The door slams shut and Gabe comes in cursing. He limps into the kitchen and grabs the bottle of brandy from the counter, yanking out the cork. I glance down at his leg. There’s a bandana tied around his thigh, his pants soaked with blood.

"Got shot, I see."

He glares at me as he tips the bottle back. "By your woman."

"What?" There's a pause. "What?"

"She's working for Jésus," he says before taking another swig.

I drop my head. A slow rage simmers in my veins as the mention of her and him brings the memory of their kiss to mind. Gabe leans down into my line of vision. "Did you hear me?" he asks. I push up from the chair and pace in front of the counter.

"She's turned, ese. She shot me." He motions frantically at his leg. "Look. Shot me! And she has the mark of the Sinaloa tattooed behind her ear. She's gone. Turned." He limps across the kitchen to the sink. "Fucking whore."

I don’t even realize what I'm doing. I just react, darting across the kitchen and grabbing him by the throat before I pin him against the cabinets. My heart races, my skin prickles with sweat as a war wages inside me, confusion drowning my senses. "Don't talk about her like that," I say through clenched teeth, and I'm not even sure why that should bother me anymore. She's not mine, and that's clear.

Gabe pulls at my hands and I let him go, taking an unsteady step back. "Your loyalties should be rearranged because Tor sold you out. She left you for a dirty bastard."

I stare at him, my mind reeling. Tor is working with the man who took our daughter, the man who wanted me dead. I no longer know who she is.

"She offers peace with one hand and shoots me with the other. Fucking Sinaloa." Mumbling, he paces beside the counter. "I've played nice, ese. I really have, but this..." He shakes his fists. "They want to try and fuck me in the ass, I'll fuck them in the ass." He snatches a phone from the counter and dials a number before pressing it to his ear.

She works for him. I try to process that. I try to make sense of it because deep down, no matter how much she may hate me or blame me, no matter what she's endured, at the end of the day Cayla was her world. She would never forgive someone for taking her much less work with them. What the fuck is going on? "Something's not right, Gabe."

He shakes his head. "Yeah," he speaks into the phone. "Gustavo? There's a new Sinaloa in the mix." My stomach knots. "A fucking gringo. A woman. Blonde..." Pausing, he glances at me. "Yes, that one. Watch her carefully. Do not trust her." He hangs up and stares at me. "I am sorry, ese, I am, but she is now the enemy, you understand that?"

My jaw clenches as I force a nod.

"Now, I have to go fuck them in the ass, if you'll excuse me."

"I'm going with you," I say as I follow him into the hall.

He turns and gives me an unwary look. "You don't want to do this, Jude."

"I do. I need to, Gabe."

His gaze drifts to the floor on a heavy sigh. "Fine." He nods before he disappears down the hall. “Come on,” he calls over his shoulder.

I remind myself that she was the enemy when I first met her, surely things have not come full circle?

***break***

Gabe and I are parked in an abandoned lot half a block down from one of the cartel bars.

"This is where they exchange their money," Gabe says. "We'll go in there and take their shit, stab his men, piss all over them before we cut their faces off and sew them onto a soccer ball and kick it down the street, and then..." He stares through the binoculars. "Oh shit." He leans closer to the dash. "It's Tor."

"What?" I hold the wheel with one hand and snatch the binoculars with the other, placing them against my eyes. It is fucking Tor. I toss the binoculars down and my grip on the steering wheel tightens. "What the hell is she doing?"

"Something for Jésus."

"No shit, Gabe."

"Look, don't get all angry with me because your woman went rogue."

"Just...shut up."

He shrugs and settles back in the seat, mumbling under his breath. Tor pulls up in front of El Pedro's, some shitty little bar that serves as a front to launder money no doubt. There's one window in the white cinder block building and a single door. The door to the Hummer swings open and Tor steps out. The tight white dress she's wearing hugs every last curve. Her blonder hair is swept to one side and pinned and that damn tattoo is visible even from here. My chest tightens and anger beats away at me. Betrayal has never felt so hollow, so damn painful.

"See, ese. See!" Gabe shouts, pointing at her as she makes her way to the door. "She's tattooed."

"I see, Gabe." I grab my gun and open the door.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Going to talk to her."

"To talk to her?" He climbs out of the car and groans. "You're an idiot." He thumbs back at Tor's car. "See those shadows in that car, those are Jésus' men. She's Jésus' woman now..."

I don’t say a word, just walk right to the door and yank it open. There's a thick cloud of smoke inside and only a few people scattered about. The waitress behind the bar eyes me when I walk in and whispers something to Tor. Tor glances over her shoulder, doing a double take before she grabs a paper bag off the bar and walks right over to me.

