The Taste of Revenge (War of Sins Book 1)
The Taste of Revenge: Chapter 10

‘I‘m serious, Noelle. Don’t give Cisco any ideas to lock you away, because he will,’ Amo decides to give me one last warning as the car pulls into the parking lot, next to Carlos’ car.

‘And I told you I’ll be on my best behavior,’ I sigh as I turn to him. ‘I know he’s exasperated with me, so I won’t push my luck.’

Exasperated would be putting it mildly, though.

Since he’d moved me from our mother’s house and into his own, I’ve been under constant surveillance—be it from my family or my guards. The only time I’m allowed to go out is when I have my therapy appointment, but even then I have an entire entourage that accompanies me to and from the location.

‘Good,’ he nods at me, quickly parking and making to leave the car.

Opening the door, I jump down, my feet making contact with the pavement.

Taking a deep breath, I realize I’ve missed the fresh air of the night. Being cooped up in the house has definitely given me a new appreciation for freedom and for open spaces. And so I take full advantage of this as I bask in the light breeze of the evening. It takes me a while to realize everyone’s already moved away.

Amo is ahead of me, and as I swiftly turn to follow, I bump into a hard chest. Reeling, I stumble back, almost losing my equilibrium.

And as I raise my eyes up, it’s to be met with chilling blue ones.

He’s standing still, his hands behind his back as he simply watches me, coldness emanating from every pore in his body. It’s in the way he’s perusing me with a glint of arrogance, his mouth slightly curled up in disgust.

I teeter on the heels of my feet, barely stabilizing myself as I put a hand on the car door, gripping it for support.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t make any effort to help me, though it would be the polite thing to do. He’s just staring at me with unnatural stillness, his muscled arms bulging even under the suit he’s wearing.

I blink, disconcerted.

It’s almost as if he’s holding himself back from doing me bodily harm.

‘Sorry,’ I mumble, the silence doing a number on me as he just keeps on staring.

He doesn’t answer. He merely tilts his head, as if studying me.

‘Why?’ He finally replies, his gruff voice sending a shiver down my back. ‘Why are you sorry?’ he continues, narrowing his eyes at me as he awaits my answer.

Frowning, I give him a look of confusion.

What’s wrong with him?

‘For bumping into you?’ I ask tentatively, watching for any signs of amusement on his face.

‘How sorry are you?’ he inquires in a bored tone, an eyebrow raised as he regards me with condescension.

‘What?’ I croak.

‘I asked,’ he says, taking one step towards me. It’s pure instinct that has me backing away from him, retreating as he’s advancing. He notices that too, a low smirk pulling at his lips. ‘How sorry are you?’ He rolls his r‘s in such a way his throaty vibrations resemble a purr.

‘Uhm,’ I purse my lips, taken aback by the entire exchange. ‘Very?’ I answer and his lips stretch out in a full, languid smile as he takes another step forward.

My eyes on his, I feel lost in his gaze, a prickling sensation of familiarity gnawing at me. He notices it too, and it amuses him to have such an effect on me.

It’s even worse, though, when he takes one more step, placing himself directly in front of me. Still holding eye contact, he grabs a strand of my hair, rolling it between two fingers. As if hypnotized, I feel frozen to the spot, unable to break eye contact.

‘Noelle!’ My brother’s voice barely registers, but it manages to tug me out of the mental fog created by Rafaelo’s presence.

Without tarrying longer, I mumble something as I bypass him, rushing towards my brother.

It’s not before I hear him say three words. Three perplexing words.

‘You will be.’

Chills run down my back as I hurry to Amo’s side, his voice replaying in my mind as I try to understand why he’s behaving like that with me.

From the very beginning his attitude had run hot and cold, and now I’m adding creepy to the mix.

The entrance to the warehouse is on the other side of the lot, so I thread my hand through Amos’ elbow as we walk the small distance.

‘What do you know about Carlos and Rafaelo?’ I ask him, since I know he, more than Cisco, would be willing to share some information.

‘Why?’ He frowns.

‘Because we’re visiting their place?’ I roll my eyes at him.

He grumbles something under his breath, but proceeds to give me a short account about Carlos and his association with Jimenez, one of the biggest drug lords on the East Coast, and how he’s come back to reclaim his father’s legacy.

