Chapter 88 - Celia
CELIA
Wounded wasn’t even close to the right word.
Ronan was hurting badly from the sudden loss of two friends he considered family. Despite my men’s justifiable anger, I lingered back in an attempt to get more information from Ethan, but didn’t find out too much that wasn’t already obvious.
He was a nepotism baby, both his parents were in the bureau which meant by the time he was a senior in high school, he knew he’d already been accepted into training and was making his way through the ranks.
He’d been obsessed with human trafficking issues since he was young and decided to make it his life’s mission to save those who couldn’t save themselves.
Despite my feelings towards bootlickers and those who wore the boots themselves, he wasn’t a bad guy.
But that didn’t mean he deserved Ronan or any of the guys forgiveness, even if he had given us a legal pass.
It didn’t seem like he was seeking it either, that badge was the blade that cut the threads of their bond, and now there was no room left to heal the damage.
He’d go his way and we would go ours.
I sat next to Ronan in the back, opening up the cage and letting my foul-mouthed little friend climb up my arm and perch onto my shoulder. He buried himself into the nook of my neck, using my hair for warmth and comfort.
“Whore!” he shouted ten minutes into the drive, breaking the uncomfortable silence in the car and forcing a laugh from Mateo.
We all laughed, unable to hold back and pretend like the bird wasn’t able to lighten the mood.
“I’m so sorry,” I told them all, shaking my head, unsure which thing exactly I was most sorry for.
Maybe if I’d kept that vest on, Fletcher would still be alive, maybe if I hadn’t gone looking for Sokolov by myself none of this would have happened.
“Everything that was supposed to happen did. Fletcher didn’t deserve to die, but I can promise you he would have rather it been him than any other innocent person in that room. You included,” Mateo spoke.
“I’m not innocent,” I reminded him, but he just cleared his throat like he didn’t want to get into it.
I didn’t either.
They’d just suffered a monumental loss, the last thing I needed to be doing was throwing a pity party for myself over guilt.
There were very few things in this life I allowed to permeate my conscience.
Leaving Ronan was one of those things.
The deaths under my name could not be.
That was a lesson I learned long ago to ensure my own survival.
We stayed a few extra days in Cove City.
It was all the time we needed to bury Fletcher and allow his family and the Crows to mourn him before we all headed back south.
My sister was nowhere to be found and after a few days of paranoia and constant checking behind my shoulders, I finally concluded that she went into hiding for self-preservation.
We were doomed to repeat my papà’s fate.
Chasing each other until one of us had finally drawn our last breath.
An exhausting concept I had already long tired of.
Once we’d returned back to México my phone blew up with missed messages from Ramírez, dozens of texts and phone calls telling me it was not wise to leave the country this close to election season.
He needed to be reminded that he was working for me, not the other way around. But I was too exhausted, too burned out on death and violence to be anything but apathetic to the entire situation.
Our hacienda was waiting for us, not many lights turned on despite the fact Chiyo and a few other family-related Crows were living there as well. My heart dropped at the thought of having to explain to her what happened. Why Fletcher wasn’t with us and why he wouldn’t be coming home.
We didn’t even share a language.
Like my thoughts alone were powerful enough to summon her, she came running through the doors at the sound of our car pulling into the property. She waited at the entrance with hands clasped and one by one we stepped out of the vehicle.
She ran to us, as if she’d been expecting him to come out of the car as well, slowing down to a stop with a confused look on her face once she saw there were only the four of us.
She looked past as if maybe there would be another car following us, as there often was.
My men had gone home to tend to their wounds, the Black Crows that remained would be arriving from Cove City within the next few days.
Ronan looked away, Santos looked down, Mateo stuck his hands in his pocket. She turned to me as if she was waiting for me to confirm what she feared.
I shook my head, unsure of what else I could do or say.
Chiyo dropped to her knees, a heavy sob blowing out into the wind.
It wasn’t fair, their love hadn’t gotten a real chance before it had been crushed to nothing but dust.
But maybe we weren’t all supposed to get a chance.
I looked at my guys, realizing I had not only gotten a second, but a third and fourth chance as well.
It definitely wasn’t fucking fair.
The men walked towards the house, brushing past her with awkward glances and no words of comfort.
They had none for themselves, how would they conjure them for her?
I stopped in front of her, standing silently while she continued to cry, her tears falling down her cheeks and wetting the soil beneath her.
“Where am I supposed to go?” she asked.
It was the first time I’d heard her voice.
“You don’t have to go anywhere. But if you decide to leave, wherever you go, I’ll help find a place for you there.” I assured her.
“I’m starting to think, there’s no place for me in this world.” She lamented in perfect English, letting me know my original belief about her being the smartest person in the room wasn’t wrong.
She played them all.
But regardless of wits, ferocity, or strength, there was one human flaw that forced every human to crumble in pain, to split into shards of themselves.
Grief.
Loss.
La muerte.
