Page 138 of Jagger's Remorse
"No." I reach across and touch the eagle ring hanging next to his crow pendant. "This is what I was made for."
The guards wave us through without searching.
Family doesn't get searched.
Family gets escorted straight to Eduardo's office, where he waits like a spider in his web.
The walk through the compound brings back memories.
These halls where I learned to become what I am.
That courtyard where Diego first made me kill.
The medical wing where I recovered from "lessons" that left scars.
Eduardo's office hasn't changed.
Same massive desk. Same wall of windows overlooking his empire. Same vanilla candles that remind me of Papa.
But Eduardohaschanged.
He looks older than six months ago.
Thinner. His suit—always impeccable—hangs loose on his frame, but his eyes remain sharp as obsidian.
"Mija," he greets me, not rising from behind his desk. "I hear you've been busy."
"Tío." I kiss his cheek, note how his skin feels papery, how his cologne can't quite mask the sick-sweet smell of decay. "Pablo sends his regards. Or would, if he could still speak."
A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. "Show me."
I signal Jagger, who brings in the body bag.
Two of Eduardo’s men carry it in, their faces green at the smell.
We unzip it enough to show Pablo's face, throat still gaping from my knife.
Eduardo studies his nephew's corpse with the same emotion he'd show bad produce.
He stands, walks around the desk to get a better look.
His movements are careful, controlled, but I catch the slight tremor in his hands.
"Tell me," he orders.
So I do. Every detail. The betrayal. The connection to Three Devils and Sombra. The attempted manipulation. How he'd sold me to the Iron Veins thinking I'd kill Diego, position myself close to Eduardo, then die conveniently.
"He thought I was weak," I finish. "Thought because I was a woman, because I loved my father, I could be manipulated."
"And what did you teach him?"
"That Delgado women might love deeply, but we kill deeper."
Eduardo laughs, a sound like grinding glass that turns into a cough he can't quite suppress. "Your mother would be proud."
The mention of her makes my chest tight. "You knew her?"
"Before your father stole her away." Something flickers in his eyes—regret? Lost opportunity? "She was magnificent when angry. Fire and beauty combined. I see her in you."
