I close the back door and sit down on a bench behind the church. Just finished another sermon and I really tried my best this time, but it didn’t feel right. Laura wasn’t there, of course. Although I had hoped she might be there.

I grab a cigarette and light it, blowing out the smoke as I stare at the ground. Right there, two feet away, is where her mother’s body is hidden. I shiver, not wanting to think about that night even though it instantly crosses my mind.

The worst part is that she knows.

She knows I killed her mother.

She recognized the ring, took it, and now she’s gone. After all, who would want to stay with their mother’s killer?

I take another drag and think about calling her. I have to explain it to her. It’s the only way to see if she’ll forgive me. I don’t wanna lose her. Not even if she’s his daughter.

I swallow at the thought of him, wanting to crush his skull with my thumbs.

Fuck.

Another drag.

Damn, I need this cigarette more than I needed that damn sermon. I was too distracted anyway.

The only thing that’ll calm me down right now is finding out how she feels about me … and hopefully talking it out. So I take my phone from my pocket and call her number. It rings, but no one picks up, and soon, it goes to voicemail.

Sighing, I lower my phone again. Of course, she won’t pick up when she knows I’m calling.

Suddenly, a loud bang and screams have me jumping up from the bench and running back into the church. It’s Carl … and he’s lying on the floor in the middle of the hall with blood all over his shirt. I immediately look around and find a guy I recognize running away with a gun in his hand.

It’s one of the men who dragged my wife away.

Making a fist, I contemplate going after him, but when I hear Carl cry out in pain, I ignore the urge and go to him.

“Shit,” Carl mutters. “I’ve been shot.”

I look down at his stomach and watch as the blood soaks through his shirt. Margaret rushes out from her room in the back, yelling, “What happened?”

“It’s Carl. Call an ambulance,” I say.

She nods and goes back into her office to immediately dial 911.

“I’m sorry, Frank,” Carl mumbles, tears welling up in his eyes. “I failed you before but not this time.”

“Don’t say that,” I say. “You didn’t fail me. Ever.”

“No, I did,” he says. “When they got me last time, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut … At least now I could … but look at me, I’m still shot. Still dying on the floor.”

“You’re not dying, Carl. Not on my watch,” I growl. I rip off a piece of my shirt, wrapping it around his wound. He groans, so I growl, “Lie still. Otherwise, you’ll bleed out.”

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” he asks, his speech slurring from the pain and the tears.

“I’m not so get that out of your head.”

“But … all those years ago …”

I hold his hand, and he squeezes tight. “The past is the past.”

He nods and lowers his head to the floor again. “Fuck … it hurts.”

“Don’t move,” I tell him. “Help is on the way.”

“The guy who shot me, he was looking for you. I didn’t tell him. And then …”

I nod and squeeze his hand tighter. “It’s okay, Carl. You did good.”

He smiles, and another tear rolls down his cheek.

It’s painful to see him hurt because of me.

That bullet was meant for me, not for him. And still, he took it like a champ.

Mother comes walking out again with a first-aid kit. “How is he?”

“Not good,” I say, and I look at Carl, whose eyes are barely staying open. “Don’t die on me, okay? Carl, promise me.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Say something, ass-face!” I yell, almost wanting to shake him, but Mother stops me. “I retract what I said. I don’t forgive you. Now stay alive and make things up to me.”

Mother wraps more bandages around him and says, “We have to wait until the ambulance arrives, but they said they’re on their way.”

“Good,” I say. “Hear that, Carl? They’re coming, so don’t you go anywhere.”

He briefly smiles again, whispering, “Not planning to …”

I laugh a little, relieved he’s not kicking the bucket this soon.

“How many more times will this happen?” Mother asks.

I look up at her and frown. “None.”

Fear crosses her face. “Don’t you understand? They’ll just keep coming here until you make it stop.”

“I will,” I say, balling my fist again. “After I kill the son of a bitch who’s behind it.”

When the ambulance arrives and the paramedics wheel Carl into the ambulance, I swallow away the lump in my throat and wave at him. The doors close, and it drives off, leaving Mother and me standing outside with a dark, hollow feeling.

I wrap my arm around her and pull her close, hugging her from the side.

“Will he be okay?” she asks.

“We have to trust the paramedics to do their best. His family will probably be there to look after him, so it’s best we don’t get in the way.”

She nods, and it’s quiet for a few seconds before she opens her mouth again. “Frank …”

“Yeah?”

“Punish them.”

And with that, she turns around and walks right back into the church without saying another word.

* * *

With Julio’s address in my pocket and a gun in the other, I make my way to the alley beside the walled complex and scout the area. No guards are here, but some mill around the fence, so it’s better to remain unseen.

I check whether anyone notices me before I jump and grasp the ledge, pulling myself up. I quickly look around and hoist myself over, landing on my feet. Someone patrols the area a few feet away, but he’s wearing earplugs, probably listening to some music too. He’s completely oblivious as I approach him from behind. I quickly pull out the knife I carry in my inner pocket, hold it up to his throat, and put my hand over his mouth.

“Julio.”

