Page 86 of Luka

It makes me think of Piper. Of trying desperately not to taste her corpse. I failed then. I wonder what Mendoza would do if I vomited on his carpet.

I’ve never seen his face, but I know it the moment he arrives. The air changes, a tension pulling Mario’s back straighter as the older man with salt and pepper hair enters.

I was ordered to sit, but for some reason, I feel I’m supposed to stand at his arrival, so I bolt to my feet. I let my hands hang at my sides and raise my head, pretending this man is just like my father. Because he is just like my father. He just doesn’t love me like my father does.

He’s going to kill me. Decapitate me.

Will he send my head back to Papá?

I frown at that thought because the answer is,of course. It’ll break Papá’s heart.

“Lucia Valdez,” Mendoza says, his hands spreading as if to welcome me. “In the flesh. How are you, my dear?”

“Nauseated, I’m afraid. Exhausted. Frightened. And, at the moment, rather homesick. How are you, señor?”

He smiles wide, revealing white teeth that look unnatural for his age. His skin has the same unnatural look, just a little too tight not to be botoxed. He’s handsome, really, but it’s apparent that he tries too hard to be.

“Homesick? I thought you were set on running away from Ricardo. He locked you up like you were some sort of mental patient. It’s telling that I never knew how beautiful you were until just now.”

When I feel my cheeks heat, I get the urge to look away but don’t. He’s just lying. That woman’s head is there for me to see. He knew exactly what I looked like.

“Sit,” he says, extending his hand toward the sofa. When I do, he sits next to me, making the air feel thinner. I fully intend to banter with him, if for no other reason to ensure he knows I’ll never beg, but I wish he’d skip this. I wish he’d just kill me.

“My nephew tells me you value your freedom… Let me ask you, Lucia, do you value it more than your life?”

Nephew.

I can’t help but glance at Mario. He looks smug, like he’s happy to finally pull the mask off, to have his royalty revealed to me. I bet he speaks fine English, the son of a bitch.

I don’t answer Mendoza. He wouldn’t like the one I had to give.

My life without freedom no longer holds any value to me. I’d sacrifice it in a moment for the chance of happiness.

“You were willing to run away with one of my people for the sake of love… That makes you special to me, my dear. So special that I’m willing to make you an offer...”

He pauses, waiting for a reaction that I don’t give. I’m not excited for his offer. Whatever it is, it isn’t mercy.

“The truth is, my beautiful Lucia… I’m willing to put an end to the war with your papá. I’m tired of the blood and the… theindecencyof it all. And I’m beginning to believe if your papá has it his way, neither of us will have anything left when this is over.

“But you can change that. You cannot have your freedom, but youcanhave your life. If you agree to be mine. Publicly. With the enthusiasm you had when you ran away with my nephew. Youwill live here with my son, Manuel, who will spoil you for the rest of your days as long as you remain obedient and enthusiastic. In exchange for this simple act, I’ll let you liveandend the war with your papá. What do you say? Is that not kind?”

I move my eyes to the other man in the room. Manuel, I’m assuming. His neutral expression doesn’t change when I look at him, his arms crossed over his chest. I didn’t think of it as consequential before, but I recognize him from that night at the bar. He was the one outside with Mario, giving him and the others’ commands. He doesn’t lookkind. He doesn’t look like someone whospoils. But that isn’t the point.

The point is maximum damage. The point is to hurt my father in every way they can possibly think of, and my head in a box is absolutely the last step. The first is my betrayal. They want it public. They want him toknowthat Ichosehis enemies over him, that I handed them his prized possession, that they defiled me before they sent me back to him ruined.

Unless of course, he chooses to end the war, handing them the victory. It would look so much sweeter if, to our world, it looked as though my father handed me over then bowed down to Mendoza.

This is notkindnessnormercy. This is the ultimate slap to my dignity. To my intelligence.

He does not want peace. He wants victory.

My ears burn as anger coils my chest, tightening it to the point of pain. I don’t say anything for a long time. If I do, I think I’ll explode, but that only causes the tension inside me to build.

“What do you say,señorita?” Mendoza prods, his voice deceptively gentle.

“I don’t know what to say,señor.” I take a steadying breath, the smell of decay no longer turning my stomach. “You’re correct, I was desperate to leave my father. I wanted to find my own way, discover who I am without him. But I’ve alwaysthought him wise. My father once told me you can learn everything you need to know about a man based on his fears… I’m trying to consider your offer, but it’s hard to take seriously the words of a man who suffers with such a severe case of Gerascophobia.”

I can feel his confusion form a cloud beside me. “What?”

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