A chorus of agonized screams ricochets around my skull until a dull ache forms behind my eyes. Tossing my paperwork aside, I get up from my desk and yank the office door open. All the girls in the warehouse look up from their workstations, dressed in worn and dirty-looking underwear, their little paper masks stopping them from getting higher than a damn kite breathing in my shit.

“Get back to work!” I shout, and they all scurry on with what they were doing.

My gaze snaps to where my second, Samuel, stands in the middle of the warehouse. In front of him, a guy is hanging by his bound wrists, the metal chain creaking as his weight swings back and forth. His clothing is torn and bloodstained, an array of cuts littering his body. A crimson pool is slowly gathering beneath him, tainting the dull grey concrete. Sam casually wipes his hands on a dirty rag before doing the same with his blade.

“You shouldn’t drag out his suffering, Samuel.” He folds his arms over his wide chest, glaring at me.

“No. No, please,” the man begs, lifting his head weakly.

“Remind me what he did.” I sigh and lean against one of the metal support pillars, taking a cigar from my pocket.

“He rolled over on us for the DEA, boss,” Samuel says.

I nod and place my cigar between my lips, lighting it. Sucking the smoke deep into my lungs, I stare at the man chained in front of me. “Ah, yes. The mule turned rat.” I know exactly who this man is. I know everything that concerns my business. But, like Samuel, sometimes I like to play with men such as Javier Garcia.

“They made me!” he blurts. If there is one thing I hate more than a rat, it’s a pussy. “They said they would protect me.”

I laugh, throwing my head back as the sound breaks through my lips, cutting into the tense silence. “I am Rafael D’Cruze.” Moving closer, I grip his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “There is no protection from me. There is nowhere you can run. Nowhere you can hide. They played you. They knew I would kill you.” A low keen breaks from his lips and he starts rambling, begging. I smile.

“You don’t want to die?” I ask with a smirk.

“Please, I have children,” he begs.

Releasing him, I place my cigar to my lips and inhale the cloying smoke until my lungs burn. “I do not take betrayal well.” He nods, incoherent words falling from his mouth. I take a cloth from my pocket and dab at a streak of blood covering his cheek. “But I do not like to leave children without a father, and I am a believer in redemption, Javier.” I pat his cheek, and he sags in his chains.

“Thank you. Thank you,” he breathes.

“My mercy is not without cost.” He’s already nodding his head, agreeing to terms he has not yet heard. Because when faced with the choice, a man will do anything but die. “You will continue to work with the DEA and tell them whatever I instruct you to. Are we clear?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” I grin. So easy. The only way to play the DEA is with their own dirty tricks. They may threaten a man like Javier with jail if he does not comply, but I hazard that he’d rather go to jail than suffer a cartel execution. So very gruesome. “Good, Javier. Let him down, Samuel.” Samuel presses a button on the wall and the winch drops, allowing the chains to fall slack.

Javier breathes a sigh of relief, rubbing at his bruised and bloodied wrists. Without warning, I lash out, my fingers locking around his throat. His eyes bug wide as he chokes on a breath. Blood from one of the many cuts Samuel bestowed on him coats my hand in a sticky layer. “Betray me again, and it will be your children who pay the price.” In my line of work, you must become a monster in order to maintain power.

My phone starts ringing, and I shove Javier away from me before turning my back on him. I take the phone out of my pocket, smearing blood over the screen. Nero Verdi. Fuck’s sake. The man goes through cocaine like it’s water. I slide the answer button.

“Samuel, drop Javier off and while you’re there, acquaint yourself with his wife and children,” I say over my shoulder quickly.

“Yes, boss.”

I turn around and walk back into my office, placing the phone to my ear. “Nero.”

“I see you’re up to old tricks,” he says, that hint of the Italian accent barely noticeable in his voice.

“Eh, fucking gringos putting rats on the ship. I’m dry until Thursday, Nero.” I still haven’t worked out why a capo is buying enough cocaine to supply several cities, but then, it’s Nero. I wouldn’t put anything past him. As long as I get paid, I don’t give a fuck.

“I don’t need another shipment. I’m calling in my favor.” I take a seat and lean back in it, my muscles tense. It’s been five years. If he’s calling it in now, then it has to be something big.

“What do you need?” I ask.

“I’m buying a girl. Andre is negotiating her sale as we speak…”

I groan. “You know that little fuck will rob you blind.”

“I had to use a middleman, Rafael. I can’t very well walk into the Sinaloa cartel and ask to buy a sex slave, can I? I can’t draw too much attention to this. Once the sale is done, Andre will bring her to you.”

“I don’t deal in girls, Nero. You know this. I owe you, but don’t ask me to—”

“I’m not buying her as a slave.”

“What are you buying her for then?”

“Collateral.”

“Collateral for what?” Silence. “You’re not going to tell me.”

“It’s safer if you don’t know. No one can know she’s with you.” What the fuck is he getting into?

“And what exactly am I supposed to do with her?”

“Just keep her safe. I can’t get her out of Mexico yet.”

He’s serious. “And you aren’t going to tell me who she is.”

“Her name is Anna Vasiliev. I can’t tell you more than that right now.”

I rub my fingers over my temples. “That means she’s not someone I want near me.” But what can I do? I owe Nero a debt that can never really be repaid, and he’s never once asked me to. Until now.

He huffs a short laugh. “I need her with someone I trust, someone no one will dare fuck with.” I really have no choice, and the feeling irritates me.

“Call me when Andre has secured the sale. I’ll have my men collect her.”

I hang up the phone and shake my head. Maybe I could have said no, but Nero Verdi helped put me where I am. I owe him a loyalty that very few are privy to. He’s proven more than once that he’s a good friend to have, if not very dangerous. The Italian is ruthless, power-hungry, and completely lacking the morals the mafia usually pride themselves on. The cartels, for the most part, don’t like outsiders, but Nero and I, we play by different rules, more ambitious ones. Empires are built on such bloody alliances.