Page 65 of Brutal Monster
I feel my expression soften as I watch Inez spin Natalia in a gentle circle, the child's delighted giggles carrying across the water.
"That too," I admit. "Though Inez still runs the cartel with an iron fist."
"As she should." Diego raises his glass again. "To our wives—more dangerous than we are."
I clink my mug against his. "A fact I'm reminded of daily."
We fall into comfortable silence, two men who once would have killed each other without hesitation, now sharing a peaceful afternoon. Diego's organization handles our East Coast distribution, a partnership that has made both families wealthier than we could have imagined. The old rivalries seem distant now, like stories from another life.
In the pool, Camila says something that makes Inez laugh again. She shifts Natalia to one arm and uses the other to splashwater at him, carefully avoiding the children. Dario claps his hands, clearly enjoying the adults' play.
"They've become close," Diego remarks, following my gaze.
"They have." I take another sip of my drink, the ginger and lime sharp on my tongue. "Camila has been good for her. She needed a friend who understands the weight she carries."
What I don't say is how much it means to me to see Inez find trust outside our marriage. For years, it was just us against the world—isolated in our fortress of power. Now, we have this: family vacations, children's laughter, friends who understand our complicated lives.
"And you?" Diego turns those shrewd eyes on me. "Has fatherhood softened the great Vanya Zhukov?"
I consider the question, watching my daughter's small arms reach for her mother's face, tiny fingers patting Inez's cheeks with affection.
"Not softened," I say finally. "Focused. Everything I do now has a purpose beyond power or survival."
Diego nods, understanding in his eyes. His own son, older at seven, plays further down the beach with his nanny, building elaborate sandcastles that the tide will soon reclaim.
"It changes you," he agrees. "Gives you something to lose."
The words hang between us, weighted with shared understanding. In our world, having something to lose is both weakness and strength—a vulnerability that can be exploited, but also a reason to fight harder, to be smarter, and build alliances that once seemed impossible.
Like the one between the Bravos and the Castros. Like the one between the Serpicos and the Zhukovs.
A splash draws our attention back to the pool. Camila has lifted Dario onto her shoulders, the boy king of all he surveys, while Natalia reaches up with obvious envy, wanting the same vantage point.
Inez catches my eye across the distance and inclines her head slightly—a question. I set my drink down and rise from my chair, removing my shirt as I walk to the pool's edge. The heat of the stone tiles burns pleasantly against my feet as I step down into the cool water.
"Papá!" Natalia's face lights up as I approach, her arms reaching for me.
I take her from Inez, settling my daughter on my shoulders as she grips my hair with surprising strength. Diego follows suit, placing his young son on his shoulders. Natalia and Dario exchange serious looks from their matching perches, some secret communication passing between them that only children understand.
"Careful with that shoulder," Inez murmurs, her hand brushing over the scar tissue where the Romero bullet tore through me three years ago. The wound has long since healed, but she still worries.
"It's fine," I assure her, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. "Perfect day for swimming."
Diego grins, bouncing slightly to make Dario giggle. "The children are natural water babies. Future Olympic swimmers, perhaps?"
"Or pirates," Inez suggests with a smirk. "They already know how to command ships."
We laugh, the sound carrying across the water. On the deck, I notice Camila has joined my wife, their heads bent close in conversation. They look up at our laughter, raising their glasses in acknowledgment.
"Hard to believe where we were three years ago," Diego says, voicing what we're all thinking. "When Juan died?—"
"We thought it was the beginning of war," Inez finishes, her expression momentarily shadowed by the memory. "Instead, it was the beginning of peace."
"Relative peace," I correct, thinking of the skirmish last month at the Guatemalan border. Some threats never entirely disappear.
"Peace enough," Diego says firmly, his eyes moving between his son and my daughter. "For them."
Natalia pats my head imperiously. "Down, Papa! Swim!"
