Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
DANTE
The punching bag creaks and rocks on its hook as I pummel it with my fists. Sweat rolls down my face, dripping onto my bare chest and cutting a line down my stomach to soak into my shorts.
My muscles scream in protest from the strenuous workout, but the physical pain has nothing on what I’m feeling inside.
So much fucking grief I can barely breathe.
I’ve come to terms with the fact that no amount of chasing down leftover SIXX members will rid me of it. That my anger was just a mask for the emotions I didn’t want to acknowledge.
But I could do without ever having to experience this again.
Which is why I’ve been avoiding Rev, pretending to be asleep every time he came to check on me with Laz.
I did sleep for fifteen hours. And then I paced and showered and climbed back into bed to sleep for another twelve hours. It’s like my body was trying to make up for all the rest I lost since Papi’s death.
I’m so fucking sad he’s gone. The thought of never being able to find him, as if he’s playing some fucked-up game of hide-and-seek instead of being absent from this plane of existence, is destroying me. No space will ever hold him again.
He’s just…gone.
And I can’t get my brain to accept that fact because here I am, chasing memories of him in Sinro’s gym on the seventeenth floor.
“Protect your chin, mijito. Hands high.”
“Hips, mijito. Use them. You’re lighter than other fighters. You have to make use of body mechanics.”
My knuckles connect with the bag over and over again. They’re beyond bruised. I’ve worn through the skin. I didn’t have the patience to tape them or tug on a pair of gloves.
I hated fighting when I was younger. Dreaded my time in the ring, staring down other kids who had shit to prove, too. Legacies to uphold, coaches to impress, or a country to represent.
When it came down to striking that final blow, I couldn’t ever push through. I couldn’t be the one to crush their dreams.
Let some other kid do it, I thought.
I just wanted to dance.
If Laz hadn’t spoken to Papi about my secret interest, I would have kept fighting. I would have buried my discomfort and kept losing by choice. I would have disappointed Papi and tarnished his reputation.
It took Laz speaking up for me to let Papi’s dream go. Now I’m waiting for someone to tell me it’s okay to let go of him.
A giant, dark-haired figure moves into my peripheral vision. Air whooshes from my lungs as I mentally prepare for a conversation with my brother when that ache in my chest is still splitting me apart.
More pain. More sweat. Two more hard punches.
Laz grips the bag in both hands to steady it, and I step away.
It’s the first time I've seen my brother up and moving around since the tunnels.
He suffered no serious internal damage from SIXX, but there were several large cuts and stab wounds that needed stitches.
One of the cuts runs the length of his temple to his jaw.
He took off the bandaging the first time he woke up from a drug-induced sleep, and I tried my best not to grimace at it.
“I’m still pissed at you,” I mumble, shaking out my hands.
His eyes track the movement, no doubt spotting the skin I’ve broken along my knuckles. When he approaches me, I meet him with resistance, holding a fist to his stomach.
It’s the first time I’ve seen Laz express true hurt by my lack of affection.
I shut my eyes, fighting back another crushing wave of sadness. “How could you?”
“I told you I would protect you. No matter the cost.”
“No matter the cost.” I huff a laugh, and then anger finds its way back to me. I cling to it. I stretch it out with my claws, desperate to blanket it around me again. “Don’t you fucking get it, Laz? They are the ones who broke us.”
“Manito—”
Shoving off him, I move over to the wall and sink down onto my ass. After a few strained moments, Laz’s warm body slides down next to me.
“What did Papi do?” I whisper, bracing for the answer.
Laz pushes out a deep breath, and then he says, “Papi worked for the cartel.”
The wave of pain I thought I was fending off crushes me. The image of my father I’ve been trying to hold onto shatters into a thousand jagged pieces. I start to question everything. All the tender moments we shared. All the hugs I pretended I didn’t want. All the praise he showered me with.
“He fought for them. Brought in a lot of money. When he told them he was ready to quit, they took out their anger on Mamá. So Papi covertly sent FBI agents information on key leaders in Los Segadores. This is why we had to move. This is why we ran.”
Tears spill from my eyes without warning. Once they start, I can’t make them stop. Because I know SIXX isn’t the end of this. If anything, it’s just the beginning.
The cartel will send more enemies our way. They won’t be satisfied to let our victory go unpunished. Not until Sinro wipes them out entirely.
Even then, revenge seems to be a vicious, endless cycle.
“We’re never going to be safe, are we?” I whisper, tapping my chin on my knees.
Laz slides an arm behind my back and pulls me against his side. “I’ll keep you safe, manito. So will Rev. That man will murder for you.”
He did murder for me.
“It’s not fair.” I sniffle. “We shouldn’t have to live like this.”
“We’re fighters, though, aren’t we?”
I drop my gaze to my bloody, shaking knuckles. “You’re a fighter, Laz. I don’t know what I am anymore.”
His fingers slide into my hair, mussing it up. “If you could do anything you want, manito, anything at all, what would you do?”
Tears start leaking out of me faster. I swipe at them in vain.
It’s been years since Laz asked me that life-changing question, and even with all the shit that’s been thrown our way, my answer hasn’t changed.
“You lost yourself for a little while. I lost myself, too.” The crack of emotion in Laz’s voice, combined with his tears dropping onto my shoulder, do me in. “But it’s okay. We’ll find our way back. We have each other.”
I had no idea my brother had been suffering all this time, too. I never even considered it. Never even thought to fucking ask or offer him comfort.
Wrapping my arms tightly around Laz’s thick waist, I give in to the grief. Let it destroy me. Let it break my bones and grind me down so I can become something stronger for both of us.
“No more secrets,” I whisper.
Laz kisses the top of my head. “No more.”