PROLOGUE
TOMÁS
Twenty-four years ago
“Good day in prison, Tommy?” Uncle Angelo sparks the end of a Marlboro cigarette and inhales a lungful of smoke.
Thrilled he’s the one collecting me from school today, I chuck my backpack in first and sink into the custom red leather bucket seat of his convertible Maserati GranCabrio. I grin as we speed off. There’s nothing subtle about the Souzas. We aren’t your typical Colombian family.
“Sure was.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “One kid brought a massive bag of candy into class. The teacher told him to put it away or she’d confiscate it. So, I bought the whole bag from him for dirt cheap and sold them individually.”
The high sun glints on the shiny onyx hood and a cool wind carries the scent of Angelo’s fresh coffee in a takeaway cup. “So yeah, today was a pretty good day. I made a killing.Papáwill be proud of me.”
The cigarette clings to Angelo’s lips as a chuckle rumbles from his throat. “Never mind your Papá. I’m proud of you, kid.”
It’s a tricky swell of adoration that grows within me. He’s my father’s elder brother—powerful, sharp, and a nonconformist.
Even the tattoos decorating his hands sketch out war and authority. We have an unspoken connection. Both of us being the eldest of younger siblings. I go to my father if I want to buy the latest Xbox console and Angelo to learn about the family business.
“You’ve taught me well.” I snicker. “And that girl I like, she tried to kiss me.”
When he glances over at me, I meet my boyish face and eyes the color of soot in his mirrored sunglasses.
“Did you let her?”
I laugh. “Of course not. She can wait, like you taught me.” My knowing wink makes his roar of approval louder than the wind rushing over the windshield.
The car changes lanes, pulls up at the side of the pavement, and rolls to a stop. Angelo pinches the cigarette butt between his finger and thumb. Smoke swirls down his nostrils like a dragon. “Hand over your profit, Tommy.”
I know better than to disobey him, so I drag every last coin from my pocket and drop them into his waiting palm. A small, civilized smile twitches the coarse hairs edging his mouth. “Good boy.”
It takes him all of two seconds to count the change. The rush of coinage pelting the inside of the cup holder skitters like a spray of bullets. I had worked my ass off on the playground and walked away with a buzz in my veins.
“It's not much…” He drags his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and stares at me, his expression impassive. “For all the effort you went to. What you need to learn now is how to make the little guys do all the hard work for you. One day you’ll head our organization, like I did after Nico was gunned down in the club.”
“Do you think I have what it takes?”
Angelo’s amber eyes narrow at the question. He replaces his shades, throws his arm over the back of my seat, and inhales more smoke. “A week after I took over, your father was engaged to a mafia princess. The Irish saw it as a strategic business move. A way to control the most powerful cartel organization in Colombia. But I knew their firstborn would be the heir to the Souza family business. That you’d be more powerful than anyone.” He cocks his brow and chuckles low in his throat. “If I wasn’t already married, I would have happily taken your mother as my bride.”
“Gross.” I pull a face at him.
“With your superior bloodline and my good looks.” He winks. “You’ll be legendary when the time comes. You’ll teach them all a lesson on how to rule. I can’t wait to see the day you turn into a fucking hybrid king.” His brow creases, lost in thought.
Angelo’s ringed fingers slip inside his leather jacket. “This is what you’re entitled to, Tommy. Get used to it.” He whips out a stack of paper money all cinched together in the middle with a rubber band. “Here. Take it. You did well. Set your sights higher and learn from me.”
A wad of crisp notes lands in my lap with a thud, the weight telling me there’s more than enough to buy a million bags of candy.
I’ve spent the last few months trying to prove my worth to my uncle. To let him know I’m all in. The fact Angelo and I are close works in my father’s favor, being one less child he has to protect. Rival gangs wait in the flanks with greed dripping from their veins. Danger walks beside power.
A wake of honking horns follows the custom Maserati after Angelo slams his foot on the gas and cuts across the lanes. He flicks his cigarette into the oncoming traffic and extends his finger, flipping off the line of angry drivers behind us.
The dark red stone wedged into a thick gold band dazzles in the sunlight as his hand gesture defies the laws of road users. Angelo doesn’t give a fuck about rules. But family is everything.
Where Angelo is the monster under your bed waiting for the right time to strike, Papá is the unhinged demon who shoots first and then decides if you are guilty. They’re both cut from the same cloth, except Elias Souza wasn’t quick enough to stake his claim as the newly crowned leader. These days, he does Angelo’s bidding and bites his tongue out of respect and honor.
“Where are we going?” I hold the brick of paper money close to my pumping heart and haul my backpack onto my lap.
It's my first official salary. My family has an impressive portfolio of homes all over the world. We own churches, hotels, gyms, and even jet planes. Financially, I’m set for life. Yet, nothing beats earning your place at the table or garnering respect from this man.