Chapter 1

Almost a year later

Camila

The piercing whine of alarms ripped me from my sleep. Opening my eyes wide to the darkness of my bedroom, I scanned the corners as my pulse thumped in my veins. Strobing lights flashed beneath the bottom edge of my door, giving my bedroom the eerie feeling of a Halloween haunted house. Yet within, nothing seemed out of place.

My mind scrambled for answers.

Alarms meant intruders.

While other children were told stories of princesses and princes or perhaps adventures with dragon riders, from an early age, our father’s stories warned my siblings and me of dangers in the real world. There weren’t happily-ever-afters in his tales. His honesty wasn’t meant to scare us as much as it was to prepare us.

His affiliation with the Roríguez cartel as a top lieutenant put a target on our backs. That was why when my siblings and I were younger, we were constantly watched over by our bodyguards. Now that we’re adults, for my sister and me, the rules hadn’t changed. While Catalina’s bodyguards were with her in Kansas City, Miguel remained in San Diego with me. He’d been at my side for most of my memory. My brother Emiliano no longer needed protection. Like our bodyguards, our brother was an effective killing machine. That wasn’t what I saw when I sat across the dining room table; nevertheless, it was the truth. In our world, killing was too common.

Is someone trying to kill us?

My hands trembled and my ears rang as I pulled a hooded sweatshirt over my sleeping shorts and camisole. The decal on the front displayed the letters SDSU, San Diego State University. I’d recently finished my first year.

Contemplating the idea that I may not live to see my second year, I held my breath and searched my room for a weapon as the door to my bedroom swung inward.

“Camila,” Miguel said, his voice barely audible above the alarms. He lowered his gun and rushed toward me. “Apúrese.”

“What’s happening?”

“Russians. We’re getting you and your mother to the safe room.”

He reached for my hand.

His grip was a vise.

My mother and me. What about the others? “Em?” I asked. When Miguel didn’t answer, I raised my volume over the screaming alarms. “Is he okay?”

“Sí. Ven.”

I stared up into the dark orbs of the man I’d known most of my life. Miguel was my father’s employee, but he was more than that to me. While he was deadly accurate with a shot, I knew him as the man who drank imaginary tea at my tea parties when I was young. He not only watched over me as I swam but taught me to swim. Our blood wasn’t shared, but he was a part of my family.  “Are we safe?”

“My job is you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Or you.”

The howl of the alarm shrilled louder in the hallway as I walked crouched behind my bodyguard. I hesitated as he led me away from the front staircase and away from my parents’ wing of the house. “What about Mama?”

“Luis is with her.”

Luis Bosco was the head of our family’s security. I couldn’t recall a time when he wasn’t present. Like Miguel, he was more family than employee.

As we traveled along the wall, moving toward the back stairs, I remembered the second wedding cementing the Roriguez cartel and Luciano famiglia’s alliance, of Aléjandro Roriguez and Mia Luciano, that had taken place in this home only a few days before. The fierce contrast from then to now made my skin prickle.

Suddenly, the house went dark and deadly quiet. The abrupt change left my head reeling. Miguel stopped walking as the new silence enveloped us, seeming somehow louder than the alarms.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “They cut the power.”

“How?”

Instead of answering, Miguel continued moving toward the back steps with his gun drawn. He lowered his voice. “Stay close.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Miguel stretched out his arm, keeping me in place. I held my breath as I watched red lines of light crisscross through our kitchen. The safe room was in the lower level. The only way to the next set of stairs was through the kitchen.

“Get down.”

My bodyguard, over six feet of muscle, was on his hands and knees. I quickly followed. Together we crawled, keeping our heads below the streaming lights. I wasn’t certain if I remembered to breathe until we made it to the second staircase. It was as we began the descent that we heard a scream.

I knew that voice.

Tears filled my eyes as I reached for Miguel. “Mama.”

We both stayed immobile waiting for another sound. Only silence followed.

My stomach twisted as tears slid down my cheeks. “Is she…?” I couldn’t say the word. My mother couldn’t be dead. “You need to go to her.”

“Not until you’re safe.”

“Please.”

“Ven,” he said again, telling me to come.

I was torn between wanting to find my mother and fearing for my life. The pops of fireworks echoed from beyond the glass doors leading to our pool deck. Specks of light flashed in the darkness. In my heart I knew the noises and flashes weren’t coming from the fireworks of an early celebration. The sounds I heard and the pops of light I saw were gunshots.

Gunshots right outside the glass doors.

For a split second, I thought about Rei Roríguez, the son of the cartel’s leader, Jorge. Rei had been living in our pool house for a while. If he were here, he’d help. I then remembered that he wasn’t here but out on the Bella, el Patron’s yacht.

The next few moments occurred in slow motion or maybe it was my lack of sufficient breathing. I couldn’t fill my lungs as my breaths came fast and shallow. Crouching low, Miguel led me toward the safety of our secret room. As he entered the combination of numbers into the keypad, the glass doors behind us shattered.

A monstrous explosion of glass and sound.

I covered my face from the flying shards.

Miguel pushed me down, landing on top of me as my home erupted in gunshots.

I looked up as Miguel’s fingers pressed the numbers. The keypad didn’t light.

