Before You by Amber Hart Read Free Book Online

death is better.
    It’s considered an honor to reach a high enough level within the cartel to be branded with the particular mark tattooed on my skin. But it feels more like a burden.
    â€œWhere you from?” Wink asks.
    â€œNot here,” I answer.
    Wink smirks. “And the ink?”
    â€œArt,” I say. It’s not a complete lie. Some of them are art. Others were forced.
    â€œNice,” Wink replies, crossing his arms over his chest. His shaved head reflects light like the flash of a Polaroid. “Why you locked up so tight? Protecting someone, or you got somethin’ to hide?”
    I get in his face without thinking twice about it. I’m not about to take heat from this guy, no matter who he runs with.
    â€œListen, cabrón. Either tell me what you really came for, or leave. But do not expect me to tell you my life story. It’s none of your business.”
    His friend pulls a gun. Aims it at me.
    â€œFrom the way I see it,” Wink says, pausing to look at the Glock, “you don’t have much of a choice.”
    â€œWrong,” I say, right before I kick the gun out of his friend’s hand. It sails through the air and lands in a bush. My fist connects with Wink’s nose. It cracks. I hit him two more times in the same spot. Blood pours out. He goes down.
    Red so red is the stain of our sins.
    Someone punches me in the face.
    Another guy charges. I send a powerful kick to his kneecap. He falls, tries to get up, can’t.
    I wish I didn’t like the surge of adrenaline pounding through my veins like an uncontrolled current. My moves are flawless. I am a weapon. My fists are as dangerous as a double-edged sword.
    I shouldn’t like this.
    I’m a monster.
    A third guy is reaching for his gun. I rip his arm backward until it pops. He yells, a sound of pure anguish. Like waves when they hit jagged reefs and split with a roar. He hits me with his good fist. I taste blood. He tries to hit me again but I block him. Twist his good wrist at an unnatural angle. It breaks.
    This is all I know.
    The guy behind me punches me in the back of the head. I turn toward him in time to receive another punch to the face. It only takes one kick and one punch from me for him to go down.
    I need to leave now, before they get up.
    When a city falls to ruins, do you pick up the broken pieces and rebuild? Or do you leave it all behind?
    Stay or run?
    Live or die?
    This feels like home. Fighting. Threats. Trouble to come.
    Just like I told mi padre.
    There is no such thing as a brighter future.

9
faith
    T he moment I get home, Grace plows into my legs, almost knocking me backward. Though her five-year-old body is tiny, she’s mighty with her affection. As always, she creates moments of joy when I least expect them.
    My parents had me young, barely into their twenties. When my dad married his new wife, he was thirty-three, Susan, thirty. They decided to have Grace. Despite the age gap between Grace and me, I don’t know what I would do without her.
    â€œHi, Gracie,” I say, smiling from ear to ear.
    She looks like me—same hair, green eyes, high brow bones. It’s nice to have someone who loves you so much that they tackle you at the door, begging for hugs and kisses. She can’t wait for me to walk into the living room. She has to see me right then.
    It’s love like the sweetest chocolate. Only better.
    â€œHi, Faith,” Grace says in her melodic soprano voice. “You didn’t ride with us.”
    â€œNo,” I agree. “But I’m here now.”
    Grace smiles. “Missed you thisssss”—she pauses to stretch her arms as wide as they can go—“much!”
    â€œAw, I missed you, too.”
    â€œWant to play?” she asks.
    Anything to make you happy. “Give me one second,” I say and race to my room to kick off my shoes.
    When I return, Grace is dressed in costume. A fluffy pink skirt with tons of ruffles