Page 3 of Legacy
His clothes shredded, skin torn to ribbons, and his face…
Fuck… his face.
A jagged gash slices across his eye, deep and angry, and his skin is slick with crimson. He’s barely upright, his legs dragging uselessly as guards struggle to hold him.
The metallic scent of blood fills the air, mingling with the sharp tang of adrenaline. Nico’s sweat mixes with the iron smell, creating a sickly sweet aroma that makes my stomach turn.
“Nico!” I rush forward, my voice sharp, panic clawing at my throat. “What the hell happened?”
One of the guards looks at me grim and tired. “Armenians,” he says simply, his voice tight.
Nico groans, his head tilting forward, but he forces out a hoarse laugh, “I’m fine,” he slurs, the words barely audible. “Not a big deal.”
“A big deal?” My voice cracks, anger and fear spilling over. “You’re covered in blood, Nico! You’re—”
“Angelo.” My father’s voice cuts through the chaos like a blade. He strides into the foyer, his face ashen as he takes in the scene. “Get him to a hospital. Now.” his tone is sharp commanding, but there’s something else beneath it.
Fear.
The guards nod, moving quickly to lift Nico’s limp body. He grits his teeth, trying to push them off, but his strength gives out almost immediately.
“Stop,” he mutters weakly. “I’m fine. I didn’t… I didn’t say anything.” His bloodshot eyes flick to mine, panicked, full of desperate trust. Like he needs me to believe him.
“I know,” I whisper, my throat tight. “I know you didn’t.”
“Now!” my father barks again, his urgency snapping me out of my thoughts. I step back, letting the guards carry Nico back outside and into the car.
The metallic tang of blood lingers in the air, sharp and suffocating. For a moment, silence fills the house. My father stands there, staring at the bloodstains on the floor, his jaw tight. I’ve never seen him like this before, so shaken.
“The Armenians,” he drawls, rolling the taste of the word in his mouth as if it were poison. “They’ve gone too far this time.”
My father leaves me there watching the swirls of blood on the marble tile. This is all because of me and my stupid choice to follow Maksim to that warehouse.
They’ve gone too far this time.
No.
I did.
Chapter 2
Scarlet
Five Years Later
The night air kisses my skin with a teasing chill, the kind that makes me feel awake. Alive; like the world is whispering secrets just for me. I lean against the cool stone railing of the balcony, staring down at the dizzying drop beneath my bare feet. For one reckless heartbeat, I imagine what it would feel like to leap—justfly, like I’m not tied to anything. Like gravity doesn’t matter and my last name isn’t Castillo.
A stupid thought. Silly.Dangerous.
But it feels so good to imagine.
Everyone says I should be grateful. That I’m lucky to be Adriana Castillo, daughter of El Jefe himself. I’m not some pawn in a blood-soaked game of strategy. I’m not being married off to seal a deal. I’m not locked away in some glass tower, pretty and useless. My fatherletsme into the room. He talks business with me. He gives me choices to an extent.
But Luciano… he doesn’t like that.
His jealousy clings to me like smoke—sharp, sour, impossible to ignore. It’s not the first time I’ve caught him staring at me like I stole something that was meant for him.
He plays the loyal Consejero, always at Papá‘s side, always the perfect son. But I see it. The way his jaw tightens when Papá praises me. The way his gaze burns, not with hate exactly, but with something colder. Something that says:You don’t belong in this world, hermanita.
