CHAPTER 29
THE PUNISHER
We leave the senator’s body slumped against a tree as we descend the mountain, the hunter’s headset echoing and repeating its cold, metallic mantra.
‘Proceed to base,’ followed by instructions.
The air tastes stale and of exhaustion, the grip of Tarran’s hand offering the only warmth in this godforsaken night. The familiar black gates loom ahead, their gothic claws signaling we’ve reached where we had started, and we push on – stopping isn’t an option.
My headset crackles with dead static, but Sal’s voice is long lost.
Surely we would have reception by now ?
‘There’s an SUV!’ I murmur, ‘that must mean there are still other players-’
‘And girls...’ Tarran interjects.
‘And girls, still out there.’
Tarran nods, her grip tightening around my hand as we dart towards the vehicle. The crunch of gravel underfoot felt like a betrayal – too loud. After so many hours of silence, making noise feels unnervingly foreign.
As we approach, the driver’s side door swings open, and Carlos emerges. His smile is sharper than a blade as he motions someone else to exit the vehicle. The muzzle of Carlos’s gun is cruelly pressed to the side of Sal’s temple, his eyes wide, feral and worried.
‘Oh, hey, boss.’
‘Shut up,’ Carlos growls, returning his eyes to us, grinning as he drags Sal away from the car. ‘Look what I found,’ he sneers. ‘Your rat!’
‘Let him go, Carlos.’
My uncle chuckles, a grating sound that scrapes against my nerves like nails on glass. ‘Nah, nene ,’ he says. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’
‘Let him go,’ I repeat. ‘You can have it, this, all of it. I don’t want it.’
‘It’s not that simple,’ he waves with his free hand, gesturing to the land around us. ‘This is ours - our family’s legacy. But you’re just like your father, always willing to throw it all away for some cunt. Always thinking with your dick. History repeating itself. ’
‘Let. Him. Go.’ Again, I repeat, every word leaving my mouth like a bullet. Carlos’s head tilts back, his grin widening further.
‘Hey, boss, see -’ Sal nods to the side where Carlos stands, ‘gun, would have come in handy right about now.’
‘What did I say? Shut up.’ Carlos smacks Sal across the head with the back of his hand before turning his attention back to me.
‘Or what, nene ? You gonna kill me with your arrows? Risk all of this?’ he waves his hand again, gesturing to the land around us.
‘Our family, for some cunt? You’re more like your father than you realise.
You ran away because you didn’t want to be like him, but it’s in your blood, boy! ’
‘Stop calling her a cunt,’ I seethe.
‘I put up with your mother for three years after you were born – the endless arguing, your father always putting her first before our family. Then one day, I decided I couldn’t let some slut come between us, between blood, jeopardising everything your grandfather had built.’
I swallow. ‘My mother?’
‘Yes, boy. Your mother! She begged me to spare your life as I snatched hers away right in front of your eyes. You owe me your life! “No, please, no,” she begged.’
‘She died in a car accident.’
He laughs, ‘Is that what your padre told you? I watched her beg for mercy, watched the light fade from her eyes. Sometimes, I see that same look in yours.’
‘You’re lying.’
I don’t remember. I barely remember her face. But ever since her death, I’ve felt alone.
He laughs again, ‘ “Mommy loves you, Gabriel, my Angel Gabriel,” ’ he mocks.
He’s trying to provoke a reaction. He won’t get one.
Fear had always been a foreign concept, an emotion I’ve never really experienced.
That was until I saw Tarran. Then, it’s as if a dormant part of my soul had awakened, ignited by the sight of her twenty years ago.
It stirred a fierce protectiveness within me, my heart pounding - not with fear, but from the overwhelming determination to keep her safe.
But now, as my heart races, I begin to wonder – is this fear?
Not for my own life, but for Tarran’s and Sal’s.
‘Is that because you wanted her for yourself, Uncle?’
‘Eh?’ he scoffs.
‘Oh, come on. You’ve spent your life dedicated to this family. Don’t you want to reward yourself every now and then? You’re wrong about me, I’m not chasing this slut over our family. I’m just simply extending my enjoyment. You should try it, Carlos.’
I’ll show him just how much like my father I really am.
I lower the bow and arrow, the wood clattering against the gravel. My hand clasps Tarran tighter, ‘And don’t think you’re going anywhere.’
I pull her in front of me, her back tight against my chest, and her body starts to tremble. From behind, my left hand reaches round, resting itself over her left breast – her heart beating frantically against my palm.
I whisper in her ear. ‘You’re still alive.’
My right hand snakes across her abdomen, grounding her against me as though I can anchor her.
‘Look away, Sal. This is for family eyes only.’
Carlos liked that comment.
He chuckles at the remark, his grin stretching wider as he turns Sal away. He watches me, my hand, his grin growing as it slides into Tarran’s knickers.
His tongue darts out, licking his lower lip as Tarran gasps.
‘Come on, Uncle, let’s enjoy her together.’
He nods, lowering his gun that was pointed as Sal’s head, and steps forward. My fingers swirl back and forth feeling Tarran’s fear. As Carlos steps even closer, I plunge two fingers inside her glistening pussy. Her mouth gapes open as her head tilts back, and her breath hitches.
‘Are you scared, little lamb?’
‘Yes,’ she breathes.
‘Good. You should be.’
Carlos stands in front of Tarran, his rancid breath fanning both of our faces. There’s a hunger burning in his eyes as his filthy fingers clamp around her jaw . ‘Ah, carino.’