"What are you doing here?" she hisses, glancing around nervously.

"I could ask you the same thing." I nod toward her neck. "Nice fucking ink, Tor."

She grips my forearm, drags me to a door at the back of the room, and pulls me through, shutting it behind her. We're in a cramped hallway, the door at the end open to what looks like a dirty office. Closing her eyes, she leans her head back against the wall and chews on her bottom lip. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Her eyes flash open. "You cannot be here, Jude. You're going to screw everything up."

I fucking knew it. I fucking knew it! I smirk and shake my head. "You shot Gabe."

She huffs out a breath. "He forced my hand. I have to look unfailingly loyal. A slight to Jésus is a slight to me. He said he wanted to piss on his dead body. What was I supposed to do?"

I stare at her. I can't believe she's gone to these lengths when there is no reward...and what lengths exactly has she gone to? My eyes lock on that tattoo wondering how much of herself has she given to him? "This won't change a thing," I say. Anger slowly swells within me as I think about Jésus touching her, kissing her, trying to fucking claim her. "It won't do a goddamn thing," I shout, punching the wall behind her. She flinches. My knuckles split and I find the slightest form of relief in the pain.

She takes a tentative step toward me and places her palm on my chest. "Please just trust me. I'm in too deep now, Jude. Even if I wanted to walk away, Jésus is...he would hunt me. I have to finish this."

"In too deep?" I laugh as I lean in close to her. I inhale her scent, and it's no longer her, it's different. It's unfamiliar and tainted. Tainted by another man. "You fucking think?" I grate. Closing my eyes, I take a breath. "Tell me, Tor. How fucking deep in you has he been?"

She sighs and grabs my jaw. "Look at me." I glance down at her, my pulse thrumming in my neck. She's no longer mine and I've never known a time when she wasn't. I don't know what's going on in her head, her fucking mind, but all I know is she's lost. "I haven't fucked Jésus," she whispers, her eyes watering.

"So, you do his deals for him. Shoot fucking Gabe for him and yet, you haven't spread your legs for him. Come the fuck on, Tor." I groan. "Don't disrespect me with lies." I inch my face toward hers, brushing my mouth over her warm lips. It takes every ounce of restraint I possess not to kiss her. I graze my fingers over her arm, her skin so soft under my touch, and then, I grab the bag from her. "Tell Jésus I send my fucking regards, would you, doll?" I turn away, but she grabs my arm.

"Give me the money, Jude."

I arch a single brow at her and smirk. "Nah. Can't do that."

I hear the distinct click of a safety being removed before the barrel of a gun is rammed into my stomach. "Sweetheart, I really need you to give me back that money." She narrows her eyes and her lips curl in the hint of a smile.

I see the hesitation, the fear in her eyes. "Shoot me,” I dare. “Can't be any worse than what you've already done to me, now can it?"

The gun presses deeper into my side. Her teeth slide over her bottom lip. "I can't go back empty handed."

I hold out my hands and shrug one shoulder. "Then by all means...pull the trigger."

She slams her palm against my chest. "Damn it, Jude. Don't do this."

"I'm just doing my job, nothing personal."

She sighs and drops the gun, closing her eyes. "Then at least hit me and make it look good."

The woman in front of me is the love of my life, my meaning, my sole-fucking-purpose. She learned vengeance from me. I taught her how releasing it was with Bob and Joe. I made her this bloodthirsty beast. When I go to touch her, she flinches. I shake my head as I cup her cheek, sweeping my thumb along her jaw and over her plump bottom lip. "There's no way in hell that the last thing you'll remember about me is hate." I press a gentle kiss to her forehead and force myself to take a step back, fighting the pain tearing through my chest like a razorblade.

"He'll just do it instead, Jude. Either give me the money or take a swing. Please."

I drag my free hand down my face and turn toward the door. "Bye, Tor." I open the door and walk through the shitty bar. I'm nearly to the door when I hear a gunshot from the back, and I freeze, the next beat of my heart hesitating for a second before the door bangs open. Tor comes storming through, gripping her thigh with blood running down her leg and staining her white dress. Jésus' men come pouring in through the front entrance, guns raised. Tor waves them off as she heads toward the door and they fall in line behind her—the newly crowned princess of the Sinaloa cartel.

I may love her, but sometimes you just have to know when to let shit go. She's gone, mad with the drive for vengeance and bloodshed, and I know nothing I can say or do will bring her back. I'm angry that I’m not enough to force her need for revenge away, but Tor's been through a lot. We both have.

And you can only break so many times in one life.