Page 198 of Forgotten Prejudice

“Just a little longer, Llorón,” I whispered to myself, somehow praying to God he could hear me. Although, by now, I knew there was no God in this world, only devils. Fucking demons.

Shutting down the phone, I waited until the screen turned black, then walked back inside, my body still cold from standing outside for so long. The resentment and anger I felt thus far only doubled the second I stepped inside the guarded room and saw Dion’s smug face looking at me with the same smile from when he came to visit me in jail.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you’d ask to meet.” He grinned, then cocked his head forward. “That must hurt like a bitch,” he added, referring to the black eye I was sporting after the guards beat me the fuck up.

They got violent because of how my meeting with my lawyer ended the other day, with me nearly choking him to death after he came up with those sickening files.

“Cut the bullshit,” I snarled at him, holding myself together because my urge to kill and destroy was like a living thing, beating and breathing inside me.

“Fine.” Dion glanced at the guard standing in the corner of this room, which was enough to make the man step outside. This French fucker owned people everywhere. Once we were alone, he leaned closer to me. “Let’s hear you out.”

“Get me out of here.”

He snorted. “And how would I do that?”

“I know you have your ways.”

“Okay, let’s say I can get you out of here.” He tilted his head aside, still holding my deadly stare. “Why would I do that?”

“So I can kill that motherfucker.”

I still refused to believe what that lawyer had shown me was the truth, but even if it wasn’t, I had every intention of ending Christian W. Rogers’s life in the most brutal way one could ever think of. The thing was, if I ended up locked in here for the rest of my life, I’d never be able to do that, hence why I asked to see this demon to make a deal with him. It took all of my pride to call in a favor from the man behind my brother’s death, but Shay-Lee’s life meant more to me than anything.

Dion’s smile grew bigger. “I have a deal for you.”

Hearing those words coming out of his mouth frightened me because I knew a deal with him was no better than a deal with the devil.

“I’ll get you out of here and will help you kill Christian without getting caught, but in exchange for a life, you give me a year of yours.” He held up his hands and shook his head with a light grin. “As simple as that, can you believe it?”

No, I couldn’t, but at this point, I had no other option than to take it. So without stopping to dive deeper into his words, I nodded.

“We have a deal.”

Back to the present, I focused my eyes on Dion, who was sitting on a leather couch in this fancy room that one could mistake for a proper office. Only just a couple of hours ago, pounds of drugs were sorted on the same table Dion was now resting his legs on.

“What is that?” Dion asked, kicking a box that was on the table closer to me.

I had to stop it before it fell off the table and then straightened back up.

“A box.”

He tsked. “Don’t play with me, jackass. What’s inside of it?”

I hissed under my breath. “A hand.”

He snorted. “That’s right. A hand.” He dropped his legs from the table and leaned with his legs spread apart, finally sitting like the mob boss he was. “And what did I ask for?”

I kept quiet.

“Answer me before I shove that hand down your throat.”

“A head.”

“That’s right.” Dion got up and walked around the table, picking up the box before coming to a stop in front of me. “I asked for this motherfucker’s head, and you give me a hand?” He opened the lid, yet the chopped limb did little to shift me.

After all, I was the one to chop it off and then put it in this box.

Removing my eyes from the amputated hand, I met Dion’s stare. “I don’t kill.”