Page 132 of Violent Attraction

It takes me back to the time I told her about Cristiano Reyes’ death.

Is this what is happening?

“Wh-why are you calling me so late? Did something happen?”

Is it Leo?

Or what if it’s Santos?

Worse yet, what if it’s my nephew? He’s just a baby, but what if something happened to him?

“There was a raid at the estate. Leo and Santos were there, and…”

“And what, Isabella?”

“Men were killed.” Her voice hitches, telling me that what she has to say is a lot worse than what she wants to let on.

La muerte está cerca.

Dreaming about my mother was a warning that this was going to happen.

A ball forms in my throat and I feel wetness in the corner of my eyes.

“Leo? Santos?”

“They are both alive.” That reassures me but it’s not enough. There’s more to this, I know there is.

“Then who, Isabella? Who was killed? Whose death is so important that you had to call me in the middle of the night?”

Ya sabes quien. La muerte está cerca.

My mother’s voice rings through my mind.

I may know, but I need my sister to confirm it.

“Camila.” Her voice breaks again, and I know what she’s going to say.

“Who, Isabella? Who?”

She is silent for a long minute.

I stand there waiting for her to speak, counting the tears that are running down my cheeks.

Say it. Please just say it.

“Apá. Our father is dead. They killed him.”

A sob escapes my throat when the words come through the earpiece.

La muerte está cerca.

That’s why I dreamt of her. Why I dreamt of painting death. It was a warning. A sign.

Death was near.

The kingpin of the Muertos Cartel is dead.

My father is dead.

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