Summer tried to follow Raul’s advice, but it was hard to do when his father’s piercing gaze bore into him. He knew Garcia expected perfection, and Summer feared that anything less would be seen as another sign of his weakness.
“Focus on your target,” Garcia instructed, his voice soft. “Breathing, trigger control, and follow-through. You’ve done this before. Show me you haven’t forgotten how.”
Taking a deep breath, Summer sighted the target. 350 yards—it would be a new record for him if he made it. He squeezed the trigger. The rifle kicked hard into his shoulder with a sharp crack. And his bullet hit the target, but not as close to the center as his father clearly wanted.
“Again,” Garcia ordered, dissatisfaction clear in his voice.
Raul offered an encouraging smile, which Summer tried to return, though he felt like a fraud. He fired off several more rounds with varying accuracy. Raul continued coaching him, while Garcia remained silent, observing closely.
“Your aim is good,” Raul reassured him. “You know what you’re doing.”
“Good enough,” Garcia agreed. “But hitting a target isn’t the same as killing a man. You need to harden your heart to the kill, Verano. Like your brother has had to do.”
Summer’s stomach churned at the thought, but he forced himself to ask, “How many men have you killed, Raul?”
“After the first, it really doesn’t matter,” Raul replied with a shrug, his eyes darkening. It was clear that the memories haunted him, but he had accepted this life as his own.
“Your time will come soon enough,” Garcia said in what was clearly supposed to be a reassuring tone. “You’ll have opportunity enough to prove yourself.”
The thought of killing someone made Summer’s skin crawl, but the weight of his father’s expectations settled heavily on his shoulders.
Garcia studied Summer’s face, searching for any hint of resolve. “Do you have the strength to kill a man?” he asked insistently.
Summer’s gut clenched, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and look his father in the eye. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me,” he replied, his voice wavering slightly.
“Swallow your fear, mijo. This is the life we lead,“ Garcia said, before turning on his heel and gesturing for Summer to follow him. Summer handed the rifle to Raul, who gave him an encouraging smile, and then followed his father.
They left the gun range, headed into the house. Summer was relieved as the oppressive heat and echoing gunfire faded behind them.
As they entered Garcia’s office, Summer took a moment to collect himself. The memory of cigar smoke clung to everything. It felt suffocating, much like the rest of the cartel compound. He hated it here, hated the constant reminder of the violence and brutality that surrounded him.
“Your unhappiness is obvious, Verano,” Garcia said, leaning back against his desk. He folded his arms. “The men can sense it, and it’s bad for morale.”
“I’m sorry,” Summer muttered, avoiding his father’s gaze.
“Pick up your attitude, mijo. I understand this life isn’t what you wanted, but it’s what we have. We need to work together, like a well-oiled machine,“ Garcia chided, his dark eyes boring into Summer.
“I’ll try my best,” Summer offered weakly, feeling trapped within these walls and the expectations placed upon him.
“Verano,” Garcia began hesitantly, a rare tone of concern entering his voice. “Your spirit seems…” He broke off, studying Summer with a strange look on his face. “When you were with Rafael, did he hurt you? Did he humiliate you in any way?”
The question caught Summer off guard, and he struggled to find words for a moment. “I-It wasn’t so bad, Papá. I mean, he was rough at times, but...I’m fine.”
Garcia reached out and placed a hand on Summer’s shoulder, the warmth of his touch a startling contrast to his previous disappointment. “If he humiliated you, I will punish him myself. No one does that to my son.”
Summer stared at his father in disbelief. “I thought you gave him permission to do whatever he needed to ‘tame’ me. Wasn’t this what you wanted?” His voice cracked with emotion, feeling betrayed.
“Yes,” Garcia snapped, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “I did give him permission to do as he thought necessary. But there are limits. There are things that no man should do to another, especially not to my own flesh and blood.”
The memory of Rafael’s palm striking his bare skin came over him in a hot flash. “Rafael only did what you asked of him,” he said aloud. “And I survived. Isn’t that enough?”
Garcia’s face turned cold, his eyes becoming icy and unreadable. “There are things that are unforgivable, Verano,” he said quietly, the menace in his voice twisting uncomfortably in Summer’s gut.
Taking him by the shoulders, Garcia forced Summer to face him. The forcefulness of his grip was intimidating, and Summer tried desperately to avoid his father’s piercing gaze. But Garcia would have none of it.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he commanded, and Summer reluctantly raised his eyes to meet his father’s. “Tell me exactly what Rafael did to you,” Garcia demanded, his voice low and dangerous. Summer could feel the intensity of his father’s anger growing, and he worried for Rafael’s safety. He knew that if he told his father everything, there would be no saving the man who had captured his heart despite the circumstances.
“Papá, it wasn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Summer began, trying to downplay the events. But Garcia’s patience was wearing thin, and his temper began to rise.