The King Killer | Mafia dark romance | ✔️

17. Let the party begin

Valentina

The casinos have always been Moralez's symbol of power and oppression.

I remembered attending the so-called crowning ceremony of Carlos Moralez after his brother's untimely death. Not that I knew any better but papa always thought it was very convenient of Carlos to have taken over the Los Zetas empire only a couple of days after his brother's death in an accident.

"What are you doing here?" Papa's voice floated from behind. He stood leaning against a table. "You should stand with Antonio, not alone here, giving company to your whiskey."

I looked around before gulping the leftover contents in my glass. It left a burn in its wake but warmed my belly. "Does it look like they care?" I raised my empty glass and a nearby waiter refreshed my drink. When dad grabbed my hand, my eyes burnt over his face. "They are not missing me and I wouldn't impose into their family matters when not asked."

With teeth grinding and a muscle twitching in his jaw, he barked. "It's your family and yes, you will follow them like a puppy if that'll get us what we want." He looked around for any wandering ears. I moved away from his table, feeling the heat rising inside of me. Dad was driven with hated to see reason and my patience ran dry to tackle him today.

I craved for Nico's company. In events like these, his anecdotes rescued me from boredom. I still lay awake at night, running assumptions on what he wanted to tell about my mother. With him in Spain and deciding not to entertain my calls, all I could do was try to suppress the tsunami of worst-case scenarios that rose.

My cousin's wellbeing was the paramount question that remained unanswered. Antonio didn't tell what Nico's job was with the Salazars. He also never answered to me why my cousin was sent instead of any of the hundred men, Moralez had under their payroll.

Anytime the news of Santos Salazar killing our men drove up to my ears, my heart ached, hoping to avoid hearing my brother's name among them.

When I felt a hand lowered on my back, I turned around, holding on and twisting it. Agustin's winced, his lips pursed to avoid a sound.

"Quite a grip you have there," he smiled, rotating his clutched fist. "Mind joining the family? We are about to make the announcement."

I walked with him and sat at the front table with the family. For the world, we were united but in reality, I would always be the outsider. Every ally and potential enemy eyed me as I slid next to Antonio.

"Took you long enough," he whispered, gritting his teeth.

Fueled with rage from papa's confrontation, words floated. "I don't come to places uninvited." I kept my eyes glued at the podium where Carlos delivered his speech.

Antonio's hand slid into mine from under the table. For the onlookers, a husband was having a loving moment with his wife. In reality, he was torturing me, tightening his grip around my bracelet that dug into my skin. I would feel the hard pulse beating against my skin, ready to burst open from my wrist.

Flashes from the past danced up.

I wasn't a slave. I deserved respect.

Picking a fork from the table, I poked into his tightened knuckles.

He unclenched, lowering his head into the table. Blood streamed towards my wrist, warming the pale gripped area. I cradled my trembling hand, lowering my head for his hearing pleasure.

"Try that again and the next thing I poke would be your eyes."

Antonio looked ahead, clearing his throat, ignoring my words. I didn't scrap his knuckles, it was his ego that was bruised. This was the second time when El Demonio suffered the consequence of asserting his dominance over me.