Chapter 35
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
BIANCA
The smell of tropical plants and musky air invades my nostrils. My body is sticky with the humidity that hangs heavy in this part of the world. It’s familiar to me, having partly grown up here, but it’s not comforting.
I open my eyes and it all comes back to me.
The phone call, the Zegas breaking into the penthouse, Jorge’s wandering hands as he escorted me onto my uncle’s private plane back to Colombia.
What have I done? Bile rises in my throat, but I force it down, ripping off the mosquito net that covers my bed. An unfamiliar bed.
We’d arrived in the dead of night, but it hadn’t taken me long to realize that we were not at my uncle’s compound in Urabá.
We’re somewhere unfamiliar. Another remote palace in the jungle.
Caution wormed through me at this development, but Jorge assured me the estate is more like a resort.
It’s smaller, more remote, he said, a chance for us to relax after the craziness of the last few months.
I don’t believe him for one hot second, but for what I am here to do, I don’t need to. By the end of the day, the gleaming marble floors will shine with my uncle’s blood.
I’ve rehearsed what I am going to do a million times in my head.
I’m ready for this. Tonight at dinner, steak knife in my hand, my uncle Emilio will die.
If I live long enough to stab Jorge, all the better.
But I may not. The guards will probably kill me the moment I plunge the steel blade into my uncle’s neck.
I have one chance to get it right, and I intend to.
I’ve resigned myself to my death.
But there is one casualty I care about in all of this. Daniil.
My heart slams against my ribs as it always does when I think of him. He’s likely found the note I left him by now. He knows what I’ve done. And he knows that my fate is out of his hands. I hope that brings him peace.
I wash and dress, preparing to meet my uncle for breakfast. Wearing a simple white linen dress, I head downstairs to a lavishly appointed table on the terrace.
I greet him as I normally would, leaning down and giving him a peck on his cheek as my nails dig into the flesh of my palm. Any kindness towards him costs me.
“Tío,” I say politely. “Thank you for bringing me here.” I take a seat beside him and smooth my dress over my legs. “I hope this won’t cause problems with you and the Kozlovs.”
“I’ll smooth it over.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Your happiness is more important.”
Prickles of unease dance down my spine. That’s something he’s never said before. I don’t know what my uncle and Jorge are really after, but something is going on.
“I’m thankful to hear you say that,” I reply, false cheerfulness in my tone. My fingers clutch my coffee cup so tightly I’m afraid the porcelain might shatter. “Where is Jorge this morning?”
“Attending to a few important matters. Don’t worry, he’s not running off back to America. He’s eager to spend time with you again.”
I swallow. “Wonderful.”
“Tell me, Bianca, what happened with your husband? I was under the impression that you were happy being married to Daniil Kozlov. Was I mistaken?” My uncle studies me with an intensity that makes me want to jump out of my skin.
Hold it together. Just for a little while longer.
“Not exactly,” I say, careful to keep my expression blank.
“It was fine at first, but then his true colors came out. It was clear he had no interest in being a married man. So when Jorge reached out to me at the charity event and told me you wanted me home, here with you, I knew it was time to leave.”
“I did not know you were so loyal to the Morales family.” A chill descends on the table and when I look up, the glint in his eyes is pure ice.
“Of-of course I am,” I stammer. A server brings us a platter of fresh-baked goods, and my uncle offers me a croissant.
I hesitate, but he continues to hold it out for me.
I swallow and moisten my lips. This is what a mouse feels like when it spots a cat about to pounce.
Finally, I take the pastry from his hand, my stomach in knots.
The smile my uncle offers me is predatory.
“Jorge made new friends in America. Learned such interesting things. Do you want to know what he discovered?” I shake my head, but he continues anyway. “That you are an FBI informant. That couldn’t be true, could it, my dear?”
I drop my hands into my lap, steadying myself with a deep breath. He knows. My uncle knows. A riot of emotions erupts inside of me: pain, betrayal, confusion. Had the Kozlovs set me up? As angry as Daniil is, I can’t believe he’d ever do something so ruthless.
Whatever the case, the only thing to do now is play the game and hope my uncle doesn’t gut me right here over breakfast. I’ve certainly seen him do worse.
I release a haughty laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Why would the niece of a major cartel player and the wife of a vor squeal to the FBI? What reason would I—”
He puts up his hand to stop me. “I can think of many reasons. But I think the most likely one is that you made a very tragic discovery about your past.”
