Chapter 3: Sold For $1 Million

Lola woke up feeling like she’d been hit by a tequila truck driven by a mariachi band. Her head ached, and her mouth tasted like desert dust.

A scratchy feeling made her eyes snap open to see herself in pink ruffles and gauzy drapes – ‘not even organza,’ she noted with disgust.

Coughing from the smoke in the air – a mixture of cigars, cana, and some other shit potheads smoked. When her vision cleared, Lola stood up unsteadily and saw herself in a floor-length mirror.

They had stuffed her into a quinceañera dress, the kind 15-year-old girls wore for their coming-of-age ceremony.

The irony struck her. At 21, she was five years too late for this m****a! But here she was, dressed in a princess costume for monsters.

The baby pink gown glittered with dim rhinestones. Silk ribbons, cheap party favor ties, bound her wrists behind her.

‘Truly classy of them,’ Lola thought, her rage simmering just below the surface.

“Ah, the volcano awakens.”

Eva leaned in the doorway, a triumphant smile on her lips. She relished this moment, seeing Lola brought so low. Delores, her mother, hovered behind like a shadow, avoiding Lola’s gaze. ‘Hmmm… a coward,’  sighed.

Delores, the Volcans former housekeeper, now oversaw distillery workers. Distant relatives that shared the Volcan name, but Eva’s envy had always been obvious, despite Carlos’s past generosity.

Lola recalled her father finally ejecting them from the main villa after Eva was caught making out with Lola’s sweetheart during her quinceañera at 15. She had drugged him, claiming his love, supported by her mother.

“You look radiant, princesa,” Eva crooned now, savoring the word. “A proper Volcan heir.”

“Volcan?” Lola spat, fury trembling her voice. “You don’t deserve that name. What do you want? Why am I here? How are you involved?”

‘How dare they?’ Lola thought fiercely. My father supported them for years after Delores returned with a child!

“My involvement isn’t important. You’re here because arrogance doesn’t last, and of course, I couldn’t pass up the chance to see you lose everything,” she said smugly.

“Why?” Lola asked, genuine confusion on her face. “I’ve paid your living expenses for the past five years, even while in Europe. Is this my thanks?”

Eva seemed shocked. Delores stepped forward, her face hardening. “It’s what you owe us! Aren’t we Volcans too? If not for you exposing your cousin, would your father have stopped her allowance and sent us out of the main villa?”

‘So she decided not to tell Eva I was helping all this time?’ Lola realized with a sinking heart. ‘Family was supposed to be everything… I don’t even know what to feel.’

“Anger doesn’t suit you,” Delores dismissed, adjusting Lola’s fake tiara with a rough touch. “Consider this your financial coming of age ball.”

She dragged Eva who still looked confused out, leaving Lola with the mirror and her anger.

Soon a guard came to drag her out. The “quinceañera” was in an abandoned mansion with cheap decorations.

Masked men, lust and greed in their eyes, were all over, sipping champagne and making crude jokes. Mariachi music blared.

“Just peachy,” Lola muttered, tugging at the ribbons. “Untie me,” she hissed at the guard pulling her towards a stage.

He smirked. “Why? So you can run and I’ll loose my head? ”

“No.” Lola tilted her head, her voice as sweet as honey. “Gonna make you choke on your teeth first.”

He laughed – until her knee met his groin. Pain exploded on her face as his ring crunched against her cheekbone from a backhand slap.

Blood filled Lola’s mouth. Good, she thought fiercely, tasting it. Let them see I’m not that I am not some lamb meeking going to the slaughter. Let them see the fight.

The thin auctioneer with a gold grin yanked her from the guard onto the stage.

“Our final jewel!” he announced loudly. “A Volcan - purebred, feisty, and untouched!”

The lie churned Lola’s stomach. She wasn’t some virgin bride. She was Lola Volcán, heir, and she vowed silently to serve no man.

The bidding began. Men with hard faces shouted numbers, their entitlement making Lola nauseous. They appraised her like cattle.

