Page 24 of Hostile Rival
“Why do you care? You know what happens out there, outside of your protected Souza bubble. The world is full of bad guys that work for your family.”
Silvery moonlight worships the carved landscape of his smooth chest, and a shadow makes the crease on his brow look deeper. It’s a cruel twist of fate that has me star-struck by this man.
“Start talking, Dani. Tell me what happened to you.”
“Okay…let’s start from the beginning, shall we?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Does the name Jorge Zapata ring a bell?”
His brows snap together. “No. Who is he?”
Of course, he doesn’t know the asshole. I chuckle, happy with the fatal outcome I’d engineered forJorge.
“Wrong question, smartass. Try asking me where he is.”
Matheus skirts the furniture and prowls closer, bringing his bad mood with him. “Where is he?” he asks slowly.
My scalp tingles, the memory fresh in my head like it was yesterday. Standing, I raise my chin in defiance and roll back my shoulders, confident in my ability to destroy men.
“Oh, he’s rotting in an unmarked grave with a round of slugs in his corpse,” I announce, smug and self-satisfied.
Bullet after bullet, my adrenaline had spiked and soared. Fuck, shooting that asshole was the most addictive, enjoyable rush I’d ever had in my whole life.
There's a pivotal event in everyone’s timeline that gives them a purpose, whether it’s becoming a parent, a wife, a graduate, or even finding that one skill that makes everything click into place.
Mine just so happened to be homicide, and not just any random bloodbaths either—I live for death—for killing those who prey on the innocent.
With the slightly deviated caveat that involves bumping off traitors, liars, thieves, or any hit Blanco orders.
We have an understanding and the people on his list are usually evil. Justice is a bullet in cartel wars.
Matheus’ chest visibly rises, and he nods, now understanding I murdered one of his own, which should make me even more of a threat.
“What did he do toyou?” he grits out through clenched teeth, surprisingly disinterested in Jorge’s death.
I move closer, feeling stronger now, more empowered by the years of combat training I have under my belt. In this room, there are everyday objects I could turn into a lethal weapon at any second. And if I didn’t have time to grab something, my hands would suffice.
“That wasn’t a nightmare. It was your past. Am I right?” He adds.
Nightmares have plagued me for years, settling somewhat as time went on––until Blanco had signed me up for The Covenant. Now the same recurring bad dream is back to remind me of the reasons why I am this person, and this guy would never be anything other than a Souza.
“Jorge thought he held all the power.” I smile, proud of myself. “That he could transport us to an unknown location where his men, who, let me add, were also on the Souza payroll, treated us worse than lab rats.”
Matheus continues to stare at me, his expression tight.
“Whatdid they do to you?” He repeats, his dominating height eating up every corner of the room and his deep voice rumbling over me in shockwaves. “Did any of them rape you?”
I swallow and look away, ignoring the concern swimming in his eyes. There isn’t even a speck of distaste in his expression for how I’d slaughtered Jorge.
It throws me off. Rather than get a kick out of confessing how I’d killed them all, except for one, I’m starting to think he doesn’t give a shit about his soldiers.
His focus drills into me, waiting for my answer.
“No,” I admit. “Not rape. But Jorge took great pleasure in humiliating me before he handed us over to a bunch of assholes. Once he left, they tried out the best hole for hiding the drugs they expected me to smuggle out of Colombia. There was that, and murdering defenseless, innocent women.”
His jaw visibly twitches and his nostrils flare. “How many men?”
“Isn’t this the part when you ask me what they did to deserve it? WhatIdid to deserve it?”
“If I cared about that part, I would have asked,” he growls. “I’m more interested in what they did and who they are.”
