Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Ramiro met his gaze with eyes achingly similar to Miguel’s. Their dark, unemotional depths pinned Nero to the stone slab under his feet. “It scares them,” he said, as if he’d guessed the unspoken question.
They joined Father at the end of the terrace, and Nero stood at the very edge, peeking down at the second pool, which was murkier and greener than the one meant for people. The enclosure was surrounded by tall walls of steel on each side, and provided more than enough space for the two massive reptiles crawling out of the water at the commotion above.
They knew food was coming.
Miguel’s eyes widened, and he rubbed his stubbly chin in a gesture of wonder as a spot at the side of his neck pulsed from the excitement of being this close to the reptiles he’d heard so much about.
“That’s Machete, I named her,” Nero pointed out the larger of the two animals, over six feet long and dark in color with the exception of her very front and markings at the flanks.
Miguel’s eyes had been glazing over, as if he’d already fallen in love with the two caimans, but Nero’s words seemed to have snapped him back to reality. He nodded with his lips clenched into a thin line.
At the snap of Father’s fingers, Solomon ripped the sack off Oscar’s head, revealing that his lush gray mane hung in clumped streaks.
He barely resembled the man who not that long ago led Nero to the five trafficked children. With grime and blood creating a mess over tanned skin, and his formerly elegant nose so swollen it had lost its shape, he looked like a stranger who knew he was about to die.
Wide eyes latched on to Nero, and he launched himself forward, only to fall to his knees with a pained grunt when his legs gave up. “You know… you tell him…”
“Tell him what?” Nero asked without remorse and didn’t move when Oscar attempted to crawl toward him. “That you told the cops about our cargo?”
Oscar trembled and reached out to Nero with his tied hands. He was already missing three fingers. “I would never—”
Mouse stopped the whining by stuffing a rag into Oscar’s mouth. There was only one reason this man was still alive.
Father faced Nero, and Ramiro wordlessly offered Nero the axe.
“You were the one he betrayed, so he’s yours to kill,” Father said as Solomon passed him a small plastic bag stained red from the inside. Were this a normal gathering, one could assume it was filled with raspberries, but Nero had no doubt about the contents. Father dove in his hand and retrieved one of Oscar’s fingers before throwing it into the enclosure below.
Something snapped, and then there was a hiss, but when Ramiro pushed the axe into Nero’s hand and Solomon shoved closer a large tree stump, reality warped around Nero.
“Are we playing Medieval Times now?” he asked, but Mouse shoved a trembling Oscar face first onto the chunk of wood that had already been stained with blood.
Nero hated the theatricality of it. Oscar was no innocent, but why make his death into a spectacle? To frighten the new associates who knew damn well what they were getting into? Hell, they might have been the ones to break his nose and will.
Did he understand that right? It was a beautiful, sunny day, birds tweeted in the far-off trees, and refreshments awaited them in a fridge by the pool, but Father expected him to stain the terrace with Oscar’s blood? Right now?
Did Father worry that the gay Nero suffered from would wear down his edge? Make him so soft he couldn’t go through with the tasks demanded of him? As if Nero ever needed a reminder of what happened to men who proved too soft to meet Raul Moreno’s expectations.
Ramiro looked up at him. His eyelids had a dark tint, but while it came from nature, not makeup, it gave him a sultry appearance some might have found rather sexy. “You need to swing it wide and without hesitation. Otherwise, you’ll have to chop several times. No need to cause unnecessary pain at this point.”
Was this guy really trying to teach Nero how to swing when baseball bats were his weapon of choice?
“Do you have a hood for me too?” Nero asked Father, squinting when the sun stabbed his eyes. “Hope it’s rainbow-patterned. Black and red are so not this season.”
Father’s lips curved with distaste as if feeding human fingers to caimans was a perfectly normal activity. Unlike being gay. “Your brother wouldn’t have joked like that.”
Of course. Samuel. The lost heir. The future leader who’d never be. Murdered in cold blood by a boy whom Nero chose to protect by blaming someone more deserving of Raul Moreno’s wrath. Old news. Nero was now the only one left to take over the family business in the future. Technically, of course.