Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Bene’s phone rings, and when he moves to answer it, Dix steps forward.
Ace nods to Dix. “Let him answer.”
The room falls eerily silent except for the tinny sound of someone talking on the other end of the call.
“Si,” Bene says. “Okay, ahorita le hablo,” he says.
Bene turns to his father. “Ya. Se acabó,” Bene growls. “The factories, the warehouses. Poppy and coca fields. Everything is gone, Papa.”
Arturo lets out a strangled scream, trembling with fury. His gaze fixes on Santiago, and he gives a nearly imperceptible nod.
Instinctively, I take a step forward.
Santiago pulls out a gun, smiling like an evil villain. “You are a dead man, Ace.”
The seconds that follow move in agonizingly slow motion as Santiago takes aim at Ace's head. “Adios, asshole.”
But before Santiago can pull the trigger, I draw my weapon and fire it, striking Santiago in his bicep. His gun clatters to the floor beneath him, and he screams in agony.
“Not so brave now, are you?” I mock as I stand over him, wearing a smile of my own. I aim the gun and fire two bullets in quick succession—one to his chest and one between his eyes. “Adios, motherfucker.”
After a beat of silence, chaos erupts. Arturo grabs for his own gun and aims it at Ace, but Banger is there first and kicks it out of his hand. Rojas stumbles, and Banger is all over him.
“That’s for Devon,” he growls, slamming his fist against Arturo’s eye. “And that’s for Jordi,” he shouts, unleashing a series of uppercuts that send him flying back against the door.
A gunshot rings out, and Dix grunts as his right shoulder flies backward.
Valentina rushes to his side, but he pushes her back just as another shot rings out, barely missing her. She glares at Dix and then at her brother.
“Stubborn fucking men,” she shouts at the top of her lungs.
“Stupid whore,” Bene spits up at his sister.
Anger flashes in Dix’s eyes, and he yelps in pain as he reaches for his gun.
“You’re a fucking dead man,” he growls.
Bene squeezes off another shot that hits the light fixture above them.
“You. First.” Through his pain, he manages to smile. “Sick fuck.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Valentina growls, yanking the gun from Dix’s waistband, aiming it at her brother. “It didn’t have to be this way, Bene.”
Before he can say one damn word, she squeezes the trigger, pumping three bullets into her brother. One in his chest and two in his head, splattering brain matter all over the clubhouse floor.
“Damn, that was hot.” Dix smiles at his wife, but it turns into a frown. “Also fucking stupid.”
“Thank me later,” she scoffs.
“Bene!” Arturo cries out for his only remaining son, lying dead in a pool of his own blood.
Everything is a complete fucking mess. Arturo is on his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as he leans over Benedicto. Rojas turns to Valentina, screaming, “This is your fault! All your fault!”
Valentina scoffs at her father. “This is no one’s fault but your own,” she snarls. “Rule with an iron fist,” she spits out in a patronizing voice. “Make sure the enemy always knows who is in charge.” She scoffs again. “They played by your rules, Papa, and they won.”
Dix moves closer to his wife, wrapping a protective arm around her.
“Are you okay?”
Valentina nods, and Dix presses a kiss to her forehead, holding her close as chaos erupts all around us.
Nova arrives, attempting to help Benedicto. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” But even I can see that there’s no helping him at this point.
Arturo throws out his arms wildly. “Stay away from my boy!” His eyes are wide, and he’s frantically covering Bene’s body.
“Call an ambulance! Someone do something!”
“He’s dead, Rojas,” Ace says quietly, his expression unreadable.
“He’s my son,” Arturo cries as if any of that fucking matters to us. “Please.”
Banger steps forward and gets in Arturo’s face.
“The motherfucker is dead, old man," he growls. “Fuck you and fuck your son.”
Banger spits on Rojas, his eyes full of hate and anger. The clubhouse door opens, and Agent Stiles strides in wearing a fitted gray suit with a plain white blouse, the click-clack of her boxy black heels echoing off the concrete floor as she looks around at the MC. She smiles at the half dozen or so guns pointing at her and shakes her head.
“Jeezus Christ. What the hell did I walk into?”
Arturo freezes, torn from his grief and stupor by the familiar voice. He turns and looks at Agent Stiles and then at Ace.
“You called the feds? Fucking rats. I’ll kill every single one of you!”
Ace grins. “You showed up here unexpectedly, Rojas. We didn’t call anyone.”
Ace looks up and down at Agent Stiles with a scowl that even I don’t believe. “What do you want, Fed?”
Stiles shakes her head, laughing at Ace’s angry question. Her gaze falls as she crosses over Santiago’s dead body until she is face-to-face with Ace.