I place the cigar to my lips and lean back in my chair as I light it. Silence permeates the house, signaling the early hours of the morning. Yes, nothing is stirring, not even a mouse, but a certain little bird is frantically flapping her wings. My gaze locks on the monitor that shows her room. She’s tossing and turning, her limbs thrashing wildly as though she’s locked in her own mental prison.

I inhale another long stream of smoke and wonder what haunts the little Russian so ruthlessly. I can only imagine, and it intrigues me. For the last few days, she’s become a guilty pleasure of sorts, and she doesn’t even know it. I find myself wanting to watch her fall apart, only to witness her wake and pull herself together, erecting that fortress that she keeps around herself, brick by painstaking brick.

Her thrashing becomes more feral, and then her body contorts the same way it does every night, and her mouth falls open. I can’t hear the scream, but it still makes me shiver. And then, like each time I’ve watched her, Lucas appears on the camera, hovering next to her bed. She lurches awake, and for just a few seconds, there’s a raw vulnerability in her eyes, visible even from here. It’s gone just as quickly as it appeared, her face morphing into that stony mask. Lucas lingers for only a minute or so, and then she sends him away, the same as always. I smile, allowing smoke to slip through my lips.

I’d have to be a monster not to pity her, but the feeling is fleeting. I find myself in awe of her. My sister was a whore—whore, not slave. A chosen life. Not a forced one. But I watched her break over and over again until finally there was nothing left.

I watch Anna fall back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. She confounds me—so strong, so broken. So innocent, so completely fucking desecrated.

Dragging a hand through my hair, I place my cigar in the ashtray. Yes, it’s best that I continue to keep my distance from her. It’s always in a man’s best interest to know his weaknesses. Girls like her are mine.

* * *

Late morning sunlight streams through the windows when I walk into the kitchen. My phone is pressed between my ear and shoulder as I talk to Carlos.

“Got a rat, boss,” he says.

“Fuck’s sake. Sort it, Carlos, and send a message. I’m thinking a metal box and some rodents.”

He laughs. “Gotcha. I’ll call you when it’s done.” He hangs up, and I huff out a breath. Maria is bustling around in the kitchen, and the scent of chili fills the air. She makes the best chili.

“That smells good,” I say, peering over her shoulder into the bubbling pot.

“I’ll get you some,” she says without looking at me. Her voice is thick and wavers slightly.

I frown and grab her shoulder, turning her to face me. The middle-aged woman swipes at her cheeks and offers me a watery smile. “What’s wrong?” I almost growl. Maria is like a second mother to me, and I can’t help but feel protective of her.

She shakes her head. “It’s nothing.” She brushes me off. “Just an old woman being silly.”

“Maria…” I wait, and she huffs a short breath, rolling her eyes before her chin drops to her chest.

“I just…she breaks my heart,” she says, slowly glancing up at me. I know exactly who she’s talking about. She shakes her head. “She’s so young...” Another tear falls onto her cheek, and she brushes it away, turning her back to me. “I told you I was being silly.”

I inhale a deep breath. I haven’t seen the girl in person in over a week, but of course, I see her on the monitors in my office. I know she never leaves the room but as long as she’s safe, and I’m upholding my end of the bargain, I really don’t care.

“You just care too much, Maria.” She nods as she spoons chili into a bowl and places it down on the breakfast island. I pull up a stool. “I can get someone else to handle the girl.” I spoon food into my mouth. Damn, that’s good.

Her gaze snaps to mine. “No!” She brushes her hands down her apron. “She doesn’t need to be around men. They’ll scare her.” I almost snort. That girl may be fucked up, but scared? She’s not scared, eerily so.

“Don’t get attached, Maria.”

“She’s just a girl, Rafael,” she clips, and I’m half expecting her to swat me upside the head. “She’s been taken and raped.” Her voice cracks on the word raped.

I drag my hand down my face. Jesus fuck. This woman. This is the damn cartel, but Maria always seems to turn a blind eye to that glaringly obvious fact. “And I brought her here, where she’s safe.”

“Does she know that? She sits on that balcony all day like she might never see the sun again. She eats, showers, and sleeps when she’s told to, but if I don’t tell her to, she just sits there. She answers when asked a direct question. That’s it. No matter how many times I tell her she can do as she likes she just stares blankly.” Tears pool in her eyes again, and she shakes her head. “That poor girl.”

I store this information. “What do you want me to do?” I groan.

“Just talk to her. Take her around the house. Get her out of that room.”

I snort. “You’re welcome to take her out.” This isn’t a fucking holiday camp. I have better shit to do than entertain Nero’s collateral.

She shakes her head. “It needs to be you. I’m just staff.” I stand up and drop the empty bowl in the sink. “For me.”

I groan. This damn woman. “Fine. I’ll do it later. Now stop hassling me, woman. You’re making me look soft.”

A smile spreads over her lips, crinkling the corners of her eyes. “You’re a good boy.” She straightens the collar of my shirt and kisses my cheek.

Jesus Christ.

