The Untouchables

3. The Walking Dead

I follow my kidnappers to a limo. The drive is silent; Quintero, sitting next to me, hangs up to every call he receives, not even glancing at the names on the device.

I keep breathing because that's all I can do until, an hour later, we get to the drug lord's mansion. I'm fucked.

We drive across a street surrounded by lined trees to a marble fountain shaped as the tangled necks of two swans. The limo parks in front of that and lets us walk to the entrance of the realm of drugs.

"I learned some words in Spanish," I start, walking into the mansion by Quintero's side. "But that's all. I can't speak it fluently. I always thought that English was more useful to speak, in case my boyfriend got into business with the Americans."

"If your last wish isn't talking too much, then don't," Quintero says.

We walk into his office, on the second floor. The strong smell of tobacco and marijuana fires in my nostrils. The guards close the door behind us, leaving me alone with the Devil.

Quintero doesn't even bother to sit. He opens a drawer in his desk, picks up the gun and loads it.

"What I've done to deserve death?" I ask, holding back the tears.

He aims to my head and I hold my breath, closing my eyes.

"I don't care about what you deserve. You destroyed the peace between me and my allies, I have to kill you," he says.

"I'm not a threat to anyone anymore."

"Of course, because you're already dead."

Every muscle in my body stiffens. "Wait."

For an instant, I wonder if I'm dead already. I breathe in, and breathe out, proving myself wrong. Then my eyes open and I see him again as he looks at me like a lost kitten in the street. He puts the gun on his desk and takes a few steps towards me, his brows knitted.

"How can you be useful to me?" he asks.

"I can't pay for your loss with money, but I will bring the peace back. I'll talk with Navarro and Hernandez and make them keep working with you as they always did. I will seduce them, if it's necessary." I lick the salty sweat on my lips, shaking in front of him.

Quintero looks around, whistling, thinking. Then he grabs the gun, points it to my head and shoots.

I peek behind my shoulder, where the bullet made a hole in the wall just a few inches from my ear ringing.

The world gets darker and darker, almost fading in black when my legs refuse to keep holding my weight. I fling my arms to search for a support and, just before my knees bend, Carlos Quintero grabs me by my elbows.

He holds me up, staring into my eyes. "Do you know what Italians call people like you? Morti che camminano. They call them 'the walking dead' because you keep running, but there's a bullet with your name on it and that's already been shot. It's coming for you. And if you don't give me what I want and keep your promise, you're dead."

I nod vehemently. "You can trust me. I've nothing to lose."

He shakes me, clearing my mind. "I'm not giving you a chance because I trust you. I'm giving you a chance because you're the one that my partners will listen to. As you said, you've no reason to lie because you've nothing to lose. You're the cause of all this and you'll be the one to risk your life before everyone else."

"Count on me," I whisper to hide the shakiness of my voice.

The drug lord throws me out of his office and I open the door with my back before hitting the ground.

He shakes his finger at me, warning me one last time. "As soon as the cabrónes with the power grant me their collaboration again, contact me. Call the police and tell them my name. They will transfer the call to my number."