Page 48 of Tainted Blood
“I thought you said I was too valuable to waste?”
The grip on my throat tightens. “I might be willing to take a loss, this time around… After all, you just killed one of my best men.”
Spots start dancing in my line of vision. “What do you want from me, an apology?”
There’s a long pause.
“You Santiagos are all the same,” he tuts eventually. “Your mouths are your weakest bullets.”
“My father will be flattered by your efforts,” I gasp out.
“Why’s that?”
“Only a desperate man creates his own hilltop empire of deluded zombies to get even with his enemy.”
“Resurrecting, señora,” he corrects silkily, adjusting his grip—driving me so hard into the wall it feels like my skull is splitting. “This town is one of many we control across the world. You have no idea how formidable we really are.”
“I can’t breathe,” I rasp, choking out a cough. Panic has my chest in a vise.
“Valentin Carrera is equally to blame for my family’s misfortune,” he continues, ignoring my plea. “His father, Alejandro, was once a loyal member of our organization—bleeding his influence across Mexico on our behalf. Then the cartel passed to his son, who inflicted immeasurable harm to our South American infrastructure. The same way immeasurable harm has just been unleashed on the East Coast of America.”
With this, he leans in close and hisses out a sinister word.
“Boom.”
Bombs. He means bombs. The dirtiest of weapons—sly, secretive and devastating.
His dark secret curls a clenched fist around my heart. Everyone’s life is in danger now—Santi, Edier, my father…
I’m close to unconsciousness when he finally loosens his grip. Air comes rushing back into my lungs, and I collapse against the wall. As I stand there, gasping and spluttering, he produces a bottle of water and holds it out to me like a beautiful, poisoned chalice.
To drink is to surrender.
To drink is survival.
Before I can make a choice, he’s throwing the whole thing in my face.
After the initial shock settles, my tongue frantically laps at the droplets clinging to my cheeks and mouth. I tug at the chains, whimpering in frustration when I’ve licked myself dry.
“You’re no better than my dogs,” he says in disgust.
“More,” I rasp.
“No.”
“Please—”
“Beg for it, and you’ll be denied. Earn it, and you’ll be rewarded.”
I’m too feverish to decipher his riddles. In my mind, I’m already back on the beach again. I’m ten feet out and winning. I see Ella… I see Sam…
Zaccaria turns to leave, my whole life dripping through his hands like the water that never reached my throat.
When the door slams shut, my last remaining stars extinguish.
My mother never told me there was a whole other level below darkness, and I just slammed, headfirst, into it.
Chapter Thirteen