Page 86 of Bad Blood
Senado. The Carrera Senate.
The only law that exists within those four walls is the law of the cartel.
Men inside those walls earned their seat. They took an oath. I coveted what they had. My soul burned to belong. To claim what was rightfully mine.
I earned my seat the night I stood with New Jersey snow under my feet and gunfire erupting all around me. The night I took my first life…
And faced my first weakness.
As I stare at my father, I suddenly realize how much I’ve become him. Not only physically, it’s also there in our mannerisms and words. My office is bathed in darkness, just like his. My Italian suits are made of only the finest silk, black and dark grays, just like his. While his hair is now salt and pepper, and mine is jet-black, they both act as mood barometers—slicked back when we’re in control and chaotic when we’re not.
Truth’s reflection is a bitter pill. Even now, we’re both leaned forward on opposite sides of my desk, fists clenched, jaws tight, unrelenting and stubborn as fuck.
Mirror images.
Mirror sins.
The sins of the father…
I can feel a cold smile spreading across my face. “It seems I am my father’s son, in more ways than one.”
He cocks a dark eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“Thalia Santiago came here trying to win money to protect her sister from an Italian piece of shit who was blackmailing her. Instead of letting her keep her earnings, I’ve held her against her will and used her to my advantage in the middle of a cartel war.” I hold his stare, my sadistic smile widening. “Sound familiar?”
For the first time, I see my father flinch. He was just a few years older than me when my grandfather sent him to Houston to run stateside operations for the Southeastern leg of the cartel. My mother was a bartender at a Carrera-owned cantina, and somehow her whole family got trapped in the middle of a Mexican cartel rivalry.
Which ended with my father kidnapping her.
He claims it was to protect her, but Valentin Carrera does nothing that doesn’t benefit him.
I never asked the details. I didn’t want to know. Now, I’m thinking I should have…
Stretched silence paints the room in even more volatile darkness. Only a single breath separates action and consequence.
Until the door flies open.
“Santi, I’m sorry to barge in, but you aren’t answering your…” Lola’s voice trails off as her gaze settles on the opposing force standing across from me. “Papá?” she whispers.
My father shifts his attention toward the open door, his scowl softening. “Hola, cielito.”
His little sky.His greatest weakness, second only to my mother.
“What are you doing here?” she asks incredulously. I didn’t…” When his gaze locks onto the crutches tucked under her arms, she shoots me a panicked look.
All I can do is shrug. Trying to contain his vengeance now would be like trying to capture a breeze.Futile as fuck. Whether she has a flesh wound or a paper cut, it won’t matter to Valentin Carrera. Someone drew blood from his littlecielito. Someone will die.
Lola clears her throat nervously. “Ismamáhere?”
He nods. “Sí,she’s resting in a room upstairs.”
The words are aimed at her, but they punch me straight in the chest. “You’re staying here? At Legado?”
“Sí,” he answers again, and I don’t like the look in his eyes. “In fact, she is very much looking forward to tonight.”
Lola gasps. “Tonight?”
My father strides across the office, gently cupping her cheek. “Didn’t Santi tell you? The five of us are having our first family dinner together.”
