SANTIAGO
Sitting out by the pool, I look at the horizon as the sun comes up.
I’ve been so busy the past year, but I always make time to sit on the veranda during the early morning hours so I can watch the sun rise.
At least all the hard work is paying off. I’ve formed an alliance with four powerful people. Dominik Varga, the biggest arms dealer, who’s quickly becoming a trusted and close friend. Leo Toscano, the head of the Italian Mafia. Enzo Oliveira, who’s in charge of a syndicate in Portugal, and Cassia Dimitrou, the head of the Greek Mafia.
A while back, we all bought an island together and built nothing short of a fortress slash resort on it that acts as a safe haven for us. Situated just off the coast of Chile, it’s not too far from my home here in Peru.
I grin when I think of the house I bought in Chile for Dominik and his wife, Grace, a few months ago. It was a token of how much I value our friendship.
I also grew closer to Cassia after she married one of my friends, Knight. The man suffered after losing his sister to sex trafficking, and seeing him happily married to Cassia brings a smile to my face. He now lives in Greece with her, and I don’t hear from him as often anymore, but I still see him whenever the alliance has meetings on the island.
Even with the luxurious island nearby, this villa in Peru will always be my home. I turn my head and look at all the little cottages to my left. Every year, I build ten new cottages to accommodate our growing population, but at the pace I’m saving people, I’m considering constructing apartment buildings.
Currently, I have one hundred and fifty-nine people living on my property. We’ve formed our own little village, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know every single person, and once a week, I’ll walk through the village to check on everyone.
Even though it’s not something I want, they treat me like a god, thankful for everything I do for them.
Some have created jobs from hobbies and have become self-sufficient, but they don’t want to leave, and I would never ask them to. They fear life outside the walls of my compound, and I understand why.
Every person on my property was either a sex slave, forced into prostitution, used as drug mules, or someone who had organs stolen from them before being left to bleed out.
The list of vile acts is endless, and just when I think I’ve seen it all, I discover a new horrific act that leaves me stunned.
Once upon a time, I was a victim just like them.
Since the Alvarez cartel massacred my family, I made it my life’s purpose to dismantle every fucking cartel I come across. Right now, I’m focused on taking down the Rojas cartel, forcing them out of my territory.
It’s been a while since I’ve thought of my family. I was fifteen when Alvarez’s soldiers invaded our house. My father was an accountant for the cartel, but he wanted out, so they decided to silence him.
My older brother was killed first. He was the only one who had a quick death.
My mother was dragged behind a jeep until her body parts were scattered throughout the town we lived in.
I survived because I hid in a trunk where my mother kept the linen. I still have the trunk. It’s one of the few things I was able to salvage after our home was burned to the ground because the damn thing is near indestructible. It took some time, but it’s been restored to its former glory.
Years after the massacre, I tracked down a soldier of the cartel, who told me my father was tortured for months. They amputated one limb at a time and hung the severed limb where my father could see it. Apparently, he lost his mind toward the end.
I did the same thing to the soldier, and that’s where my most lethal tarot card was born. Death.
I shift in the chair and pull the pack of black and gold tarot cards from my pocket. The corners are worn from use, and I brush my thumb over the face. I have doubles of twelve cards. Each one holds a different fate. It’s my way of being fair. I allow the person to choose a card, then I carry out whatever fate it holds. Some give them a chance at freedom, but others range from a quick death to suffering for months.
My grandmother used to read tarot cards. It’s one of the good things I remember from my childhood. People respected her until she passed away from old age.
That’s where my love for tarot cards started. Sure, there are many fake fortune tellers out there, but I know one who’s been blessed with the same gift my grandmother had.
She said she saw me coming when I saved her from being killed because her brother owed the cartel money.
Lorena’s been with me for two years now. Just the other day, she said Maria, one of the other women in the village, is expecting a little girl. She hasn’t been wrong before, so Maria’s preparing for a girl.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly before I pick up the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. I take a sip, my gaze returning to the horizon as the sun continues to rise on a new day.
Absentmindedly, I twirl the diamond ring on my pointer finger, and my thoughts turn to the reading Lorena gave me right after she came to stay on the compound.
