“Dante, come take a look at this.”

Joseph’s words drag me away from my Eve-related thoughts. I’m here in my shitty monochrome kitchen again, arms crossed, back against the breakfast counter, idling away the minutes until Tomas does whatever the hell he needs to do so we can get the fuck out of here. He insisted on swinging by to collect some personal items on our way to Miami-Opa Locka. He’s taking his sweet time about it, though. My aircraft is fueled and waiting. We should be halfway to Colombia by now.

“What it is?” I say, glancing over.

Joseph’s mouth is stretched into a grim line. Instantly I’m on high alert. I take the iPad from his outstretched fingers and scan the email.

“What the hell is this?” I hiss moments later, an icy-cool breeze washing over me. “Tomas contacted them right? He’s been across this from the start, as soon as we learned Emilio was back in South America?

“The latest coordinates didn’t add up. We were chasing our tails so I asked the guys looking into your daughter’s disappearance to do some investigation on the quiet. That email confirms my suspicions. Tomas never instructed a team in Cartagena after we terminated Nicolas. Whatever status reports he’s been showing us detailing Emilio’s whereabouts have all been fabricated.”

I spring away from the counter as if it’s burning. “Are you saying my brother might not be in Colombia?”

“I’m saying no one knows where the hell he is because Tomas never looked into it.”

“But why the fuck would he…?” I trail off and stare at Joseph. Seconds later I’m tossing the iPad onto the counter and retrieving my gun as Joseph does the same.

“He’s still in the house,” he hisses.

I curse and motion him back from the open doorway. “If Tomas is working with Emilio he knows everything… the location of the island, the deal with Sanders, Eve’s whereabouts.” I can’t even comprehend that right now. “Go bring the car round. We need to get the fuck out of here. We need to warn Manuel–”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

Joseph and I whip round together, guns raised, poised for action. Tomas is standing right behind us swinging a cell phone between his forefinger and his thumb, cool as anything, like he doesn’t have the two new deadliest mercenaries on the block pointing their trigger fingers in his direction.

“You double-crossing asshole,” I say calmly. “You orchestrated the ambush in Colombia as well, didn’t you?”

Tomas’ smug expression makes me want to smash the butt of my gun against the side of his face, repeatedly. Bullets are too good to waste on this son of a bitch.

“They were men you helped train yourself,” I hear Joseph say, and I know this is deeply personal to him. He vetted Tomas before he joined our organization. He came to us highly recommended.

As one point did my brother turn him?

“All expendable,” he drawls, unmoved by his words. “Lower your weapons please, gentlemen.”

No one makes a move.

Stalemate.

I’m filled with rage then, for Tomas, my brother, myself… I’ve been too distracted by Eve. I knew from the get-go that she and my business would be a match made in hell.

Meanwhile Tomas’ tan skin is turning his blue eyes into chips of ice. “I said lower them, Dante, or you don’t get to see that pretty girl alive again.”

The beast inside me roars to life. “What have you done with her?” I growl, my hands tightening around the trigger. “If that sick bastard has touched a single hair on her head…”

“Dante.” Joseph’s hand is on my shoulder. He knows I’m a bomb mere seconds from detonating. If I kill Tomas I may never see Eve again.

There are noises in the front lobby now. Men’s voices. Accented. Unfamiliar. I don’t even need to ask whose command they’re following. Tomas used one of his old SA contacts as security for this house. All of my new US recruits are out tracking Eve. My guess is they’re already dead.

“How long have you been playing us?” I hear Joseph ask him.

“Long enough.”

“Take me to her.” I slam my weapon down on the counter and slide it in his direction. Hesitating, Joseph follows my lead. Tomas catches them easily and then has the nerve to smile at us.

My anger is like a veil of red descending over me. I find myself halfway across the kitchen before Joseph manages to pull me back.

“Rein it in, Santiago,” Tomas growls, his smile fading fast, and we find ourselves staring down the barrels of our own weapons. “Believe me when I say you’re not in control of this situation anymore. Not even close.”

Guns never faze me. They’re just pretty pieces of metal that satisfy a dark, lingering hunger. The ones with their fingers on the trigger have far more of an affect, and right now they’ve definitely caught my attention.