He nods, and his eyes hone in on the door to the left of the complex, which isn’t the front entrance.

“Is he there?”

The man nods again. “Please don’t kill me,” he mumbles through my fingers. “I have kids.”

“Oh, I won’t … but you need to keep quiet,” I whisper.

“I will, I will,” he repeats.

I smack him on the back of the head, and he falls to the ground unconscious. “Good.”

I never said I wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, if you work for Julio, you’d better expect some violence. The man lives in it.

I rush to the side entrance and stand beside it, jerking on the door handle to create some ruckus. Someone immediately bursts out, looking for the culprit, but I’m behind him. Right as he turns around, I shoot him in the neck.

“Nothing personal,” I mumble as I step over his body.

With my gun aimed at whoever comes close, I check my surroundings. It’s a home and a luxurious one at that. If there’s one bodyguard, there must be another. And I’m goddamn sure one of them is the same dude who took my wife.

In fact … I think I see him right now. Standing in the hallway, he’s adjusting his collar.

“Don’t move,” I growl.

The image shifts, and it suddenly dawns on me it was a mirror’s reflection I saw, not him. Right then, someone shoots and a bullet ricochets off the wall behind me. I duck. Another bullet shoots straight at me, scraping my leg. I hiss from the pain but remain calm as I get up and point my gun at wherever it’s coming from.

He’s in the kitchen.

I don’t go inside. I roll past the door and shoot. Straight in the legs.

He howls in pain and falls to the floor. However, he grabs a knife from the counter and throws it at me. It jams into my shoulder, making me drop the gun, which slides across the hall.

But I don’t give up.

I pull the knife out and rush at him. We struggle for power, fighting man to man over the knife in my hand and his life.

“You … you killed my wife!” I scream at him.

“I thought you were fucking dead!” he growls, rolling on top of me.

“Think you’d get away with doing that to her? To me?” His hands are around mine as we fight for control over the knife, which moves between both our throats.

“You shouldn’t have killed his wife to begin with!” he yells back, pushing so hard the knife is against my throat. Blood drops roll down my skin, and I swallow.

“Fuck you!” I yell. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, and it’s all because of you!” Somehow, I find the strength to push him off me. I kick him in the balls, and he tumbles backward, creating enough room for me to jump on him and ram the knife straight into his chest.

He howls again. “No, fuck you! We will never go down.”

“Remember Sergio, your buddy? He already did,” I say with a smile, pulling the knife from his flesh. “And guess what? He didn’t die a glorious death. He died alone, afraid … and it was motherfucking painful.”

I jam the knife back into his abdomen, turning and twisting it until his blood comes pouring out. “And this is for Carl …” I growl.

He chokes on his own blood. It looks magnificent, and it fills me with unmeasurable euphoria.

I want him to feel what my wife felt when he took her life, so I pull out the knife again and shove it right there … below the belt.

He groans, grimacing with more blood as I grin like a motherfucker.

“Now you know what she went through when you took her and used her,” I growl. “And like your buddy, you’ll die a painful and useless death like the useless piece of shit you are.” I spit on his face and pull out the knife again.

God, that felt good.

Making the sign of the cross on my chest, I say a prayer in my head. Then I get up, leaving his half-dead body on the kitchen floor as I make my way back to the hall.

I pick up the gun and make sure to hold on tight, despite the pain in my shoulder, as I check the entire house. No one’s found on the first floor, so I move upstairs, trying not to make a sound. Each of the doors I kick open leads to an empty room, so I go up another flight of stairs. There’s only one room left in the house, so I take a deep breath before I go inside.

I let the door fall open as I swallow away the lump in my throat and clench the gun.

There he is … the man who has haunted my dreams for ages.

Julio. ‘El Campeón.’

He’s behind his laptop, and his eyes barely move away from the screen.

“Hello, Frank … how lovely to see you here.”

“Don’t move,” I hiss.

“How did you get past the gates?”

“I didn’t.” I move in, closing the door behind us.

“Oh … so you jumped over,” he muses, licking his lips. “Guess I should hire more guards.”

“Won’t help, I’ll kill them all,” I reply, closing in on him.

“How many?”

“Just two, I spared another.”

“How nice of you.” He gives me a wretched smile.

“Save it, fuckface,” I spit. “Like you ever gave a shit about any of your men.”

He puts his hands in the air. “I do hope you realize you won’t get away with this.”

“I didn’t plan on it,” I say, circling his desk.

“Oh, so this was a suicide mission?” He raises his brow. “Just because I tried to have you killed? You should know, hanging out with my daughter wasn’t a good idea.”

His admission is proof he’s been keeping tabs on her … or me. “I don’t give a shit about that. Your daughter isn’t why I’m here, and you know that.”

“For a man who wanted revenge so badly, you sure don’t have your priorities.”

“I don’t care if I die as long as you die with me.” I put the gun to his head.

“You don’t wanna do that, Frank,” he warns, still staring at me.

“Give me one good reason,” I say through gritted teeth.

His lips part faintly, and a brief smile appears on his face. His eyes dance with fire … a flame so bright they burn the oxygen in my lungs.

“Your son is alive …”