Page 65 of LA Reign

“It’s time for you to step up now, Alejandro. Phillipe and Carlos will need you more than ever.”

“I know,” I reply, the weight of that knowledge lying heavy on my shoulders. My father has always looked out for his younger brothers, protecting them from any potential dangers.

“You need to keep an eye on Carlos especially. I’m worried about him. You know he can be a loose cannon. Even now, he is capable of acting recklessly. With Carlos, sometimes you have to protect him from himself.”

I think back to yesterday, to the insulting way he talked about Alana. I was seconds away from punching him in the face.

“Well, right now he’s just pissed that somebody tried to kill his big brother.”

My father opens his eyes again and stares at me. “No. It’s more than that. I think he might be getting sick again, Alejandro.”

This is a subject that is rarely discussed, even within our closest family circles. I was a teenager when it first happened, and even then, much of it was kept from me. All I know is that seventeen years ago, my Uncle Carlos had some kind of mental break.

Nobody knows the exact reason why. But it was so bad that he ended up out of control, running away and embarking on a killing spree. Our family is no stranger to death, but from what I can gather this was not related to our business. It was because of his psychosis. His victims chosen at random.

Eventually he was found after several days. Naked, shivering, covered in the blood of those he had killed, and mumbling incoherently. My father leapt into action straight away, determined to protect his little brother at all costs. He managed to cover up the killings, and Carlos spent a full year in one of the best mental health facilities in California. After extensive therapy and medication, he was deemed fit to be released and has lived within our code ever since. It is, perhaps understandably, a part of our history that is kept buried.

My father meets my eyes, a pleading expression on his face. He loves Carlos, and I will do anything I can to put his mind at rest. “Of course, Papa. I will keep a careful eye on him and make sure he stays well. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Alejandro. I know he is not always the easiest of men to get along with, but he has had so many struggles, you know? He needs his family.”

I nod and pat my father’s hand. “And he has us. Don’t worry about it. Now, you probably should get some rest, Papa.”

My father catches hold of my hand, squeezing it with a reassuring burst of strength. “Gracias. You are a good son.”

He closes his eyes again, obviously relieved that our conversation has reached its conclusion. I look on as his chest rises and falls and he drifts back to sleep. I don’t know how long I sit there with him, holding his hand and watching him.

My mind races with dozens of questions. I am turning over every stone I can think of to uncover the answers, but I’m not finding them fast enough.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

ALANA

Iwalk into the family room at the hospital carrying two cups of hot coffee. Alejandro’s mom is already in there waiting for me.

“Here we are,” I say as I hand her one and place mine on the small Formica table.

“Thank you, Alana,” she says with a smile before she holds the cup to her lips and takes a sip. She winces as she tastes the bitter liquid. “Ostia! This is just about the worst coffee I have ever had,” she says with a laugh as she places her cup down beside mine.

“I know,” I laugh too. “The vending machine was all that was available, sorry,” I say with a shrug.

“At least it is hot.” She smiles at me and pats the seat beside her. “Come, sit. You look tired.”

“A little,” I say as I stifle a yawn and sit down beside her. “I’m sure you didn’t get much sleep yourself?”

“Not a wink,” she smiles at me and her beautiful hazel eyes twinkle. “But, there will be plenty of time for sleep when I’m dead, cariño,” she laughs. It’s so good to hear her laughter. Yesterday it felt like I might never hear it again.

I smile at her. I’ve learned from Magda that cariño means sweetheart, and it feels nice to hear her call me that. I love Alejandro’s mom. She’s so down to earth, so warm and caring—she reminds me a little of my grandma, although I would never tell her that. I’m not sure she’d take being compared to my grandma as the compliment I’d intend it to be.

“I’m so glad Mateo has woken up. Did the doctors say how he’s doing?” Better, obviously, given that she has agreed to leave his side for a little while.

“They said it will take him a few weeks to get back on his feet and the machines will need to help him breathe until his lung is fully healed. But he is alive and he is going to be just fine.” She smiles again as she squeezes my hand. “This time yesterday, I thought I was going to lose him, so today, Alana, is a good day!”

“It certainly is,” I agree.

“I always dreaded this happening, you know? Always felt that eventually, this day would come. You cannot move in the world that our men move in without acquiring some enemies. I suppose we have been lucky that Mateo has never really been hurt before now, just the usual scuffles and fights. But now…”