Joseph and I are sat in the back of an SUV with two muzzles trained on us by a couple of the hardest-eyed motherfuckers I’ve ever encountered. They wouldn’t think twice about blowing the back of our heads off. Violence is their only anthem. I can’t even glance at Joseph without a fist connecting with my face. My nose is broken in two places already but I don’t feel the familiar, smarting ache because the beast inside is consuming me again, blocking out all nerve-endings and pain receptors. My hands are tied behind my back but he’s prowling up and down the bars of his cage regardless, just waiting for his opportunity to unleash hell. Still, there’s a growing unease inside of me too, and it’s one that won’t quit. With Sanders on my side I figured I could outgun and outsmart anyone. What I didn’t count on was Tomas and his army of buzz-cut brothers stepping up to wreck the party.

But I should have.

The car breaks sharply and we’re forced out at gunpoint. The salty air hits my senses. We’re right on the edge of the container docks, next to a grim, grey line of empty warehouses with broken windows. The rasping cries of the gulls above our heads are loud enough to drown out whatever unpleasantness is about to transpire.

“Move it,” says Tomas, shoving me towards the open doorway of the nearest warehouse as more men exit the cars behind us. They start to converge on us, all pointing their weapons in my direction.

My military training misses nothing – not the deep depth of the water running parallel to me, nor the lack of security cameras. Not even the two snipers stationed on the roof of the warehouse next door. Then there are the three vehicles parked a little way up the track... Calculations form the basis of escape plans. Six vehicles in total means that there are at least thirty men waiting to fuck us up.

The sight that greets me when we step inside is my worst nightmare. Eve. Half dressed in a grey college sweatshirt and strung up by her hands, suspended from a rusted metal joist above her head, her black panties and slender, pale stomach on display; a stomach that I’ve kissed and tasted a thousand times. The left side of her face is a bloody mess, her dark hair is matted crimson. She’s not moving and her head is pitched forward at an angle, like that of a broken flower. She’s out cold. I quickly scan the inside of her thighs for more blood. To my relief there’s none. So far these animals have only used their fists to ravage her body. I know that will all change if I don’t cooperate.

“Dante… Glad you could join us.”

Emilio.

The beast inside lets out an almighty roar. I don’t bother turning in his direction. My focus is fixed on my future. “What the fuck have you done to her?” I howl striding over to Eve but a couple of metres out I feel a stinging blow to the back of my head. It’s one that forces me to my knees.

“Only what was necessary,” I hear my brother say as I focus on the dirty concrete floor to stop the world from blacking out. The whole of my skull is on fire. Expensive black loafers slide into my line of vision. Emilio always did have shit taste in shoes. I will myself back to full consciousness again. I need to stay sharp. I need to figure out a way to get us out of this.

“What is this charade, brother?” I say, forcing my gaze upwards to meet his head-on, feeling a surge of satisfaction when I see the fear in his eyes. My head’s smashed up, my hands are bound and I’m on my goddamn knees in front of him, and he still doesn’t think he’s incapacitated me enough to stop me ripping his goddamn throat out.

He’s right as well.

“If you want me dead then put a bullet in my head and be done with it. Let Joseph and Eve go.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he laughs, taking a step back from me. At the same time my fingers connect with a hard lump in the back pocket of my jeans.

Eve’s knife.

I wonder…

Keeping my eyes trained on Emilio, aware of Tomas’ militia gathering en masse behind him, I inch the knife out of my pocket and flick the blade up, slicing my fingers to fuck in the process. I pause only when Joseph is shoved in my direction and has his knees kicked out from under him.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, landing hard on his knees. I watch his grey eyes glance across to mine and then downwards. Like a total pro he takes in the situation without any trace of a reaction. I sense his solidarity. This is a battle we might not win but he’ll go down fighting alongside me. We share seventeen years of history. We kill together. We die together. And that’s the way we’ll ride that bitch all the way the end.

“I’ve decided that death is too simple a solution for you, Dante,” Emilio announces, his scrawny face lighting up with malice. “Instead, I’ve decided to make you suffer.”

“By making my ears bleed with your incessant whining?” I drawl, slicing at the ropes binding my wrists together, barely moving a muscle in my forearms as I do, letting my fingers and hands take the brunt of the work. They’re soon cramping in protest but I carry on regardless. My angel’s life is at stake.

