Page 44 of To Catch A Rook

“Give me their territory. I will operate against them and their alliance with Alvarez. This building is under construction to house much of our operations under one roof. Let my parents wallow in their misery with their poor choices when Antonio doles out punishment. I can be your ally.”

I stood to my full height, dusted off my dirty sleeves, and faced him as the man I was; the equal lion. His face betrayed no emotion, but he shrewdly assessed my mask as if I was capable of letting my feelings slip through, unlike the robot he claimed me to be.

Bastard.

“You say a lot of pretty words,Cabron.” He stepped forward, stopping a few feet in front of me. I refused to move. His next words would release me or seal me to my fate.

“You realize that this isn’t up to me, right? Antonio wants to increase his cut, not lose it. He’ll probably tell me to kill your parents, and then kill you for good measure. He’s done worse for less—and you know this, or you wouldn’t be coming to me.”

I dipped my head, acknowledging that was true. Kellan might spare me, but Antonio surely wouldn’t, not without someone arguing for my case.

A better man might attempt to leave this life—sell my shares and start new companies, or keep my shares and silently slink away to another end of the earth, away from the criminal empire I was blooded into.

I was not meant for picket fences and puppies. I was bred to build underground kingdoms of power and pain. I would leave in a body bag, but not sooner.

I had many men who were paid to die for me, but to what end? I did not want Antonio’s position or that of Alvarez, ruling from a throne built on a pile of corpses. I was satisfied with my one kingdom, providing small, dark joys to the wayward masses in need of an escape. I did not need the promise of more.

“I am not so filled with pride I can’t bargain for my life. If I am to be thrown to wolves, I can at least choose my pack, yes?”

The blond commander whistled through his teeth and shook his head, a meaty palm rubbing down his face. The tattoos along his knuckles taunted me—“hell” and “hope”—their jagged typeface a brutal reminder of the situation I found myself in.

“Alright. I’ll take it to him, but you might not like the answer.”

I nodded swiftly. “I will take that risk. When you have your answer, I will invite you back to show you what I have here. We could be good partners, you and I.”

The grunt I received in return was not at all reassuring. I certainly didn’twantto work with a man whose ego rivaled mine, but if that was what fate delivered, I would accept it.

It was better than a battle to the death. One I would not win.

He turned on his heel, footsteps echoing into the emptiness of the unfinished space as he left me and my destiny behind.

“Over here, Ms. Lane.”

A balding man with watery eyes dressed in an impeccably pressed tuxedo led me into the ballroom of the Waldorf Estate. The grand room was bathed in the warm glow of gold paint, delicate crystals, and ancient tapestries of long-lost empires that cost as much as a small country’s annual GDP.

Jediah Waldorf was the wealthiest man in the state, his inheritance and subsequent hotel empire rivaling mine. The entire home was lined with opulence and lacedwith exorbitance, but none of the tawdry exhibitions on display here tonight were likely to impress me.

The historic building held all sorts of treasures, but despite its familiarity, I detested the place. My childhood memories of coming here were cold, unfeeling ventures in dodging men with wandering eyes and boys with wandering hands.

Being born into the world as a blonde, blue-eyed little girl with an eventual Barbie figure had made me the enticing target of unwanted affections. Daddy didn’t pay them much attention, but I had mastered my death stare long before I hit puberty, which usually kept the wolves at bay.

Until I became the wolf. It only took baring my teeth one time for all suggestive behavior to stop entirely.

Well, teeth, a well-aimed knee to the scrotum, and a forceful punch to the solar plexus. It was my first real-world Krav Maga experience, though I wouldn’t start my actual training until years later.

One moment in your life can change the entire course of your existence. When I fought back, and fought back hard, I’d set a limit and sent a message. So much so, I’d tricked myself into a false sense of security—I conned myself into believing I could protect everyone around me too.

It was the hardest lesson I’d ever learned. A mistake I was still trying to atone for. I shook the suffocating thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time to be brooding about the past.

My eyes scanned the room, assessing the growing number of guests in their formal wear. My gaze caught on the unmistakably muscled form of a large man in a deep blue, perfectly tailored pinstriped suit. Even from a fifty-foot distance, Kellan could take a woman’s breath away.

His hair was down this evening, landing just below his shoulder blades. The windswept style framed his high cheekbones and brought out the reddish undertones in the stubble that smoothed out his firm jaw. He was speaking to a woman I didn’t recognize; a stunning brunette dressed in a revealing emerald gown, their heads bowed together like they were sharing a delicious secret.

Of course, I should have expected he’d be here. Only a few privileged people knew about Kellan’s dual alliances; anyone in this crowd would know him as a key player in a powerful network of black-market businesses, not as an equally powerful member of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

I tamped down the uncomfortable feeling of jealousy masking as annoyance and turned around to scope out the other end of the vast luxurious space.

Surprise immediately replaced my irritation. Jonah and Mical Carlos, Kellan’s twin brothers, and the current operators of the Carlos Cartel in our region, sat stone-faced as usual at a nearby table. An animated, attractive Latino man was attempting to engage them in conversation, but getting not even a single murmur of response.

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