Punished (Calavera Hotels #1)

Chapter Three Adrian

Three years ago

“Kill or be killed.”

That was one of the first things Conejo told me before explaining what I would need to do to prove, not only my loyalty to Los Antros, but also make my way into their inner council.

Not everyone was accepted in. My lock up order only consisted of the small crime I was set up for. I had no outside gang affiliations, and that made me useless to them. If I was going to find a way in, I would need to approach them and use the Consuelo name to my advantage just for the opportunity to join them. As soon as they learned I was Ivan Consuelo’s son, they were more inclined to utilize me. I was put on a ninety-day probation period and given various small tasks, but today would be my shot at initiation.

I follow a guard with two other inmates getting initiated to a back room used for interrogations. The order was clear–work together and kill a man who had snitched on one of the inner council’s kingpins on the outside. In here, there was no loyalty to a specific cartel or gang, but there were expectations to not betray your own people. On the street, snitches get stitches, but in here, death is the only accepted form of payment.

The three of us walk to the backroom. The leader of Los Antros Vidal MontaIván sits in front of a one-way mirror with his inner circle. Vidal is the son of a Colombian Kingpin. He was captured and faced a lifetime sentence. His father found him more valuable within the system than outside, so he willingly stayed.

As soon as we get to the back room, I can see why the three of us have to work together. The man we must kill stands seven-feet tall and weighs around 300 pounds of solid muscle. I also see our other disadvantage as we draw closer. The motherfucker has a knife, and we only have our fists to defend ourselves with.

As soon as we enter the room, he charges towards us. He throws me into the back wall, and I’m disoriented from the collision, but I stand up quickly. He stabs the first man in the neck. He drops immediately, and when our target bends down to remove the knife from the lifeless body, I take the opportunity to choke him from behind. My partner begins to punch him as I squeeze harder, waiting for the life to drain out of him, but the son of a bitch is strong. He struggles to get me off his back, and, in the process, he drops the knife. He frees himself from me, throwing me back into the concrete wall as he falls to the ground, coughing and trying to catch his breath.

“Stab him,” I yell to my partner, but he’s stalling. We have no time to waste, and I can’t trust someone who needs to stop and check-in with their conscience. Kill or Be Killed. The words repeat themselves over and over in my head. I didn’t come this far to only get this far. I lunge forward and reach for the knife just in time to slit our target’s throat. But I’m not done yet.

I turn to the last man, who is still in shock, staring at the two bodies on the floor and the blood surrounding us. I don’t think twice before I begin to stab him repeatedly. Blood splatters onto me and I watch as his life drains from him. I don’t stop until the guards walk in to grab me. Before they drag me to solitary confinement, Vidal stops me in the hall.

“Bienvenido, Adriano.”

He sent welcoming gifts to me in solitary confinement, and I received one of many care packages that first day. From then on, I did what I had to do to survive. Every mission or task Vidal threw at me, I completed. I started as a category one and within the first year, I was voted in as a category three member. I grew to understand the power of authority and just how far respect would get me. I used that respect to bring Efren into Los Antros, and together, we became invincible.

“Adriano, how will you serve me beyond these walls?”

Vidal sits across from me in a similar orange suit. I told him about my upcoming parole meeting that Patricio set up for me.

“Wherever you want to put me, Jefe,” I say and he nods. Vidal has no use for me outside these walls. He runs most of his operations through Miami, but I knew he was eager to move in through the West Coast.

“I want to expand the few operations I have in Texas. My nephew, Ricky, will be moving there and will work to obtain a real estate license we will need to advance our outside operations. In the meantime, he answers to the Houston Cartel Connect, and I will sanction any members you request coming in.” He stands to walk out, and I know this means goodbye for now.

The years I spent here were coming to an end. I am not the same person who walked into this prison. The blood on my hands has changed me. I’m not sure if society is ready for me. My enemies are still out there, and the person I’ve had to become to survive all these years is the last person you want as an enemy.