Chapter 23 - Selene
Chapter twenty-three
Selene
My heart skips a beat—just like it’s been doing since dinner. Shutting my eyes, I lean against the headboard and let out a heavy sigh. The pain in his eyes flashes through my mind.
I don’t know why, but that’s all I now seem to think about. His expression as he recounted his past. The rawness in his voice…the vulnerability. For some odd reason, I felt like comforting him—doing something about his pain, even when mine was evidently killing me.
I clutch the pillow tighter, snuggling it in a hug. Everyone has a past…a story. I can relate to Cortez’s story. I can…understand him.
A short chuckle leaves my lips as I lie on my side. Understand. That’s one word I never thought I’d use for Cortez Donatelli. He’s an arrogant asshole, and everything in between…but now I’m beginning to see why.
Living with such guilt is an unbearable burden, and for someone like him who bottles up even the worst of things…it’s only a matter of time before he implodes.
I wanted to tell him to let it go. To give life the middle finger and not be weighed down, carrying the sins of another man. I wanted to tell him that he didn’t kill her…Damien did.
But what right do I have to speak when I, too, am a slave to the sins of my past? I wipe the lone tear that escapes my eyes and sit up, leaning against the headboard.
I should stop thinking about him. There are more important issues at stake. Like Luca.
After Alejandro interrupted, Cortez instantly shot up and followed. But just before he got out of the door, he turned to me and told me the things I needed to hear.
Someone is undercutting me. Pushing drugs of the same quality but at a cheaper rate into the market. They’re using Vasquez’s pipeline. And your boyfriend keeps sabotaging our efforts.
Undercutting via Dad’s pipelines! So this is what it’s about.
But it doesn’t make any sense. Only Dad, Luca, and a few men from Dad’s inner circle knew the workings of the pipelines. And they’re all dead. Did anyone else know? No…no. Dad would never have told anyone else.
Unless…one of them is alive. My thoughts race faster than they ever have in my entire life. The ace card. Could it be…Luca? Or am I being delusional?
God. I don’t know what to think.
Luca was never a troublemaker. He had his moments of weakness, but was always just like me. Resilient, strong, bold…except instead of being loud, he was quiet. Too quiet to ever let anyone figure out what went on in his mind.
But even if he is alive and has lost every cell in his brain, he’d never cross a mafia like Cortez’s…at least not willingly.
Fuck. Willingly or not, Cortez would kill him in an instant if he found out he was facilitating the undercutting. Even if he doesn’t, whoever’s using Luca could kill him.
I know for a fact that if I tell Cortez, he’d start trying to look for him. And if Luca’s captors find out that Luca has blown their cover by bringing Cortez closer to their tail, they’d kill him.
I can’t afford that. I can—
My hand flies to the bridge of my nose as I rub in frustration. No. No.
Nobody is killing anybody because I’m not sure what’s going on yet. These are just speculations…and I hope to God that I’m wrong.
And Luca is already dead, you moron!
I run a hand messily through my hair, sawing in deep breaths.
My brain doesn’t let go of the thought, though…
How do I even find Luca? The White Dove has been destroyed, so it’s not like I can sneak back there.
It’s also not as if our Morse code entails specifics of location. There’s nothing on the card.
Lord. This is driving me craz—
A loud yell, followed by rumbling from the closet, interrupts my thoughts, and I quickly shoot up. Maria.
Instinctively, my feet carry me towards her at a hurried pace, and I gasp in horror when I see her on the floor.
“My God, Maria.” My heart falters when she lets out another groan of pain, holding her back.
Lowering myself beside her, I carefully assist her to a sitting position and walk her to my bed.
“Oh dear,” she hisses when she sits on the bed, her hand now rubbing her waist. Her lips are pulled into a light frown.
“I should have listened to my gut when I heard the first creak of the chair,” she mutters to herself, shaking her head. I pat her shoulders, feeling sad for her. She’s probably too old for a cleaning job. I wonder how long she’s been working here.
“It’s okay. I’ll get you an ice pack.”
Before I can turn around, she gasps and quickly grips my fingers with a strength I didn’t think she had.