Emilio smirks. “On the contrary, there are other ways to destroy a man. You’re going to kneel right there whilst I eliminate the three things that mean the most to you.”

“How inventive,” I say, sounding bored. “Tell me, did you come up with this plan all by yourself or is this Tomas’ idea? He’s a disloyal motherfucker but I’ll credit him with a couple more brain cells than you.”

I get the reaction I’m hoping for when I see the mask of rage descending over my brother’s face. “You’ve dishonored the Santiago name for the last time, Dante!”

“You can’t descend from the gutter, asshole,” I scoff, the first strand of rope working loose. “Our father drove us straight to hell and then kicked us both out.”

“You’re far worse than he ever was.”

That shuts me up. It’s a truth that even I refuse to accept.

“Army life really messed with your head, didn’t it? Or should we attribute your ‘killer instinct’ to your daughter’s disappearance? Whatever it was turned you into a loose cannon with a talent for torture, and for a time I was happy to exploit it–”

“Cut the bullshit, Emilio,” I snarl. “What’s this really all about? The business? Have it. Take your beef up with Sanders. I don’t want any part of it anymore.”

Emilio starts laughing again. “Sanders will be dead by the morning but that’s more about tying up loose ends. You know how much I hate those.” He slides his hands into his pockets and considers me coldly for a moment. “This isn’t about money, Dante. It’s about peace of mind.”

Now it’s my turn to smile but it’s more a hate-filled grimace than anything else. “Are you drawing a line under me, Emilio? Is this my penance for putting a bullet in our father’s head?”

I’m guessing at his motives now. It has to be something personal, some wrong I’ve done him in the past. Meanwhile, a second strand of rope works itself free. Three more to go...

“No, that dog long outlived his usefulness. He needed to be put down. The truth is I’m tired of always looking over my shoulder for you, Dante. Waiting for that sharp knife, the well-aimed bullet, the car bomb…”

“Jesus Christ, you always were a paranoid fuck, Emilio,” I say, shaking my head at him in disgust. “I was quite happy keeping a thousand miles between us.”

“And I believed you… Until you learned the truth, which I guess was an inevitability.”

I pause. “What truth?”

“That I have a nasty habit too, Dante. Some might call it a family trait.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Something tells me I’m about to be blindsided by a whole heap of dark and twisted shit. Even so, he seems surprised by my reaction.

“But surely you’ve guessed? That confrontation in Colombia had me convinced.” He considers me carefully for a moment. “Or perhaps not… It makes no difference, you’re as good as dead anyway.” He cocks his gaunt face to one side and moves in as close to me as he dares whilst I stare up into the flat, black eyes of a madman. “I like to kill people too, Dante,” he whispers conspiratorially, “but shhhhh…” he wags his finger in front of his lips and retreats to a safe distance again.

There’s silence.

“Who did you kill, Emilio?”

Say it asshole. Don’t leave me in suspense.

He smirks again. “You didn’t think you’d have all the fun, did you?”

My eyes shift to Tomas who’s standing nearby. “And you switched allegiance to this crazy motherfucker?” I yell at him, frustration amping up the volume of my voice. “What the hell did he offer you that I couldn’t?”

“Revenge,” says Tomas, making the word sound like a hammer blow. “Valentina was my girl, Dante. You strung her up and watched her bleed out for two days.”

“She’s still alive you fool. She’s in a hospital in Mozambique recovering.”

You can thank my angel for that sliver of leniency. If it were up to me I would have slaughtered the two-faced bitch.

“What if she was Eve, Dante? What if things were reversed? Would you let me live?”

No chance... I’d slit your throat from ear to ear.

Tomas nods at my silence. “Exactly.”

So this is it, my final reckoning, where all of my past sins and transgressions are converging to make one hell of a finale for me. I don’t regret any of it, save one. Dragging the sweetest damn angel to ever walk the face of this earth into my unholy mess of a life. She shouldn’t have to pay for what I’ve done.

My anger filters all the way through to my fingertips, and I resume my sawing, two-fold. My fingers are slick with blood now and I nearly drop the knife twice. Another strand works loose.

“Isabella was the most satisfying,” announces my brother suddenly.

I go very still.

