Chapter 20 - Cortez
Chapter twenty
Cortez
“Here. Sell all of these tonight and you get five percent.” Caesar taps the table.
I eye the tiny bags of weed and cocaine he sprawls out on the old wooden table. There’s a lot…about fifty. It’s almost impossible to sell this, especially when the cops have tightened their patrols around major drug trafficking spots. Plus, five percent for such a difficult task is barely anything.
“It’s impossible to sell this in one night.” I furrow my brow at him and watch his head tip back in laughter. It’s not condescending. If anything, his laughter resounds with pure amusement.
“You want to make money, boy? Then sell.” He chuckles.
My nails dig into my palms as I watch his hand disappear into the drawer and reappear with stacks of cash. He slams them onto the table with a loud thud, spitting lightly into his fingers before he starts counting the money.
Every time he does, whatever I have left of my morality is tested. I’m tempted to steal. Just grab some and dash. But I can’t cope with the aftermath. If I want to survive doing street deals, I have to be on good terms with the street…the godfathers.
“What are you waiting for, boy? Run along now.” His voice jerks me back to reality, and I move. I toss all the drugs into my bag and stop midway when he speaks again.
“Don’t get caught.” There’s a familiar glint in his eyes. The one that makes me feel as though at least someone on this earth cares about me. “I know you won’t anyway. You’re already an expert at this.”
I nod, leaving the dilapidated building and heading towards the road. Weary of the cops patrolling the area, I fist my bag tighter, crossing the road. I finally get to campus and head to my usual spot. A few people come to meet me and I sell to them, but it’s not much.
If I want to sell tonight, I have to walk places I’ve never been before.
“Hey, I’ve got dope. High quality. Euphoria,” I mutter to any likely addict I see. No one responds. They’re all scared of the undercover cops, probably disguising themselves as students even within the campus.
“Fuck. I need money,” I mutter to myself. Bills are rising fast. I’m drowning in debt, and shifts aren’t cutting it for me anymore.
I turn a corner and see a group of guys talking. This may be my chance.
“I’ve got dope. Good price. High quality. Euphoria,” I say to them. They all turn to me, and I instantly spot a familiar face. Cold blood runs through my body, my heart doubling in pace. Fuck.
“Look who we have here,” Damien claps, the sound echoing through the narrow walls. I hold my breath as the rest of the guys burst into laughter.
“It’s the wannabe drug dealer,” he coos, stalking towards me in slow steps. The muscles in my legs tense as I stand my ground, gritting my teeth. When he reaches me, we’re nose to nose. He clenches his fist and, as expected, lands a punch to my guts. I double over, cursing under my breath.
“I was just leaving,” my words come out distorted with a cough, and I hear Damien’s goons bark another round of laughter. I’m still hunched over when I feel a tug on my bag. Fuck. Not today.
My grip on my bag tightens as I straighten myself, breathing with heavy anger. “I said I was just leaving.”
Yanking my bag out of his hold, I slowly back away until I’m out of the block.
Sometimes, I find myself going through memories of my younger years—my teens and twenties—and how I survived those days.
After boarding school, I knew I had to pay my way through school, so I took any job that would hire me.
When that wasn’t enough, I resorted to being a drug peddler at twenty-three.
The profits were small, but I knew if I stayed long enough, I’d eat big.
However, staying came at a cost: Damien.
I couldn’t exactly pinpoint the reason for his despicable interest in me. But bullies don’t need a reason to be bullies.
For years, I was provoked but stayed quiet. I tried to hang onto the last shred of dignity left in me because I knew that once I crossed that line, I’d never go back.
And I did. I crossed the line. I became a monster—numb. And it backfired. I became the reason an innocent child left this world.
I watched life drain out of her eyes. I could feel her emotions…her fear. In that split second—the moment before disaster, her eyes begged. For mercy. For hope. But I watched it all fade as the weight of my actions crushed her into pieces.
Then I fled, blood-chilling cold and veins pulsing with every emotion known to man. Fear. Guilt. Anger. Hate. For the longest time, I hated myself and punished myself. Every day, I wished I could change the hands of time and take her place.
