15. Fury-Born
15
FURY-BORN
Alejandro
The Past
I n order for my plan to work, the men around Sandro need to turn against him.
Capos, advisors, associates, everyone from the top down. Killing them isn’t enough when anyone in the food chain can be replaced and Regina’s tactful and resourceful—she wouldn’t allow the family to go unprotected or without council for long. Which means I have to flip his men one by one until he can’t even trust his own shadow.
I bring my gun to the back of Jaume Pons’s head and pull the trigger. His body collapses and blood spills across the tile floor. Dimitrio flinches and looks away.
“Was that all of them?”
He responds with a nod and doesn’t speak as Paco and Rodrigo drag Pons’s body across the room. Paco pauses to lift up the tarp concealing the mountain of corpses and Rodrigo tosses Jaume Pons into the pit with the others.
Since the lounge is no longer an option, we’ve resorted to conducting business in an abandoned warehouse about a half hour outside of Vic. There’s nothing around us but land and empty road for miles which makes it the perfect place for frequent comings and goings. We move in and out of the city undetected, which is the most important but being this far out in the countryside our options for body disposal are limited. I haven’t decided if they should be dumped in the Ter or burned. The Ter would be easier but the drive to the river is another hour east of here. Burning them would make for a cleaner disposal but will take forever and it’s already three in the morning.
“Now that Pons is gone, I want Coppola and Ferrer taken care of.”
Dimitrio asks, “When?”
“Next weekend if we can manage it. Sandro won’t want to leave Regina without a proper bodyguard so we have about ten days at best. Who do we have at the villa?”
“Victor Mestres and the rest of his group. They’re solid men, I trained them myself.”
“And at El Rey?”
“Beni’s team plus the usuals.”
I take a deep breath and remove the bloodstained rubber gloves from my hands and toss them into a nearby trashcan. “Okay…” I nod slowly. “Okay.”
“Who do you want to go pick up Ferrer in Santa Pau?”
“You and Mauricio. Keep him close. From now on, groom him like he’s next in line for the throne. His loyalty to us needs to be bone deep.”
Dimitrio’s lips part and when I think he’s about to say more, something stops him.
“What?”
His eyes drift to mine. For a moment, I see a reflection of myself looking back at me, the subtle familial resemblance between us never so prominent as it is right now.
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“I always know what I’m doing.”
“Really?” He tilts his head in the direction of the tarp. “The Alejandro I know wasn’t in the habit of killing innocent people.”
I ignore him as I head upstairs and exit the basement. Dimitrio follows close behind.
“They’re civilians, Alex. If the other families find out?—”
“ I control the twelve families. And whoever doesn’t think so is fucking lying to themselves. I don’t need anyone’s permission and I’m not going to stop.”
I approach the front door but he side steps me, blocking my path.
“Those men you killed today were people. A nephew, uncle, brother. Do you think because they were related to someone on Sandro’s side it gave you the right to move them across the board like pieces in your game? Do you think it gave you the right to kill them?”
I grab him by the front of his shirt and push him out of the way but Dimitrio is just as tall and strong as I am. He pushes my arm away and slams a hand against the front door, keeping it shut.
“Diego was right. You’re spiraling. This bloodlust of yours is completely out of control. I understand how you feel about Sandro?—”
“What the fuck do you know about it?”
In rare form, there’s a softness in Dimitrio’s voice when he speaks. “I know you’re afraid of losing Dahlia. And you absolutely will by turning into someone she doesn’t recognize.” He reaches out and grips me by my shoulders. “ Listen to me…killing innocent people isn’t who you are. Yes, it’ll turn Sandro’s people against him out of fear he can’t protect them and their families from you. But it’ll also create more enemies out of very dangerous, very capable people. If you set a precedent for breaking the twelve apostles’ honor code and finding twisted ways to work around it, you’re opening the door for anyone else to retaliate against you in the future.