* * *

I get back from helping Carlos with our rat problem. I’ve sent Samuel to organize tomorrow’s shipment, and I have an hour before I have to call the Colombian suppliers. As soon as I walk in the door, Maria is waiting. She takes my jacket, eyeing me meaningfully. Fuck me.

I go upstairs to Anna’s room. Lucas shifts awkwardly beside the door, trying not to look at me. He’s a good kid, but fuck, he’s not cut out for the cartel. Ignoring him, I knock on the door. Nothing. No answer. I inhale a deep breath, my patience already wearing thin as I push the door open. It takes me a moment to spot her, but through the open balcony doors, I see her long legs as she lies on the floor, the heavy cast covering one. Walking over to the French doors, I lean against the frame. Her eyes are closed, and a small smile touches her lips. She’s naked, her once pale skin now a golden hue that accentuates the silvery scars littering her body. Blonde hair sprawls around her, the strands shining under the orange glow of the setting sun. A week of Maria’s food has done her good. A hint of possible curves lay where once there was only bone. For a moment I can’t help but notice how beautiful she is, delicate, like a porcelain doll.

I fold my arms over my chest and clear my throat. Her eyes slowly open, her head rolling to the side as she takes me in. It’s almost predatory; the distance in her eyes as she assesses me.

“Come on. I’ll show you around the house,” I say impatiently. She slowly sits up, those sapphire blue eyes locking with mine unapologetically. Something uneasy settles in my chest, and I frown. “Hurry up,” I snap, and turn away from her. I glance back to find her quietly limping after me as I go to the closet and find something for her to wear. Grabbing a dress, I hold it out to her, and she wordlessly takes it, slipping the silky material over her head. It cascades down her bare body until the skirt brushes the floor. I pass her the crutches leaning against the wall and walk out of the room without checking to see if she follows.

We walk through the house in silence. When I pass the kitchen, Maria smiles wide at me. I take Anna into the games room. The guys sometimes come in here when they’re on shift, to play video games or pool.

“This is the games room.” I gesture around it, but she isn’t paying attention, her focus is on the window. I notice the dark shadows lingering beneath her eyes. She looks healthier in every other way, but she still looks exhausted.

“Do you play pool?” I gesture towards the table, and she glances at it, her full lips pressing into a tight line.

“No.”

She walks over to the table and brushes her fingers tentatively over the felt, her features softening. Narrowing my eyes at her, I ask, “Do you know what it is?” She shakes her head, and I move closer to the table. “You have to hit the balls into the pockets with a cue.” Her brows pull together delicately, but she says nothing. “Come on.” I lead her down the hallway. “Home theatre.” I point at a door. “Dining room, living room, office.” I open the back doors that lead out onto the pool deck. Underwater lights illuminate the entire space in bright turquoise. “Pool and gardens.” I gesture to the encroaching darkness beyond. Her gaze fixes on the gardens beyond the pool, and she takes a hesitant step forward before she stops herself.

“Would you like to walk in the gardens?” She stops and falls silent. What the fuck is that? It’s like she wants to be a prisoner. I start walking towards the gardens anyway, passing through the sculpted hedges that lead out onto the perfectly trimmed lawn. Rose bushes and night Jasmine bloom in the flowerbeds that line the walkway to the massive pond. I’m told my father had it built for his wife, years ago.

I turn around when I reach the pond, and watch as Anna trails her fingers over the flowers, pausing to smell a blood red rose in full bloom. The way she caresses the velvety petals; it’s clear she has very much been a prisoner, devoid of any kind of comfort. Her bare feet whisper over the freshly watered grass, and for a second she looks calm, peaceful. For a moment she looks like a pretty, carefree young girl walking through a garden of flowers. How looks can be deceiving. Her gaze lifts to mine, and she watches me carefully as she comes to a stop beside me. Moving closer to the low stone wall that lines the round pond, she peers in. I shove my hands in my pockets, watching her lean forward and brush her fingers over the glassy surface of the water. It’s almost childlike, an innocent curiosity. When a couple of fish come to the surface, she smiles and sits on the edge of the pond. I realize that it’s the first time I’ve seen her actually smile, and I find myself unable to tear my gaze away, helplessly lured like a lost sailor to an enchanting siren call. Her fingers skim the edge of the water, sending little ripples echoing across the image of her reflection. I don’t miss the subtle tremor in her fingers or the way she pulls her hand back to try and hide it. The little Russian is still fighting an internal battle just as much as the external one.

As she bends down, strands of golden hair tumble forward, reaching for the cool water.

The shrill ringing of my phone cuts through the chirping crickets, bursting whatever bubble she has me in. Taking my phone from my pocket, I glance at the screen and frown at my supplier’s name flashing on the screen.

“I have to take this,” I say, glancing at her. She says nothing, but the smile is gone, and she refuses to look at me. “Find your own way back.” I don’t wait for an answer, simply turn on my heel and walk back to the house as I answer the call.

