Attraction, desire, and sinfully beautiful, Mika Santana is a devil with the face of an angel. Despite her tragic past, she's never given up her ruthless pursuits for success and vengeance which leaves little to no room for matters of the heart. But...
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Success.
It's what the majority of Jefes strive for. Our names don't go down in legacy books without our actions backing us up. But success doesn't come easy-- it takes comprising your morals, becoming morally grey, and carrying the burden on your shoulders.
It changes you, whether you want to or not.
It's something I wanted to prove to all the haters-- essentially my papa. He's always taken the cake at taking me down to the lowest of the low. It's been this way for years. Papa torments me, and my mama swoops in to save the day. It could be over the pettiest of things, but my papa never left his mind unspoken.
Lately, I have taken his complaints with a grain of salt and propelled the familia to the top. Decimating the Velazquez's familia unveils the true power the Morterero familia holds. The remaining familias will think twice before going against us. We're stronger than we've ever been with committed soldiers.
There's just one minor problem-- I broke one of the sacred rules.
Don't get high on your own supply.
I exhale deeply, staring at the tiny ziplock bag in my grip filled with the white powdery substance. The drug taunts me, muttering in my ears like a spell. I'm itching for it, scratching every part of my body as if I was covered in chicken poxes. My body aches, drenching the sheets with sweat. This motherfucker is going to be the death of me.
I knew it.
I knew it the second I snorted it-- I would regret it.
But I wanted-- needed peace. My inner demon spirals through my thoughts, clinging to my utmost insecurities. A killer, a murderer, a taker of souls. All I wanted was to protect the love of my life, but the consequences were ripping me apart. My demons whisper how it's an excuse, and I wanted to kill Luka from the beginning.
How I'm using Mika as a way to make myself feel better about the way things turned out.
Snorting heroin silenced the voices in my mind. It was pure euphoric, like being teleported to another dimension while walking on soft, cushion clouds. A false sense of security until I crashed back down to earth. Everything shifts-- unable to get up for hours, feeling sluggish and heaviness in my bones. It's a bittersweet high, leaving me craving for more and more.
I know it's wrong to find security in a measly drug instead of my girlfriend, but I don't want to fail her. She carries enough burden to leave a person drowning in a bottomless lake. I want to make her proud. Be the man she deserves, not the shell of the man I'm being right now. I wanted to scream and shout and let it all out.
I can't sit with only my thoughts any longer. Groaning, I reach for my cell phone on the end table and plug in my airpods. My romantic playlist automatically plays, filling my ears with a slow song. I raise the volume until it can't go any louder, trying to ignore the hindering voice in the back of my head.