I’d long forgotten that pain. When I laid in the hospital bed with a bullet in my shoulder at the age of fifteen and mourned my entire family, I had begged Santa Muerte to cast her protection over me like a comforting blanket, not to prevent me from dying but to prevent me from feeling what death inevitably did to all of us.
It took.
It robbed us, not only of the people we loved but of the parts inside us they helped to create.
I saw how badly she was hurting, even if it no longer resonated within me.
“I’m sorry. He was a good man, and I would have preferred if it would have been me instead.” It was all the comfort I had to give her.
It was the truth.
Handling my own pain was enough of a chore, I couldn’t find that place inside myself to sit down with her and cry for the life that was lost. Trying to find words of comfort was nearing an impossible task, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d been molded to be this way or if it was the human condition itself.
“Take as much time as you need, my home is yours Chiyo,” I told her, walking towards the entrance and leaving her to mourn privately, unsure if that was even what she really needed.
“Senorita, you have a guest in the piano room,” my maid let me know as soon as I stepped through the door.
I sighed, thanking her and mentally preparing myself for whatever bullshit Ramírez would throw my way.
I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him, but it looked like he was going to make that my problem anyway.
I understood the importance of keeping a powerful man in my pocket, my papá had taught me that lesson well.
But it was clear José Luis thought I was his tool, not the other way around.
I wanted to say it was a credit to my work ethic, my influence, my power.
But I knew the reality.
The pussy between my legs made him think I was someone he could use and manipulate to his desire. He was about to learn that my pussy was still the biggest cock in the room, despite what he thought he knew.
I sent a text through our group chat, letting the men know I’d be in a meeting and not to interfere before I left my phone on the bookshelf by the door.
I glanced over at Santisima’s altar, the protection candle had burned all the way down to the bottom of the wick, all the wax gone and the glass stained a dark black color.
I pushed my way into the room, but it wasn’t Presidente Ramírez waiting for me.
“I thought I’d make this easy on you. Bring the fight to you, woman to woman and all,” she said as I walked into the room.
“You think you’ll be able to kill me and my men will just let you walk out of here scot-free? You think once you’ve murdered the mayor elect of Guadalajara, you’ll just be able to take my place in everything I had a hand in?” I raised an eyebrow and she cackled loudly.
“Carajo, no. But it is impressive how fast you’ve taken over down here. He really did teach you everything, hmm?” she asked, the envy turning her eyes a bright green color. “Regardless, I have no intention of doing any of that anymore.”
“Then why are you here?” I asked, growing tired of her incomplete thoughts.
“Think of this as your final test hermana. We all know you can’t be reina if there is someone left to challenge the throne.”
“So what? You came here to die?” I laughed out, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Bueno, no. You’re going to kill yourself,” she said matter of factly.
“And why would I do that, Carolina?”
“Because my big sister would never kill me, she’d kill herself first before she ever hurt me.
And she’d make sure that whatever happened, that I’d be okay in the end, since she failed me so deeply before.
” There was so much hatred and delusion in her eyes that for a moment I almost considered her words.
“While all of that is true, you’re not my sister anymore. How long have you been watching me suffer from a distance? How long have you been putting obstacles in my path? How long have you been sharpening the knife our tío wanted to use to kill me?” I raised my voice, stepping towards her slowly.
She smiled something sinister, like my reaction was everything she’d been hoping for.
“You give him too much credit. He was weak like papá, he wanted to leave you in peace to die in America, old and disconnected from cultura.
The credit goes to me. Who the fuck do you think put you in that Bratva cage to begin with?
The moment I saw you outside that bar in Cove City I sent your photo to Guillermo to set the pieces in motion.
He signed your death warrant and put the timer on his own primo.
Between that and my future sister in law giving Dezy Junior all the intel to feed back to Sokolov, I knew we just had to wait for the right opportunity before they left you all alone and defenseless.
“You’ve been after me all this time?” I asked. “Why?”
“You think Ignacio gave a fuck? He wanted you alive so that he could force you to open up the dungeons and he’d let you go free.
He underestimated you the entire time, he underestimated me too.
That’s why it was so easy to take it all from him.
He should have known better. A Flores won’t ever stop fighting for what’s theirs. ”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I shook my head. “I would have gladly let you have it all. I would have walked away for you before you tried your best to take everything I care about from me.”
“The pinche gringos and little álvarez? Please Celia, I was doing you a favor. It’s easier to choose one when you don’t have to.”
“I’m not choosing, they’re all mine,” I declared, grinding my teeth together.
“Regardless, you wouldn’t have walked away. It’s not in our nature.”
I thought about it.
I wanted to argue, to tell her that I was better than them. Better than her.
But I wasn’t.
I wanted this. It was mine.
If I let her live, we were doomed to play out the same scene until one of us finally killed the other, repeating our family’s curse.
I would break it now, save us both the pain of a miserable lifetime.
Correct my papá’s mistake.
I would kill my sister.
Because for the first time in my life, I had something to live for.