“$100,000!” yelled a scarred man with a gold tooth.

Bidding paddles shot up around the room.

“$200,000!”

“$300,000!”

The numbers climbed very fasr, each bid another nail on her coffin. Lola’s eyes found Diego at the back, his flamboyant coloured clothes obvious. He was lost staring at trembling hands around a flask. ‘Look at me,’ she willed him. ‘See what you’ve done.’ He didn’t. Shame and fear kept his gaze down.

“$1 million.”

The room froze. Even the music faltered. All eyes turned to the deep, commanding voice.

Lola also turned to see a man standing near the back. He was tall, tan, and radiated an aura of cold, ruthless power that silenced the room. Ramón “El Halcón” Cali.

The ruthless boss of the Cali Cartel? So this is him, she thought, heart pounding heavily.

“Going once…” the auctioneer stammered, intimidated. “The Princess of Sinaloa, Sold for $1 million!”

Ramón walked towards the platform, his eyes fixed on Lola. A shiver ran down her spine – not just fear, but a thrill like playing with fire. He stopped inches away, his calloused hand gripping her chin, forcing her gaze up at him.

He wore an expensive designer suit over a faded guayabera, an odd combination that somehow worked on him.

Assessing her defiance despite the blood and bruise, a faint smile touched his lips.

A scar split his brow like a lightning bolt, and his eyes... God, those eyes – were an ethereal sea-green… no, scratch that, Lola corrected herself mentally. ‘They were the color of a storm-ridden sea.’

“I’ll slit your throat, El Halcón,” Lola spat, her voice dripping with an anger from deep within. “I’ll make you wish you’d never laid eyes on me.”

For the life of her, Lola had no idea where she got the courage to say such things to such a dreaded man. Her hands shook behind her, but she refused to show fear.

“You’re smaller than I expected,” Ramón mused, unfazed by her threats. “But fire comes in small packages, no?”

Lola spat the blood on his expensive polished boots.

He smirked, a predatory smile that sent a different kind of chill down her spine. “Such fire, princesa. I’ll enjoy carving that into something… more manageable.”

“Manageable?” Lola scoffed. “I’m not a houseplant, you overgrown vulture.”

Ramón pulled out a sleek phone and took a quick photo of her - face snarling, eyes blazing with hatred, bloodied chin, and in a ridiculous dress.

“I’ll frame this,” he said, enjoying her fury. “Before I break you.”

“You think you can break me?” Lola scoffed, the sound echoing. “Honey, you’re just a warm-up act.”

Ramón raised an eyebrow. “Honey?” he repeated softly. “I like the sound of that.”

“What? No… you!” Lola sputtered, thrown off. Definitely a weirdo! Now she was fuming again.

He smirked, a look promising pain and pleasure, sealing her fate. “We’ll see, princesa. We’ll see.”

..................

His men roughly shoved Lola into his SUV, her dress ripping. As the engine roared to life, she twisted her bound wrists frantically, working the cheap silk ribbons loose. Papa’s pendant dug into her skin,a painful reminder.

El Halcón slid in beside her, his mear presence a threat. “You’re quiet, mi volcancita,” he observed.

“Planning my escape,” Lola said flatly, refusing to engage further.

He grinned, lighted a cigar, the scent filling the car. “I’ll let you try,” he said easily, amused. “It’s more fun that way.”

As the car sped into the night, Lola forced herself to focus, memorizing every turn she could discern through the tinted windows. She was officially on her way to the lion’s den now, and Ramón “El Halcón” Cali was the king of the jungle.

But she wouldn’t be docile. She’d be a thorn, a hurricane. She’d make him pay.

‘I just need a plan,’ she thought desperately. ‘And maybe a machine gun. And definitely a lot of tequila and steaming hot tacos.’

If there was one thing Lola Volcan knew, it was that revenge was a dish best served cold, preferably with a side of chaos.

And she was about to serve up a five-star meal.