as a result of his ministrations. “I’m thinking of how sad your life must be. Five years. All this effort, and my father is hooked up to a machine keeping him alive, and I’m ‘at your mercy.’ And yet, you don’t seem very happy, Domino. You could have done so much more rather than gain so little. All in the name of revenge.”
“How many times do I have to say it?”
A gasp catches in my throat as the warmth of the rag strokes over my chest, guided by his hand. He makes the motion brusque on purpose, I suspect. I’ve seen men wash a car with more care.
“This was always about more than just you or your father.”
I finally look at him. He’s hunched over the tub, seemingly intent on dragging the cloth down over my belly before moving to the part of my thigh exposed above the water’s surface.
“Then why work so hard to infiltrate us?” I demand. I sound angrier than I have the energy to feel. If he did it all for no reason, then that makes him less dangerous mastermind and more… Callous, sloppily cruel for no reason. “Why arrange for my mother to be killed. Why—”
“I’ll tell you a story, Ada-Maria.” He tosses the rag aside and braces his hands against the rim of the tub. “A story about a stupid, poor boy with a broken heart who made a deal with the devil because he believed life was worth living, enough to fight for it, no matter the cost. Then he quickly realized what men like Roy Pavalos take for granted. Some bargains aren’t worth the price you wind up paying. Life, as wonderful as it may be, isn’t worth selling your soul to maintain, and sometimes the consequences for hunting down wealth and power, no matter the cost, can be heftier than anyone is willing to pay. You may sob for your father, all while forgetting the hell he put countless other people through. The dozens of papas and mamas he stole, the families and lives he ruined. And yet, as twisted as he may be, Ada-Maria, he is but a tiny cog in the wheel of evil men who keep this cruel world turning. I suggest you dry your tears, because this is only the beginning.”
I am crying, though I didn’t even realize. It’s like my eyes have been so overworked these past few days; they drip without any warning or input from my brain, painting warm trails down my cheeks.
I try to garner any meaning that I can from his little story—that my father is just one in a long line of men he plans to ruin? A part of me doesn’t care, and doesn’t want to waste any more time trying to understand the complexities of Domino Valenciaga. It’s the same impulse that used to drive me to drugs—a vicious need to ignore my life and current surroundings no matter the cost.
I embrace it now, putting everything else out of my mind but a desire for quiet. I ignore him, leaning back to wet my hair beneath the water. Then I submerge myself fully beneath the surface, drowning out the world. And him.
He’s still speaking, I realize, as a rumble of syllables reaches me, distorted by the water. I contemplate ignoring him, using that as an excuse to stay under, long past the moment my lungs start screaming for air, and the blood rushes through my skull…
Finally, I sit up again, gulping for breath.
But he’s still speaking, unperturbed by my interruption. “…and what if this boy made a bargain without knowing there was a price to pay at first,” he says softly. “He merely wanted to live and cease being a burden to those who loved him. He lived his borrowed life like a good soldier, staying within the confines of his new identity. But then he realized that it’s suffocating as hell being forced to live a life you never asked for. You start to believe that you’ll do anything to escape it. Kill anyone. But everything in life comes with a price, one that must be paid.”
I’m holding my breath again. He sounds different than before. I suspect this story is less hypothetical than he led me to believe, and I scramble to listen, inspecting every word and the picture they paint. Domino believes himself to be that boy, I think. He made a deal with the devil—Jaguar?
And now he’s paying the price.
“So to cancel your debt, you