The Devil's Plaything

“Tío?” My voice cracks on the word as disloyalty hits me in the gut.

“Sofía?” He pushes off the lounger, coming toward us, but Victor only tightens his hold on me. “What are you doing with her?” Guillermo questions the man beside me. He looks genuinely shocked at me being with Victor.

“She’s payment for your friend’s thieving ways.” My body shakes with fear at the coldness in Victor’s tone. I’ve heard him angry before, but this is something else. “You lied to her, you made her believe the bullshit that you fed Hector.”

I’m so confused, I have no idea what they’re talking about. Guillermo pales at Victor’s words as the men regard each other.

“What the hell is going on here?” I bite out, pulling away from Victor, to look at the man I grew up calling uncle. The man who was my father’s confidante. The man who promised to always be there for me.

“I-I—”

“Not so easy to admit how you fucked up when your head is on the chopping block. Is it Guillermo?” That’s when I see Javier appear behind tío with a pistol aimed at his head. He takes a step back before realizing he’s surrounded by Victor’s men.

“Please, Cordero,” he pleads. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Tell her the fucking truth,” Victor hisses, violence drenching his tone, dripping off every word. “If you don’t, I’ll slice you open slowly while you confess.”

“Tío, what is he talking about?” I ask again, my chest tightening with fear, and my heart rate slowly skyrockets. As if Victor can feel my pain, he slides his hand in mine, his fingers lacing with my own, which seems to calm me somewhat.

Guillermo’s gaze doesn’t miss the link between us and realization dawns on him. He glances at me before sneering, “You fuck this man?” He points at Victor, his finger shaking. “He’s the villain. How can you tarnish your reputation with the filth of our country?”

Victor’s fingers tighten around mine in an attempt to calm himself, and I offer his hand a squeeze as I step forward, pushing into Guillermo’s face. “Are you going to tell me what he is talking about?”

“He’s a liar.”

“Am I?” Victor challenges. “Shall I bring out the proof?”

Guillermo’s eyes widen in shock, and he steps back once more, only to be butted by the barrel of Javier’s gun. He glances over his shoulder, the fear apparent in his expression.

“I-I b-betrayed your father.” His admission tears a hole through my chest, and my heart is in my throat. Anger surges, my blood boiling as I step even closer, my free hand coming up to make violent contact with the old man’s face.

“You bastard!” My screech is loud, echoing around us, but I don’t care about the people who stop to stare at me. “You fucking bastard!” I’m about to rage when Victor’s arms wrap around my waist, and he lifts me off my feet. I’m small compared to the man who’s captured me, and he walks me down the beach as if I weigh nothing. I’m still screaming when we reach a darker, more secluded area.

“Juguete.” The word is a warning on Victor’s lips. “If you don’t calm the fuck down, I’m going to pin you to a tree and fuck the anger out of you.” The threat makes me still, my mouth still open in shock.

He leans in, his thumbs swiping at my cheeks, it’s then that I realize I’m crying.

28

Victor

Her tears make me hard; yet, they hurt my chest. When I see her crying with sadness, I want to mend her, to heal her pain, but when I watch her emotion trickle from her eyes in pleasure, I want to bestow more on her beautiful body.

I’m still fighting with myself, a war rages inside me at the emotions this girl has brought out of me. Is this love? Shaking my head, I focus on her. She wraps her arms around my middle, her small body shaking against mine as she hiccups.

“What did he do? Why has he hurt my father like this? They were friends, loyal to the end.” I can understand her confusion. I have always prided myself on my loyalty. Her watery gaze meets mine, and I want to wash away her fears, her troubles, and her pain. Even if I’m the one who caused them all.

“The basic needs of the human race are at times more overpowering than the emotional vows we make.” I tell her. “Men aren’t always genuine, no matter how much you offer them, and no matter how long they’re tame, there is always a wildness inside a male heart.”

“Like yours?” she whispers. Her eyes are wide, shining with the pain that’s so clearly etched in her broken heart. My mouth opens, but I can’t find the words to answer her.

Am I like them?