‘Rafaelo, though, is a bit more complicated,’ he takes a deep breath. ‘He’s a Guerra.’

I still, my fingers clasped over his coat as I tug him towards me, seeking his face for confirmation this is a bad joke.

‘You’re not serious.’

‘Afraid so.’

‘But we don’t mix with Guerra,’ I frown.

‘Usually, I’d agree with you,’ he chuckles. ‘But things have changed. At least according to Cisco. Rafaelo’s brother, Michele, is currently the head of the family. He dispatched their parents and did something to Rafaelo that I’m still unsure of,’ he mentions, nodding thoughtfully. ‘But as it stands, Rafaelo’s enrolled Cisco’s help to destroy Guerra once and for all.’

‘What if it’s a trap? It could be,’ I suggest, since why would a Guerra help us destroy his own family?

‘No,’ he smiles. ‘Not a trap. The brothers’ enmity is pretty legendary, just like the DeVille-Guerra conflict. No, he’s serious about this. And Cisco has his own reasons for agreeing.’

‘That’s odd,’ I say, pursing my lips.

He tugs me forward, moving once more as we reach the entrance, Carlos and Rafaelo hot on our trail.

I feel them before I see them—specifically one of them.

There’s something to be said about the way Rafaelo is always glaring at me, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of me. Is it because I’m a DeVille? It must be so, otherwise I have no other explanation for his behavior.

Carlos punches in a code at the door, inviting us in once it’s opened.

Typical in height of an industrial warehouse, the entire place had been redecorated and smartly divided into smaller chambers.

‘There are two sides to the warehouse,’ Carlos notes, pointing to the far end corner where another room seems to start.

We walk inside, and I take a moment to wonder at the creativity behind the construction. A second floor had been built in, but only covering half of the space. And as I strain to see up, I realize those are the living quarters, each having a makeshift divider for sleeping spaces.

‘There you are,’ a woman’s voice resounds, and my attention shifts to the middle of the room.

There are desks everywhere and a big network of computers seems to have been installed, screens lighting up with different feeds. A man is on a reclining chair as he looks between each screen, a frown of confusion on his face.

Soon, though, he shakes himself, his attention on us as he stands up to greet Carlos and Rafaelo.

A thud from the back startles me, and I note yet another man dropping a pair of weights to the floor, his torso bare and covered in sweat. In fact, that entire part of the warehouse seems to have been converted into a gym, and I spot more sports equipment lying around.

As he comes forward, the woman, too, appears. Red hair that flows down her back, she’s a very pretty woman in her late twenties. And as she runs straight towards Rafaelo and Carlos, I can’t help the way my heart jumps in my chest, curiosity eating at me.

Especially as she stops in front of Rafaelo, leaning in to whisper something.

He nods at her, his hand covering hers in a gesture of assurance.

I blink rapidly, and before I know it, my mind goes in a thousand different directions at once.

Who is she? And what is she to him?

I don’t know where these questions come from, especially since I haven’t known the man for more than a day. Still, there’s a discomfort in my chest as I watch their interactions.

His head tips up, his eyes making contact with mine over the top of the woman’s head. He holds the contact for a few seconds, his gaze steely and full of hate before a slow smirk pulls at his lips. It’s like he’s daring me to stare at him, daring me to…

I shake my head, turning my attention to my brother and pretending to be immersed in the conversation he’s having with Carlos.

It’s been less than twenty four hours since I’ve met Rafaelo, but somehow he’s managed to affect me more than anyone I’ve ever known—and I’m not sure it’s a positive thing.

I can’t deny that he’s an attractive man, but it’s more than that. There’s something mysterious about him and his chilly blue eyes that won’t let me be until I figure him out.

More than anything, I want an explanation for the other night and his subsequent behavior. What does he have against me?

Though he hasn’t said the words, I can tell that something isn’t quite right. It’s in the way he’s always looking at me as if he’d like nothing more than to wrap his fingers around my neck and slowly snuff the life out of me.

For someone with my history, that alone should make me run as far as I can from him. Instead, all I want is to get closer—figure him out.

I release a tired sigh, huddling closer to my brother as the newcomers start their introductions.

The one who’d just finished his exercises is Thomas, and he has an accent I can’t quite place. The other man introduces himself as Pancho, explaining he’s the resident computer geek.

The woman is the last to talk as she finally wrenches herself from Rafaelo’s side.

