“True, but that’d be taking the easy way out. You need to be able to think on your feet. What happens if your gun jams?”
“Well, then I’d—”
“You’d be dead,” she says bluntly.
I wipe the sweat from my brow. We’ve been at it for hours and I feel like I’ve hit a wall. I’m starting to wonder if Natalia likes treating me like a punching bag. I almost say a quiet prayer when one of the maids arrives with our lunches. I don’t know how much more pummeling I can handle.
Natalia takes a seat in Renata’s favorite wicker chair. I sit across from her next to Guadalupe’s glass tank. She doesn’t freak me out nearly as much as she did, but I’ll be hard pressed to ever take up my grandmother’s offer to hold it.
“Where’s Abuela?” I ask. “I haven’t seen her all day.”
“She’s in the middle of a strategy meeting. We lost another one of my brothers last night. Your uncle.”
I frown. “I’m so sorry.”
Natalia shrugs, surprisingly unmoved. “It is what it is. We’ll have time to mourn after we win. No sense in crying now; otherwise, his death will have been in vain.”
“How do you do it?” I ask quietly, sipping my bubbly lemonade. It’s so deliciously sour and sweet that it makes my mouth pucker.
“Do what?”
“Be so… detached?
“You get used to it. This way of life… it necessitates it. You can love, but never with your whole heart.” My aunt picks at one of her cucumber sandwiches. “That husband of yours… I’d cut him loose, if I were you.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Excuse me?”
“The fewer attachments you have in the world, the safer you’ll be.”
“That’s a lonely way of thinking.”
“It’s a smart way of thinking.” She sets her food down, studying me with her cold, dark eyes. “Did I ever mention my kids? Your cousins.”
“No.”
“That’s because they’re dead.”
My stomach churns. I don’t think Natalia’s a great conversationalist. The whiplash is enough to make my head hurt.
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” I admit honestly.
“It was a long time ago,” she says, her eyes distant and unfocused. “Enrique was eight. Yolanda was seven.”
“What happened?” I ask carefully.
“Car bomb.”
Dread tears at my insides. “Holy shit.”
“I went to pick them up from school. I parked the car by the curb. Thought nothing of it. I had to speak with their teachers for a moment and told them to get in the car and wait for me. Next thing you know…” Natalia exhales sharply, the features of her face hard as stone. “We’d been having some territorial squabbles with a lesser cartel. They wanted to make a name for themselves and come after one of the Marrones’ higher-ranking generals.”
“And they chose you?”
She nods slowly. It’s the closest I’ve ever seen her behave even remotely human. “You say you want to fight, but are you prepared for what that means?”
“Of course—”
“Don’t answer so quickly. Learn to take your time. The ability to think clearly under stress is an invaluable skill.” She leans forward, like a jaguar waiting to pounce. “Zane Phillips… Do you love him?”