“Think about Dahlia and her cousin. Think about Oscar and Pedro who’ve been with the family for years. Think about me .” His eyes darken as he studies me. “What do you think Sandro will do when he finds out you’ve been hiding another Narvaez bastard right under his nose all these years? He’ll pick us apart one by one.”
Only two other people know the truth about Dimitrio’s parentage. Diego’s suspected for years but never said and our cousin Antonio is perceptive enough to have guessed but never confirmed his suspicions. I only found out because as a teen, I overheard my parents talking about it and Dad made me promise to keep it to myself.
He stares at me awaiting an answer but I have nothing to say to him. I’ve heard every word out of his mouth but give less than a damn about what he has to say. My path has already been set and I’m going to burn through everything like a fury-born blaze.
“Are you even listening to me?” He gives me a single, furious, almost desperate shake. “You’re making a mis?—”
In a single movement, I unholster my gun and flip the safety. With the barrel pressed into the soft flesh beneath his jaw, I say, “Would it be a mistake if I squeezed the trigger? Or would I be saving myself a future headache?”
Dimitrio doesn’t flinch but I don’t miss the flicker of emotion in his eyes as his shoulders deflate. Defeat? Disappointment?
I’m trying to find it in me to care.
I tilt my head. “Move.”
He drops his hand from the door and steps away.
Part of me regrets not pulling the trigger but I’d have a hard time explaining to Abuelo why he’s down one secret grandson when Christmas rolls around.
D ahlia hasn’t spoken to me in ages and I prefer it.
Her silence saves my conscience the burden of having to lie to her.
On her first day at BIS, Lettie brought out Dad’s old polaroid camera and took a picture for the family scrapbook. Mom took a photo of us on the first and last day of school every year growing up, including graduations. Dahlia was excited to be brought in on another family tradition and posed at the foot of the stairs in the main foyer, grinning like a gap toothed third grader on picture day. It was then when I leaned in to kiss her and ask if she wanted me to drive her to school instead, did I realize just how serious her silent treatment was.
Lettie and Diego rode to BIS in the backseat of her Subaru while Pedro drove and I was the idiot who stayed behind, missing out on an important milestone I should’ve otherwise been front and center for.
That was two weeks ago and she hasn’t uttered a single word in my direction since. She doesn’t even insist on changing the bandages on my hands anymore, which is torture. Not because I give a damn about the injury but because deep down, I cherished those quiet moments between us and now they’re gone too.
I tell myself I don’t care. This way, I’m saved the torture of having to come up with inane excuses which only serve to further insult her intelligence and hurt her feelings.
Thanks to Beni, the staged shoot out at El Rey went off without a hitch. For the last week, rumors of my incompetence have spread like wildfire and Ferrer has a meeting this evening with Sandro to discuss a possible alliance between them. Meanwhile, Diego’s on a plane escorting Coppola back to Trieste where the dust has finally settled and his family eagerly awaits his return.
Everything’s fallen together so perfectly I can’t help but conjure up ways in which it can go wrong and then work through all those possibilities to find alternative solutions. I pace the length of my office for hours, lost deep in thought, planning and strategizing for every worst possible outcome and carving out an escape route. It’s creating a mental heist in my head where the obstacle is my own mind and not a manmade maze. Regina’s always been good at puzzles, but I’ve made adjustments for her too.
She won’t trust Ferrer at first, which is why I chose him with her weaknesses in mind. Regina has a soft spot for children, especially motherless ones. Ferrer’s background will move her toward empathy and it’ll bring her guard down. Perfect for when in a month from now a few of her old Russian adversaries will try to put a hit on her and Ferrer conveniently saves the day. At which point he’ll not only have her compassion but her trust as well. And a few weeks after that, I’ll seal the deal by staging an SVA raid on one of Sandro’s shipments which Ferrer will save by warning him in time.