‘Anita. Nice to meet you,’ she nods cursorily to Amo and I.

‘And the merchandise?’ Amo asks, and I look up at him in confusion.

What merchandise?

‘The other part of the warehouse,’ Carlos nods to the back. ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’

‘Why don’t you wait for us here, Noelle?’ he suggests, the question his polite way of dictating that I should stay back.

‘Sure,’ I shrug, rolling my eyes at him.

I know I’m already lucky enough I’d been allowed out of the house. I’m not going to push my luck by arguing further. Especially since Amo’s tone doesn’t seem to leave room for discussion. My guess is that they are hiding some type of drugs in the back and my brother doesn’t want me to see that.

It’s not as if I’m not familiar with the whole practice, since the entire hacienda had been a smokescreen for a drug factory where they’d synthesized some type of novel drug.

Everyone starts towards the back of the warehouse, and Anita stops for a second, assessing me with narrowed eyes.

‘I’m fine on my own. You don’t need to sit with me,’ I give her a tight smile.

She frowns, her eyebrow quirking up as she gives a dry laugh.

‘I wasn’t offering, querida,’ she says before turning with a huff and following the others.

Flustered, and a little embarrassed, I wait until everyone is out of sight before I let out a deep sigh.

When I hear the door separating the two sides of the warehouse close, I become a little daring as I go up the stairs to the second floor, curious about the living arrangements.

There are partition walls made of light wood dividing the sleeping places. And as I slowly walk around, I quietly inspect each, trying to guess which belongs to whom.

One of them is full of tangled wires, so I’m quick to assume it’s the computer guy’s space. The next has a more feminine touch, and I note a couple of make-up items strewn on the table next to the bed, immediately confirming it’s Anita’s.

I continue walking, and while the next room is pretty bare, the bed is unmade, suggesting someone had recently slept in it. Considering both Carlos and Raf had slept at Cisco’s house, I can only guess it must be Thomas’ room.

The next two rooms, though, are almost identical in their sparse decoration. I look around, curious for any clues that might give me an idea which one is Carlos’ and which is Rafaelo’s. Going inside the first one, I see there’s a small luggage under the bed. Against my better judgment, I stoop down, curious to see what hides inside.

My fingers barely touch the zipper of the suitcase when I hear a voice behind me.

‘Find anything interesting?’

I whip my head around, embarrassed to be caught red-handed.

Rafaelo is leaning against the balustrade, a smirk of satisfaction on his face as he dares me to defend myself. He’s sporting a languid expression, his entire body language relaxed. But it’s all an illusion as our eyes make contact and I note the undisguised distaste. He’s watching me like a hawk, his easy going stance only a camouflage to put me at ease enough to make a mistake.

I jump up, kicking the luggage back under the bed with my foot. Smoothing my palms over my jeans, I decide to play his game and put on a smile to let him know he doesn’t affect me.

Liar.

Of course he does. There’s something about him that scares me—that terrifies me on a cellular level. And replaceing myself alone with him puts me firmly out of my comfort zone. Just like the other night, his proximity threatens to undo me.

‘I’m going to replace my brother,’ I mumble, making to pass by him.

‘But your brother’s not here, is he?’ he quips, a sardonic smile on his face as he takes a step, firmly placing himself in front of me and blocking my path.

‘Yeah, well, I’ll go replace him,’ I mutter, moving to the right. But he moves at the same time as I do, stepping forward and making me take a step back in return.

‘What are you doing?’ I frown when I see he’s backing me further into the room.

‘What does it seem like I’m doing?’ He arches a brow in derision.

The back of my legs hit the frame of the bed, and I realize I have nowhere else to go. In an attempt to stabilize myself, I put my hands up, resting them on his chest as I also try to stop his advance.

He looks down at the spot I’m touching him, his mouth curling up in disgust. His eyes flash in anger at me for a moment before he’s back to his state of cynical amusement.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ I suddenly burst out, done with his cryptic behavior and the undeserved hatred I see in his eyes.

His brows arch up before he bursts into laughter. It’s not for long, though. Before I can understand what he means, his hand is wrapped around both my wrists as he holds me captive against him.

A shiver goes down my body at the contact, and I can’t help the sliver of fear that courses through me at his expression.

‘Let me go,’ I whisper, willing my voice to not betray the apprehension I feel inside.