* * *

Fucking Colombians are constantly trying to shaft me for more money. After a trying conversation, which resulted in my price remaining exactly the same, I go in search of some brandy. I find Samuel and Carlos in the games room, already sitting at the bar in the corner, glasses of brandy in front of them and cigarettes smoking in the ashtray. They both lift their chin as I approach and pour myself a glass. These two are my closest friends, my right-hand guys. None of us ever wanted this: the cartel, this life, but necessity brought us together. Loyalty kept us together, and a strange twist of fate brought us to this very moment, running the cartel. We have stood side by side and done things we aren’t proud of to get where we are, but that is Juarez. In this city, fortune favors the brave and smiles on those who are willing to do absolutely anything to thrive.

These days, things are a little different, or at least they are for Samuel and I. Samuel is a businessman. He knows when to push and when to back down, how to rub shoulders with the politicians and when to threaten the street rats. Carlos on the other hand…I smile as I place a cigar between my lips and light it. Carlos is a scrapper, a fighter. We grew up poor and the step up to power never really suited him all that well. He does best with his own kind, and in turn, the guys at street level seem to see him as one of them, not the guy standing right next to Rafael D’Cruze. It suits him, and it suits me.

“Boss,” Carlos says, picking up his cigarette and inhaling until the end glows.

I nod at them both. “Any plans tonight?”

Samuel smirks, and I know exactly where they’ll be going. “Thought we might stop in at Tata’s.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “All those women, throwing themselves at you and you hang out in a nasty titty bar.”

Carlos snorts a laugh and hooks a thumb toward Sam. “I think he just likes paying for it.”

I point at him in his faded hoody and his Yankees ball cap. “You’re no better.”

Carlos rests his elbow on the bar and blows out a long stream of smoke. “Hey, they aren’t throwing themselves at me. I have to pay for it.” Total bullshit, as his three baby-mamas can attest to. He smiles, and the light catches the three teardrops beneath his eye. I huff a laugh, and he glances at Samuel. “Ladies love the suits.”

Samuel grins. “Best start dressing then, fucker.”

“He doesn’t need any more women.” I shake my head.

“What about you, boss?” Samuel cocks a brow at me. “Saw you showing that little blonde around earlier.”

I glare at him. “Maria,” I offer as a way of explanation.

Carlos shakes his head. “That woman is mean. She threatened not to make me any chili for a week if I didn’t take her to church last Sunday.”

“Why exactly does Nero Verdi want that girl so much?” Samuel asks. “You were searching for her like she could cure cancer or some shit.”

“He wasn’t exactly forthcoming, and it’s not like I could say no when he called in his favor.” I tap my index finger over my bottom lip. “He paid ten million for her.”

“Wait, so is he buying, buying her?” Carlos adds.

“He already bought her from Dominges,” I correct.

“But not…”

I smirk. “Nero has very good taste in suits. He doesn’t need to buy women. She’s collateral.”

“Expensive fucking collateral,” Samuel murmurs.

“Must be for something important.” Carlos narrows his eyes through a cloud of smoke. “My hackers haven’t found anything yet.”

“Which means someone has gone to great effort to hide her,” I muse.

“Since when are we picking up pussy for Italians anyway?” Samuel says, lifting his cigar to his lips and raising a brow. “Seems like a shit way for him to call it in, given what you owe him.”

“A favor is a favor, and in the grand scheme of things, having a girl in my house isn’t all that challenging.”

Carlos frowns. “He’s only an enforcer though. If you said no, what’s he going to do, really?”

I snort. “Nero Verdi is more dangerous than any of his bosses. And we all know you don’t have to start at the top to end up there.” The three of us know well what a violent nature combined with intelligence can do for a man.

Samuel shakes his head. “I’m telling you, he’s not right that one.” Sam is perceptive when it comes to people, and Nero has always made him uneasy. The Italian has this cold calculation about him. When he looks at you, it’s as though he’s assessing every single thing about you, while cataloging all the ways he could kill you. I like that about him.

I smirk. I’m well aware of how ruthless Nero is. After all, it’s why I owe him so much.  

A throat clears, and my gaze snaps to the doorway where Lucas lingers uneasily. Carlos laughs beside me. “Well, spit it out, kid. We don’t have all night.”

“Raf— Boss, can I talk to you?” He glances at me, though his chin remains tucked to his chest. “Please.”

I place my cigar to my lips and inhale a deep lungful of smoke before I push to my feet. The kid looks like he’s about to shit himself, but if he wants to talk, it’s probably about Anna. I walk out into the hallway and fold my arms over my chest, waiting. He stares at the ground, shifting from foot to foot. God, he’s so awkward.

“Today, Lucas.”

Taking a deep breath, he finally looks at me. “Anna needs some sleeping pills.” I lift a brow, and his face pales. “She…has nightmares, and she screams.” Yes, I’m well aware of the little bird’s demons. I also know how well young Lucas plays the White Knight, rushing to her aid every night.

“So, what? You want to knock her out?”

He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, his eyes darting up and down the hallway before he leans closer. “She asked me for…” a nervous swallow, “some ketamine,” he whispers.

I exhale a long breath. “I’ll handle it.”

He nods and scurries away. Looks like the little Russian may not be so hard after all, but if she wants help, she’ll have to ask for it. She’ll have to come to me.