What I have planned for Sandro is a slow and crippling descent from heaven. One that’ll steal his peace, his sanity, and trigger the collapse of the world around him. Killing him would’ve been too easy and reacting in the heat of the moment would’ve done nothing except put me at a disadvantage in the long run. The fire at El Aliciente was meant to provoke a fight or flight response in me, playing on my weaknesses and the volatile temper he knows rests dormant under an otherwise quiet exterior. Dad was the same way.
My phone rings and I reach for it. The second I answer, Ferrer says, “It’s done.”
I can’t help but smile. Sandro, you stupid son of a bitch.
He never could pass up the opportunity to stick a thorn in my side. Which is how I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation of snatching my supposed righthand man out from under me.
“Good. Get rid of your phone.”
“I know what to do.”
The call ends and I finish the last of my drink before leaving my office for the night. I can’t remember the last time I went to bed at a decent time and if I leave now, I might be able to catch Dahlia before she falls asleep. If she wants to continue with her silent treatment then by all means, but it won’t stop me from trying to strangle a word out of her in any way I can.
On my way upstairs I notice Lettie’s bedroom door is slightly ajar. I go to close it, assuming she meant to do so herself, but she catches sight of me.
“Oh perfect! Come in, I want you to try these on.”
I step inside. “What are you doing up this late?”
“I started cleaning out my closet…four hours ago.” She makes a face. “Been neck deep in boxes and garment bags ever since.”
Lettie almost had her own apartment on the other end of the house but she’s been in the third-floor suite ever since we moved in. She says it’s because she hates having to wait for Do?a Ana to bring her breakfast in the morning, as the main kitchen is two floors down, but in reality, I think she knew she’d be lonely. Diego’s private quarters are just down the hall from the apartment’s main entrance, which suits him best. He likes his privacy but he’s still close enough to spend most of his time on our side of the house anyway. As time passes, I’m sure Dahlia will do more restructuring, especially as she continues her renovations outside of what we’ve initially sectioned off, but for now everyone is close and comfortable.
Lettie especially. I think her room is bigger than mine.
“These just came in for you.” She lines up a row of four long, rectangular boxes on the floor and unties the silk ribbon around the first. Casting aside the layers of tissue paper inside she says, “I had to go off memory when I placed the order so I don’t know if it’ll fit properly around the shoulders. I think I was off by an inch or two.”
“I’m sure it’ll look fine.”
She casts me a pointed look. “You wouldn’t know a well-cut suit if it smacked you in the face.”
A huff of laughter leaves me, and she pulls out the jacket of a three-piece suit. I’m immediately struck by the color and subtle sheen of the fabric, a shade of purple so dark it’d be difficult to decipher when not under direct light, it’s pinstripe pattern thin and nearly imperceptible. She extends the garment to me and I take it, running my fingers along the stitching and seams, searching for imperfection. The buttons are mother-of-pearl and there isn’t a single fraying or loose thread in sight. I unbutton it to inspect the inner lining and Lettie shifts uncomfortably in her unicorn slippers, the weight of her body moving from one leg to another.
“Do you like it?”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “Very good, Leticia.”
“It’s superfine wool?” It comes out more like a question seeking my approval. “And the buttons are?—”
“ Mother-of-pearl .” Our voices overlap and I smile at her fully this time. “Did you pick this up in Italy?”
“I’d never shop anywhere else. God knows the Italians are the only people on earth who can dress properly.”
She stands behind me and helps guide the jacket onto my shoulders without disturbing the lapels.
“And not the French?”
“Mostly snobs but they have their moments.” She guides me in front of a gilded, full-body mirror and I adjust the cuffs around my wrists. A subtle sigh escapes her. “You’re obnoxiously tall. It’s ruining the look.”
“Am not.” Without a waistcoat or tie, I look a little underdressed in a double-breasted suit jacket but for the most part, it fits like a glove. “Everything’s where it needs to be.”
