gently slapping her hands away. “And be careful how you address Papa, Anabella. I’ll allow it this one time.” When she begins to wring her hands, I reach forward and rest a hand on her shoulder, “We’ll blame in on Mateo.”
Anabella looks up at me, a small but relieved smile curving the edges of her lips, and I wink at her.
She’s used to the smell of death and decay that accompanies me home after a few days in the shack doing my father's work, but she’s not used to me it bringing into his home.
And I’ve known her since I was brought to this house. There isn’t a mean or traitorous bone in her body; she has nothing to fear from me.
“What’s Tati wearing?” I ask as I reach down for Mateo’s head and cradle it against my side.
“I don’t know, Sofi,” she responds with a nervous smile. “Would you like me to find out?”
I shake my head as I lead the way out of the bathroom. I’m sure that spending longer in the tub than I intended to will make me late to Papa’s gathering, so I’d rather not waste time on inconsequential matters.
“Thanks, Anabella,” I say to her with a wave as we part ways in the hallways. She nods before she turns and quickly walks out of my view.
It’s clear to me that while I know she loves me as a daughter, she’s still afraid of me.
Everyone is.
Even the people I love.
Maybe one day, someone will show something other than fear in my presence, and then I can finally know what that feels like.
“Come on,” I tell Mateo quietly as I push the door open to my room. I close the door with my foot then rush over to place him on my dresser. “I’ll give you to Papa later.”
Chapter Two
Mateo’s head sits quietly on my dresser as I lean into the vanity and apply my lipstick. Flamenco red—a gift to me after he taught me the dance. We performed it many times during parties for the Mexican high society. Of course, Papa would have preferred that I learned more traditional dances to show off, but I’ve always been fond of the artistic values that the body can bring when set in the perfect, fluid motion.
“Want some?” I ask Mateo as I smack my lips together, then glance down at him. When he doesn’t answer as expected, I chuckle and turn the small screw at the bottom, replacing the tube's cap.
“Things could have been so different, you know,” I continue quietly as I reach for my favorite brush and begin to run it back through my hair. “Omar just became a Federale, and I know how much you would have enjoyed going after him with me, but you went a different way.”
The bite of what I’ve just said digs deeper than it should, and I glance down at him with anger surging through me, striking the top of his head with my brush.
“And for what?” I shout at him, “To end up as nothing more than a fucking ornament to be displayed?”
A gentle, hesitant knock at my door greets my ears, and I take a steadying, deep breath.
“Entrar!” I call out as I place my brush down and grip the edge of my dresser with both hands.
“I heard you shouting. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Without turning around, I know that when I turn my eyes to meet the reflection in the mirror, I’ll be greeted with the welcoming sight of none other than Tatiana Cancio—the rightful heir to the empire Papa has built on the back of my willing to shed so much blood for him.
And that’s okay.
I’ve told myself so many times that Tati deserves the fruits of the harvest I reap for her because it’s her right, her destiny, to rule Navolato when Papa is gone.
I hope I don’t live to see that day, though. Tati hides her own dark secrets, some darker than my own, and the streets will flow with blood regardless of innocence when she assumes the role.
“I’m fine, Tati,” I finally say, glancing at her curious face in the mirror. “I was just having a chat with Mateo, and I lost my head.”
“More than he did?” she asks dryly.
I chuckle as I reach for a thin, black hair tie and pull my hair back into a loose ponytail.
“He had it coming to him,” I tell her with a shrug when I turn around. I sit on the