Growing up in that house, it was easy to feel invisible. While Martinez and Leo sat at the table, discussing deals, territory, and power, I was always sent to my room. I wasn’t part of that world—wasn’t meant to be. Martinez would look at me with those cold eyes, always distant, like I was some fragile thing he didn’t know what to do with.
"Stay out of it, Selene," he’d say. "This isn’t your place."
But Leo? Leo was always welcome at his side. Martinez molded him, shaped him into the perfect soldier, while I watched from the sidelines, wondering why I wasn’t enough.
I guess part of me had always known the truth. Martinez wasn’t the kind of man who could love. Not really. He ruled with fear, with control, and there was no room for sentiment. Not for someone like me.
Even when I was a child, I remember how he looked at me—like I was a burden, a reminder of something he didn’t want to deal with. I was a girl in a man’s world, and that made me useless to him.