Page 102 of Drawn Blue Lines

Brody was right, and betrayal hit hard with a vengeful hand.

“Cristiano.” I stared at him, silently watching as my misguided thirst for vengeance stole every trace of the fragile humanity I’d reclaimed. I was trapped, a pawn in my own game, with death at both ends of the board. Ignacio Vergara’s blind ignorance might have changed my fate, but in a cruel twist of irony, it was my own that sealed it.

“What do you want?” I whispered.

“I want Alejandro Carrera’s son to kneel before me. I want him to beg for my mercy, just as I did his pinche cabrón father.”

“Val kneels for no one.”

The glowing tip of his cigar magnified the hatred in his eyes. “He would for his son.”

My body stiffened, blood roaring in my ears as I made the connection between his cat and mouse game and his end game. “No.”

No. The ironclad will that moments ago looked my mother’s killer in the eye shriveled behind that one word. He told the truth. This was never about me or claiming either of our birthrights. This was retaliation twenty-four years in the making.

He warned me. I heard him say the words. I just refused to listen.

“Putting a bullet in your brain would be such a waste. Especially when your powers of persuasion could be put to much better use.”

“Against who? According to you, I’m public enemy number one.”

“There’s no truer revenge than an eye for an eye…is there, Adriana?”

“No. No, no, no, no, no.” The same word fell from my lips over and over, my voice breaking with finality.

Ignacio grabbed my chin, his calloused fingers digging into my bruised skin. “This sanctimonious act is getting old. Don’t lie to yourself, puta. Santiago is the heir to the Carrera throne. You’re nothing but an afterthought. A useless inconvenience. Without him, Valentin and Eden Carrera implode. It’s what you wanted, remember? Reclaim who you really are and stop pretending to be this pathetic shell of a queen. Besides,” he added, his knowing smirk sickening me as he loosened his grip to trace the traitorous dark circles shining under my eye. “I’ll put you back on top and make sure you live to see it.”

“You can’t want me to—”

“I want Valentin Carrera to remember my name,” he hissed, his grip tightening as he stalked forward, forcing me backward toward the door. “So you go back to Mexico City, Adriana Carrera, because I have a task for you. Don’t fuck it up, or I’ll kill you. But first, I’ll make you watch everyone you love suffer—including Brody Harcourt. I’ll enjoy the look on his face when he sees how blind he’s really been.”

* * *

I had to stop four times on the way back to Chapala to throw up.

The rest of the drive was nothing but a never-ending blur of cars, trees, houses, and static. By the time I pulled into the driveway and around to the back of the house, my head felt as empty as my body.

That’s how I felt as I stumbled toward the house.

Empty.

“Adriana!” Brody stormed toward me, his green and brown eyes blazed with deadly fire and the strong smell of alcohol on his breath.

“You’ve been drinking again.”

“You’re damn right I have. Where have you been? No, don’t answer that. I already know you confronted Ignacio alone. You don’t—” His hand flew to my chin and turned it to the side. “Is that a bruise? Did that motherfucker hit you?”

I didn’t know what to say. The truth would send him into a drunken rage, but lying was pointless, so I said nothing.

“He’s a dead man.” He spoke the words with such cold malice, I shivered. Diving both hands in his hair, he pulled at the roots as he paced. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Adriana? I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t answer to you, and you sure as hell don’t get away with stealing from me! I’m a goddamn Carrera!” His voice boomed, rage pouring out of him as he hauled me against him. “Do you hear me?”

All I could do was nod.

“That’s it? A nod? After what you did, that’s all I get?” Brody threw his head back and let out a harsh laugh. “Fuck this. I’m done.” Shoving both hands into my jeans pockets, he pulled out the keys to the car and his phone. “You won’t be needing these.” He tucked them away, and seizing ahold of my arm, dragged me inside the house. I didn’t resist. Truthfully, I was thankful for the help.

Once we were inside, he threw me onto the couch, where I collapsed, my body giving into fatigue and strain. My head lolled back, and I stared up at the man looming over me, his muscular body taut with unleashed rage.

“You need to lay off the booze. I’ll never understand why people willingly destroy their bodies. It’s disrespectful to those who never got to make that choice.”

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