My teeth gnash together. “What would that be?” I ask, my voice strained.
“You found out I killed Mommy and Daddy? And let’s not forget baby Celeste.
That must have hurt.” I lunge for him then, fury hijacking any good sense or self-preservation.
But I’m no match for my uncle. He has me restrained in a blink, his hand wrapped around my throat.
“Ah, that’s what I thought. You do know.
I suppose you’ve been biding your time, planning your revenge.
” His face is red, spittle flying from his mouth. “But that won’t happen.”
I struggle against him, but he squeezes my trachea and blackness dances around the edge of my vision. It’s only when I’m close to losing consciousness that he relaxes his grip.
I gulp in a full breath of air. “Why?” I choke out. “Why not kill me, too? What kind of monster raises the child of the family he murdered in cold blood.”
“Why do you think, you dumb bitch? The only reason to keep you alive is because you were useful. As my only living relation, I could marry you off to create a powerful alliance, and I did exactly that.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I gasp. “Before Daniil, I was promised to Jorge.”
His expression turns gleeful. “And you still are.”
“What!?” My adrenaline surges hard as my eyes dart around the property, looking for an escape, anywhere to run. But of course, guards patrol every square inch of the property.
I’m fucked.
“You and Daniil aren’t legally married. I made sure of that. The paperwork was a forgery. In the eyes of the law, you are not married to Daniil Kozlov, and in the eyes of God … well I don’t fucking care.”
On instinct, I break free from my uncle’s grasp and take off running toward the edge of the property.
For one sweet second, I taste freedom before I am brutally tackled to the ground by a strong male body.
I thrash in the arms of my captor, legs flailing as he rolls on top of me, pinning my hands to my body.
The cloying smell of Jorge’s cologne invades my nostrils, the familiarity making me wretch.
It’s then that I feel two competing sensations. He grows hard against my leg, grinding against me. And then the unmistakable snap of cold metal against my temple.
“Stop fighting, hermosa. It’s pointless.” I ignore him and continue to thrash until he releases the safety on the gun, a resounding thunk against my temple. That stops me cold. “There you go, now you know we’re not playing.”
My uncle stands above us, a snarl parting his lips.
“Did you think you outsmarted us, Bianca, finding a man to take you away from me? If you weren’t such a worthless bitch, I’d commend you for leading us right into the pocket of those two-cent Russian gangsters.
It’s been a fruitful working relationship wouldn’t you say? ”
Jorge laughs. “I’d say it was nice while it lasted. But we have what we want now. You see, the Kozlovs have the best shipping routes locked down, and thanks to everything we learned working closely with the bratva, we plan to take over those routes very shortly.”
Dread snakes its way through me as everything comes into sharp focus. My uncle’s insistence on the wedding and having Daniil work closely with Jorge. They were playing the Kozlovs the entire time, and it was me who gave them access. I opened the door to Daniil’s ruin.
My heart snaps in my chest. That’s all the more reason to keep on fighting. If I can somehow find a way to take my uncle down now, he can’t go after the Kozlovs ever again. So I play the same twisted game Jorge is playing.
“Fine,” I gasp, pressing on Jorge’s shoulders, and wrapping a leg around his waist. “Daniil wasn’t half the lover I imagine you are,” I whisper into his ear. “You made me feel things he never did.”
Jorge pulls away from me, eyes alight with something like excitement. He’s smart enough to know I’m trying to butter him up, but dumb enough to want the sex anyhow. At least to hurt me.
He pulls my hair hard and bites my neck as my uncle watches. “I’m going to whip you for every time you let him put his hands on you. And then I’m going to make you my wife.”
What the fuck? This man is so deeply deranged there’s no sense in responding. But what he wants is my fear, he’s always thrived on other people’s pain. So I roll myself into a ball on the ground, and sob into my hands.
“Don’t worry, my sweet, I’ll make it good for you, too.” He laughs cruelly now.
And my uncle laughs right along with him before adding, “No one can find you here. Not your beloved Kozlovs, not your new friends at the FBI, no one. Daniil underestimated me. Your mother made the same mistake and look how it turned out for her.”
With that, he spits in my face and snaps at Jorge to lock me up. I can’t imagine what they have in store for me, but even as dread bleeds through my system, I know there is no margin of error. Every move I make from here on out has to be as cunning and calculated as my uncle’s. Even more so.