‘I have to give it to you,’ he chuckles. ‘You’re one hell of an actress,’ he says and I frown, looking at him in confusion.

What is he talking about?

‘Ah, there it goes. That little pinch between your brows that always appears when you want to feign ignorance,’ he smirks just as his other hand comes up to touch my face, his fingers settling on my forehead as he traces the ridge of my brows.

‘What’s wrong with you? My brother will come up any minute, and I doubt your business,’ I pause, scrunching my nose, since I don’t know the particularities of their association, ‘will go as smoothly if he sees you manhandling his sister,’ I state proudly, lifting my chin up and looking him square in the eye.

‘What if I tell him,’ he starts, lowering his head until his mouth is next to my ear, the warmth of his breath a contrast to the coldness of his words, ‘that his sister is a little sadist that gets off on others’ pain?’

My eyelids flutter rapidly, his words only confusing me further.

‘Wait,’ I say, pushing against his hand, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you’re confusing me with someone else,’ I tell him sincerely, since that’s the only explanation for his accusation.

‘No,’ he simply states. ‘I’m not mistaking you for anyone else, Noelle DeVille. Or should I say…’ he trails off, and I can feel his mouth pulling up in a sick smile, ‘Noelle Villanueva?’

My eyes widen, my heart threatening to burst out of my chest. That one word—Villanueva—makes me still. My limbs start shaking uncontrollably, and he can feel it too as his hold on my wrist tightens.

‘How… How do you know that?’ The words are barely above a whisper as I’m internally fighting for control, that one name rattling me to the core.

But it’s impossible… Very few people are aware of my marriage to Sergio. My brother had kept everything under wraps, ashamed, no doubt, about selling his barely legal sister to a monster. So where could he have gotten the information from?

‘Come on, you don’t remember me?’ he continues, his tone mocking as he wraps his fingers in my hair.

He’s so close to me, I can smell the clean soap combined with his natural musk off his skin, the scent both titillating and intimidating at the same time. A mix of feelings unfurl in my lower belly, all verging on an unnatural anxiety as he continues to speak.

‘I shouldn’t have expected much from his wife. After all, you’re both cut from the same cloth, aren’t you?’ He gives a sarcastic laugh.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I shake my head, leaning back to avoid making contact with his skin—leaning as far back as I can to get away from him.

‘Drop the act,’ he hisses. ‘It’s just the two of us now. You don’t have to pretend anymore.’

‘I’m not acting. I swear,’ I continue to deny, but he doesn’t seem satisfied.

No, the fingers currently lodged my hair curl around the base of my scalp, his hold strong and unyielding as he brings me closer to his face.

My lips open on a small yelp of pain, and as I come face to face with him, noting the coldness in his eyes, a chill goes down my back.

‘Why did you survive? Why did you have to live when everyone else died?’ he demands sharply, his words harsh and biting, and I can’t help the shock written all over my face at his question.

How? How does he know that? How does he know about Sergio?

It’s not unlikely that I might have met him before, since I do have big chunks of my memory missing. But to have been what he accuses me of? I’ve never in my life hurt anyone, so I can’t understand what he’s so mad about.

‘How do you know about that?’ My lower lip trembles as I force the words out, confusion simmering inside of me.

He doesn’t answer. His upper lip twitches in distaste, his nostrils flaring as he stares at me.

‘You might be alive now…’ he gives me a mocking smile, ‘but don’t count yourself lucky yet. I’ll make sure you rue the day you survived that fire.’

There’s an ominous quality to his tone that makes the hairs on my body stand up. But no matter how scary he seems, the muscles in his arm bulging as he grips my hair even tighter, there’s something inside of me that won’t stay put. Especially when I don’t even know what I’ve done to him to deserve this treatment.

‘Why? What have I ever done to you?’ I ask, my voice steady for the first time.

‘What you did to me?’ He repeats, his gaze murderous. Taking one of my hands, he unfurls the small fist I’d made, splaying my palm open wide and bringing my fingers to his forehead, forcing me to touch what feels like a bumpy scar.

‘You’re telling me you don’t remember this either?’

I frown, moving my fingertips over his skin a little more before he suddenly wrenches my hand away.

‘You don’t remember when you threw a plate at me, splitting my head open? When I lay bleeding at your feet and you didn’t even bat an eye. What did you say?’ he pauses, looking at me expectantly. ‘The trash is staining your carpet.’

