Page 61

“Excuse me!?” The accusation is so insulting that I nearly implode. “I haven’t been fighting? Are you kidding me!? All I’ve been doing is fighting! Sure, I haven’t been killing people like you have—although, I’m pretty sure I’ve done that, too—but don’t ever tell me I haven’t been fighting!” The levy that’s been holding back all of my emotions for Oscar’s sake shatters against our colliding fury. “For the past two years, I’ve been fighting every single day. I’ve been fighting for my life, for my son—hell, even for you! See these marks on my arms?” I turn so that he can see the dark spots left behind from the glass and the vines that tried to keep me from scrambling back into my cage. “I got these from breaking into my prison. Why could I do that, huh? Why didn’t you!? I’ve missed out on so much of my baby boy’s life because you, the big bad cartel king of Cali, couldn’t do in two years what a lone orphan girl managed to do in a single night!”
I have more to say, but before I can get to it, a hand is around my throat. The anger in me evaporates in the shockwave of surprise that follows from Angel’s massive grip. His fingers pin me against the brick wall that blocks us from
the wind.
Oscar squirms in my arms.
“You’re a monster,” I sneer.
“I’m your monster,” he growls back. “And you should be fucking thankful for it.”
With that, his hand eases around my neck and I lunge away. New tears well up in my eyes. My heart is pounding so hard that it must wake Oscar up, because the next thing I know, he’s wailing in my arms.
“Look what you’ve done!” I accuse.
Angel doesn’t move. His fists are clenched like battering rams as he stands steaming before me.
“Shh, baby,” I plead to Oscar. He cries and cries and no matter how much I rock and bob, he won’t stop. How could Angel be so callous?
How could he not be?
He’s never made a secret of who he is.
A monster.
But what hope do I have if he’s not even my monster?
24
Angel
Time is running out.
Our opening to safety is closing as fast as my hand did around Catalina’s throat.
Fuck.
A civil war breaks out behind my chest. Why the hell did I do that!? I just put everything I care about at risk—Cat, Oscar; this is all for them, so why the fuck would I threaten it all like that?
Maybe I am just a monster... An irredeemable fucking monster.
Powerful gusts batter the brick wall protecting us from the elements... and I just want to punch through it. Everything is falling apart... again, and I can’t quite seem to get anything completely under my control. What’s happening to me?
Maybe Dante was right when he said that things had always come too easily for me. It never felt that way before; I worked hard and smart and I saw the rewards, but now it feels like no matter what I do, it isn’t enough. What are my priorities?
It seems obvious. Cat. Oscar.
But what about my empire? What about Cali and Colombia and the revolution?
My once frozen heart beats with a wild pulse, free of its frigid confines. For maybe the first time in my adult life, I’m unguarded and vulnerable, and my first reaction to that was to lash out on those I’m trying to protect.
“Why won’t you let me save you,” I growl under my breath.
Catalina doesn’t seem to hear me. She’s too busy trying to console a crying baby. I did that to Oscar, I made him cry.
Fucking hell.
The thought blinds me with rage. My clenched fist finds the brick wall, punching a hole right through it. The wind that tunnels through the new hole crashes against my chest. It’s like being splashed by a bucket of cold water, and, for a moment, it’s enough to temporarily cool my jets.