Page 8 of To Catch A Rook

“A medical team is on their way, Cowan. Should you choose to cooperate, they will stop the blood loss and reattach your pathetic excuse of a sex organ. But you’ll probably never come again. Let’s just call this a precious lesson in self-restraint.”

Sammy packed up his things and knelt beside our victim’s squirming form, holding the speaker closer to his ear.

“You’re mine now,Judge. I have all the tapes—enough evidence to ruin your career and put you in maximum security for the rest of your life. When I call, you’d better answer.”

Sammy left the makeshift torture chamber, and once he was out of the house, I cut the security feeds and turned off the body cam footage. My teams knew what to do, and I trusted them to get it done. They didn’t need me anymore tonight.

Tonight’s mission had given me a name; the toxic piece of human filth who sold bodies and stole souls. It was time to dole out the punishment for his crimes.

I’m coming for you, Alvarez.

My newest acquisition was truly abhorrent.

I gingerly stepped around the litter of broken needles and dried vomit and breathed through my mouth to avoid inhaling the fetid stench of decay.

I would normally send out my people to do their own assessments, sparing me from this depressing exercise in human depravity. I eyed a rubber hose, its faded orange end peeking out from underneath a soiled mattress, and my stomach churned like a turbulent sea.

The life of a Rodriguez heir was not a clean one. I was not spared from the desolate landscape of the dregs of society simply because I was born in a modern castle with golden faucets and crystal chandeliers.

No, Mother had made it very clear from a tender age I was the product of a sordid empire, which would be myprivilegeto rule one day—with titanium fists and a callousness that put the world’s most effective dictators to shame.

I accepted my fate long ago. I didn’t strive for a world of ‘better and brighter’—what could be better than the life I already had? Men did not accumulate power from soft footsteps and light touches. They took it through bold moves and quiet conversations behind fortified doors.

Acquiring this building was one of the many planned bold moves. A quiet conversation that would secure the Rodriguez empire for our less savory revenue streams.

Money was the ultimate source of security; my wealth could purchase several small countries, and the power our family held reached the far corners of the earth. I didn’t require anything else in this lifetime; I strove only to acquire more of each.

They were the only mechanisms that could free me from my prison.

Sebastian Rocher, my personal lawyer and most trusted legal counsel, stood a few feet away from me in the dank warehouse, wearing his own grimace of revulsion.

Long abandoned by its original owners, it was now a drug den for the most damaged of society. But it stood on a crucial piece of territory my company would now legally own—territory we needed to continue our operations and grow our legacy within Sequoia’s underworld.

I didn’t trust others to carry out this work. One phone call could have spared me from this dilapidated den of inequity, but I had needed to see it with my own eyes. A new player was encroaching on our businesses; I planned to cut him off at the knees before he got the dangerous idea of being invincible.

Even I didn’t have such assurances.

Alejandro Alvarez would not come trespassing on my turf without deadly consequences.

My gun felt heavy in its holster beneath my suit jacket as I surveyed the length of the open space one last time, satisfied this move on the board was the right one. I needed to separate my businesses from my parents to ensure my own legacy.

I needed a private fortress to housemywomen,myfighters, andmymoney. The Rodriguez family was no longer in alignment, and it was time to set a different course.

“We’ll get the cleaners out here immediately.”

I turned and nodded to the small, gray-haired man wearing a three-piece suit in the middle of August.

“I want this place sterilized by Monday. I want construction to start before Friday, and the finish date no later than November.”

He grunted in acknowledgment. I was presenting our teams with an impossible task, but he didn’t question it. To argue with a Rodriguez was a dangerous choice.

I walked swiftly out of the concrete dungeon into the dry mountain air and filled my lungs with the scents of hot asphalt and stale urine—a far improvement from the interior space.

Jacques, my bodyguard, stood to attention beside the black Mercedes G-Wagon parked just outside, awaiting my signal to head to our next location.

The stink of desperation lingered on my skin—I would need a hot shower and a good fuck to take away the stench.

“Club 7,” I ordered brusquely and climbed into the soft leather rear seat. Jacques closed the door behind me. I neededa hit of endorphins before my next meeting, and I knew just where to get it.

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