But the deed had been done. I had brought my curse upon her.
My fingers skim the length of my cigar mindlessly, my heart sinking with guilt. As I stare at my hands, all I can see is blood. And it irritates me.
Releasing a thick grunt, I shove my hands in my hair, cigar still buried between my knuckles. Fuck. I have to get rid of this thought if I want to focus.
Without another thought, I stand, walking to the shelf that holds the one thing that can help me forget. I grab the tall bottle of whiskey and a glass, returning to my seat.
The lid pops open and I toss it into a corner, pouring the liquid to fill the glass. My throat burns as I bring the glass to my lips, chugging like it’s mere water. I pour another round, chugging even faster, so much so that I almost choke.
The whiskey spills from my lips, seeping through my shirt as I wheeze.
But I keep drinking. There’s a rush of scorching heat in my head and chest. My eyes water and I can barely breathe; still, I just sit there, letting it overwhelm me until there’s a foreign calm in my heart—one a sinner like me seldom gets to experience.
A dry sigh escapes my lips as I tip my head backwards, releasing a groan. This is a burden I’ll carry for a lifetime…even in the afterlife.
Silence overwhelms me, and I stay like that for a while, taking more gulps and reveling in the aftermath of the alcohol, when someone knocks. My eyelids feel heavy as I narrow them at the door.
“Enter,” I grunt.
Alej appears inside, and I don’t miss how his steps falter when he takes me in.
“Capo,” he bows slightly.
I don’t respond. My fingers find a steady rhythm as they tap against my desk, and that’s the only thing that fills the silence. Alej’s calculating gaze remains trained on me.
“Sono gli incubi, Capo (Is it the nightmares, Boss)?” His voice is tentative.
“Update me.”
He clears his throat. I grit my teeth at the glimmer of concern that slips through his tough facade. I’m not some fucking pitiful don.
“Still on Reform’s agenda, Boss. All I have at this moment is that they’re some sort of organized body, carefully selecting their members for an unorthodox agenda.”
I nod.
“You said Shawn sounded brainwashed. He also talked about the kingdom turning to relics and glory being erased. I believe it’s a structured attack. One that doesn’t need violence yet. They want to take your place as the largest supplier in New York.”
Indeed. Calculated strategy is the best way to take me out without direct opposition. Alej may be right. But it still doesn’t make sense.
“Why disburse so much money on drugs just to take over as the number one from a prevailing mafia? Dov’è il profitto (Where’s the profit), Alej?”
He shakes his head, confusion lacing his voice. “That’s what I’m yet to figure out.”
Even if they somehow succeed, how then would the business thrive? No matter the number of investors, every business thrives on a healthy profit margin. Something’s not right.
They’re spending so much on it to be a mere game of attack and overtake. There’s something bigger at stake.
“What’s the update with the South American mafia?”
He adjusts his stance. “I discovered that they have a new operation they’re undertaking. I’m still trying to find out the details.”
With each word he says, my knuckles itch, and the fire in my bones is reinvigorating. A new operation coinciding with the time the undercutting began.
“Fai più in fretta a scoprire (Find out faster),” I growl. The thought of unleashing hell on the culprit was filling my mind.
Alej tenses, fingers clenching as he holds my steely gaze. “Yes, Capo.”
I arch a brow when he doesn’t move. “The doctor is around for check—”
“Selene,” I say without thinking, shocking both myself and Alej. He raises a brow slightly.
I clear my throat. “Selene should be checked.”
If Alej deems the statement odd, he doesn’t say. He simply bows curtly and heads for the door until he’s out.
Instead of leaning into my chair, I lean away from it, steepling my fingers on the desk. Selene. I flashback to her confession from yesterday.
Just like Alej found out, she was never involved in the proceedings of her father’s mafia. He had his prejudices. Yet she didn’t let that stop her. She took dangerous risks to earn my loyalty.
I still don’t know what to think about all she said yesterday. But fuck does she sound different when she’s not trying to defy me.
Almost…likeable.