Chapter 1
One
Karla
Present day.
I hate when Dad has a fucking meeting with his top Soldiers at the house. I feel so vulnerable, and they scare me. These men are ruthless killers, dirty scum.
Dad doesn’t care how they look at me, and that tells me everything. Yet he wants me to remain pure until he arranges a beneficial alliance.
I grab the bottle of water and look around. The voices are coming from the backyard. The fuckers are drinking and listening to music.
Oh shit.
I walk out of the kitchen, run, pressing my bare feet on the cold tile, trying to be unobtrusive, down the long hall to the stairs. I run up them as fast as I can, and then I hear the steps behind me.
I look over my shoulder, and my heart stops. It’s the bastard Solder, a sicario who always looks at me. He’s the ugliest, meanest fucker. He grabs my arm and pulls me towards him.
“Let me go,” I yell, trying to pull away from the tall sicario Saul.
Saul is tall and athletic, with a beard, and in his forties. He has a scar on his face that runs from his left temple down to his jaw. He’s a scary fucker. This man is a mean son of bitch, a killer. My Dad’s assassin.
“Where are you going so fast, Princessa?” Saul says, holding me by my forearms.
“Let me go,” I yell, trying to pull away.
I’m so fucking scared and so damn close to getting fucking raped by this monster.
“Let her go,” Mario growls, slamming his Glock into his temple.
Oh my God.
It’s Mario, my brother.
I stare at the son of bitch Saul as his blood drains from his face. His grip loosens, and I pull away, inhaling deeply. My chest is tight, and my heart pounds so damn fast that I gasp for air.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Mario asks in a low, deadly voice.
“Nada, just wanted to make sure the Princesa got safely to her room,” Saul says, lowering his eyelids.
“Mario, hee . . . he. . . . was going to . . . too raa . . .pe me,” I stutter, holding up my torn top.
“Is that right,” Mario hisses, pressing his gun into his temple.
“She’s lying,” Saul growls, glaring at me.
“I don’t think that the Princessa is lying,” Mario says, pulling the trigger.
The blood and brain matter splatter around us. Some blood lands on my face, neck, and arms.
Oh my God.
I gasp, unable to move, frozen, and wide-eyed. I shouldn’t be surprised; I’ve seen death all of my life, but I’ve never seen my brother kill anyone.
“Get to your room, clean up, and stay in there. If anyone asks, you do not know anything.”
“Okay,” I whisper, blinking.
“I’m going to take care of this mess,” Mario says, sliding the Glock into his holster.
“Oh, okay. Thank you,” I say, shaking.
“You’re damn lucky that I was going to my room, plus this bastard was on my last nerve. Don’t come out of your room when you know that the fuckers are around,” Mario says, looking at me.
“I won’t,” I say, nodding.
I run to my room at the end of the hall, opening the door. I enter, close the door, and lock it. I look around my room and run to the bathroom to take a shower. I need to wash away the bastard's blood, brain matter, and where he touched me.
I turn on the shower and take off my clothes. I enter the shower and stand under the hot water, staring at the blood and shit washing down the drain.
I grab my favorite body wash, scrub my body and hair. I stay under the hot water until it turns cold.
I need to get out of here!
But where will I go?