Chapter 4

The study in the Hierro estate always smelled the same. Old leather, expensive scotch, and decaying power.

Sebastian stood near the massive mahogany desk, looking out the large window that overlooked the manicured gardens. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket, just his dark shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke against the glass, completely ignoring the man sitting in the heavy leather chair behind him.

“You cannot keep running your operation from the forest,” Rafael snapped, his gravelly voice rising. “You are the head of the Hierro family now. The Spanish Boss. This house is yours. The families, the legacy, all of it. You belong in that chair, Sebastian. In this house. Ruling the way your blood demands. Not playing cartel king in the dirt.”

Sebastian didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He just tapped the ash from his cigarette into a crystal tray.