Catalina POV"You're a f*cking bastard Rodri, you know that right?" A man, donned with Cuban links around his neck and a diamond wristwatch, released a chuckle as he twisted his head at Papa.The bald-headed man, presumably an Alpha, laid back on a long red-leather loveseat with a glass of bourbon in his left hand, took a long swig and crushed the glass with the same hand. The shards cut into his palm and blood trickled down his arm. Then, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and pointed his finger at me. "But, you know how to make a beautiful f*cking child."A wave of ice shot through my core, freezing me in place. The beads of sweat that formed on my forehead even seemed to turn to tiny ice cubes. It was blistering in this underground hideout, the air suffocating between the smell of cigarettes and sweaty vigilantes, however goosebumps laced my arms. The room was littered with bricks of cocaine, spare ammo spewed about, a few leather couches, a metal strip
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