Page 55 of Empire of Carnage
I couldn’t dig up Cecilia if I tried. That bitch died in Sokolov’s trafficking ring.
That was the thing about my enemies, they kept trying to fuck with the dead, but they didn’t realize I was the queen of can’t fucking kill me. They were going to have to hit me harder than that if they were going to keep me down. Only Santa Muerte knew the day of my death.
I took a deep breath, knowing only one of them would be able to come up there with me.
“Take Santos,” Ronan said, as if knowing I wouldn’t be able to decide between the three of them.
I nodded, looking over at the balcony again, lined with gold and draped in black and white that wrapped around a spiral banister that led towards the grand staircase. It poured out into the gallery where everyone else waited for me to appear.
It was a bit of a whimsical moment, something I would have been prepared for if our lives had never gone awry. I would have grown up here. I would have likely had my quinceañera here. My papá would have introduced me to the world and made some sort of announcement about me someday following in his footsteps. Letting enemies and allies know.
But that was all ripped away from me.
I would be introducing myself to these people.
These strangers.
Santos gave me his arm and I laced my hand around his bicep, squeezing tight for an extra boost of emotional support. He led the way up the stairs, and I followed behind, the stairs too narrow to allow us to walk side by side. It was a service entrance, something likely built for servers and other employees of El Palacio.
There he was, waiting for me at the top. Presidente Ramírez. I’d been doing my homework for the last few weeks. He was forty years old and in the second year of his term. One of the youngest presidents in my country’s history, and his mission was to cut down on street violence and child deaths due to drugs and gangs.
I was more than willing to make nice.
“Señorita Flores, it’s so nice to finally put a face to the name I’ve been hearing so much of.” He picked up my hand and pressed his lips to my knuckles.
I could hear Santos’ teeth grinding behind me.
“Behave,” I whispered, “Likewise Ramírez. I hear you are doing great things for our country.”
“Please, call me José Luis.”
“Well, José Luis, I was pleasantly surprised by your willingness to work with me and my people. I don’t want to jump the gun, but I am hopeful I can make you see the positives in supporting my campaign.”
“I am not an ignorant man. I know everything that happens in my country—”
“Your country?” I cut him off.
“Like I said, I am not an ignorant man. I know this country’s history. I know you are the prodigal daughter returning. Lazarus coming back from the dead.”
My interest piqued.
“And what do you have to say about that?
“Ignacio Flores is a crass man. He has no taste for politics or social decorum. The only game he can play he doesn’t play well. His henchmen are unmanned, loose in the streets, feeding drugs to the children and the whores. Anyone who crosses him faces a temper tantrum and risks a bullet to the back of the head.” His face twitched like there was a deeper story in there.
“So. The enemy of your enemy is your friend?” I asked him.
“With conditions of course.”
“As long as you hold my leash?” I clarified.
He smirked. “You’re far more intelligent about the inner workings of our world than I expected from an expatriate, Celia. May I call you Celia?” he asked.
“You may not. I am not an expatriate, and I take offense to that. I was forced out of my home country as a child by a stupid man with dangerous delusions and too many idiots willing to do his bidding.” I did my best to reign in my anger, but these days I had no tolerance for ignorant men.
He raised his hands up in defense and chuckled again like I was a kitten with sharp claws he thought too cute to scratch him. I liked them better when they underestimated me. I’d allow him to think he was the one in control, because at the end of the day I was smart enough to know having him on my side was how I’d grow.
I’d force my way into politics with one hand and with the other I’d rule the criminal underworld. His time would run out, mine would not.
