Prologue
442 Words
Sisquo slipped into Cruz’s countryside estate through a hidden entrance. From the outside, it was a grand, welcoming mansion—but inside it harbored terrible secrets he meant to expose. He wasn’t sure how he’d topple the entire operation, but he knew he’d begin here, then move on to the brothels.
He’d had enough of being trampled by everyone around him. Now he would take what was rightfully his—and force others to work for him. They would learn to fear him. He vowed to tear everything down and rebuild from scratch. Trust, he decided, was a luxury he could no longer afford.
He didn’t pause to knock. He simply entered and opened fire on anyone in his path, aiming each shot squarely at the head or heart. There was no point in wounding—only killing would do. Cruz had always praised his efficiency, never knowing those deadly instincts had been honed on childhood hunting trips with his foster father.
He moved as purposefully as he had planned. He knew every corridor, every security camera. He’d used the private passageway Cruz shared only with his wife. The guards never saw him coming—sitting ducks all.
Blood smears coated his hands and clothing, but he barely noticed. He wiped his face on the back of his hand and pressed upstairs, searching for Cruz’s wife, Lena. She was his second bride—his first had been murdered by Cruz, and Lena had been forced into this loveless marriage.
At the door to Cruz and Lena’s suite, Sisquo slammed and kicked. “Open up!” The door crashed inward, and there she stood, clad in white silk lingerie and trembling with fear from the gunshots echoing through the halls.
He stepped into the room, so close that his blood-spattered coat brushed her satin soft gown. Without hesitation, Lena reached up, tugged his face down, and kissed him fiercely. “My love, I thought you died with the others. Where have you been?”
He lifted her into his arms; her legs curled around his waist as he carried her to the bed and gently set her down. They collapsed into a frenzied kiss, oblivious to the crimson stains on his shirt. Their affair had been months in the making—secret meetings whenever Cruz was out of town, always at different times and places so as not to arouse suspicion.
Lena pulled back just enough to whisper, “What happened, my love? I thought you were dead.” She exhaled deeply, relaxing into his arms.
“You can’t kill someone who’s already dead,” Sisquo replied, his lips capturing hers once more.
- Writer