“Next time I’ll go a little wider around the shoulders,” she murmurs to herself, hands tugging and pulling on the places she wishes to make improvements on. “And maybe leave some room around the biceps…this was supposed to be a winter suit but you couldn’t wear a thick shirt under this which means it’ll have to be for next spring…”
I take off the jacket, and Lettie makes me try on the waistcoat, sparing me the torture of trying on the pants which she insists can be done in private. Because God forbid her brother changes pants in front of her—she’ll have a stroke. As if Diego hasn’t walked around us in a barely dressed state our entire lives.
Most of the other outfits fit with ease and the last thing she has me try on is a completely monochromatic ensemble where the three-piece suit and matching coat are the same shade of deep, emerald-green. Noticing the way I run my fingers over the smooth, almost buttery soft fabric, she cracks a grin.
“It’s vicu?a,” she says smugly.
“Vicu?a,” I echo, as if I have any idea what that means. “Aren’t we fancy?”
I slip out of the coat and help Lettie pack up the boxes. “Do you need anything else for winter? I haven’t had a chance to go through your closet but you should probably get a few more wool coats and maybe new shoes. It’s been a while since your wardrobe was updated.”
“Some of us like to wear clothes more than once, Leticia.”
“Hmph,” she mutters in response. She moves to sit on the edge of her bed, arms crossed over her chest. “I need to do something to occupy my time, don’t I? Otherwise Dahlia might get it into her head again that I should get a job.”
If I had the energy to, I might’ve laughed at her comment. “She wants what’s best for you, Lettie. And I can’t say I disagree. If you don’t want to go to school that’s fine but you have to do something.”
Having this conversation in her bedroom feels almost ridiculous. Surrounded by soft pastels, lace, and antique glass, one would think I was reprimanding a five-year-old little girl and not my nineteen-year-old sister. What makes it worse is I can feel the judgmental stare of the unicorns on her slippers, their beady little button eyes glaring back at me.
I know Lettie is a bit… spoiled , for lack of a better word. It’s difficult to set boundaries in a relationship like this. Parents are the ones responsible for guiding their children into adulthood but in lieu of a mother and father or a grandfather who knows the word “no” when it pertains to her, the burden of being brother, dad, and guardian has fallen on my shoulders. I could do a better job at disciplining her but it’s difficult. When I look at her, I don’t see a young woman entering adulthood. She’s my baby sister playing dress up in our Mom’s clothes and it’s my job to take care of her. Though, I think I’ve done a better job at enabling her than raising her.
“Why not give BIS a try next semester?”
“I’ll be all alone.”
“Dahlia will be there.”
“Dahlia’s old .” She whines. “And like…five years ahead of me. We won’t even be in the same building let alone taking the same classes.”
“First, don’t call her old. At least, don’t let her hear you.”
Lettie smiles.
“Second, you have to do something . Anything. Pick up a skill or a job. Those are your choices.”
“Why do I have to do either?”
“Don’t you want to have a career one day?”
“Careers are for poor people.”
“ Leticia .”
“What?” she says, lips pursing. “I’m not apologizing. It’s the truth. If I want to be a woman of leisure, I can be. I have more money than I can spend in a lifetime.”
“ My money, actually, and you are very good at spending it.” I grab one of the ottomans and pull it across the room so I’m seated across from her. “There has to be something you’re passionate about. Something you love or are interested in. You can’t tell me you never thought about it before.”
Lettie bows her head slightly as her gaze drops to her lap. She fiddles with the ring around her finger and the loose threads on her fuzzy robe. Sensing she’s holding back, I reach out and squeeze her knee.
“Lettie, to be honest, I don’t really care what you do with your life. All I want is for you to be happy,” I tell her. “But you still need to learn basic life skills. One day, you’ll have access to your inheritance which means you need to learn how to manage it on your own. I can’t do everything by myself and most importantly, I don’t want you to become incompetent. People like us can’t afford to be. Do you understand?”
