I thought we’d never fucking land.

When the wheels of the jet finally come to a stop, we all gear up, leaving the jet’s cabin, the soles of our shoes clinging to the black asphalt as a wave of sticky heat wraps around us, a taste of salt in the air, stinging my dry lips.

I gather my hair up, wrapping it into a tight bun, watching as Emilio leads the way to a silver SUV. He hustles to the driver side and bends down, patting the front tire until he comes across a key fob taped to it. He then unlocks the doors and we all get into the vehicle, not even bothering to buckle in.

“Where is he now?” Draco asks, pointing his gaze to the left, at Patanza.

“Still at the old factory,” Patanza answers.

Draco sighs, reaching down and pulling a gun from the holster strapped around his ankle. It’s a silver pistol. He wipes it clean, studies it for several seconds, and then hands it over to me.

I frown at it before meeting his brown eyes.

“Can never have too many,” he says, and I take it, looking it over. I run my thumb over the handle, but when I flip it over, that’s when I see the stamp.

My breath falters, my thumb pressing into it. A lion with its mouth wide open, giving a silent roar with a wild mane around its large head.

Beneath it are the initials L.N.

Lion Nicotera.

I peer up at him, eyes burning, but he’s already focused on me. “First gun your father ever gave to me. He sent me back home on a private jet with this, after Trigger Toni murdered my father. Told me to never let it out of my sight during my travels home. I clung to this gun like my life depended on it. Even when I got home, I kept it under my mattress for months. I still, to this day, have never used a bullet in this gun. I never wanted to, and maybe it’s a good thing. They’re your bullets now. Father to daughter.”

I swallow hard, feeling like sand is trapped in my throat. I don’t even know what to say.

He leans in, grabbing my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Never hesitate,” he says softly. “Just do.”

* * *

We park in front of a factory that many would probably never give a second look. It’s not big at all, made of what looks like old tin and wood. The windows are grimy and broken, and the area reeks of urine and vomit.

There are shacks not too far away. It’s so dark inside them, I can’t tell if they’re occupied or vacant.

Draco walks ahead, and we all follow his lead. Emilio catches up to him, drawing his gun and then pulling open the raggedy, creaking door.

Draco already has a black pistol in hand. He steps right through them and looks around, until his eyes catch something.

I follow after him as he walks to a splintered door and pushes it open.

“Jefe!” someone shouts.

I follow him inside the room with Daddy’s pistol in hand, and see a short, bald Caucasian man standing in front of five different computer screens. He wears glasses as thick as microscopes, has a salt-and-pepper moustache, and is wearing a plaid blue and white button down shirt. His khakis are dirty, like he fell recently and tried to dust himself off. He has a clumsy, geeky look about him.

His eyes shift over to mine when Draco bobs his head, and they expand into saucers.

“Oh!” He covers his mouth, looking between Draco and me. “This is—this is her!”

Draco’s lips press. “It is.”

“La Patrona,” he sighs, like the name is a fantasy to him. “I have heard a lot of things about you. It’s great to finally put a face to the name—and a pretty one, at that.”

I smile.

“Good or bad things?” Clark asks, stepping up beside me and folding his arms.

The man shrugs and bluntly says, “A mix of both—which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

“What do you have for us, Allen?” Draco takes a step around him to look at one of the computer screens.

“Oh— you are in luck, Jefe.” Allen sits in the chair and starts clicking away at one of the keyboards. “I’ve been tracking the phone number you sent me yesterday. It’s a satellite phone. She’s been using it ever since I called you a few hours ago about her location. She’s been making calls every two to three hours, some to the same people. Her conversations aren’t very clear anymore, and I also think she’s left Acapulco.”

“Where is she now?” Draco stands up, spine stacking.

“Sinaloa,” the computer tech sings, typing something in. As soon as he does, he points at the screen. “See that flashing red dot? That’s her location. Right now she’s on a call.”

“Can you listen in on it?” Draco asks.

“I can try.” Allen taps a few keys, and then her staticky voice fills the room. The mere sound of it is like nails on a chalkboard, making the hairs on my spine stand up.

“It may be a little hard to hear at first,” Allen murmurs, twisting a knob for the volume and then typing again. “I’ll try and clear it up.”

“Of course,” Hernandez says. “My men will be there soon, depending on how my next shipment is handled with my new territory…Well speak to my men…I don’t have time to meet up for this deal…Ugh. Fine. Since you leave me no choice. Respect is respect after all, and I need you to trust me.” After several seconds, she scoffs. “El Jefe?” She then laughs. “I know he’s looking for me. He’s not going to find me. Right now, he’s probably trying to figure out how to win his territory back without being seen…Trust me, he won’t do a damn thing… once I do what I need to do, no one will give a damn about El Jefe. No one will respect a man who gave his position of power to a woman…No need to be afraid. Forget about him, okay? I was told we could work well together…I hope I won’t regret it…Good. I’ll have my men take care of him once this is all over, and you’ll only have to deal with me from now on. You just worry about getting me the coke and the boat for clearance, okay?”

That. Bitch.

She thinks she’s so smart—so bold and confident and invincible. If Draco hadn’t already called dibs, I’d kill her my goddamn self.

Draco clenches his gun tight, fisting it until his knuckles turn white. His jaw is pulsing rapidly, eyes a shade darker as he stares at the screen.

“How long can you keep track of her?” he asks through clenched teeth.

“As long as she has that phone and continues making calls, I’ll receive waves of it. If she ditches it then I’m not sure,” Allen says.

“She’ll most likely ditch it by the end of the day,” Draco grumbles. “Like she said before, she learned from the best.” Draco steps around the desk and looks at Patanza. “We need to figure out who the cocaine is coming from and who she’s meeting for it.”

“How, Jefe? She didn’t mention a location. We don’t even know who she was talking to,” Patanza tells him. “Most of the men in the territories she took have boats and marinas. We can go through all of them, but it’s going to be impossible to get to her on time if we sift through every single person you gave her access to. By that time she’ll have everything she needs.”

Draco breathes hard through his nostrils, turning his back to her and looking at one of the computer screens again, his hand on his hip now.

“She was talking to someone who seemed concerned or afraid,” I mention. “Or maybe worried about you?”

“They’re all fucking afraid of him,” Clark gripes before pulling out a cigarette and sparking it.

“No, but this person seemed like he didn’t want to do it and was only going through with it because you gave her the territory—like he is still hesitant and would gladly pass up the opportunity out of respect for you. Any of your suppliers still that loyal? Loyal enough to be worried about you?”

Draco peers over his shoulder at me, head shaking.

Patanza frowns a bit, like she has a clue, and right before she speaks, her cellphone rings. She snatches it out of her back pocket and looks at the screen. Draco turns fully to face her when she answers the phone.

“Who is it?” he asks.

When she looks up, her eyes are round and wide, and she murmurs a name I have never heard before.

“Ruben.”