“Y-You can’t.” She shakes her head vigorously.
I arch a brow at her, remembering the time she displayed such theatrics.
“Boss wou—”
I roll my eyes. “Maria pl—”
“No. You don’t understand. The guards…they suffer each time you break the boss’s rules.”
“W-What?” I furrow my brows.
“The ordeal at the gym, the chef, other times you’ve roamed where you weren’t supposed to. I?I hear their screams from my room sometimes.”
“Screams?”
“I don’t want that to happen because of me.” She finally lets go of my hands, but I don’t even feel like going out anymore. Saliva thickens in my throat, and I force it down.
Is that why he changes the guards each time I—
“Each time you disobey me a man bleeds.”
The thought suddenly flashes in my mind. Shit. But I…thought we were…past that?
“I’ll be fine, dear. You don’t worry about me.” Her words come out frail as she struggles unsuccessfully to stand. It’s hopeless. She needs to get her back checked. But before that, she needs first aid.
I turn towards the door, and I’m out before Maria even gets the chance to talk. Thank God it’s the same set of guards that are still there.
“I need an ice pack,” I mutter weakly to the duo. “Do…you mind helping me get one?”
“No, ma’am,” Thin Lips replies. “That’s outside of our jurisdiction.”
So they can’t get it for me, and they won’t let me get it myself? What sort of rule is that anyway?
Without arguing, I pass them and trudge down the flight of stairs to the kitchen. I can feel them behind me, but thankfully, this time they maintain a good distance. I wonder if they face no judgment for following me. Or why they’ve not yet physically restrained me.
The warmer air in the kitchen tickles my skin as I step in, heading towards the fridge. Has he even hired a new chef?
As I take out the ice pack, tears suddenly burn my eyes. The same thing I did with Mom, I’m doing with the guards. Putting them in danger, knowing full well that I could have avoided it.
When I turn, a startled gasp escapes my lips.
“Jesus Christ.” I clutch my chest, shooting Cortez a deadly glare.
“I didn’t know you liked sneaking up on people, too,” I quip dryly, fisting the ice pack tighter.
He doesn’t look pleased. He doesn’t even seem to be in a good mood.
There’s a blood stain on his collar as he leans casually on the cabinet at a distance from me.
My eyes furrow when they land on the wide gash on the corner of his lips that’s pulled into a tight frown.
Somehow they make him look even rougher…
hotter. Not to mention his flanked shirt, revealing a neat white singlet that contrasts deliciously against the dark ink of his tattoos.
My stomach curls, and I can’t help the tingling in my core at his appearance.
No. No tingles, Selene. At least not until you know what he’s doing to the guards!
“Wh?What are you doing to the guards?” I finally break the tense silence, swallowing and suddenly feeling nervous…like the first time we interacted.
He just shoots me an unimpressed look.
Of course! And he would never answer the question.
I’m about to call out his busted lips and how that’s the reason for his lack of response when he straightens himself and starts strolling towards me. I freeze in my spot, heart hammering wildly.
When he reaches me, he doesn’t spare me a glance and simply stretches a hand over my head. The freezer door above me opens as he takes out something. Then walks back to the counter, drops the gun on the table, and starts to apply an ice pack to the back of his hand.
Oh.
I watch him hold back a grunt as he drags the ice in circles around a particular spot. I don’t like the silence that strains between us, so I speak.
“They didn’t really do anything, you know…the guards, I mean.” I clear my throat, hoping to convince him. Scratch that. I know my words will have no effect, but for what it’s worth, I try.
“I know whatever it is you did with them is as a result of your rules, but if you’d please”—my voice wavers—“not hurt them.”
“They’re humans, too, you know, and you-you just can’t keep hurting them like that...because of me. If your rules could at least be a little flexible, everyone would be happy.”
“Quiet,” he grits.
I continue stupidly, “All I’m saying is just please don’t torture them.”
That’s when he moves. The ice pack clatters on the table with a loud thud, and in one stride, he closes the distance between us, grabs my head, and crashes his lips onto mine.