Page 5

Ozias

T he buzzing of my phone cut through the silence of my office like a knife. I glanced at the screen, my jaw clenching as I read the name Cyrus Malone. The Chi-Town cabrón. I let it ring twice more before answering.

“Cyrus. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I leaned back in my leather chair, fingers drumming on the polished mahogany desk. The Cabo San Lucas skyline stretched out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a testament to the power and influence I’d built. But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

“Ozias, my boy! How are things in sunny Mexico?” Cyrus’s booming voice carried a forced cheerfulness that set my teeth on edge.

“Warm, as always,” I replied smoothly. “And Chicago? Still freezing your cojones off?”

Cyrus chuckled, but there was a bite to it. “Ah, you know us Chicago natives. We’re built for the cold.”

I reached for the glass of tequila on my desk before taking a slow sip. The burn in my throat was familiar and comforting. “I’m sure you didn’t call just to discuss the weather, Cyrus. What can I do for you?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. I could almost see him squirming, searching for the right words through the phone. It brought a smirk to my face.

“You’re right, Ozias. This isn’t a social call,” he answered before clearing his throat. “I’m calling about business.”

My grip tightened on the phone. “Business? And here I thought we had concluded our negotiations months ago.”

“Yes, well . . . circumstances change.” Another pause. “I’m afraid there’s been a development regarding the . . . er, arrangement between our families.”

I sat up straighter, my free hand curling into a fist. “What kind of fuckin’ development?”

Cyrus drew in an audible deep breath. “I’m sorry to inform you, Ozias, but you won’t be marrying my daughter after all.”

The words hit me like a physical blow to my gut. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Then the rage emerged, hot and familiar, coursing through my veins like liquid fire.

“The fuck you say?” I inquired. “Because I don’t think I heard you correctly, Cyrus.”

“You heard me just fine, Ozias,” he replied, his tone hardened. “The engagement is off. Demi won’t be marrying you.”

I stood abruptly, pacing the length of my office.

My mind galloped, calculating the reason this shit could be happening, trying to understand why he would do something as foolish as go back on his word to a man like me.

Was he trying to make an even bigger enemy out of me? Was he trying to insult my honor?

“We had a deal, Cyrus. A binding agreement between our organizations,” I reminded him. “I was planning to board my private jet to Chicago to announce our engagement and the alliances between our families.”

“Agreements can be broken. My daughter’s happiness is more important than any business deal.”

I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “Her happiness? Don’t fuckin’ insult me, Cyrus. This was never about Demi’s happiness. It was about power, about uniting our empires. About getting the Malones off my shit list. And now you’re backing out?”

“Things change, Ozias. I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly.” I stopped at the window, staring out at the city below. In my mind’s eye, I could see Chicago, could see Demi. The prize that was promised to me. “You’ve made a grave mistake, old man.”

His voice sharpened. “Is that a threat?”

I smiled, cold and cruel. “Not at all. Simply making an observation. You’ve chosen to break faith with the cartels. That rarely ends well for anyone.”

“Watch yourself, Ozias.”

“My reach extends far beyond these borders and whatever wall your president promises to build. You’d do well to remember that. But if you forgot who runs this shit, I don’t mind jogging your memory, mothafucka.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. When Cyrus spoke again, his tone was tight and barely contained anger. “I’m sorry it’s come to this, Ozias. I truly am. But my decision is final.”

“We’ll see about that.” I ended the call abruptly, resisting the urge to hurl the phone across the room.

For a long moment, I stood there, staring unobservantly at the paradise before me. My mind whirled with plans, possibilities, and bloody fuckin’ revenge.

I’d built my empire on blood and pain, on loyalty and fear. I’d crushed anyone who dared to cross me, who dared to take what was mine. And Demi Malone was mine. She was promised to me —the jewel at the peak of my empire and the key to unlocking even greater power.

I won’t let her slip through my fingers. Not now. Not ever.

My phone buzzed again. It was ángel, my right-hand man. I answered on the first ring.

“ Jefe ? Is everything alright?” His voice was concerned. He knew me well enough to sense when something was wrong.

“No, ángel. Everything is not alright,” I answered as I turned away from the window, my mind made up. “I need you to assemble a team. Our best men. Have them ready to fly to Chicago first thing in the morning.”

There was a pause. “Chicago? What’s going on, O?”

I took a deep breath, feeling the familiar calm of my decision settle over me. “The Malones have broken faith with us. They’ve called off the engagement.”

“Shit,” ángel muttered. “What do you want us to do?”

A cold smile crawled up my face. “We’re going to take what’s ours, ángel. Demi Malone was promised to me, and I intend to fuckin’ collect.”

“You want us to . . . kidnap her?” ángel asked hesitantly.

“I want you to retrieve what belongs to me,” I corrected him. “By any means necessary.”

There was a moment of silence, then ángel’s voice returned, firm and loyal. “Consider it done, Jefe . I’ll handle everything.”

“Good man.” I ended the call and tossed the phone onto my desk.

My gaze fell on the bar in the corner of my office. Without conscious thought, my feet carried me toward it. I poured a generous measure of tequila into the cup I just finished, savoring the sharp, clean scent.

As I raised the glass to my lips, I made a silent vow. Demi Malone will be mine, one way or another. The Malones think they can play games with me? They’ll soon learn the stupidity of their ways.

I wasn’t called El Diablo for nothing. And hell hath no fury like a devil scorned.

The tequila burned a path down my throat, igniting the fire in my belly. I was about to pour another when there was a knock at my office door.

“Enter,” I called out, not bothering to turn around.

I heard the door open, followed by hesitant footsteps. “Senor Rivera?”

I recognized the voice. It was Mateo, one of my lower-ranking men. I turned slowly, fixing him with a hard stare. “What is it, Mateo?”

He shifted nervously under my gaze. “There’s . . . there’s been an issue, sir.”

“What. Kind. Of. Issue?” I growled, each word dripping with menace. I wasn’t in the mood for any more bad news.

As Mateo stammered out his explanation, I felt the last threads of my control slip away. The rage that had been simmering since Cyrus’s call boiled over, consuming everything in its path.

Let them all burn .

The Malones, the traitors, anyone who stood in my way. I’ll annihilate this whole fucking world to dust if that’s what it takes. Because in the end, I always get what I want. And what I want is Demi Malone.

The rage coursed through my veins like molten lava. I clenched my fists, my knuckles hardening as I struggled to maintain some aspect of control.

“It’s about the shipment from Sinaloa. There’s been a delay at the border. Customs is—”

I didn’t let him finish. In one fluid motion, I turned and hurled my glass against the far wall. It shattered spectacularly, shards of crystal and droplets of tequila raining down on the expensive carpet.

The man flinched, taking a step back. I fixed him with a glare that made hardened killers tremble.

“Fuckin’ fix it,” I barked. “I don’t care what it takes.

Bribe them, threaten them, kill them if you have to.

But that shipment better be in by tomorrow night, or it’ll be your head on the chopping block. Understood?”

He nodded frantically, already backing toward the door. “Y-yes, Jefe. Right away.”

As the door closed behind him, I took a deep breath, trying to rein in my temper. I couldn’t afford distractions, not now. Not when I was about to make my boldest move yet.

I walked to the window, gazing out at my country. Mexico was mine, but I wanted more. Demi was the key to that expansion. She was my ticket to new territories and new alliances. The fact that she was reputed to be as beautiful as she was fierce? That was just a bonus.

“Soon, mi amor ,” I whispered, imagining her face among the twinkling city lights. “Soon, you’ll learn what it means to belong to El Diablo.”