Page 2 of Drawn Blue Lines

“Why not? It’s your name.” He resumed circling me like a lion. “Muñoz blood doesn’t run through your veins. You’re the enemy.”

“Stop!” It was the only word I could voice.

Truth was like a splinter piercing the surface of your skin. The initial bite was painful but bearable. However, if left long enough—if accepted without a fight—it dug its way so deeply into your flesh, it became a part of you. Never-ending pain masked as masochistic pleasure.

Self-destruction was a family trait. Raised to hate and taught to avenge, obsession seeped its way into my blood from a young age, addicting me to power like the very drug our kingdom was built on.

Having it. Keeping it. Taking it.

Every spare moment I had, I ate, slept, and breathed one name. Believed one name lived to destroy us.

Carrera.

After all, that was the law of the jungle. Take or be taken. Eat or be eaten. Kill or be killed. But then three brutal words ripped away my identity and a lifetime of respect, turning survival into a goal instead of a game.

You’re the enemy.

Enemy of my blood. Enemy of my family. Enemy of the only name I’d ever known.

My entire existence had been a lie. I wasn’t a queen. I was a pawn. I’d been robbed of the only life I’d ever known and denied the life I should’ve never lost.

I had nothing. I was nothing.

Marisol Muñoz was dead, and it was all because of one man.

Forcing myself to focus, I met his smug gaze with one of brazen steel. Stripped of weapons, strength, dignity, and identity, psychological manipulation was all I had left. Hopefully, it’d be enough, because I’d be damned if I’d die in a decrepit warehouse in the middle of nowhere.

“Then why bother keeping me alive?” Even in the darkness, I saw the empty gaze in his eyes, and an unwelcome shiver ran down my spine.

“To determine if my instincts are correct.”

A sound rumbled low in my throat—one I intended to be apathetic but ended up as apprehensive. “I’ll save you the trouble. Your instincts are shit.”

It wasn’t smart to antagonize the man holding your life in his hands, but showing fear was even more dangerous. I might as well have held a gun to my own head.

With a low chuckle, he leaned forward and ran the rough pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. Disgusted, I pulled away, but undeniable rage simmered beneath his thin layer of amusement, and he clamped down on the tender flesh until I cried out in pain. “Your insolence is exactly why I know my instincts are not, in fact, shit. You’re a survivor. Most of my men would’ve long been dead by now.”

Satisfied with my physical response to his show of dominance, he released his grip and shoved me backward. He wasn’t wrong, and the backhanded compliment should’ve silenced me.

It didn’t.

“Maybe you need better men.”

“Maybe you need to hold your fucking tongue before I cut it off.” He paused, waiting for another challenge. When I just glared at him, he sealed his victory with an emphatic smirk. “As I was saying, putting a bullet in your brain would be such a waste. Especially when your talents could be put to better use.”

I froze, each word cramming itself down my throat until I thought I’d choke. “I’d rather die.”

His distant gaze lasted only moments before understanding twisted his lips in disgust. “Don’t insult me. I’d rather chop off my own dick than fuck a Carrera. I’m referring to your powers of persuasion.”

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

My taunt didn’t faze him. Cocking his chin, he scratched his beard with the tip of his knife. “There’s no truer revenge than an eye for an eye. . .is there, Adriana?”

“I told you not to call me that!” Consumed with blind rage, I lunged with my last burst of strength. A pathetic show he easily deflected with the back of his hand. I hit the ground with a thud, a trickle of blood trickling from the corner of my mouth.

The man stood, and although instinct warned me to shut my eyes, I refused to give him the satisfaction. If he wanted to kill me, he had to look me in the face.

Instead of ramming the knife into my flesh, he tapped his heavy boot on the concrete next to my forehead. “I’m losing patience, so I’ll say this once. Give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want.”

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