2. Chapter 2
Rosalina
The screech of the jet’s wheels touching down on my father’s private airstrip woke me from a restless sleep. I pushed the fall of dark hair from my eyes and watched the tropical scenery flash by the windows then slow to a halt.
As pretty as it was, the view only served to piss me off. I thought I was free, but here I was, back in this gold-plated hell.
Some people might’ve assumed I took my privilege for granted, and I could see how they would. Maybe I wasn’t grateful enough for what I had, but the cost was too fucking high.
I snatched up the bag Diego had liberated from my apartment and stomped down the steps onto the desolate tarmac. God only knew what was in the lumpy sack. There was a slim chance that it was better than nothing, but I wasn’t optimistic about its contents.
My father’s driver and Diego’s packmate, Javier, was ready and waiting with one of the many black, bulletproof SUVs kept at the island compound.
His dark eyes followed me expectantly. My temper tantrums were notorious among the staff, but I was older now, and this wasn’t his fault.
I’d known him most of my life, and while we weren’t as close as Diego and I were, I sort of missed the grump.
Besides, I was saving all my ire for my father, wherever he was.
Javier opened the door, ushering me out of the smothering heat into the air-conditioned shadows of the back seat.
Through the window, I saw Diego get into another identical truck behind us to complete my armed escort from the airstrip to my father’s palatial mansion on the other side of the island.
As the SUV climbed the densely forested hills, flashes of the turquoise ocean peeked through the glistening fronds of tropical plants.
The frothing waves mocked me with their vibrant colors, and the festive flowers laughed at my dark mood.
I'd loved this place once, before I found out it was paid for in blood and suffering.
The crunch of gravel under tires gave way to the rumble of cobblestones as we passed through the mellow, cream-colored stucco gate. It was deceptively inviting if you ignored the wrought-iron spikes that crowned the perimeter walls and the guards armed with AKs.
Javier pulled around the circular driveway, stopping in front of the wide, tiled steps. He hurried to open my door as I sat there pouting. Maybe if I refused to get out of the car, I’d wake up from this nightmare.
Unfortunately, even with his abundance of patience, Javier would have no problem dragging me out kicking and screaming if my father requested it of him. My father’s men were loyal to a fault. He was a good boss. If only that carried over into being a good parent.
I took a deep breath and stepped from the darkened confines into the humid air. Might as well get this over with.
The imposing archways of the Spanish-style mansion loomed over me. Ostentatious? A little. Gorgeous? Absolutely. I could fault my father for many things, but his taste in architecture was not one of them.
The updated estate was filled with every amenity, from live-in staff to a helipad nestled off to the side of the ten-car garage, but all of that was nothing compared to the location.
Secluded, overlooking a pristine beach, and miles away from civilization, it was the perfect place to hide a notorious criminal overlord.
My father, Rafael Reyes.
All I wanted was to go to my room and unpack, but that was not meant to be.
As soon as I stepped into the air-conditioned foyer, the scent of expensive cigars and coffee rolled over me.
My father appeared from a shadowed hallway, his arms outstretched and a brittle smile plastered across his sun-weathered features.
“Rosalina! My child! I’m so glad you have come home, safe at last.”
Was he glad, though? Or was I a reminder of our traumatic past? Did I make him think about the pack that he lost? He said he didn’t blame me, but I’d always wondered if that was why he kept his distance.
There was nowhere to retreat with the solid wood door shut firmly behind me. I was cornered, so I gritted my teeth and returned his brusque hug. There was little warmth in it, and he'd already pulled away, leaving a hollow longing in its place.
“Hello, papá.” I was angry at the situation, but deep down I loved him. And like most children, I’d only ever wanted to make him proud.
Indignation warred with the ache for a kind word or a heartfelt embrace. Sure, he loved me in his own way, but his affection left something to be desired.
“My daughter, are you hungry? Maria could make brunch. I know how much you enjoy her French toast.” His words were at odds with the silent judgement in his eyes as they skimmed over the wrinkled dress I’d slept in on the jet.
He put on a good show of caring, and maybe he did care when he wasn’t engrossed in his business. But give it a day, or even an hour, and he’d be back in his office, where I was nothing more than an afterthought.
I couldn’t let him distract me with food.
“Papá, I’m not hungry right now. We need to discuss this.
I’m going to fall behind in my classes.” Hunger gnawed at the inside of my stomach, highlighting the depth of my lie, but this conversation was more important.
I needed him to listen and understand, so I leashed my fury.
First, I would try reason.
“Classes? You don’t need those. You’ve learned enough already, and what you haven’t, I’ll hire tutors for. If you want a fancy piece of paper, we can buy one.” He shrugged it off, as if it were nothing to pay college officials to fabricate a diploma.
To him, it was nothing.
To me, it was everything. It was my ticket out of this dangerous world, surrounded by death and violence. Not that he would ever let me walk away, but I wasn’t giving up.
“It's the middle of the semester. I can’t just leave.” My voice rose as my temper boiled to the surface. “Send me back.”
He put his gold-bedecked hands on his hips.
“No, and that’s final. It’s too dangerous.
We have many enemies, my little Rosita. I should never have humored your desire for higher education.
Now, we will find you a nice pack to settle down with, and you can build a family.
You don’t need a diploma for that,” he said, his tone placating as much as patronizing.
My fingernails bit into my palms as my hands curled into fists at my sides.
“I’m not a broodmare, Father! You can’t expect me to sit on the sidelines and let one of your lazy lieutenants dictate my life.
I refuse to be chattel. I don’t want a pack; I want away from all this.
” Brushing past him, I screamed in frustration and stormed down the hall.
Once I reached my room, I slammed the door behind me and flipped the lock.
So much for being reasonable.
Tired, hungry, and pissed, I wrestled open my bag and riffled through it, finding nothing but random handfuls of underwear, mismatched socks, frilly spring dresses, and a single pair of sneakers. My toiletries were just as bad. At least my prescriptions had made it into the mess, but not much else.
May wonders never cease.
Whatever happened, under no circumstances was I interested in going through my heat cycle surrounded by these bloodthirsty criminals. With my bottle of suppressants, I should have plenty of time to sort that out, at least.
I didn’t know how long this shit show would last, but now that I was here, a plan was hatching to make the best of it.
The situation with my poorly packed luggage wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. The basics were already here. My favorite jeans were nowhere to be seen, but all the clothes and makeup that I’d left behind when I moved were right where they should be.
My stomach grumbled as I pushed the strange combination of clothing to the side of my bed and ignored the inconvenient need to feed myself, crawling under the covers.
As hungry as I was, I was more tired. I’d managed a few hours of sleep on the jet, but when my head hit the pillow, I was down for the count.
Too much stress, too much anger…all of it was just too much.
I’d feel better when I woke up. I hoped.