I snatch it up, shove it in my pocket, then fit the floorboard back into place. The secret message stays balled up in my fist until I close the bathroom door behind me. At a moment’s notice, I’m ready to flush the dangerous little piece of paper down the toilet, and if that fails, I won’t hesitate to swallow it myself. The knowledge hidden within is too precious to risk falling into the wrong hands.
You see, every time I’m allowed to leave my room—or, more commonly ‘forced’—an opportunity arises. This gilded prison is an unforgivable hellhole... but one of the devil’s henchmen seems to be more forgiving than
the others.
Juan Arias has a man on the inside, and that man is my only connection to the outside world. He leaves notes hidden in my loose floorboard to keep me updated on my son.
Sometimes, they’re just little bits of news to uplift my soul.
The chick played with the hatchlings. That means Oscar had a fun day with some friends.
Quiet are the little ears. That means that Oscar has been moved somewhere safe and quiet.
I take a deep breath and read the message that awaits me this time...
The snake slithers from his nest on the new moon. What does the bird do?
My heart flutters. This message means I get to go see Ozzy. Dante will be leaving on business soon, and that gives me an opening to escape for a few hours to go see my little boy.
I hold the note to my chest and it feels warm and light. Dante has been coming and going a lot more than usual lately, and it’s the best gift I’ve been afforded since Ozzy was born.
As much as I hate always having to come back to this death trap, I’ve been made all too aware of how impossible it would be to make a real run for freedom. Dante has flooded the city with his men ten times over, but there are still small enclaves of safety in the nearby area. Juan knows the safehouses of this city like the back of his hand, and he makes sure Ozzy is safely ferried from one to the next as much as is needed to keep him protected. He also almost always makes sure to get word to me whenever there’s a chance to see my baby.
I still don’t know who his inside source is, but if I ever meet the mystery man who’s been risking his life to pass me these little notes, I’ll thank him to the ends of the earth. These tiny slices of bliss are the only moments of hope I get these days, and every last second of them is cherished to their fullest extent—they have to be, because any journey could be my last.
Security becomes more rigid when Dante’s gone. Guards stay in their lanes and follow straight forward orders. When the cruel prince is around, though, there’s no telling what might happen. Dante has very little control over his temper, and he often flies off the rails at random intervals—and that means calling for his favorite punching bag to rag on. He hardly gets physical, but his words usually hurt more than his dainty grip ever could.
... But if Dante called for me and I was gone?
All hell would break loose. The district would be shut down, and I would be stuck wherever I was, unable to escape. And if I happened to be with Oscar at that moment...
... I don’t even want to think about it.
There’s no leaving when Dante is around, but when he’s gone, there’s hope, and right now, there’s a little sliver of hope on the horizon. Dante may be forcing me to marry him, but he can’t control what I do when he’s gone, at least, not as much as he may like. I have a son, and that boy takes precedence over everything, even the boogie monster. Especially the fucking boogie monster.
The snake slithers from his nest on the new moon. What does the bird do?
Leave, I scratch into the open space underneath my coded message.
I’ve got to get out of here.
4
Angel
The stone hard skin on my knuckles is finally starting to break. My callous hands are cracked and splintered and bruised and battered, but it’s all for a good cause. I’ve spent the past two nights rumbling through the underworld, trying to rip through all there is to know about Dante and where he might be hiding Catalina.
I’ve used my gun and my knife plenty, but my fists are my favorite tool; it helps release the anger and the frustration of this fucking pony show.
So far, I’ve mostly only been able to get my hands on new recruits, street-toughs who don’t know me from a hole in the wall. It’s a shame. I desperately want to come across someone who betrayed me for my brother and finally start my tour of vengeance. But it’s too hairy in the nicer parts of town where most of those assholes will be. For now, I have to continue to tear through the poorer areas and hope I can gather enough intel to make an informed next move.
The faster that time comes, the better. I’m already getting sick of pussy footing around.
I stare down at my stained fists. Most of the blood on them is from others, but I see a cut of my own here and there.
“I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” The panicked voice trembles behind me. I stretch my fingers and turn back towards the gruesome scene.
A middle-aged hitman convulses on the floor beside a younger, tied-up, transporter. The stink of fear wafts from his struggling body as he begs for mercy.