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“You’re not going to die in two weeks,” I counter heatedly. “Why do you even talk like that? You sound like you’re just going to lie down and give up.”
“I’m not giving up!” He slams his hands on the top of his desk and levels a harsh glare at me. “I’m dying, Vic, and you know it. Deep down, you know what I say is true. I don’t have much time left, and you’ll have to take my place whether you like it or not. It won’t be any different from what you’ve been doing these past few months since I’ve stepped back.”
The silence that follows that statement is deafening, the finality of his words hitting me like a freight train.
“Everyone I love is gone,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “And now I’m going to lose you, too.”
Papá gets up from his chair and comes to sit in the one next to me. He pats my shoulder lovingly and runs a hand through my hair.
“You won’t lose me. I’ll always be with you. Just like Mamá, Shinálí, and Abuelito.”
I look at him, but my vision is so blurred with tears that I can only make out the shape of him. I commit it to memory.
“I love you, Papá,” I whisper.
He smiles and cups my cheek in his rough hand. “I love you too,mi hijo. You’re an amazing leader, you know that? I’m so lucky to be able to call you my son. This empire needs you in order to stay ahead. Show our enemies that you’ll force them to their knees before you. You are not to be messed with.”
I have to tell him that I’m leaving, but I can’t get the words out. Not when he’s looking at me with such love and affection. The last thing I want is to disappoint my father, especially after he’s just told me he’s proud of me. That he believes in me. I have to lead in my father’s place to keep our empire running.
But why is that voice in my head telling me to run?
* * *
Two weeks later
My back is straight as I watch my fathers’ casket being lowered into the soft earth. It’s as if Mother Nature is mourning with me, because the sky is gray and threatening rain. The field is filled with members of my family and cartel, and even though I’m surrounded by love on the worst day of my life, I only feel numb.
A child’s worst nightmare is burying their parents, and I’ve now had to bury both and both of my grandparents.
Papá knew he was going to die. In the days after signing his will, he was sure he would drop dead. I thought he was just paranoid, that Alzheimer’s or dementia was starting to set in and he was losing his mind, but he was right. Ten days later, however, he was dead, shot in the head by the same fuckingsicarioswho killed my mother.
I’d lost the four people who mean everything to me. I was angry. I was so fucking pissed that some motherfucker took the last person who meant the world to me. I went out that night and found my father’s killers. Isaiah and I took them to an abandoned warehouse and beat them within an inch of their miserable lives. We did horrible things to them. Dark, depraved deeds that will certainly land us in the seventh circle of Hell.
It became clearer what my purpose is. I have to carry on the legacy my father has left for me. If I don’t continue to build what he’s created, all of it will have been for nothing.
I’ve become brutal. Ruthless. I will kill anyone who gets in my way without remorse. Why should I care when they’ve taken the people I love away from me?
Isaiah claps me on the back and grips my shoulder. “How are you holding up, man?”
As the pallbearers begin shoveling dirt into the grave, it starts drizzling.
“I need to get out of here,” I say quietly. Sadness and fury are coursing through my veins and threatening to break out of my skin. I feel like a caged animal ready to pounce on its next meal. I crave bloodshed and chaos. I want to hear the screams of my enemies as I’m ripping their hearts out.
Isaiah motions for a few of our men to follow us to the Hummer. My family, friends, and fellow cartel brothers offer their condolences as we walk out of the cemetery. I give them all a polite nod but don’t stop to speak to any of them. I know it’s rude, but I’m not feeling very friendly right now.
“Where to,patrón?” Ibrahim asks as he gets into the driver’s seat.
“I need to kill someone,” I state with deadly calm. “Let’s finally find César before I have to leave.”
Once I’m done here, I’ll go back to Eastlake, my new home.
I can still lead this cartel from thousands of miles away for the time being. Isaiah has become somewhat of the de facto leader while I’ve been gone, and I’ll most likely make him the nextjefewithin the next year, because I can’t do this anymore. My little treehouse in the woods in Eastlake has become my sanctuary. I like being Ezra’s “accountant”. I’m not cut out for a leadership position, but I’m glad to be able to fulfill my father’s wishes before he died.
I didn’t want to stress him out even more in his final days, so I kept my position with the Eastlake Syndicate a secret. I didn’t want him to think me a failure, so I did everything he wanted me to, even after his death. I hope he will still be proud of me, regardless.
As I stare out the window as we drive off, the sight of Papá laid to rest next to Mamá, Shinálí, and Abuelito cracks my heart in half.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
