2. Liana
TWO
LIANA
I stood in front of the man sitting in the metal chair, his arms fastened behind him, his feet tied to the chair’s legs.
I recognized the Courier from the days when he worked as Perez Cortes’s go-between with the cartel. He’d been given the moniker because of his exceptional abilities when it came to keeping the women in his care under… control, let’s call it.
I was one of those women.
And now, I was ready to unleash what had become of the “blushing bride” he likely remembered me as.
“Welcome,” I greeted him. His features were rigid, jaw tight, and his face beaten. “It took us a bit to find you.”
He lifted his gaze, those cruel, evil eyes meeting mine, and what he saw in them caused his grip on the chair’s arms to turn white.
“We roughed him up a bit, Boss,” my assistant announced. “But he isn’t giving us anything.”
I turned to look at José, my right-hand man, who was a hunk of a man and had been with me since I escaped the clutches of Perez Cortes and my husband Santiago Tijuana. When the nightmares plagued me, it seemed like only yesterday, but it had been three years now of hiding in the shadows, in my little corner of the world.
Even now that I knew Santiago was dead, I didn’t step into the light.
I had all that I needed right here.
Tall, dark eyes, dark brown hair shaved close to his head, broad shoulders and arms that would rival those of a heavyweight boxer. But none of it mattered to me as much as his loyalty, and he was loyal to a fault. To his family and to me. And in a way, José had my loyalty too.
He and Kian Cortes helped drag me out of the gutter three years ago, back when I hadn’t trusted anyone but myself. I’d come a long way, and luckily José didn’t hold my past against me. He knew my trust had been beaten out of me.
“Apparently he hasn’t heard of our reputation,” I stated coldly.
“I don’t give a shit about your reputation,” he said through clenched teeth. Then, as though determined to get his point across, he spat at my feet and added, “Bitch.”
José took a threatening step forward, but I lifted my hand, stopping him. I knew he wanted to take him out. He’d done it many times without me even asking. And if I gave him a nod, he would get rid of this parasite too.
But this was personal, and I’d deal with the Courier myself. He would pay for every girl he’d ever delivered.
“You haven’t heard how I deal with those who’ve wronged me,” I said with a tsk, shaking my head. “I may be a woman, but my touch is far from soft. But you know that already, don’t you?”
“I’m not afraid of you,” he scoffed, but his teeth clattered and the skin on his wrists reddened from strain.
I smiled viciously. “Stupid, stupid man.”
He laughed. “Everyone knows you don’t like to get your hands dirty. So what the hell are you going to do to me?”
“Everyone?” I mocked. “Who is everyone, considering the world thinks I’m dead?”
His gaze fell to my hand, staring at my missing pinky finger. “Perez started slicing you, huh?”
Not deigning him with an answer, I let out a callous laugh before nodding at José. A throat punch followed. I took a step forward, close enough to see the beads of sweat run down my captive’s face but far enough never to touch him. He was right, I didn’t touch men. In fact, I didn’t touch anyone aside from Amara.
“Did you feel my wrath?” I said as I crossed my arms over my chest, my feet inches from his.
“No,” he replied.
Fucking idiot.
“Ah, but maybe your lovely family will,” I said, and his eyes flashed. Ah, he didn’t expect my due diligence. A fool, he was. I made it my mission to learn all there was to know about the men who’d made me. “The wife waiting for you at home, the daughters who haven’t experienced hell on this earth… yet.”
Like I had. Like Amara had. Like so many other girls and women had. Because of greedy, evil men like Perez Cortes, Santiago Tijuana, my own mother, and… me. How many girls and women suffered because of me and my involvement in the auctions?
His eyes flew back up to mine and I smirked. “Tell me, Courier, do you think that because I am a woman that you or your associates will be spared?” I asked, my voice harder, my eyes burning into his.
His family must actually mean something to him, considering how his demeanor had changed. That surprised me. I didn’t think he cared about anyone but himself.
“N-no, miss.” Fucking stuttering. Weak-ass pussy.
“See, I believe in karma.” My voice didn’t waver. “What has been done to me will be done to all those who had a hand in it. And their families.”
“No, please?—”
“No amount of pleading will do,” I said, cutting him off. It hadn’t helped me, and it sure wouldn’t help this sorry excuse of a man.
Despite my best attempts at keeping the darkness away, memories of the last time I saw this man flooded my mind like a broken dam.
Light.
I felt light and disoriented, but panic and the need to fight flared deep inside. Except, I couldn’t move.
I blinked furiously, hoping the large conference room would come into focus. I pushed my palms against the cool, mahogany wood, standing up, but for once my Christian Louboutin heels refused to serve me. My Chanel dress felt too tight; its material scratching my skin.
I swayed on my feet, knocking over a glass of water.
“Take her to Brazil.” I heard the words and recognized the voice. “To him. He’s expecting her.”
