GINEVRA
When my meeting with the Pakhan came to an end, I had walked robotically into my car, Cyrus’s voice echoing distinctly as he ordered the convoy to head for the Rodriguez headquarters.
It had only begun dawning on me, the realization that I was about to stir up the fury of men who had always been desperate to spill my blood—men who didn’t think I was deserving of my position.
It had dawned on me that I was about to consciously start a war with the man whom I couldn’t stand to see hurt. Ricardo Sanchez. My Ghost.
Emotionally, I was drained.
Physically, my confliction was evident.
When Ricardo knelt before me, confessing his feelings, had he meant any of the words which came out of his mouth?
When he confessed to loving me, was it real or was it his way of exploiting my weakness?
If Ricardo truly loved me, was it right that I was plotting his downfall?