Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
Layla
W e tore down the winding desert road, kicking up clouds of dust. My fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on the leather armrest as Sarge navigated the familiar route back to the villa. The detour chafed at me, precious hours wasted when we should have been racing towards the safe house—towards my mother.
My mother. The words still felt foreign on my tongue, a concept I'd long ago buried along with my innocence. And now she was in danger, waiting for me. I wanted to fucking scream.
I pushed it all down, locking it away in that dark place inside me where I kept all my weakness hidden. There would be time for feelings later. Right now, I needed to focus.
"How bad is it?" I asked, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the vehicle.
Sarge's jaw clenched, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He just hung up the phone moments ago and was already cursing. "Effren says they fought 'em off, but not before those fuckers did some serious damage. Blew a hole in the east wing, took out half our security system."
"Casualties?"
"Two of ours dead, a handful more injured. They didn’t find Carlos though—bastard's still locked up tight in the white room."
I nodded, a cold satisfaction settling over me. Good. I had plans for that piece of shit.
I caught Alex's reflection in the rearview mirror, his dark eyes blazing. His jaw was clenched tight, muscles twitching beneath the intricate tattoos that snaked up his neck. I knew that look all too well. It was the same cold rage that had consumed him when we'd discovered his father's initial betrayal.
"That fucking bastard," Alex clipped. "I'll gut him myself for this bullshit."
The raw pain in his voice made my chest ache. For all his faults, Alex had always been fiercely loyal to his family—to Raul. To have his own father betray his uncle, to try and usurp power while we were gone, it was a wound that would never fully heal.
As we pulled up to the villa, the extent of the damage became clear. The once-pristine white stucco was marred by scorch marks and bullet holes. Shattered glass crunched beneath our tires, glittering like deadly diamonds in the harsh desert sun. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke.
Vinny met us at the door, his usually immaculate suit streaked with blood and soot. "Boss," he nodded to me, then looked at Alex. "We’re secure for now."
I frowned at Vinny. Boss? Since when was I Boss?
An ugly sensation churned in my gut. “Where's Raul?”
He straightened his shoulders. “Resting, but he’s not looking good. Sleeps all damn day and doesn’t want to eat anymore.”
Without another word, Sarge stalked off, presumably to check on Raul.
I turned back to Vinny just as Tomasso headed over, looking haggard. "Status report. Now."
"Carlos's men hit us hard and fast. Blew through the east gate with a truck bomb, then stormed the grounds. We managed to push them back, but not before they did some serious damage."
"And Carlos himself?" I asked, already knowing the answer but needing confirmation.
"Still locked up tight in the white room. Bastard was grinning like a loon when I checked on him an hour ago."
"Double the guard on him," I ordered. "No one goes in or out without my express permission. And get a team working on repairing that security system ASAP."
"Already on it," Vinny said, then hesitated. "There's... something else you should know." I raised an eyebrow, waiting."Raul's been asking for you. Says he needs to talk to you alone. Urgently."
A knot formed in my stomach. I had a feeling I knew what this was about, and I wasn't sure I was ready to face it.
"Alright," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I'll go to him now. The rest of you, start assessing the damage and shoring up our defenses. I want a full report in an hour. And Vinny?" He paused, clearly biting back a retort for the stupid nickname as I said, “You know what needs to be done, right?” He nodded, the look of irritation suddenly replaced with one of excitement.
As the others dispersed, Alex caught my arm. His dark eyes searched my face, worry etched in the tightness around his mouth. "Layla, whatever he says in there, just remember, you don't owe him anything. You want out, then you get the fuck out."
I gave him a tight nod, touched by his concern even as irritation flared. I didn't need his protection or his advice. I knew what I wanted, and this shit with my mom didn’t change it.
The walk to Raul's private wing felt endless. Each step echoed hollowly off marble floors. By the time I reached his door, my heart was pounding.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself, then knocked softly.
"Come in," Raul's voice called, weaker than I'd ever heard it.
I stepped inside, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. Heavy curtains were drawn across the windows, casting the room in shadows. The air was thick with the medicinal smell of sickness. Sarge passed by me, his eyes meeting mine, looking red rimmed. He just shook his head and shut the door behind him.
Raul lay propped up on his bed, looking small and frail against the mound of pillows. His once-imposing frame had withered, skin stretched tight over sharp bones. Dark circles ringed his sunken eyes.
My breath hitched at the sight of him. This wasn't the powerful, larger-than-life man who had molded me into his perfect weapon. This was just a sick old man, clinging to the last threads of life.
"Layla," Raul rasped, a ghost of his old smile flickering across his face. " Mija . Come, sit with me."
I approached the bed slowly, perching on the edge carefully. Up close, I could hear the wet rattle in his lungs with each labored breath. "You asked to see me," I said, keeping my voice neutral.
Raul nodded weakly. "The time has come.I'm finally dying."
The blunt statement hung in the air between us. I'd known this was coming for months, and had seen the gradual decline. But hearing him say it aloud made it real in a way I wasn't prepared for.
"The doctors—" I began, but Raul cut me off with a wave of his skeletal hand.
"The doctors can do nothing more," he said. "I've made my peace with it. But there are things we must discuss before I go."
This was it. This was the moment he told me I’d failed. He was going to give the throne to his nephew, not me. Raul's withered hand reached out, grasping mine with surprising strength. His dark eyes, though sunken and weary, burned with life.