She said I’m going to live a long life with a woman who’s like the rising sun.
Lately, I’ve had a nagging feeling the woman I’m destined to be with is in grave danger. I’m beginning to think she might be in one of the cartel’s clutches, and it’s made me double down on my efforts to dismantle the organizations. I’ve been playing them against each other, making each of my attacks look like they were done by another cartel. I’m hoping to start a war between them so the fuckers can wipe each other out.
“Morning.”
I glance over my shoulder and watch as Pedro, my second-in-command, walks toward me.
“Morning,” I say while he takes a seat on one of the other lounge chairs.
His eyes touch on the deck of cards in my hand, and he lifts an eyebrow. “Who do you plan on killing?”
I shove my cards into my pocket. “Whoever gets in our way. I want to take down that exclusive sex club in Bolivia this week. Just like I suspected, the shipment of girls we’ve been tracking from Europe went straight to the club.”
“When do you want to leave for Bolivia?”
“First thing tomorrow. Get the private jet, men, and weapons ready.”
“Okay.” He glances in the direction of the hill where a lone tree stands. “What are your plans today?”
“I’m going to walk through the village and make sure everyone is okay.”
“I’ll have Marc accompany you.”
Picking up my glass of orange juice, I nod.
Standing up, Pedro says, “Reach me on the radio if you need me.”
When he heads back into the house, I absentmindedly twirl the diamond ring on my finger, and my thoughts turn to the woman who’s somewhere out there. Maybe she’s safe, and I’ll cross paths with her in a restaurant, or maybe she’s in a fuck-ton of trouble, and I might get to her too late.
Thinking obsessively about it won’t help matters.
Clenching my jaw, I set down the glass and rise to my feet.
Leaving the veranda, I walk through the villa and out the front door. I notice Pedro is talking with Marc, and a few seconds later, he jogs to catch up with me as I head toward the road that runs through the village.
Even though it’s winter, it’s actually a pleasant day and not too cold.
There are cottages on either side of the road, and the one closest to my villa has been converted into a school. As I approach the open door, I hear Gianna, Pedro’s wife, giving English lessons. At night, she also gives English lessons to some of the adults. The people I’ve saved are all from different countries, so it’s important for everyone to at least speak English.
Reaching the doorway, I glance over the twenty-seven children, all different ages.
Maja, a nine-year-old Polish girl we saved a year ago when we found her and her mother in Colombia, notices me first. A smile explodes over her face, and she darts up from her chair.
“Maja!” Gianna gasps, but when she sees me standing in the doorway, she shakes her head and takes a seat at her desk.
The next instant, all the kids are up from their chairs, and chuckling, I give a few hugs while ruffling the boys’ hair.
“Are you all listening to Gianna?” I ask.
I’m given a bunch of nods, their expressions eager.
“Get back to your seats,” I order, my tone affectionate.
This is where I see the real fruit of my labor, twenty-seven children who are in a happy and healthy environment.
Glancing at Gianna, I say, “I apologize for the interruption.”
“It’s fine.” She smiles at me before I leave the cottage to continue down the road.
“Anything I should know about?” I ask Marc, who’s in charge of making sure no fights break out among the people. If someone has a problem, they know to go to Marc, and he only involves me if it’s something he can’t deal with.
“Everything is going well,” he says.
I smile and greet the people sitting in front of their cottages and stop at random cottages to exchange a few words.
I spend a good twenty minutes by the storage room where we keep all the supplies and food we source from local farms. Romana, Marc’s wife, is in charge of making sure everything runs smoothly. She has a group of women and men who assist her.
Leaving the storage facility, I continue further down the road. I hear a baby crying when I get close to the cottage where Catalina and Carmen, a mother and daughter from Colombia, live.
I knock on the front door, and when I push it open, it’s to see Catalina sitting with her head in her hands while an exhausted Carmen is trying to pacify her son.
“You both look like you’ve been to war,” I mutter as I walk toward Carmen. She doesn’t hesitate to hand Thiago over to me. Since he’s been born, I’ve babysat the little boy a few times.
I position the very unhappy baby against my shoulder and rub his back for a few seconds before he lets rip, filling his diaper.
