Page 1 of Venomous King
Chapter one
Issy
“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”
Pablo Neruda (100 Love Sonnets)
Ionce was pitiful, weak, and afraid of my own shadow. Some called me a princess, but if I ever was one, I was the kind that resided in a locked tower, waiting for a so-called prince to set me free. I spent my days waiting to die, hoping that my misery would finally be at an end, and I could have the peace that I had craved all my short life.
Privilege can be a death sentence, just as much as poverty. The difference is only in the casket you are buried in. As I waited and longed for death, trapped in a deep, dark hole of my own making, I realized that I had nothing. Nothing to live for, nothing to die for, I was utterly empty.
Until my desire for death was greater than my need to be loved. Until it was all I craved, and I allowed it to consume me, and change me into this new being. The one that no longer looks at the world in the same way. The one who, in that moment, shed all of her skin and became something else. I am no longer frail and despondent, but righteous in my anger. The need to sprout wings and head for the sky, instead of slithering in the deep, dark undergrowth, is a virus in my blood.
I am a queen made out of ashes, tears, and devastation, and he is a king who ruled absolute until, one day, I escaped his menacing clutches, and discovered that I was always meant to truly fly.
Now, he wants me back inside the cage that held me a prisoner, but my need for survival has changed. I am no longer alone in this world. Now, my life has meaning, and I cannot allow him to further corrupt me, and bring me back to his depth of hell.
The warrior and protector inside of me has risen, and she will not sheath her blade or her teeth. If you come for me, be prepared for me to claw your eyes out. Fair warning, tread lightly. My bite now carries venom, and my claws are sharp, andI am not afraid to use either. I will never lay down before any man again, and be a willing prisoner.
The Queen of Venom.
Chapter two
Diego
“It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for;I can never fight for myself, but, for others, I can kill.”
Emilie Autumn (The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls)
Four and a half years later
The sound of pain-filled screaming becomes background noise to my ears as I lean against the wall and watch my men, Santiago and Vega, work on the battered and bleeding guy strapped to the chair with their fists. The sound of their fists making contact with his hard flesh is a soothing balm to my abused soul. His screams will lull me to sleep later, or at least I hope they will. The poor stupid fucker thought that he could steal from us. He was fucking wrong.No one steals from the Cabanos. No one survives our wrath. No one survives me.
The tales told about our cartel’s brutality aren’t fairytales or make-believe. They carry a warning to all those brave or dull-witted enough to try to come for us. We have no mercy or souls. As the number one most powerful cartel in the western hemisphere, there are always cockroaches trying to rise and usurp power, like the one currently having the shit beaten out of him. The ground surrounding him is already stained with his blood, and so much more will spill before my men are done, and extract the information I need. And they will get it, they have yet to fail me.
My father, Manuel, watches comfortably from his oversized black, leather throne chair, like the unmerciful King Emeritus that he is. He’s come out of retirement just to watch this man receive his punishment. His olive green eyes are alight with pleasure, even as his face remains neutral in a mask that doesn’t allow you to read his thoughts. I know him, however, and witnessing the bloodshed and demise of his enemies is akin to watching his favorite soccer team play on national television. It’s a pleasure and pastime that I never wish to deny him.
He built this organization from the ground up alone until I was of an age to help him. In the last four years, I’ve doubled its reach, profits, and ruthlessness. Now, people utter the name Cabano with fear, as if the mere mention could summon the devil, and they are not wrong; I may as well be the devil.‘La serpiente’, the snake,that’s what they call me behind my back. A snake has no mercy for anything or anyone, and always strikes to kill.
I’ve heard the whispers about me losing my humanity, compassion, and sanity. I’m not genuinely certain I ever had any of those to begin with, but now, nothing moves me, not bloodshed, nor violence, and certainly not death. I’m completely hollow inside, carved out and empty, and have been for a while.Since she’s been gone.
“Who else helped you transport the weapons,cabrón (bastard)?“ Santiago lands a heavy punch to the man’s jaw. He’s one of my most loyal men, and has become my right-hand man and confidant over the last few years. A change took over him when I losthera few years back. He holds himself responsible, even though I don’t blame him. No, the blame solely lies on my shoulders alone.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts, before they can overtake me and drag me down to my daily routine of wallowing in self-pity. The rage that lives inside of me, every moment of the day, is a volcano constantly threatening to erupt, and cover the world in hot lava and ash. The pain that slices through my chest with every breath, knowing that she’s gone and I have been unable to find her, haunts me. Destroying what is left of me, bit by bit, and turning me into the merciless leader I have become.She’s never coming back.
I swipe harshly at my face, warm blood splatter trailing down my cheek. I stare down at my fingers, painted crimson, and wish it was the blood of the person who took my most prizedpossession from me. My crown jewel, myPrincesa, my Issy. When I find that person, I will bleed them until not a drop of blood remains in their traitorous body.
“Ple… ase, I… beg you.” The man coughs up blood, as he wheezes with every breath. I tilt my head, my eyes boring holes into his skull. He seeks mercy, but I no longer know the word’s meaning. Like his blood is being ripped from his body by force, my mercy was ripped from my own. Soon, we will both be empty shells.
I walk over to the large, long metal table, layered with various knives, scalpels, and tools, along one side of the room. The man watches me with horror in his swollen eyes, as my hand reaches out and grabs one of the construction impact drills, and a handful of metal screws. I turn back, making my way to my captive, my steps unhurried and sure. He begins to struggle again in his tight bindings, but it’s no use. He’s not going anywhere. At least not before he takes his last breath on this Godforsaken earth.
Some days, I wish I could escape, and leave this earth and this life, which have already taken so much from me.Peace. Quiet. Death.I crave them, like an addict craves a hit of their favorite substance. The only thing that keeps me going is knowing she’s out there somewhere, hidden in the shadows from me.MyPrincesa. I will get her back if it’s the last thing I do.
I stop before him, and crouch down until I’m at eye level with him. What does he see when he stares at me in horror? Does he see his death, a demon in the flesh, someone capable of atrocities without remorse, or worse, does he see only emptiness?
His brown eyes are bloodshot and filled with terror, the skin along his face bruised, swollen, and bleeding, and the rest of his naked body not looking much better. Yet, he’s holding out. He knows he will never leave here alive, but is still refusing to name his accomplices, and guarantee himself a quick death. Thequestion is, why? Who could instill this type of loyalty against me? Who could be more frightening than I am?
“Keep his feet from moving,” I instruct Vega. He bends down, holding the man firmly in place by the ankles. His breath leaves him in heavy pants, as he struggles to comply with my order.