Devour Me, Stepbrother: La Parca's Dueña

Crisanto “I won't raise my daughter as the heir of a Cartel. Marisela won't live the life I lived, constantly watching her back. I'm done with this marriage and leaving with her.” I heard my parents yelling in their room. It was the middle of the night, and Marisela was wrapped in my arms, sobbing into my chest. Recently, they had been arguing about this almost every night. “Cris, I don't want to leave you.” My seven year old stepsister’s voice came out muffled between sobs. There was nothing a twelve year old brother could do. I patted her back slowly, trying to calm her, but a thought suddenly slipped into my mind. This probably really might be the last time we would see each other. Our mother had already prepared everything. The divorce papers were all that was left, and with Father seeing her reasons, I was sure he would give in. At that time, the Salazar family was already at war. Three rival families had joined forces against us. Cartel wars were never clean, never merciful. Every day men died, trucks burned, shipments disappeared. We were losing ground. Our chances of winning were low, and everyone knew it. Saving the cartel heir had suddenly become more important than anything else. I pulled Marisela closer into my arms. “Catalina…” I called her middle name softly. She sniffled, lifting her tear stained face to look at me. “You have to write your name here.” I stretched out my arm and handed her a permanent marker I had stolen from Father’s office earlier that day. She hesitated. “Why?” “So you don't forget me,” I said simply. Her small fingers wrapped around the marker. Slowly, carefully, she wrote her name across my arm in crooked childish letters. Catalina. The ink was dark. We both stared at it for a moment before looking up at each other, smiling weakly through the sadness. In that moment, it felt like something that would last forever. Just then, the door slammed open. Her mother stood there, worry and fear plastered all over her face. Her eyes moved across the room before landing on Marisela. She ignored me completely, the son of the man she had just divorced. But I understood that look in her eyes. Fear. Not for herself. For her daughter. My real family and the Salazars had once been close friends. But one night everything changed. A rival cartel attacked my home. My parents were murdered. I barely escaped. My father, bleeding out on the floor, had begged Rafael Salazar to keep me safe. Rafael Salazar kept his word. He took me in and raised me as his own son. But cartel life never forgets its enemies. And now history was repeating itself. She looked at Marisela like she was staring at a ticking bomb. She didn't want her daughter growing up in blood and war. “Vámonos, Marisela.” She grabbed Marisela’s arm and pulled her away from me. “Mum, I don't want to go!” Marisela cried, stretching her arms toward me, begging me to save her. But I couldn't move. All I could do was stand there. Stand there and watch as they disappear through the hidden passage behind the wall. The secret tunnel built by the Salazars generations ago for nights exactly like this. Outside, the sounds of gunfire echoed faintly in the distance. Engines roared. Our home was completely surrounded. My body trembled. Just then, a loud sound from outside jolted me awake. My eyes snapped open. Fuck, it's the same dream every time I close my eyes now. “Jefe!” Javier’s voice cut through the fog in my head as the door to the suite burst open. Javier handled intelligence for the organization. If he was waking me up like this, it meant something serious had happened. “...law enforcement is here.” Damn it. Now that woman had finally caught up with me. I had only come to Las Vegas for a quiet night before heading back to Mexico. But the federal agent who had been chasing me for the past three years was clearly more persistent than most. She's competent. I'll give her that. “Everyone must leave without a trace,” I ordered calmly, already pulling open my wardrobe. My men knew the routine. “But then…” I continued, slipping into another shirt. “I have been running from one woman I have never even seen.” I paused, glancing at Javier. “Maybe I should take a peek today. See what she looks like. The only officer bold enough to chase me across states and cause trouble in my city.” I smirked slightly. “What do you think, Javier?” The words rolled off my mouth as I tossed my previous clothes aside. They smelled too much like the stripper who left my room hours ago. Did she roll around on me? “Your suite is above Nocturna club,” Javier replied. “I'm sure before she makes it up here, we'll be gone.” Idiot. He didn’t even answer my question. But maybe I wanted to play a little tonight. I mean… I'm impressed. I grinned. “Hey, Javier… the report about my mother and sister…have you confirmed?” I asked, it was out of nowhere, but I couldn't help after the recurring dream. “Yes Sir, there really was an accident seventeen years ago, and the bodies…confirmed to be the madam and young miss Marisela.” Right, I've been looking for them since the news came back then, it's been a dead end every f*****g time. I'm probably having those dreams because of guilt, guilt of being the only surviving person. My stepfather passed away seven years ago and I've been in charge of the cartel. Walking toward the chaos downstairs, my men at the door placed a stick of cigarette between my lips. I should have asked for a lighter, but I was too eager to see the woman bold enough to cause a ruckus in my clubhouse. What's her name again? Debra Walker…? Now let's put a face to the name.