My eyes widen, unable to believe I would have said something like that. But then I remember Sergio’s parties, and the events where I’d had to behave myself befitting of my role as his wife.

That person, la doña, would have easily done something like that. And she has.

Because while my memory might be fuzzy for the months before the fire, I do remember some of my time at the hacienda. I’d been the worst version of myself, but I’d played my part. I’d been mean, cruel and untouchable.

But this also begs another question. What had he been doing at the hacienda? And how did he know Sergio?

His smile widens when he sees realization seep into my face. And just as I’m about to apologize and explain the extenuating circumstances, his features darken, his fingers gripping even tighter at my scalp.

‘I wasn’t the only victim of your…caring side.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Lucero.’ There’s an odd intonation as he says the name, a certain warmth infusing each syllable and revealing a different side to him.

I’m pinned to the spot as I can only stare at him, Lucero’s name an echo in my mind.

Her, I know. Her, I remember. And her…

I break eye contact as I look away, shame eating at me. Because from the bits I do remember of her…

‘It should have been you who died in the fire, not Lucero,’ he grits out, so much malice in his tone.

I close my eyes, the pain raw again as I remember the last time I’d seen her.

‘How…’ I breathe in, trying to stifle a sob. ‘How did you know Lucero?’

The corners of his mouth curl up in a twisted smile.

‘Why? Afraid I know all your deepest secrets? Those shameful things you want to stay buried? Tell me, do your brothers know what hides behind this innocent act you have going on? Do they know that their sister is a bitch and a murderer?’

I shake my head at him, unable to reply. My mind goes into overdrive as I simply shut down, the implications too much for my already feeble psyche.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ he continues, ‘I know you killed her,’ he accuses in a low voice, the bass reverberating and traveling all the way down my body in the form of a painful shock.

‘No…’

‘Why? Why did you do it? What the hell did she do to you to deserve being burned alive?’

‘I didn’t…’ I stammer. I couldn’t have. No, he’s wrong about this.

‘Yes, you did,’ he states with extreme certainty. ‘Was it not enough that you abused her for years? You had to sign her death warrant too,’ he snides.

‘I didn’t. I swear I didn’t,’ I continue to deny. Because there’s no way I would ever do that to another human being. Tears gather at the corner of my eyes, the pain in my scalp becoming more unbearable.

‘You may fool others with your tears. But they won’t work on me,’ he smirks.

‘I didn’t kill her,’ I repeat, but my words have no effect on him.

‘Then,’ he says, bringing me closer to him as his mouth skims the sensitive skin of my ear, ‘why was the box of matches in your hand?’

‘What… How….’

A thousand questions are going through my mind at his pronouncement. But before my mind can conjure up countless scenarios, he confirms my worst fears.

‘You should have stayed dead, Noelle,’ he whispers, his voice so cold and suffocating, it has me gasping for breath. ‘I killed you once,’ he smirks when he sees my terrified expression. ‘It seems I may have to do it again.’

Pure terror envelops me, my chest constricting as I have a hard time breathing. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I recognize his words to be true. My body recognizes his words to be true.

The threat of death hanging over my head, I simply react, thrashing wildly in his grasp and seeking to free myself in any way I can.

But he’s strong. Too strong.

The only thing I manage is to ruffle him, make him even madder than before. I’m past caring about the consequences, though. And as I bring my head forward, nabbing him in the chin, I catch him off guard long enough to slip my wrists from his hold.

But as I push at him, hitting and punching to get him out of my way, my knuckles hit against something hard that scrapes the skin off the back of my hand.

I barely feel the pain, though. Not as the object finally comes into view, the small altercation moving it over his clothes.

The amber stone shines in contrast to his white shirt.

His words ring in my ear. Again and again.

Because suddenly his accusations aren’t just that. They are so much more… They are based on truth.

The truth staring me right in the face.

‘I know you,’ I whisper, almost dizzy from the realization. ‘You’re… You’re Lucero’s lover.’ A pain hits me in the chest the moment I utter the words out loud, a quiet certainty washing over me as all the pieces seem to fall into place.

‘Bingo,’ he intones in a singsong voice. ‘And now,’ he smiles, a pure predatory smile that speaks of unfathomable horrors. ‘Your worst nightmare.’