Page 31 of Savage Hero

And when someone upsets the balance of such a finely tuned ecosystem, everything fucks out.

What they did—triedto do—is inexcusable. And once we have proof, there’ll be nothing standing in our way. We can eliminate Bogota and no one will give a shit. Then we’d once again be the biggest cartel in Orlando.

It’s so perfect, it’s almost as if someone planned it this way.

My heart skips a beat. Not in a fluffy, romantic way. It’s as if my body stops working for a fraction of a second, shocked to its core.I try and mask it immediately, only hoping Father is still too high on painkillers to notice anything.

“Does Sergio know about this? About the kid?” I ask, glancing away like a petulant child.

“Of course,” Bryan says, chuckling. Then he stops and puts a hand on the bullet wound in his shoulder. “It was his idea.”

Chapter Sixteen

Savage

Red is a good color on you.

All I see is red. Red walls, red floors. Every painting is a canvas dripping with blood. When I blink, blood veils my vision. My heart is in my throat, and it pounds in time with the sullen ache inside my chest.

Wrath. Not anger, not rage.Wrath. Because this feels fucking biblical.

I have no proof, of course. I have no way to show father that he’s in league with Diablo himself. Sergio is too clever for that. I’m racking my brain, but I already know it’ll be useless.

Sergio doesn’t make mistakes.

I was out of town on business, but he called me that morning and told me to be at La Buena Papa. Something vague about Bryan needing an extra set of hands. I didn’t even question it—I just went.

But Sergio can’t predict everything.

Nyx was a wild card. He couldn’t have known she was there. Couldn’t have known she’d be a hero.

When the men in that Mustang drove away, they thought they’d just annihilated one half of Domingo Cartel.

Bryan—dead.

Caesar—dead.

No eyewitnesses. No evidence except for a few tire tracks and the empty shells spat out of that Browning.

But now there’s Nyx. And Sergio knows about her. Knows she’s here in the villa. He could have killed her—sent her poisoned food, or one of his men to slip a knife in her heart—but he didn’t.

Because then Bryan would be suspicious, wouldn’t he? So instead, he suggests using Nyx as bait.

It’s perfect.

A flawless plan.

But there’s something neither of them could predict—and this time, it’sme.

* * *

Nyx isin the bathroom when I arrive at her room. The mess is gone. It had to be her—I told the housekeepers this room is off-limits. No one will come to clean. No one will even bother to investigate if she screams her lungs out or tries to break down the door, which suits me perfectly.

I shove open the bathroom door, catching her on the shoulder hard enough to send her spinning to face me.

Nyx stares at me, a hand towel draped over her shoulders. She’s wearing the lounge clothing that come standard in every guest room—dark gray Nike sweatpants and a white T-shirt that strains over her breasts. Long, wet hair dangles down her chest and back. Darker, almost brown.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes narrow, her nostrils flaring as she steps back. Her small, meaty little hands curl into fists. My nose aches just thinking about how much power there is behind her small frame.

---