His gaze locks on her, delving deep into her eyes – eyes so alluring they’d bring any man to their knees.
Slowly, I withdraw my hand, slipping it behind my back, my fingers finding the jagged edge of the broken arrow in my rear pocket, the one that snapped when it struck the ground during The Trinity’s relentless hunt.
I squeeze her left breast, releasing a gasp from Tarran’s mouth as the cold metal bites into my skin, the sting of pain nothing compared to the rage that’s boiling beneath my skin.
Blood wells from the cut as I pull it round to the front.
Carlos’s hand grips his zipper as he licks his lip, the rapid “zzt-zzt-zzt” of tiny gears unlocking sounding purposeful. Tarran’s heartbeat speeds up a notch.
‘Hold her still,’ he smirks, and I do. I pull her tight, twisting her to my left as my hand shoots forward, driving the jagged arrowhead forward towards his face.
It finds its target with a wet crunch, burying itself deep into his left eye socket.
The sound is macabre, like stepping on a raw egg, but his scream that follows is far worse.
No one looks at my girl like that.
This time, I can’t see the fear in his eyes, nor do I have to. He jerks back, his hands clawing at his face as blood spurts between his fingers.
‘Don’t kill him!’ Tarran shrieks, but I pay her no mind. I let her go as I walk towards Carlos. He’s gurgling as he stumbles backwards, his legs buckling beneath him. The arrowhead is sticking out grotesquely, twitching as if alive, his one good eye rolls towards me, wide with shock and horror.
‘She doesn’t want me to kill you, Carlos. You owe her your life.’
‘P-please,’ he pleads with trembling lips, and his hands rose like they could shield him from what’s coming. The commotion draws Sal’s attention, turning him on the spot. His face is grim, disgusted at the scene. ‘He killed your father, boss.’
My breath catches. ‘What?’
Carlos chuckles, ‘And your mother,’ Carlos spews, ‘only she was still alive when I began chopping her up.’
‘And he planned on killing you too,’ Sal adds.
Carlos coughs, ‘I’d hoped The Trinity would finish you off,’ he gargles, blood bubbling from the corners of his mouth.
Before I can respond, the roar of engines cut through the air.
SUV’s screech to a halt, their doors flying open as armed guards pour out with their weapons drawn.
Their shouts are loud and commanding. ‘ON YOUR KNEES, NOW!’
Carlos staggers to stand. ‘Thank god! KILL THEM, all of them,’ he orders.
Sal steps forward, his arms raised in a gesture of calm, his voice carrying authority. ‘Hang on, boys,’ he says. ‘You’ve got your guns aimed at Don Angel Gabriel Sanchez Lewis, son of Don Juan Sanchez Garcia. You work for him now!’
The guards exchange uneasy glances.
‘Is this true?’ one of them asks.
I step forward, ‘Yes. Now, lower your weapons.’
‘ Lo siento , Don Sanchez,’ the guard mutters apologetically, his words trembling with respect as he lowers his eyes to the ground.
‘Get Carlos back to the masia ,’ I order, my demand sharp and final. They grab him without hesitation, hauling him to his feet, and throw him into the back of their SUV.
Sal steps forward, opening the door to his car with a casual gesture.
‘Need a ride?’ he asks. Tarran and I slide into the back seat. The leather creaking as I lean forward. ‘Hey, Sal. What’s it going to cost me this time? I don’t think ten G’s and a new handkerchief is going to cut it.’
Sal glances at me in the rear view mirror, his smirk widening. ‘How about that Desert Eagle?’
‘Deal,’ I say, leaning back, ‘but don’t come running to me when you shoot your bollocks off and you have to live life as a eunuch. Oh, and Sal...’
‘I know boss,’ he interrupts, already winding up the tinted glass partition between the front and back. ‘I value my ears.’
Before the glass seals off, I catch the crackle of the radio, music booming as the engine growls to life. I look at Tarran, the sadness in her eyes speaking volumes without even saying a word.
Grasping my hand, her lips tremble. ‘He killed your family.’
‘My father killed us all a long time ago,’ I reply.
Did I mean what I just said?
The faint memory comes in fragments, jagged like broken glass. My mother’s hands trembling as she reached out, her face pale and streaked with tears. The sound of her screams, raw and desperate. Blood. So much blood. The coppery tang filling my nostrils even now, years later.
I snap back, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles turn white.
I didn’t ask to be this way, but watching her die...something must have broken inside me. Something irreparable.
I’m not my father, yet I see him inside my reflection.
I’m not my father.
At least, that’s what I tell myself despite seeing the coldness in my eyes. He may not have killed my mother directly, but the day he orchestrated her kidnapping might as well have signed her death warrant. Her life ended long before her heart stopped beating.
And now, as I look at Tarran, I wonder, am I doing the same to her? Am I sentencing her to a slow death, piece by piece, with every choice I make?
I don’t want to be him, but what if I already am?
Tarran stares at me, her sadness so raw it feels like it’s carved into her features. It’s not just visible – it’s palpable.
I can’t feel what she does, and yet, why do the echoes of my mother’s death – and the memory of her hand reaching out to me - still carve themselves into my mind like scars. My internal scars like tattoo ink etched into skin by unforgiving hands of my past.
Feelings. I don’t have feelings. I act, I survive, I move forward. And yet, here it is, this uneasy tension that’s clouding my vision. It’s both alien yet familiar.