Chapter 13

RAFAEL

The basement of my estate thrums with an undercurrent of power and danger. Thick concrete walls, reinforced and soundproofed, create an impenetrable fortress beneath the opulent mansion above. The air is cool and dry, tinged with the faint scent of gun oil and expensive cigars.

I slowly unstrap my gold Rolex, its weight suddenly feeling heavier than usual in my hand. The dim light of the room catches on its polished surface, creating a brief, mocking glimmer of brightness in this tense atmosphere. With deliberate movements, I extend the watch to Julio.

My eyes lock onto my stupid half-brother's face, studying him intently. At just 17, Carlos’s youthful features are etched with a fear that no teenager should know. His olive skin, usually glowing with adolescent vitality, has taken on a sickly pallor. A sheen of sweat is visible on his forehead, plastering a few strands of his dark, unruly hair to his skin.

"So tell me," I begin in Spanish, my voice low