“Where’s the generator?” Miguel cursed. His head turned in every direction. “Come.”

Crawling along the floor, he led me back into the lower level, toward the sauna. The all-wood room was smaller than those found in a spa. After opening the door, he used the flashlight on his phone to scan the room. “Go and hide under the benches,” he ordered.

Sitting up on my knees, I froze, taking in the empty room. My pulse beat in double time at the dark, secluded space.  “What about Mama?”

“I’ll find her. Stay down and don’t make a sound.” He reached for my shoulders. “If someone enters, stay as quiet as possible.”

Holding back the bile percolating in my stomach, I did as Miguel said and again lowered myself to my stomach, crawling to the darkest corner and scooting beneath the lowest bench. I pulled my knees up to my chest and under the dark hoodie. Lying with my back against the wall, I tucked my arms inside my sweatshirt and stared through the darkness in the direction of the door.

Through the inky darkness, I heard the door close.

Seconds later the popping of gunfire erupted beyond my bubble. Even from the depths of the lower level, my body trembled with the rapid succession of bullets.

Reaching for my phone, I realized I’d left it plugged in back in my bedroom. I had no way to communicate, to call for help, or to even know the time of night. I also didn’t have a way to distinguish how much time passed.

When the barrage of bullets finally stopped, I lay perfectly still, afraid to breathe as I stared wide-eyed toward the door.

What would I do if it opened?

I wouldn’t allow myself to entertain the notion that the Russians had won this battle. That was a slippery slope of possibilities. If they had, what happened to my family? My parents? My brother? What would happen to me? Would they kill me or worse? I didn’t want to think about the possibilities that fell under the descriptive “worse.” However, as a nineteen-year-old woman who’d lived her entire life within the Roríguez cartel, I knew the heinous crimes that occurred in the name of war.

My thoughts went to Emerald Club, a private club in Kansas City operated by the KC Mafia. My sister was married to the KC capo. When I visited her last summer, she took me inside the club. It wasn’t during business hours, but I took in all that I could see. My family ran a similar private club in San Diego, Wanderland. While I’ve never been inside, I was aware of the array of businesses or services the club offered, just like at Emerald Club.

I’d listened to stories when the men thought they were unheard. My uncle Nicolas bragged about whores they’d acquired during a siege, whether Russian, Taiwanese, or Latinas from a rival cartel. Just because I was a virgin didn’t mean I didn’t know about sex. The thought turned my already-upset stomach. I’d rather be shot than made to work at a similar establishment for the Russian bratva. The chime of beeps from outside the sauna drew my attention away from my horrible thoughts to the door. I drew my knees closer to my chest, as if making myself smaller could save me from Russians if they were to enter.

Someone was trying to complete the combination in the secret room.

That meant the electricity was back on.

Miguel knew I wasn’t in there.

Maybe it was Em looking for me.

That was the argument I used to calm my trembling.

I had the revelation that perhaps one of our people could be deceiving the intruders, telling them I was in the safe room. Maybe they gave them the wrong combination. The chimes began again, and then silence.

My hearing strained for a sound, any sound.

And then I heard it.

I willed my eyes to remain open as the door moved inward. A light from outside the room allowed me to see the lower legs and feet of the person entering. The sauna filled with light.

“Camila,” my mother called as she crouched down, peering at me on the floor.

“Mama.”

I scrambled from my hiding place. We collided before I could register her appearance. I pushed away and with my mouth agape, stared at her nightgown. The color of the material was hidden beneath the saturation of blood. A copper scent filled the air. It was then I noticed the stain on her hands.

Taking her sticky hand in mine, I asked, “Are you hurt?”

She pulled me back into her embrace and shook her head.

The door opened wider as Miguel and Em entered.

“You’re safe,” Em said.

“What…?” I tried to articulate a question.

My brother came closer. Under the bright lights I saw blood speckles on his face and shirt. The dark black cotton did a better job of hiding the crimson spray than on Mama’s nightgown. He wrapped Mom and me in his arms. “Clean yourselves. You’re leaving.”

“Leaving, to where?” I asked.

“Papá’s spoken to the capo dei capi.”

“Dario.” Our brother-in-law. It wasn’t a question; I was simply trying to understand.

Mama reached for my shoulders. “We’re going to Kansas City to Catalina.”

“Is Papá okay?” I asked.

Em was the one to answer. “Three of the Russians are dead.”

“Anyone of our people?”

Mama’s eyes closed and her chin dropped. “Luis.”

My heart ached as I shook my head. “No. Luis can’t be dead.”

“He saved me. The shot came from beyond the window.” She shook her head. “I tried to save him.”

The blood on her nightgown.

“Oh, Mama, I’m so sorry.”

“If Miguel hadn’t made me leave him, they probably would have gotten me too.”

I turned to Miguel. “You saved us both.”

“Doing my job.”

Stepping away from my mother, I walked to Miguel and wrapped my arms around his torso. My vision blurred at the idea of losing him. I looked up. “Thank you.”

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around me. “You’re safe.”

I didn’t feel safe.

“Go to Kansas City,” my brother said. “El Patrόn has been notified. You two will be secure with Cat and the capo while we take out the Russian trash.”