Page 60 of Game of Revenge

Alejandro

There are a few moments in one’s life, where one decision could change the rest of their trajectory. Mine changed when my brother died. One could argue that it changed the day I decided to help some low-life criminals get their property back. But I disagree.

The moment Richard put a bullet through my thirty-year-old brother’s skull, he unleashed a chain of events that inevitably led me here, led me to her.

She was doing her best to sleep, but I could see her tossing and turning from the window. My fingers itched. I wanted to be next to her, to soothe her pain, make her feel safe, but I knew I was the last person she wanted to be with right now—after Richard, or so I hoped.

My life had crumbled in front of me less than a year ago. One phone call, telling me that David had been found dead—wrong place, wrong time—was all the police could give me. David was only four years younger than me.

My little brother was a good person, a good brother, a good son. We had spent some of our life apart when I had moved to the States, but our relationship never wavered. I was the big brother, supposed to protect him, but I was unable to stop this fucking son of a bitch from killing him for some diamonds that weren’t his in the first place.

Growing up, I was always keenly aware of the crimes that happened in Mexico, of the gang activity, my father having been a prominent member of Los Zetas. My mother sheltered us as much as she could—until it was my turn to be recruited. That was when she sent me to Texas.

By the time David grew up, they had moved, and life had changed enough that it was okay for him to stay in Mexico. David, I knew, was my mother’s favorite, her little boy—the softer soul of the two of us, as she called him. To have to watch her go through the pain of losing him, after losing my father to the gangs, was heart wrenching.

My mother had instilled in David and me a respect for right and wrong, a respect for life, that was shaken to its core when David was killed. One of the few things my father had taught me was how to hold a gun and shoot to kill. I had witnessed my fair share of crimes in my life, so I was more than ready to pull that trigger, to kill Richard.

But I couldn’t do that to my mother. I couldn’t risk going to prison after she begged me not to, begged me to not risk my life. I was all she had left. She didn’t want me to soil my hands. I would have no problem taking Richard’s miserable life. No hesitation. I didn’t see him as anything but a dead man, but I resisted the urge for my mother. Instead of killing him, I tried to use legal means, but to no avail.

And so started this torture, a partnership with a criminal, a process of infiltration into Richard’s friend base, all to get close to him and get the diamonds. Instead, what I got was Amelia. And now I was in my beach house, wounded, protecting the stepdaughter of my brother’s murderer—from him, apparently.

And nothing was going to stand in the way of her safety, not even my thirst for revenge. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.

Chapter 26

Amelia

My nap did not last too long, as my sleep was restless, my brain working overtime to process what my life had become. When I dared come back to reality, Alejandro was standing outside, with the window closed, pacing while on the phone. I resisted the urge to go get him and force him to sit down. This man was stubborn and refused to act like someone who had gotten shot. I sighed as I was aware of my own recklessness. I did have a concussion a few weeks ago and clearly still needed to take it slow.

It was past lunchtime, and I was dying of thirst. I got off the bed and took the stairs to the kitchen, where I drank all the water my body asked for and swallowed some Advil to calm the throbbing in my head. I hoped Alejandro was wrong. I even hoped he was lying, but something deep in my soul told me he wasn’t.

I suspected something was off, considering how long I had been held in captivity. And every now and then, a voice deep inside wondered if Richard was happy I was missing. If this was going to be his way to play the victim card further, having lost his only daughter. But still, to hear that he might not only be happy I got taken, but be involved in it? That he might have tried to get me killed? What was I supposed to do with that?

I knew Alejandro and I had more to talk about, but I was scared to hear more, to make it more real. I was filled with pain and resentment, and Alejandro wasn’t immune.

After all, he also used me as a tool to get something from Richard, the same way Richard had used me my whole life to play the martyr husband who sacrificed everything for a child who wasn’t his.

There was no reason he couldn’t benefit from the situation while being a real father to me. But he chose differently for us. And now, for some reason or another, he considered me useless to him, so he had sent cops to kill me—the same way Alejandro would pack me up and send me back to Richard in a second if he gave him the diamonds.

I took a deep breath as anger started to course through me again. I wiped away a few tears. Even if Alejandro had hurt me, I did not want him to die. But anger I could deal with. In anger, I found strength. I found walls to use as protection.

I prepared a few quesadillas and brought them to his room with some water. He was still outside. I couldn’t handle seeing him right now, but he had to eat. I still needed to make sure he was okay. I wanted to go call him, but that would be too much. He would eventually walk back in and find his food, so I took my tray, grabbed the bottle of tequila, and went to my room, locking the door behind me.

Away from anyone’s eyes, I could allow myself a moment of weakness, a moment to cry and feel all the pain I had been hiding. I sat on the floor by the balcony, with alcohol as my best friend, enabling me to get lost in the ocean view, enjoying the sound of the waves.

I hated Richard, but that man was also the only father—or semblance of one—that I’d ever had. And now he wanted to kill me, for some reason that I would, of course, have to know about. I felt more alone in the world than ever.

The feeling wasn’t new. If it hadn’t been for my nana, I didn’t know how my life would have turned out. Nana had filled the void left by my mother. Martha had taught me how to cook, how to dress, how to care for my curls. She had sung to me when I was sad, bathed me, healed my bruises.

I still wished my mother was alive. I still wished I could remember what she looked like more, and I desperately wanted to hear her voice at times, but Nana had certainly done the best she could for me, filling in the role with grace, patience, and unconditional love. But Richard was never there.

I had to fend for myself, go to school, rely on my friends’ parents for help with my homework and always either came back to an empty house or to a man who screamed at me when I tried to hug him.

I was always conflicted between my resentment toward him and the love that I did feel for him as the only parent in my life, for better or worse. Now, there was no room for love—not for someone who would rather have me dead than have to part ways with money, or diamonds, or whatever it was Alejandro was after.

I got startled when I heard a few knocks. Alejandro was the last person I wanted to see. I closed my eyes and decided to stay silent, hoping that he would give up and go away.

“Amelia? Open the door!”