stoic expression falters for the first time. His shoulders stiffen, and he averts his gaze so quickly you’d haveto know him like I do to notice the flicker of aggravation that crosses his face.
Diego moves ever so slightly to place a hand on my father’s shoulder. “Let’s get this done. We have more pressing matters that require your attention, Father.”
Beneath the cover of the table, the man’s hand smooths up and down my thigh almost as though he’s trying to comfort me. The strange, unfamiliar feeling I’m not used to causes tiny threads of hope to weave their way through my veins.
“Yes, we do…” There’s a gleam in my father’s eyes that sets my nerves on edge. “But before we finalize the transaction, I’m sure Mr. Cyler would like to sample his product. If he does not, I’m certain one of my men will do so. Raul perhaps?” When he looks around the room and doesn’t find the man in question—because said man’s brains were blown out last night—my father’s eyes narrow.
“Juan,” he commands. “Find Raul.”
“Yes, sir.” Juan nods and obeys like the trained mutt he is.
