my hair, I had the power to twist Marcos in knots. “What do you think Dante’s going to say if he finds Savannah on the street with Chrissy and starts asking questions about how she got here?”
His jaw became stone, and his black eyes narrowed.
Dante Guerrero. He was everyone’s trump card. The girls used his name to keep johns in check, Marcos used his name to keep me trapped in that prison, and I used his name to keep Marcos on his toes.
We all feared Dante in one way or another. Including Savannah, who was sitting on the couch, her legs hugged to her chest, makeup running down her cheeks. Her body locked up at the mere mention of his name.
Dante was especially her problem since she’d landed on his radar. He did love a beautiful redhead, apparently regardless of her age.
Luckily, he had enough women and drugs to keep him distracted for the rest of his natural life. And, as long as I could keep Savannah out of his sight, chances were he’d forget about her.
Or he’d show up drunk or high in the middle of the night and find her when I was alone and helpless to do anything but watch him take her.
I had two years to keep her out of his reach. Two years until she was an adult in the eyes of the law. Two years in which I could mold and shape her into believing she could do better than this life. Two years until she could avoid being sent back to her even more disturbing parents. One year until she could finally free herself—the way I never could.
Marcos glared at me. And, with pain radiating through my body, I fearlessly glared back.
He knew I wasn’t bold enough to call Dante. But he also knew just how desperate I’d had to be in order to make the threat.
“Fuck!” he boomed, giving me a hard shove that sent me stumbling across the room.
Savannah shot to her feet and caught me before I hit the wall. “Cora,” she whispered through a sob.
Using her to regain my balance, I cracked a smile that caused my busted lip to scream with pain. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Relax.”
She nodded, her messy auburn hair brushing her shoulders. At five-six, she towered over me by at least four inches, but as we both turned to face Marcos, she intertwined her fingers with mine like a little girl, breaking my heart that much more.
Unwavering, I stayed the course. “I need her gone, Marcos. Not for me. Not for Savannah. But for the safety of every girl in this building.”
Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “For fuck’s sake, Cora. I don’t have time to deal with your petty bullshit.”
“Believe me, if this was something I could handle, I never would have dialed your number. But she’s been walking this line for a long time and you know it. It’s time we cut her loose.”
His malevolent eyes slid to mine and the air took on an icy chill as he whispered, “We?”
I sucked in a deep breath. The words burned like a wildfire and they hadn’t even met my lips yet. I didn’t want them to be true anymore. I’d wanted to change them every day for over a decade.
But, without a shadow of a doubt, they were the only reason I was still alive.
I swallowed down the acid and then allowed my breath to carry the filthy truth into existence. “My name is Cora Guerrero, is it not?”
My tear ducts stung, but they knew better than to release any moisture. Crying was only allowed in my bedroom, with a pillow over my face, my ass to the floor, my back to the wall, a chair propped against the door, and three locks securely in place. No one—especially not a Guerrero—got to see that.
My throat was thick as I continued, “If Nic were still alive, you know what he would do.”
Marcos’s flinch was subtle, but it was there.
I didn’t just see it—I felt it.
And I reveled in it.
He could beat me.
He could control me.
He could keep me trapped in his world for the rest of his life.
But, with one syllable, I could slash him to the bone without ever lifting a finger. It had been thirteen years since Nic died, and he was still my only protection.
Marcos let out a loud growl. “Don’t fucking bring Nic into this.”
“He’s already here,” I shot back.
His jaw ticked, and his nostrils flared. “You know it