Victor
I never imagined that there could be so much suffering in a person's life that they end up smiling on the verge of death. That is until today.
The girl in front of me was smiling.
For a split second, as Sánchez's gun discharged in the air, threatening her, she cracked a smile.
A cold claw gripped my heart as my eyes locked onto hers. Although I could have sworn, I don't have a heart anymore. At least, not for someone who doesn't share my blood.
Her brown, empty eyes stared at us. She was examining each of us with serenity.
You don't have to be a genius to understand what's going on.
I cast my eyes to the one holding the gun towards us. "Sánchez, put the gun down!"
I couldn't recognize my own voice. It dripped with so much hate, while I was so ready to put a bullet in Sánchez's head. So ready to let the bloodthirsty monster come out.
"Because of that rat, my brother is imprisoned for life! Just don't expect me to sit still and do nothing!"
Sánchez had been part of the family for many years, serving as my father's right-hand man. After my old man's death, he took over some of the business, working with those I couldn't stand. Unfortunately, the warehouse that was swept by the police was under his responsibility.
I can understand his anger, but that doesn't give him the right to harm the girl standing in front of me. I stare as she remains calm, showing no trace of fear despite being at gunpoint.
Damn! She was facing a gun, yet she seemed as relaxed as if she were about to pull out a bag of popcorn.
A spark ignited somewhere inside my chest. I was curious about her. I thought there was no one crazier than me. But the girl in front of me embodied a different kind of madness. One I hoped I'd never experience.
"Mario, take care of this idiot," I signaled for him to drag Sánchez back into the car.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Luca's figure approaching. His jaw is tense, scanning the surroundings, donning his cold and heartless mask. Now that I am aware of his presence, I wonder what the hell he is doing here.
The answer is obvious: he is making sure I don't do something stupid.
Too late, cousin.
It shouldn't take much for the police to show up. I am standing in front of the most famous high school in the country. And we're brandishing weapons in broad daylight.
"Luca, get her! Take her to La Bahía."
If he's here, at least I can make use of his presence.
"Are you fucking crazy? You can't risk it all for this stupid revenge!" I can hear Luca yelling at me, but I'm too engrossed in this girl's gaze.
Her eyes were brown in the sunlight, but as she turns to look at me, they take on the same shade of black as her hair. She also has freckles, and against her pale white skin, they look like the perfect detail, complementing her beauty. My only thought is that she doesn't fit in Colombia at all.
I hear Sánchez in the distance, reloading the gun. When he points it at her, it feels like everything is ending. I don't give it a second thought as I throw myself in front of the bullet.
A deafening sound booms through the air, making my eardrums ring.
What the fuck have I done?
I fall to the ground, the cold concrete crushing my flesh on impact, while a dull pain envelops my arm. I start cursing as blood gushes gloriously through my clothes.
That idiot!
Mario pushes him into the car, helped by the other guys, while Luca's dark gaze assesses the damage.
"I'm fine!" I assure him. "Take her and leave! Now!"
I don't wait for him to talk back. He knows that from now on, there's no turning back.
Through a wave of adrenaline and ecstasy, I watch as Luca puts little Bernoulli in the car. To my shock, she doesn't object. She doesn't scream, doesn't say a word. I'd even say she was waiting for us.
After making sure they're not being followed, I drag myself to the car where Mario and Sánchez are waiting for me and set off to my favorite location.
The place where all my enemies have met their end. Where Sánchez will also meet his.
We have to get as far away from this place as possible. Away from the eyes of passersby. I don't need to add more crimes to my record, especially since the members of the Marquez cartel are red-marked in every police case. They're eagerly waiting to catch us on the wrong foot and finish us off.
I hate myself for letting the situation get out of hand.
But what I hate even more is the way little Bernoulli looked at me. I don't like the way my brain reacted when our eyes connected.
What was that darkness that attracted my inner demon?
Fuck! I've only seen her for two minutes and it's already impossible to get her out of my mind.