There is so much I need to say to you. So many regrets that weigh on my soul as I face the end." I remained silent, my heart pounding as I waited for him to continue. The room felt oppressively quiet, the only sound the soft whir of medical equipment and Raul's labored breathing.
"From the moment I saw you, all those years ago—a fierce, wild thing with fire in your eyes, I knew you were special. You reminded me so much of myself at that age. Angry. Defiant. Refusing to be broken by the cruelties of this world."
He paused, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I told myself I was molding you into a weapon, into the perfect soldier for my empire. But the truth is, Layla, you became the daughter I never had."
My chest tightened, a lump forming in my throat. I wanted to speak, to deny the swell of emotion rising within me, but I couldn't find my voice.
"I have done many terrible things in my life," Raul continued, his eyes growing distant. "I have shed blood, destroyed lives and taught you to do the same. But despite my failures, despite the cruelties fate has dealt you, you have come out stronger for it.” Raul's grip on my hand tightened, his dark eyes blazing with renewed intensity. "Which is why I have made my final decision. You will be my successor."
I stared at Raul, certain I had misheard. But the resolve in his gaze left no room for doubt. "I don't understand," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the steady beep of medical equipment. "What about Alex?”
He smiled, his eyes sad. “Alex is loyal to me, but something tells me that loyalty has shifted elsewhere in these last few months.” I frowned, not understanding. Raul chuckled with a cough. “I find it amusing that before I had the chance to tell Alex I’d picked you, he beat me to it, and took himself out of the game. Strange turn of events, don’t you think?” His eyes twinkled mischievously.
Something warm bloomed in my stomach. Alex had forfeited his right at the throne for me. He took himself out of the running to head this syndicate…for me.
He shifted, wincing slightly as he reached for a folder on his bedside table. With trembling hands, he passed it to me. "Open it," he urged.
I did as he asked, my fingers numb as I flipped through the documents inside. Property deeds, bank statements, business contracts, all bearing my name. My eyes widened as I realized the full scope of what I was seeing.
"I have already transferred everything into your name," Raul explained, his voice growing thinner with each word. "My assets, my business holdings, all of it. It's yours now, Layla."
"Raul, I... I don't know what to say," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
He smiled, a hint of his old strength shining through. "Say you'll accept. Say you'll take what I've built and make it greater than I ever could."
I swallowed hard. Part of me wanted to refuse, to run far away from the legacy of blood and violence that had shaped my life for so long. But a larger part—the part Raul had carefully cultivated over the years—was thrilled at the prospect of that kind of power.
"What about Carlos?" I asked, buying myself time to think. "He won't take this lying down."
Raul's eyes hardened, a flash of the ruthless cartel boss I'd always known. "My brother made his choice when he betrayed me. His fate is in your hands now, mija . Do with him as you see fit."
The implication was clear. Carlos's life was mine to take, a final test of my loyalty and resolve. I nodded slowly, already imagining the myriad ways I could make him suffer.
"There's more," Raul said. He gestured towards a small safe built into the wall behind his bed. "The combination is the day my love died," he said softly. "Inside you'll find everything you need to know about our operations, our allies, our enemies."
This was really happening. Raul was handing over his entire empire to me. He reached beneath his pillow, pulling out a small velvet box. With shaking hands, he opened it, revealing an ornate gold ring set with a massive blood-red ruby.
"This has been passed down through generations of Cortez men," Raul explained. "It is a symbol of our power, our legacy. And now, it belongs to you."
He slipped the ring onto my finger. It felt impossibly heavy, the weight of generations of blood and violence condensed into a single piece of jewelry.
Raul held my hand tightly, his bony fingers trembling slightly as they clutched mine. The ornate ring glinted on my finger, its weight a constant reminder of the legacy I was inheriting.
"I truly do love you, my Layla," Raul said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "There is one last thing I must ask of you. One final favor." He paused, drawing in a rattling breath. I waited, my heart pounding in my chest. "I do not want to die a weak old man, withering away in this bed. So I need you to end my suffering in a manner befitting my rank."
The words hung in the air between us. I stared at Raul, searching his face for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But I saw only resolve in those dark eyes that had watched over me for so many years.
"You want me to kill you," I said softly, not quite a question.
Raul nodded, a ghost of his old smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Grant me a warrior's death. Let me go out on my own terms, with dignity."
I swallowed hard, grief threatening to choke me. Part of me wanted to refuse, to cling to the man who had been the closest thing to a father I'd known since I was stolen from my real family. But I knew Raul well enough to understand that this was no impulsive request. He had thought this through, had likely been planning it for months as his body betrayed him bit by bit.
I would do it. I would kill Raul like he asked, because I knew it’s what I would want if I were in his place. This life of ours was fucking rough, and it was bloody, raw and disgusting sometimes. But it’s who we were. It was our purpose. Dying peacefully and alone in our beds was never in the cards for us. Someday, I’d go out in a blaze of fucking glory, laughing all the way to hell.
I leaned forward, a single tear dripping down my cheek, landing on Raul’s face as I placed a kiss on his forehead. I stayed there, pulling my gun free, and pointing it right where I knew his heart was. There was no use in dragging this out. He was tired. He was ready, and so was I.
“I love you too, Papá. ”