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“I’m a person, Uncle.”

“You’re a problem, and now you’re no longer mine.” He tosses me the duffel. It hits my legs and spills onto the floor. “This fantasy of yours is over with, girl. Your obsession with running away is done with. I allowed it for long enough, despite your father’s advice. He believed we needed to be firmer with you. To make you understand. But I’ve always known, it’s better to let people have hope, to let them dig their own graves.”

My pulse rockets. My hands feel numb. “Hector’s cousin. The one with the papers.”

“He was never going to come through. He works for me, after all. The second he realized your full name, I knew everything. You did well for a while, Marisol, but the game is over. This is the real world. Bastiano is your future. Do you understand?”

I stare at the contents of my bag on the floor of his car. These items, specially chosen, obsessively arranged. I thought they were my future.

Now I realize they were only ever a noose.

“I understand.”

“That’s good. You remember what happens when you disobey, don’t you? What was his name?”

My gag reflex kicks in and I have to swallow. “Danny.”

“Ah, that’s right. Nice boy. Ruben does go overboard sometimes, however.” Don Nardo gazes out the window where my cousin is waiting on the sidewalk. “I’m told the damage was quite… extensive.”

I close my eyes and can smell the blood again. Danny’s nose beaten almost to nothing, his eyes swollen shut, his gums torn, teeth scattered around him. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing! I need you whole and pretty. You are a bargaining chip. But that younger brother of yours⁠—”

I look at him sharply, eyes going wide. “No.”

“Why not? Cruz is a nice boy, but what use do I have for a nice boy in my line of work? I’ve been saying for a while we’re too soft on him. Perhaps it’s time he pulls his weight.”

“Please, don’t. Not him.”

Don Nardo’s expression hardens. I’ve never known my uncle, not really. He’s a mythical figure in my world. He stands for darkness, for pain and punishment. I’ve done everything in my power to avoid him.

Sitting here, this close to him, it’s like torture.

“Then you will obey, Marisol. You will marry Bastiano. You will not run, you will not fight, you will not make problems. You’re a pretty girl. I’m sure you know how to make a husband happy. You will do your utmost not to embarrass me, do you understand?”

I slump forward, hugging myself like I’m trying to hold in my guts.

Can I really do this? Can I actually marry Bastiano?

There won’t be any running after that. No way in hell will a man like Bass let his wife escape. He says he’ll treat me well, give me freedom, but I know better.

I know what men like him want.

The sick part is I already gave him part of it.

But Cruz is still the best thing in my life. He’s pure, not yet corrupted by the sickness that is the Escalante Cartel. I don’t know how, but he’s managed to avoid it, and I want to protect him for as long as I can.

“Leave Cruz alone. I’ll marry Bastiano. Leave Cruz alone.”

“I don’t normally negotiate with family, but I’ll make an exception this one time.” Don Nardo leans in closer, his breath smelling like cigar smoke. “But if you make trouble, I’ll work your little brother to the fucking bone. He’ll mule coke across the border. He’ll wade into the nastiest of crack dens to sling rock to toothless fiends. I’ll burn him out, don’t you doubt it, and he’ll either come out the other end hard and changed or he’ll be dead. Either way, I don’t care. Do you understand me?”

I close my eyes and bite back a sob. “I understand.”

“Good girl. Get the fuck out of my car. I was watching Survivor.”

I shove the door open and stagger out. The duffel slides halfway onto the street.

“What the fuck?” Ruben says. “You left your shit! Hey, Mari!”