After a moment she nods and covers my hand with hers. “And you’re sure we can’t hire an accountant?”
I almost smile. “No, Lettie. There are certain things we need to learn how to do for ourselves. The only people we can truly trust in this world is our family. Especially when it comes to money.”
“I just—” She hesitates, searching for the words. “I’m not like you guys.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone is so good at what they do. Diego and Arias know their way around a computer. You and Antonio are business minded. All our other cousins have found their place in the family company. And Dahlia?” she shakes her head frantically. “She’s like…a freaking prodigy. I could never do what she does. She’s so smart and talented. And you and Diego are so confident and self-sufficient.”
Her voice catches. “I guess I don’t know myself as well as everyone else knows themselves. No matter how hard I try, I can’t picture a future for myself. I’m not good at anything, I don’t have any natural talent?—”
“You’re wrong,” I tell her firmly. “There are so many things you’re good at.”
“Really? Name one.”
“Fashion, obviously.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Twelve-year-olds have fashion sense. I dress you because you’re inept and would probably style black pants and brown shoes.”
I make a face. “I know enough not to pair black pants and brown shoes.”
She ignores me. “I’m useless and directionless. I’m not good at anything. I don’t have it in me like the rest of you.”
“How will you ever find your calling if you refuse to step out of your comfort zone?” I ask. “I know part of that is my own doing. In many ways you’ve been coddled and sheltered. There hasn’t been much room for you to explore.”
Immediately, her tone turns serious. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. If you’re feeling this way it’s because you haven’t been given the room you need to grow…” I trail off. “I guess I haven’t done a very good job, have I?”
Lettie studies me a long while and whispers. “You did the best you could.”
“I want you to spread your wings. If it means university, traveling, or maybe spending some time with Tia Leticia or Tio Horacio to learn about the business. Whatever it is, I want you to explore. Figure yourself out and make mistakes along the way. Dad would’ve wanted that.”
“Dad wanted children who made him proud like you and Diego did.”
“He’d have been proud of you too, Leticia. Dad adored you. I know you were little when he died and you may not remember as much as me or Diego but he loved you. All he wanted was your happiness. The rest was immaterial.”
Dad isn’t a topic we broach often. She was only nine when he died and while she was old enough to have memories of him, they’re very different from the ones Diego and I share. Lettie was a Daddy’s Girl through and through and while Dad was affectionate and loving toward all his children, he was harder on my brother and me. Especially me. I was the eldest son and I felt the weight of his expectations on my shoulders.
Most of what I remember from my teen years was how structured Dad was. He was determined to raise his sons as honorable and respectable men. Ones who kept their word, protected the family, and knew how to defend themselves. At the time, I sometimes resented how he couldn’t be gentler but as an adult, I realize he did it out of fear. He didn’t know if the bright new world and legitimate family legacy he envisioned would ever come to fruition. And if ever he was a little harsh, it was because he was trying to prepare Diego and me for the worst-case scenario. Seeing as how we’re living it now, I’d say he made the right decision.
Not Lettie though. Lettie was the sun and every star in his sky. She could’ve glued a pair of chopsticks together and he’d have sung her praises until the end of time.
Lettie’s initial silence catches me a bit off guard until she lifts her head and I see the subtle sheen in her eyes. “To me, you’re my dad too.”
My heart stops and falters in my chest.
“Are you proud? Even if…even if this is just who I am.”
I reach out to cup her face and she covers my hands with hers, blinking away at the moisture gathering in her eyes. “I can’t say there’s much in my life I’ve actually done right. But at the very least, I have you. You are by far my greatest, most precious achievement. I cannot imagine doing anything else in life that’ll come close to how perfect you turned out. And I will be a proud brother and father for the rest of our lives.”
She blinks and a single tear slips free. I brush my thumb across her cheek.
“Okay?”
Lettie manages a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod. “Okay.”