Page 29 of Brutal Monster
My spine stiffens before I even turn. It’s my stepmother, Alicia. Of course she would come now.
Alicia strides across the tarmac in four-inch heels like she's walking a runway instead of interrupting our escape. Her Chanel suit is immaculate, her makeup perfect. Not a hair out of place while my father fights for his life.
"What is she doing here?" I ask no one in particular, my hand instinctively moving to the gun at my waist.
Vanya's eyes narrow. "Your call."
Alicia reaches the stairs to the jet, but two of Vanya's men block her path. She looks past them, directly at me.
"You can't take him away like this," she calls up. "The doctors in Tulum can't provide what he needs. I’m sill his wife, Inez.”
I descend three steps, close enough to speak without shouting but far enough to maintain advantage. "The doctors I've arranged are better than anything you could buy with the money you've been siphoning from his accounts."
Her perfect mask slips for just a second. Guilt flashes across her face before indignation replaces it.
"Let me come with you," she says, her voice honey-sweet now. "He needs me.”
I laugh, the sound sharp as broken glass. "What he needed was loyalty. What he got was a wife conspiring with her sons to take what was never theirs."
"That's absurd," she hisses, glancing nervously at the security team. "I would never?—"
"Three wire transfers to offshore accounts. Meetings with our enemies. The missing shipment manifests." I tilt my head. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? I'm my father's daughter."
For once, Alicia has nothing to say.
"Get your sons in order," I hiss, my voice a menacing whisper that slices through the air, meant for her ears alone. "Or start picking out the black dress you’ll wear to their funerals. These are your only options now, and the clock is ticking."
Her face pales beneath her perfect makeup.
"We're leaving," I tell Vanya without turning.
He signals to the pilot, and the engines roar louder.
I take one final, lingering glance at my stepmother, absorbing the defiant set of her jaw and the flicker of unease in her eyes. "You have forty-eight hours to decide which path you will choose," I say, my voice steady and unyielding. "And be sure to warn your sons—I will be coming for them."
Back inside the cabin, I strap myself in beside my father's medical bed. His eyes flutter open, finding mine.
"Is everything alright,mija?" he asks, his voice barely audible over the engines.
I take his hand, feeling the paper-thin skin over prominent bones. The man who taught me strength now needs mine.
"Everything is exactly as it should be, Papá," I say, squeezing gently. "We're going to Tulum. You'll rest there."
As the plane lifts off, I watch Alicia's diminishing figure on the tarmac. Some bridges aren't meant to be repaired. Some are meant to burn with everyone still standing on them.
Vanya catches my eye from across the aisle, his expression unreadable to most, but I see the question there.
"Tulum is just the beginning," I tell him. "Once my father is secure, we have work to do."
He nods once, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. "I look forward to it."
Tulum's heat wraps around me like a second skin the moment we step off the plane. The air tastes different here—salt and earth mingling with the tang of tropical flowers. This was always my father's sanctuary, far from Mexico City's chaos.
"My men tell me the house is secure," Vanya says, guiding my father's wheelchair down the ramp where an armored SUV waits. The medical team hovers close, monitoring his oxygen levels. "My men swept it twice."
"Good." I scan the private airstrip, noting the positions of our security. No blind spots. No weaknesses.
The drive to my father's estate takes less than fifteen minutes, winding through dense jungle before opening to a sprawling beachfront property. White stone and glass rising from the lush green, the ocean a brilliant blue canvas behind it.