I send a message to Luca, letting him know that the helicopter is ready to take them to Santa Marta.
La Bahía is the most protected and secure property of my family.
No law enforcement officer would ever escape alive if they set foot on our territory in Santa Marta. Okay, that, and the fact that there, we own the police. So, if I've decided to kidnap the daughter of Colombia's top prosecutor, that's the only place I can keep her.
"Patrón, why didn't you follow through with the plan?" Mario asks me with a dumb expression.
"Because this idiot wasn't part of the fucking plan, Mario!" I shout, pointing the gun at Sánchez.
But I knew that it was a fucking lie. There was no way I could admit that the moment my eyes were set on her, I had completely forgotten that I wanted her dead. All I wanted in that specific moment was to know her as far away from any threat as possible.
I wanted to ensure she was safe.
And that was the moment I understood that I wasn't kidnapping her to keep her as my prisoner. I was kidnapping her because I wanted to make sure that no other enemy of Bernoulli could ever harm her. Maybe her father didn't give a fuck about her safety, but I wasn't going to allow others to hurt her.
"What are you going to do to me?" Sánchez asks me dryly.
"Killing you would be too easy," I snort with a cold grin, tormented by the pain spreading through my arm. "Pray this wound is not too deep!"
As I clench the grip of the gun and stick it to his forehead, I see the flash of fear washing over him. That kind of fear that I adore. The one I have not seen in her eyes at all.
And again, I am thinking of that girl.
What a nuisance!
"Sánchez, are you scared of death?" I find myself asking, making everyone in the car pay attention to me.
"Of course, Patrón!"
I could hear the tremor in his voice. He was, indeed, sincere.
"Why so?" I continue.
"I think we all want to live as long as we can. I have so much more to accomplish in this life. I don't want to die, Patrón."
Not all of us, I thought to myself.
She didn't seem eager to live. And I need to find out why. Why was she looking so blank at the gun? Why I couldn't find a soul behind those beautiful eyes.
I had the feeling that I was looking at a dead body. An empty heart still beating in its chest. Nothing more. I am getting chills just remembering how she looked at me.
"Mario, I want a file with all the information on Bernoulli's daughter. All the details. Birth certificate, childhood, education, everything!" I command.
"Sí, Patrón."
The smell of mold and blood, impregnated in the cement, hit me full force when I entered the warehouse.
A few stern faces caught my eye as I approached Sánchez.
He was waiting for me.
I couldn't afford to kill him. I was grateful to him for all the years of loyalty he gave my family.
I couldn't afford to let him live either. That would have given him the wrong impression that he could step on my tail at any time.
I also didn't want him to think he was an important part of the cartel. Because he wasn't. He was useful, but not indispensable.
"Sánchez, which hand do you jerk off with?" I ask as I'm sitting on the edge of the desk, our doctor removing the bullet from my arm.
He should be thankful the wound isn't deep enough.
His mouth opens, shocked by my question. When will they stop underestimating me? It's known that I suffer from bipolar disorder and sadism–it's not easy to grow up surrounded by drugs and blood.
Sánchez shoots a glance at his right hand before answering. "I'm left-handed!" His answer an obvious lie.
"How lucky you are!"
Before I take out my gun, I signal to one of the guys to place his right hand on the table, then I shoot a bullet through it.
He had the nerve to lie to my face.
I watch him howl like a jackal in pain, being dragged out by two boys, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
While I wait for my arm to be bandaged, a new thought wanders towards that nuisance I met earlier, who is now my prisoner.
Should I text Luca to ask how she's doing? Is she finally scared?
Wait. Am I fucking crazy? Why would I care? My only concern should be that Luca gets safely to Santa Marta and that I find them there tomorrow morning.
But even so, something inside me begs me to get in the car and move my ass to La Bahía.
My only impediment is that I know I need to rest beforehand.
It's as if I have a premonition that my first meeting with little Bernoulli will drain all my energy.