Page 30 of Brutal Monster
"It's beautiful, isn't it, Papá?" I say, but his eyes are closed, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.
Vanya catches my concern. "He's just resting. The flight took a lot out of him."
Inside, the house comes alive with movement. Security teams position themselves at strategic points throughout the property. Medical equipment is installed in my father's master suite. Vanya's men patrol the perimeter while my soldiers—men loyal to me, not Alicia or her sons—secure the house once again.
I watch as they settle my father into his bed, the doctors connecting monitors and adjusting his oxygen. His eyes flutter open briefly, finding mine.
"You're safe now, Papá," I tell him, pressing my lips to his forehead. "Rest."
"Stay vigilant,mija," he whispers, his voice like dry leaves. "They will come for you next."
"Let them try."
After he drifts to sleep, I find Vanya in the great room, standing before the wall of windows that face the Caribbean. The sunset bleeds orange and pink across the water.
"I need an hour," I tell him. "Then we plan our next move."
He nods, understanding without explanation. "I'll be here."
My suite is on the eastern side of the house, where the morning sun will pour through the windows. I lock the door behind me, kick off my heels, and pull my hair free from its tight knot. For just a moment, I allow myself to feel the weightof everything—my father's illness, the betrayal, the target now firmly fixed on my back.
Then I pick up my secure phone and dial.
"Cristian." I don't waste time with pleasantries. "I need you to find them."
"I've been waiting for your call." His voice is smooth, professional. My most trusted intelligence officer. "I already have preliminary locations on both."
"Emilio?"
"Spotted at his house in Polanco three hours ago. He's not hiding."
I pace the length of my room. "And Adan?"
"More careful. Last confirmed sighting was at a nightclub in Roma Norte last night. He's using cash, avoiding cameras."
"I want surveillance on both. No engagement yet." I pause at the window, looking out at the darkening sky. "I need to know who they're meeting with, who's funding them, who's supplying them."
"And when we have that information?"
My reflection stares back at me from the glass—my father's eyes in my mother's face. The weight of the Bravo legacy settles across my shoulders like a familiar coat.
"Then we hunt them down. One by one." My voice is ice. "Start with their associates. Work your way in. I want them isolated, desperate, and afraid before I deal with them personally."
"Consider it done." Cristian's tone carries a note of satisfaction. He's been loyal to my father for fifteen years. This betrayal cuts him too.
"And Cristian? If you find evidence linking Alicia directly to the attempted coup, I want it immediately."
"Of course. Anything else?"
I think of Alicia's perfect makeup, her manicured nails, the way she's played the devoted wife while plotting against my father. "Yes. Find out who she's been sleeping with. I have a gut feeling that someone else warming her bed."
After ending the call, I strip off my travel clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water sluice away the tension in my muscles. Decisions must be made. Lines drawn. Blood spilled.
My father built this empire with ruthless precision. Now it falls to me to defend it with the same cold calculation.
When I emerge from my room an hour later, dressed in fresh clothes with my hair pulled back into its severe style, Vanya is waiting exactly where I left him. He turns from the window, his expression giving nothing away.
"I've had the staff prepare dinner," he says. "You need to eat."