Him.
Perez Cortes. A living, breathing nightmare. The man who’d been eyeing me as a potential trophy for years.
A small part of me was truly terrified because, for maybe the first time, I knew what it meant.
“You… can’t.” Why was it so hard to speak? My eyes fell to the glass that rolled around the smooth hardwood floors and the realization pierced through my sluggish brain.
I’d been drugged. To ensure compliance.
The self-loathing for my weak, abused body flared, my heart and soul filling with numbness. But the strongest feeling inside me was the need to survive.
“You reap what you sow,” Santiago said, laughing menacingly, and I knew exactly what my husband meant. “You can kickstart the new and improved auction.”
The Marabella Agreements. My great shame.
The auctions existed for the past two hundred years, a business selling off illegitimate mafia princesses. But the business suffered over the last decade so I revamped the entire thing. I expanded it, including the illegitimate daughters of notable, prominent figures who fucked over Perez Cortes and the Tijuana Cartel, among others, and made it accessible through the dark web.
The idea had struck like lightning when, five years ago, an infant turned up as a debt repayment from Gio DiLustro, a New York scumbag mobster.
Amara.
Even her name was a sign. I intended to keep her safe at all costs, even if it meant putting others in danger.
By modernizing the idea and making it more accessible, I made Marabella more profitable than ever before.
Oh, the irony.
The executer would become the executed.
I had been used and abused over the years, but I persevered. I’d made myself valuable to ensure survival—for me and my daughter. I should have known that I’d be stabbed in the back. After all, it wasn’t the first time. But confidence was a bitch sometimes, because I was so fucking sure that I’d proven myself to Santiago.
Once again, I discounted how far a jealous woman would go.
The joke was on me though, wasn’t it?
I betrayed the sliver of decency I had inside me and twisted it into something ugly when I helped with Marabella. It didn’t really matter that all I wanted to do was to ensure my daughter’s safety, and that so many other daughters were harmed because of it.
And look at me now.
How did I fucking sleep at night, knowing what I’ve done? I’d become what I vowed I would put an end to, but it was so much more than that. I’d become a sinner of the worst kind, but who would have heard my pleas and prayers?
Nobody.
My mother had taught me to be strong. Heartless. Cruel even.
But I was no match for Perez and Santiago. Yes, I played along, but with each day, I lost more and more of myself until I no longer recognized the woman in the mirror.
“Take that freak kid too,” The Mistress chimed in, signaling our time was up.
She laughed like she’d heard the joke of her life. I wanted to throw her out the window.
I didn’t know her name, but I did know she used to be his brother’s mistress and upon his death, moved on to Santiago. But my husband wasn’t the only thing she’d taken from me. The Mistress had taken something much more valuable.
That familiar ache expanded in my chest, spreading throughout my body while hatred and revulsion settled in the pit of my stomach. My hatred of my body—and for this woman—intensified as the black hole got closer and I hurtled toward it.
“You heard her, Courier,” Santiago said, his tone bored, like he was discussing a bad soccer game, not the life of an innocent child and his wife.
I jerked away from the table, stumbling in my heels, my balance completely thrown off. Commotion ensuing around me told me my husband’s men descended, but at this point I could only make out shapes. Dizziness assaulted me, my heart galloping to the point where my body started to shake.
I wanted to scream my misery and pain into the universe while cutting every one of these men’s throats. And if I wasn’t drugged, I would have.
But today wasn’t that day.
I stumbled around the furniture, trying to avoid Santiago’s bodyguards, who had descended on me like a swarm of flies. I could hear laughter in the background, but I pushed it aside, focused on reaching the back door. Just as I was about to escape, rough hands seized my hair and yanked me in the opposite direction.
I tried to fight. I pleaded and begged, but it was all for naught. Moments later, I felt myself being thrown into a transport van, my eyes unable to focus on my dark surroundings, the windows all blacked out with a tarp. There were no seats so I sprawled on the cold, dirty surface— I’d been in a van like this before. And that was something I’d never forget.
I rose up to my knees, ready to fight again, but the Courier slapped me hard, making my head spin faster, before slamming the door shut. I collapsed in a ball on the hard floor, pain mixing with despair.
It was then that Amara’s familiar scent slammed through the fog and pain. Please, God , I prayed, let it be her . I tried to move, but eventually gave up. Instead, I fumbled my hand through the scattered blankets until I found her. She was too hot, her skin clammy and her clothes soaked. In my struggle, I hadn’t even noticed them dragging her along with me.
I pulled her over to me, forcing myself to murmur soothing words, although I couldn’t hear my own voice.
The van started and then the buzzing of the engine lulled both of us into temporary oblivion.
When we awoke next, another nightmare had already started.