Carmen just shakes her head at me as she slumps down in the other chair at the kitchen table. “How do you do that?”
“Magic touch,” I say, grinning at her. Walking to the little space they’ve set up for Thiago, I lay him down so I can change his diaper. “I’ll take him for the morning so the two of you can bathe and get some sleep.”
“You’re a godsend,” Catalina whimpers before bursting out in tears. “His colic has been really bad this week.”
They’ve only been here for ten months and are still dealing with the hell they were put through. Thiago is the product of Carmen being raped, but since he was born, mother and grandmother have loved him dearly.
Everyone sees him as a miracle that was given to Carmen as a gift for the trauma she was forced to endure.
When I’m done changing the diaper, I pick Thiago up and smile at him. “Your tummy feels all better, right?”
I let him lie face down over my forearm, and almost instantly, he falls asleep. “This position puts a little pressure on his stomach, which seems to make him feel better,” I tell the woman, while Carmen prepares a bag with diapers, bottles, and milk.
Marc takes the bag from her, and as I leave the cottage with a sleeping Thiago’s head nestled safely in the crook of my arm, I hear Catalina say, “You can bathe first, Carmen. I’m going to sleep. I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.”
The two-hour walk through the rest of the village is relaxing, but I avoid going into the clinic because I have Thiago with me.
Heading back to my villa, I check which areas on the property would be best suited for building the apartment building. I want to start with a four-story building. Maybe eight apartments. Twelve at most.
When I get back to the villa, I walk to the kitchen where Astrid, my housekeeper, is busy rolling out dough.
“Look who I have,” I say, my tone playful.
She glances in my direction, and when she lays eyes on Thiago, she quickly rinses her hands before drying them.
“Give him to me,” she orders with a laser focus on the sleeping baby.
I carefully pass him to her before walking to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.
“Catalina and Carmen were dead on their feet. Will you keep an eye on them and bring Thiago here so they can get some rest every other day?”
“Of course,” Astrid coos, her eyes glued on the bundle of joy in her arms, who’s still fast asleep.
“Where do you want this?” Marc holds up the bag.
“Over there.” I point at the kitchen table, then say, “Can you ask Ramona to get a bed and a changing table for Thiago that we can keep here for when we babysit him?”
“We still have the ones we used for Enrico. You can have them.”
“Thanks.”
Marc and Romana’s boy is already five, and out of curiosity, I ask, “You’re not planning on having more kids?”
“Enrico keeps us busy enough,” he mutters before leaving the kitchen.
I glance at Thiago and wonder if I’ll ever have children of my own.
Fuck, I hope so.
Astrid brings the sleeping baby back to me. “Lunch is almost ready.”
Cradling Thiago in my arms, I walk toward the doorway, saying, “I’ll be out on the veranda.”
The villa is quiet, and when I step outside, I head straight for my lounge chair. Sitting down, I get comfortable, gently positioning Thiago over my chest, his head resting beneath my neck.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, and using my thumbprint to unlock it, I check the app I had created on the dark web. Besides dismantling the cartels, I offer protected extractions and create new identities for those willing to pay the high fee I charge. It’s a lucrative business that allows me to provide for my people.
Seeing a new request for extraction, I check the details. It’s in Ireland. A man is looking for safe passage for his family, who are being targeted by the Irish mafia.
Moving an entire family of four takes much more work than extracting a single person, which means I’ll have to postpone attacking the sex club in Bolivia.
I let out a sigh as I keep reading the details provided by Mr. Allen Gleesan.
Bringing up Pedro’s number, I press dial, and he answers on the third ring, “What’s up?”
“Forget about Bolivia. We have a job in Ireland. Get two private jets ready. One for us and one for the extraction to Switzerland.”
“On it.”
“Manuel has to come with so he can create new identities for them.”
“I’ll let him know.”
Ending the call, I go back into the app and accept the job, typing out a brief message.
Accept. $750000 to be paid within the next 24 hours and the other $750000 on completion of the job.
After sending the reply, I set the phone on the table beside me and look down at Thiago. “I’m glad you’re getting in some sleep, little guy. All that crying must’ve tired you out.”
I gently brush my hand up and down his back and take a deep breath of his baby smell, which is downright addictive.
