Page 82 of When Sinners Hate
Abel advances, anger vibrating from his body, but I hold his hand to keep him back. “She’s not your fucking daughter.”
“Oh, so she’s done a number on you. Clever girl. Perhaps I’ve underestimated your charms in bed.”
His words are crass and send a jolt of revulsion through me. All the years of abuse, disappointment, and frustration at being kept on the outside swarm in my stomach, filling my blood with a hatred so pure, it’s terrifying. Add in that I know that the man standing next to me will tear down the sky for me, or any of his family if pushed into it, and that confidence is all I need to stand up to the bully that’s in front of me.
“I’ll switch. Melena can go. This is between you and me, right, Daddy?" I tilt my head to the side.
I let go of Abel’s hand, and I hear his growl. “Lexi,” he warns.
“It’s okay." I fix my stare on my father. "This is about you and me, right? You didn’t get what you wanted, so you need to take it out on someone.” I climb over the chair in my path and round the table until I’m standing in front of Miguel, who still has the gun at Melena’s throat. “Why are you so power-hungry,anyway? You have wealth, and the Ortega cartel is strong. And now you do this?” I hold my hands out at the mess.
I look at his reddening face and note the beads of sweat at his temples. He’d never come in here without backup if he’d thought it could end badly. My brain whirrs, trying to work out the missing information, but I need Melena out of danger.
“What did you say to him, Melena? Andreas isn’t here. Miguel was invited in. What did you say to turn him against you?”
“Lexi,” Abel cautions.
“No. Something went on between them today. After all, we’re husband and wife thanks to their little arrangement to better each family. Perhaps Melena’s been playing everyone all along?”
“Bitch, you’re not good enough for my son,” she seethes, throwing some curse or other at me despite the gun at her throat.
I turn my attention to the man who betrayed me, stepping even closer. “You’re never going to get a single dime from this family, Miguel. The Cortezes will end you.”
The backhand explodes across my cheek, and I fall to the ground. My hands brace my fall, but more pain slices through me. Shards of glass and China cut into my flesh, drawing blood. I blink to focus myself and hear fumbling and movement, and I have to trust that Abel will have used that moment to get his mother free. And then I see it: a steak knife resting on the floor from their lunch date.
My bloodied hand reaches for it, and I squeeze the wooden handle tightly in my grasp, forgetting the sting of pain as I do and pulling myself back to my feet. I see my husband’s now the one with the gun. It's trained on Miguel, with Melena behind him.
“On your knees, you piece of shit.” His command is thick with anger, and I can tell he’s only a moment away from turning into the man who drowned a guy in cold blood.
My father drops to the ground slowly, sneering at everything around him.
“Stop!” I shout as I move to stand between the gun and Miguel, blocking Abel’s shot.
He doesn’t lower the gun. “Lexi, for the love of fucking God, move the fuck away.”
“No. I need you to trust me.” I say the words for everyone in the room to hear. Melena’s eyes narrow into slits – all that’s missing is the actual hiss, and I’d swear she’s a living witch.
Abel doesn’t move, but he studies me.
He looks towards Miguel on his knees behind me.
“Do you trust me?” I ask.
My heart starts to thud, the pulse at my neck booming as a rush of adrenaline floods me, and I wait for my answer. He still doesn’t give it. He keeps the gun raised and trained on me, as if maybe he doesn't trust me at all.
With my heart in my mouth, he finally gives me a subtle nod.
Melena screeches at Abel, but he doesn’t respond to her, just holds her firmly out of the situation to let me lead it.
I turn around and see my pathetic lump of a father kneeling before us. His hands are raised in defence, and I have to wonder if he’s resigned to the inevitability of the situation. My feet move, and I walk behind him to position myself. With every step, the blade grows heavier, yet my other hand snatches at his hair. I pull his head back, exposing his throat so I can put the blade just under his ear.
“You don’t deserve to live for what you’ve done to me. So you can take this to the grave. I’ll have everything you’ve ever dreamt of. I’ll run the Ortega business with the Cortez familybehind me while you rot away to dust.” My voice drops to a whisper. “Revenge can be so sweet.”
I look up at my husband as I press the knife harder against Miguel’s skin.
“Alexia, please. I’m your father.”
The words don’t mean anything to me.He’s pathetic for even saying them.