I attempt to prop myself up on my elbows, but the pain in my stomach leaves me winded. I’ve been cleaned up and changed into a thin blue hospital gown, my ruined clothes nowhere in sight.
“Let’s go home,” I say. “We need to tell my grandmother what happened. If Esteban and Arturo are near our territory, maybe she can—”
Zane places his hand on my shoulder, applying the slightest bit of pressure to keep me still. “You let us worry about them. You need to focus on rest.”
“I’m fi—”
“If you tell me you’re fine one more time, I swear to God—”
The sound of a woman’s chuckle comes from the hospital room’s door. I crane my neck and spot Renata as she enters. “I was about to ask where I could find you, but you’re both so loud I managed to find my way no problem.”
My cheeks flush with heat. I’m not sure if it’s out of embarrassment or because of my fever. Either way, I feel like I’m sitting in the middle of an oven left on high. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize how ill I am in general. My stomach is all tied up in knots, my palms are clammy, and I feel like I’m on the verge of throwing up. I’ve been feeling this way most mornings, but it was usually so mild I chalked it up to nerves. I’m in a new country, with a new family, and a new purpose.
“Where’s Aunt Natalia?” I ask.
“Taking care of a few things,” Renata replies. “Don’t worry. Everything is going according to plan. My sources tell me Becerra is running scared. He has few options left, and fewer allies still. It’s only a matter of time before we bury him.”
I lay my head back against the thin hospital bed pillow, staring up at one of the speckled panels of the ceiling. A part of me is relieved. Maybe this madness will finally come to an end. I’m not going to lie, I’ve been thinking about Zane’s offer to live someplace remote and peaceful. I think it would be nice after everything we’ve been through.
But there’s one thing I want more than anything else—to be the one to make my father pay. For his mistreatment, for his cruelty. I want to be there to see the look on his face when he realizes he’s lost everything, that despite all he’s done, he couldn’t keep me from taking what’s mine.
And I can’t very well do that from a hospital bed.
“Get the doctor,” I tell Zane. “Get them to clear me. I’ll rest at home.”
Zane gives me a look. “The doctor said she’s running a few more tests. We’ll leave after that.”
Renata takes a seat on the other side of my hospital bed. She lovingly brushes a few strands of my hair away from my face, pressing her cool fingers to my forehead. “You’re one of us now,” she says, almost light enough to sound like she’s joking. “You’re not really a cartel member until you’ve been shot. It means you’ve got real cajones.”
“Hooray,” I say dryly, though I can’t help it when the corners of my lips tug up into a smile. “Does this mean you’ve taken a bullet before?”
“Several, my dear. Several. Twice in the leg, one in the arm, four in the chest.”
I blink at her. “Damn. And you’re still standing?”
Renata cackles. “It’ll take an atomic bomb to knock me out, my dear. The women in our family—we’re made of tough stuff.”
“What about you?” I ask Zane fondly. “I’ve never asked about those old scars on your back.”
“IED,” he answers simply, stroking the back of my hand with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t remember how it happened, just that I survived.”
Renata nods sagely. “Looks like you’re made of tough stuff, too.”
Zane smirks. “I should hope so now that I’m running with this crew.”
Just then, a stout woman waddles into the room, reviewing the notes on her clipboard with a steep frown. She’s in a white lab coat, an ID badge clipped to her pocket. She looks at me, her expression awakening something anxious in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m Dr. Romero,” she introduces herself, her words heavily accented. “I’m glad to see you’re awake.”
“Is everything alright?” I ask, sensing something’s off.
“We had an x-ray taken to make sure there was no shrapnel remaining. It came up clean.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Renata asks.
“Yes, it’s good. But we found something else.”
I frown. “What is it?”