“Dante,” Joseph gasps. “Don’t listen to him, he’s messing with your head.”

“Diego,” Emilio orders.

A second later a bullet is ripping through Joseph’s shoulder, pinning him to the concrete floor. He’s silent in his agony, he’ll never give Emilio the satisfaction, but I know it’s costing him greatly. His hands are still bound behind his back and that tight angle is dragging at the gaping wound. Blood is drenching his blue shirt already. From my vantage point I try and assess the injury the best I can. If I can staunch the bleeding he’ll live but it’s gonna hurt like a bitch in the interim.

“I’m going to gut you for this, Emilio,” I roar, rising to my feet to the sound of thirty grown men aiming their loaded weapons at me.

“She took three hours to die,” he smiles, basking in my rapt attention at last.

“But there’s no body,” I say hoarsely. “I’ve been searching–”

“Try the bottom of Lake Tota. You might have more luck.”

The certainty is his voice leaves me with little doubt. For a moment I consider ending it all now with my hands wrapped around his neck. Thirty bullets in my body will make it quick but I can’t leave Eve behind. I know what Tomas will do to her. I’ve seen how his eyes linger on her body.

“Who else?” I mutter.

“Isabella’s mother, our mother… No, it wasn’t suicide after all.”

The injustice is breathtaking. Every bait, every provocation that has driven my bloodlust to such extremes has been perpetrated by this man – my own brother.

“I killed our father because of this!” I explode, unable to contain my anger. “You led me to believe he’d abducted her!”

Emilio shrugs. “It was time to take over the business.”

My skull is pounding. Sweet oblivion is beckoning me ever closer. I’m losing focus. If we ever get out of this I’ll grieve for my daughter then. In the meantime I need to save my angel. If I do one decent thing in my life, it has to be that.

“Three,” I say wearily, dropping to my knees to give him the impression of a defeated man. “You said you’d be taking three things from me today. I assume Isabella is the first.” I stumble over her name. She didn’t deserve to die and neither does Eve. “Our mother, the second–”

“Fuck no, that bitch doesn’t even count but you do, don’t you sweetheart?” Emilio jerks his head in Eve’s direction.

I force myself to look at her again, and when I do my heart stops dead for a beat or two. Sometime in the last few minutes she’s come around. She’s staring straight at me, her blue sapphires punching a line into my soul, stripping away all of my bravado, all of my bullshit. I did this to her. I forced her to accept this life and for the first time in my life my guilt is a swinging guillotine above my head.

How much has she heard?

“And the last?” I say, never once taking my eyes off of Eve’s battered, bruised face. I see both defiance and strength there. She has never looked more beautiful.

“Your anonymity.”

I whip round in shock. “What?”

Emilio looks delighted with my reaction. He knows he’s hitting me right where it hurts. “Approximately one hour ago your name, picture and new island coordinates were sent to the DEA,” he announces. “I emailed them directly to Eve Miller’s father myself, a personal touch if you like. Of course he’ll be dead soon as well. No more hiding in the shadows for you, baby brother. It’s time to embrace the limelight and answer for your crimes.”

“Our crimes,” I murmur, the world falling away beneath my feet. I’d always looked upon my anonymity as our one saving grace. I figured as long as I kept my identity concealed then Eve and I had a chance. Now we’ll be hounded for the rest of our lives. “What makes you think I won’t implicate you?”

“Be my guest,” he grins. “I never enjoyed hiding away. I earned my name, my respect… From now on I intend to revel in it.”

He’s psychotic. He’ll be dead within a month.

“You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

“Smokescreens and mirrors, baby brother. Gomez couldn’t be turned to my way of thinking but his son was an easier proposition. With their processing plants guaranteed, and Tomas and his men stepping into your role, the New York deal was finally agreed last night. But it’s not all bad news … you’re officially a DEA Wanted Fugitive.”

“Dante.”

Her soft voice is calling out to me from the darkness. Pleading, comforting, encouraging… Our eyes meet, a thousand words unspoken, yet somehow articulated and understood. Seconds later the last threads of the rope disintegrate and my hands are finally free. I take one last moment to gaze upon her beautiful, broken face.

“My devil,” she says quietly.

“Forgive me,” I murmur.

She nods as if she understands. “Always.”