I shook my head, chasing the painful memories away and focusing on the man in front of me and exacting my revenge. He delivered me to hell, and I intended to make him taste it himself.
There was no more compassion left in my heart. No more tears. Only fury, and the hunger for revenge.
These days I was all about educating those who wronged me.
Now, I waited for justice to catch up to me. That was all I ever fucking did anymore.
Waited. Hunted. Hoped.
“José,” I said, holding my hand out, no other words needed. He picked up the petrol can beside the door and brought it to me. He handed me the can and I uncapped it, stepping closer to the Courier and wafting it under his nose. “The last thing you see will be the flames engulfing you. The last thing you smell will be the flesh burning from your bones. And the last thing you hear will be your own screams from the pain of it all.”
With that, I began pouring the liquid over him ever so slowly.
“What about my family?” he screamed, thrashing and pulling at his restraints. “You psycho bitch.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle your family too.” I flashed him a menacing smile, letting his imagination run wild. There was no place for weakness in this world. The minute you showed it, you lost your leverage.
A hard lesson to learn.
His family was his weakness, just as Amara and Louisa were mine. It was the reason I stayed away from my twin. I couldn’t do the same with Amara. She needed me; she had no one else. It was why I’d taken her under my wing and called her mine in the first place.
And that damned liver… my mind whispered, but I pushed that thought aside for now.
Instead, I poured the contents of the container out on the sick son of a bitch in front of me and dropped it to the floor, the sound echoing around the room. José was quick to hand me a box of matches.
I took them, my eyes never leaving my victim. I crouched down, level with the man who delivered me to hell with a smile on his face all those years ago. The fear in them injected me with power and reminded me that I no longer needed to be frightened.
“Now, tell me one thing.”
“Anything, anything… Please?—”
“I hear the new head of the Tijuana Cartel is moving flesh.” The most ruthless man in Boston. I heard he was not only the strategist but also the brain of the Agosti empire.
Giovanni Agosti.
I’d admit to being surprised when I heard the man had ventured into flesh trading. It was known that the Omertà, which the Agosti family was part of, stood against it. Not that it mattered to me either way—I planned to extinguish the entire Tijuana bloodline.
“What about it?”
“I want everything you know about the next shipment.”
“My family––”
“I might spare them if you give me the information.” Key word was might. I wouldn’t kill them, but I wouldn’t hesitate to have their livers tested.
“They need me,” he whispered.
“And I need the information,” I deadpanned.
“I don’t know,” he replied, and then tried to plead with me some more.
“Wrong fucking answer, asshole,” I said as I took a match out of the box and lit it, the flame flickering. “Any final words?”
“You won’t do it,” he said, but he was fighting harder against his restraints.
I laughed at his stupidity. “Don’t ever fucking doubt me,” I snarled, moving the match closer to him. Slowly. A few tense seconds ticked past, the match burning down the wood, warming my fingers, while I reveled in his despair.
I was an inch away from dropping it when he blurted out, “Las Vegas. Two days from now.”
It was all the information I needed. I took a few steps back, seeing relief on his face before I threw the match at him.
And then his screams filled the air.
I didn’t hang back to confirm the kill. I knew it was only a matter of seconds.
I walked outside, José right behind me, and greedily inhaled fresh air. My eyes flickered to the clear blue sky and I let the morning rays wash over my face. Once upon a time, I had to go weeks without seeing it, and I’d learned to appreciate it.
After what felt like hours but I knew was only minutes, José opened the car door and silently nodded as I slid into the back seat.
“What are your orders for the shipment?” José asked when he got in the driver’s seat.
I would drive myself, but I had never learned to. I never learned how to swim either. Or dance. Being taken, held captive for years, tortured… Well, it wasn’t exactly conducive to taking up hobbies. But it didn’t matter, I’d come out on top.
And now, yes, I wanted to learn those particular skills, but I refused to ask someone to teach me. Actually, scratch that. I didn’t trust anyone enough to teach me.
“Send a message to Emory DiLustro,” I said. We’d intercepted a shipment she’d allowed into her territory, released the girls back to their families, and replaced it with a new shipment.
“What kind of message?”
I locked eyes with him. “Do we have dead girls from the auctions?”
He didn’t like that. José was a sinner with a conscience. Unfortunately, I had to survive, and that meant no room for morals. It was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
With all I’d done, I could never get out. But it’d be worth it, because I’d see Amara live to grow up into a young woman, a normal young woman.
“Yes. One of them is Bogdan Dragovi?’s niece,” he grumbled, not at all keen to get on the Serbian don’s bad side. Too fucking late.
“Include her with the shipment. Make sure Bogdan gets an anonymous tip a few days after the delivery.”
I was running out of options and, more importantly, time. If I didn’t find a match for Amara soon, I’d have to track down her biological mother. And part of me was terrified of that.
After all, I should know it better than anyone… Blood was thicker than water.