Page 127 of The Crowned Garza

Eventually, my effort pays off. My nerves and muscles droop like udon noodles, and I succeed in freeing my left hand from the cuffs. “Always go with the least dominant hand,” my brothers used to drill into me.

With that out of the way, I lean back against the wall. There are three of them and one of me, so there’s no getting out of here without help. But unbound hands allow me a modicum of control at least, in the event these goons get any weird ideas.

Observing the man beside me, I notice he keeps flicking soft glances across the room at the one with a thick beard and a greasy man bun.

Hmm. Seems someone has a crush on their partner in crime.

Finally, some entertainment.

“Psst,” I hiss up at him. “Hey. Psst.”

When he reluctantly casts his gaze down at me, I jerk my chin in the direction of the other two men playing cards. “Does ManBun know you wanna suck his cock?”

His eyes blow wide for a flash before he growls low, “Shut up, you stupid bitch.”

“What? I’m just asking.” So much for trying to gab to pass the time. “If you don’t want anyone to know, you probably shouldn’t look at him the way you do.”

“I saidshut up.”

“Okay, okay,” I acquiesce, resting my head against the wall.

But my silence lasts all of five minutes because I’m freaking bored. Dying would be more interesting. “Are you, like, in the closet or something? Is that why you haven’t made your move yet? Or is ManBunheterohetero? Like he’ll get offended and shoot you if you do?”

At that, he growls something in Spanish, dips down to grab me by the throat, and hauls me up to my feet, slamming me against the wall.

With his other hand, he backhands me. Hard. And along with the ringing that sings through my ears, is Saint’s voice. Telling me I’m reckless. Telling me I need to learn to sense when I’m in danger, when to stand still and when to run.

Even after the ringing fades, his voice is there like a buzzing bee, scolding me.

But hey, better than being bored shitless, right?

“Shit, that hurts,” I whine, working my jaw.

“Maybe I should show you howoutof the closet I am,” he hisses quietly. A twisted smile splits his face as he reaches down and tries to cup me, but my thigh muscles are faster and stronger, snapping shut and seizing his hand before it can reach its intended destination.

With gritted teeth, he fights to free his hand.

Thank you, Sunny, for all those brutal leg exercises.

He eventually manages to rip his hand free and immediately grips my waist to keep me still. “How about I bend you over and we all take turns on you,estúpidaGarzaperra?”

I drive my knee upward, aiming for his balls, but he sees it coming and blocks it, laughing at me.

“Of course you’d love that,” I spit. “That’s the only way you’ll ever get to see ManBun’s cock.”

“Bruno! What the hell are you doing?” one of the men calls from across the room. “You heardjefe. We’re not supposed to—”

“Little bitch was running her mouth,” he snaps back. “Someone needs to teach her a lesson.”

Despite the other men’s protests, he grabs the waistband of my tights and tries to drag it down.

Nope.

Fuck no.

Acting swiftly, I bring my hands into the mix, and before he can process my hands being free, I reach inside my sports bra for the knife nestled under my girls, flip it open, and stab him in the face, ripping the knife up, then down before yanking it out.

With an un-gangster-like shriek, he lets go of me and clutches the side of his face, blood gushing through his fingers.