Page 24 of Brutal Monster
"Our business faces threats from within and without," my father continues. "Someone betrayed us in Veracruz. Someone feeds information to the Romero family."
I keep my face neutral, though my pulse quickens. I've suspected this for months but lacked proof.
"My daughter will find them. And when she does, you will execute her orders without question." His voice gains strength, one last surge of the power that built our empire. "Any man who challenges her authority challenges mine. Any dissension will be met with—" A coughing fit interrupts him and my heart sinks when blood speckles the white sheets.
The doctor moves forward, but my father waves him away.
"Is that understood?" he rasps, once recovered.
Six men murmur agreement, but I hear the hesitation. See the calculation in their eyes.
"Cristian," my father calls to his most loyal soldier. "You will be her shadow. Her word is my word."
Cristian—a mountain of a man who has guarded my father for twenty years—steps forward and kneels beside the bed. "With my life, Don Bravo."
My father turns to me, switching to English—our private language of secrets. "Trust no one completely. Not even him."
I nod once, sharply. "I never do."
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "That's why you'll survive." He addresses the room again. "Leave us. Cristian stays."
They file out, their faces unreadable. Only when the door closes do my father's shoulders slump.
"Three of them are already plotting against you," he whispers.
"I know which ones." I sit on the edge of his bed, finally allowing myself to look fully at what's left of the man who made me. "I've been preparing for this day since I was sixteen."
"Still too soon." His fingers trace the scar along my jawline. "You remember what I taught you about mercy?"
"That it's a luxury we cannot afford." The words taste like ash.
He shakes his head slightly. "That it must be deployed strategically, like any weapon." His breathing grows labored. "Your brothers will come for what they believe is theirs."
"Let them try."
His eyes—so like mine—search my face. "They'll underestimate you. Use that."
I stand, smoothing my skirt. "I always do."
As I turn to leave, his voice stops me. "Inez. There is a ledger in my study. The real one."
I freeze. "You told me it was destroyed."
"I lied." No apology in his voice. "Behind the Goya. The combination is your mother's birthday."
All this time, the key to our entire operation—every contact, every corrupt official, every hidden account—was within reach.
"Why now?" I ask.
"Because now you're ready to bear its weight." His eyes close. "And because I'm tired of secrets between us."
I don't tell him it's too late for that kind of sentiment. Instead, I lean down and press my lips to his forehead, inhaling the scent of the cologne he still insists on wearing.
"Descansa, Papá," I whisper. "I'll handle everything."
As I walk out, Cristian falls into step behind me. I can feel the weight of my inheritance settling across my shoulders, heavy as a burial shroud.
But unlike my father, I won't carry it alone.
