Even though Victor’s father had given mine enough money for the family, Dad had his own demons before my mother passed away. His gambling made for a dangerous addiction, and when I learned that papá had lost most of our money in blackjack, I knew I had to grow up sooner rather than later.
Papá spent his life working for one of the most notorious men in Colombia. And when my father’s friend, who worked alongside him all these years, called an hour ago, I knew I had to run. Since mama died ten years ago, I’ve grown up in the roughest of neighborhoods, but nothing would prepare me for the wrath of the one man we all fear, if he finds me.
Victor Cordero.
Papá got caught trying to steal drugs from his boss, and it’s all my fault. He did it for me, but he was stupid. I told him I’d be fine, that if I could go to America, I would be able to ask for help with my medication. But he still made the mistake of crossing the one man who can end his life with a flick of his wrist.
My heart aches when I think about what they’re probably doing to him or have done to him. Victor is a man with no conscience. He’s violent, unpredictable, and heartless. Killing someone would be fun for him; he wouldn’t think twice about slitting my father’s throat and basking in the glory of the kill.
Moving away from the door, I settle on the small single bed that overlooks the dusty city below. This place is my home, and I refuse to leave my father here. He left strict instructions for me to take the money he’d hidden beneath the floorboards and run, but I need to know he’s safe, or even alive, before I think about leaving.
There is nothing here for me if my father is dead, but I have a feeling Victor will toy with me. He’ll lure me out, using my father as bait. That’s what he does, he hurts people. The hate I’ve felt for him over the years has only intensified the older I got. I’ve never seen him, papá has always kept me away from his job, hidden from the man who maims without giving it a second thought.
When he took over the organization, things got more intense, more rigid. He had rules which he never wavered from. My papá worked every day, almost twelve hours, just to make enough to buy my medication. When I overheard his plan to steal cocaine and resell it to get my new prescription, I ran into the kitchen where he spoke to Lorenzo, his friend and confidante, and pleaded with him not to do it. I told him it’s far too dangerous, but he was adamant. He was the parent, and it was his job to care for me. Not the other way around.
The small burner phone rings in my purse, startling me in the silence of the apartment that I’m hiding in. But as soon as I grab it and hit the answer button, I realize it’s a mistake.
“Ah, there she is.” The thick accented voice of who I can only assume is Victor Cordero comes across the line. I’ve heard him before; while papá spoke to him on the phone, I used to spy on his phone calls when he’d phone our landline. Papá never had a cellphone, so Victor would contact him on the old phone, which sat on our kitchen table. Only, papá never used to hear me pick the handset up in his room and eavesdrop on what was being said. “I do like a good game of cat and mouse, Sofía.”
“This isn’t a game,” I retort hotly, but sound squeakier and more afraid than feisty and confident. He has my father, and I need to make sure he doesn’t hurt him any more than I’m sure he already has.
“That’s where you’re wrong, juguete.” He calls me ‘plaything’ like it’s my name, which angers me, boiling my blood with rage. I need to breathe through the frustration and the fear that grip me. He’s taunting me, making me play his game, but I need to be strong. I need to be strong for my papá.
“Where is my father?”
“He is… indisposed at the moment,” he tells me. “Sofía, he did a very bad thing, and when people do bad things, I make sure they pay. Especially when they steal from me because that means I have to steal from them.”
“He didn’t—”
“Don’t fuck with me, little girl,” Victor sneers down the line. “Remember, I own this city. You can run, but you can never hide, because when I find you, I’ll make sure your precioso papá watches me own you.” His words send ice coursing through my veins, and I have a feeling he doesn’t mean as one of his servants. The thought revolts me, even his voice, dripping with malice, makes me convulse and causes acid to burn its way up my throat, threatening to expel from my mouth.