Page 1 of Own

CHAPTER 1

Cato

Wiping my hands with the towel my second-in-command, Zaiden, gives me, I stare down at the masterpiece strapped to a wooden slab in the greenhouse on the southwest corner of my estate—a ways from the house, nowhere near the road. Very few know it’s even here.

“Well?” I ask as the resounding echoes finally fall silent.

“I think the message will be received and obeyed,” Z responds, his head tilting to the side.

A month ago, we were informed of a hit taken out on my children. The estate went into lockdown within minutes, inconveniencing not only my kids, but also their birth mother, who was here as well. Which means it’s been rather tense.

“Good.” I nod down at Jordan Santos and tell Z, “Get him cleaned up and sent back to Jacob.” Gripping the nearly unconscious man’s chin, I slap his cheek a couple of times to get his attention. “You tell your brother, the children are off limits. Always. I hear of any more threats, and I’ll send you to your Momma in pieces; then I’ll come for him and her next. Understand?”

His pain-filled eyes roll back and to the side before coming back to me and nodding his head. This will likely not be the last I hear from the Santos brothers. They’ve been a pain in my side for a couple of years now, but this is the first time they’ve stepped up and tried to bring me to my knees.

I may regret not killing Jordan now, but this might get my message across to Jacob before there’s more bloodshed. Taking Jordan’s life would mean a blood war, no doubt, but this gives them both a chance to rethink their place in the pecking order.

I am the king of SoCal. That’ll never change. They are the worms. Always will be. And the sooner they and everyone else remember and understand that, the better.

I didn’t crawl my way out of the gutter to own my territory without a shit-ton of hard work and even more bloodshed than either of these men has seen in a lifetime. My entire adult life has been dedicated to building my empire. I trust very few men and grant my loyalty to even fewer. For years, I made mistakes and learned from them before finally overthrowing my own father from his throne.

I was the illegitimate child of a housemaid, and when it was discovered she was pregnant with me, the man tossed my mother out on the streets. As a Mexican immigrant, she didn’t have many options, especially pregnant. She jumped from one job to the next, from one hostel to another, until I was old enough to stay home on my own around the age of eight.

When she landed her job at the fancy hotel in San Diego, it solved so many problems. And despite the abuse she was forced to tolerate from a demanding boss and ignorant guests, she held her own until I finally was able to take care of her. Now she lives a life of luxury with her own cottage on my estate, laughing over my sperm donor’s grave as often as she likes. She has more class than that, of course, but I’ve ensured she knows the option is always there.

“Boss?” Miles, my driver and self-appointed bodyguard, calls from the open door. “McKenna is causing a disturbance.”

Of fucking course she is.

“Go, I got this covered,” Zaiden says, his desire to clean up bloody messes outweighing his desire to be anywhere near McKenna.

“What is she doing now?” I ask as we exit the building, two more men entering to assist my oldest friend.

Ripping off my blood-spattered shirt, I accept the clean one Miles hands me, buttoning and tucking it into my dress pants. As I roll up the sleeves, he fills me in on the situation during our brisk walk back to the main house.

“Refusing to leave without the children.” Anger, unlike anything I’ve felt towards her, chews at my insides. “Scarlett is crying, and Nate has locked them both in the pantry.”

“My mother?”

He winces. “She has a knife.”

“Christ.”

Jogging across the lush, green grass, I enter the kitchen off the back porch to find my mother cursing in Spanish, waving a butcher knife around and pointing it at McKenna while guarding my children in the pantry, where Scarlett is crying, and Nate is doing his best to calm her down.

“You crazy old bitch, put that away!” McKenna screams, wielding her own knife with blood trickling from a small nick on her upper arm.

“Remind me again how I slept with her twice?” I groan to Miles.

“Stupidity,” he deadpans.

“Thanks, pal.”

“Call it like I see it.” He always has. Usually at my expense too.

“Are we done here?” I raise my voice over the females fighting.

My mother turns her deadly glare on me. “I can’t believe you brought this puta into our home again, Cato. If she comes out pregnant again, I’m cutting your balls off.”