Chasing Back El Diabla

CATALINA POV

Thick. Burning. Unforgivable. Rage.

That's the rage I feel when my feet first land on the soil of New York.

The rage sits at the base of my throat, angry, sour, and alive, begging to be let free.

And after years of waiting patiently, the day for my ultimate revenge is here.

My heels click on the marble floor of the Orb Hotel, the black marble shining underneath my feet, the darkness reminds me of that night.

The night that led up to this moment.

The Fire.

The hotel shines bright in gold and jewelry of different kinds, that's the thing with the Mob, we love shiny things.

Heads turn and whispers flutter in my ears and like a moth to a flame, eyes follow my every move, fear on the faces of those who rumored and confirmed I was dead.

They all probably stood around a coffin, fake tears running down their eyes about my death.

A smirk forms on my lips as they all turn away like they have seen a ghost. They should be scared.

I’m not some ghost trying to hunt the city.

I am here to take it back.

“They recognize you?” a voice fills my ears from the earphones Luisa had made sure I had on, she really wanted to keep an eye on me this time.

“They do Luisa, it’s no fucking surprise,” I say into the earpiece.

One of the five guards who surround me reaches out for the elevator button, the doors opening at his command.

“You really don’t have to do this tonight Catalina, we could do this another time…gather enough evidence-”

“No” my icy voice fills the elevator, the doors closing against me.

It's been Five years.

Five years since the fire…No not Fire, but an explosion that blew away my family estate, killed my dear father, and almost took my life, but if there's one thing about Catalina Reyes, it's that she never gives up.

It’s been five years of plotting, five years of training to be an untouchable ghost, the devil herself.

It's also been five years of plotting the revenge of my Ex husband

Alejandro De La Cruz.

He thinks I’m dead. They all do. A beautiful girl buried under ash, conveniently out of the way while Alejandro expands his empire using the blood and bones of the Reyes as his foundation.

But I didn’t die. I survived.

And now I’m back for him.

“Bastard” I mutter under my breath, tuning out Luisa worrying about my safety again

“What did you say??” she yells back at me through the earphones

I roll my eyes, “I will see you in a few hours, my dear, all safe and sound in your cocoon” I mock, gripping the earphones and passing it to the guard.

He grunts, placing it in his pocket as the elevator moves to the top floor.

The syndicate ball is being held on the 30th floor, and I’m fashionably late. I want them to feel the shift in the air before they even know why.

My reflection stares back at me on the polished gold walls. Black silks stretch across my body, holding the curves on my thighs and breasts. The neck dips do my abdomen, revealing a bit of my cleavage, simple but sexy, it’s enough to make men's heads turn and women's jaws drop.

My makeup is flawless, my hair in a sleek bun, and my lips, A dark Red.

I don't look like the young, poised, sweet Catalina Reyes everyone knew.

I look like El Diabla.

The name of the ghost I built, the slayer, the ghost mobster,

The Devil.

I want them to see me, I want them to choke on their guilt.

The doors open revealing the extravagant hall, the music is the first thing to hit me, then the lights, the soft laughter from corners, and the reflection of crystal chandeliers.

A ballroom filled with the most dangerous men on earth, the mobsters that run cities, along with their wives in their fur coats and shiny diamond earrings, like they are not wolves ready to devour as soon as you turn your back on them.

I step inside, the heels of my black shoes loud enough to make everyone turn their heads my way.

Silence.

Before they can process it, their brains are already turning, their memories picking up.

I'm the girl who is supposed to be dead.

They are seeing a ghost.

A smirk dusts my lips as my hips sway to the soft jazz music, I pick up a champagne flute, moving further into the room with finesse.

They pause, their posture stiffens, their eyes frozen on my posture

And then I freeze because I see him.

“Alejandro De La Cruz” I mutter under my breath, my fingers gripping the tail of the flute tightly.

Gosh, he looks better than before, time has done him well, his suit wraps around his body, tailored to perfection, it hugs his broad shoulders, his tall legs covered by the material.

His fingers grip the champagne flute, he's the only one not paying attention to me as he downs the glass of champagne.

He holds the now empty glass in one hand, his other hand, It holds a mask I desire, the mask of power.

His eyes turn to me, they still, and his mask breaks.

His glass nearly slips from his other fingers.

Our eyes lock and my heart thumps hard in my chest, an emotion I learnt to get rid of comes up my throat.

I shove it down, this is not the time for emotions or heartache, it is time for war.

He moves towards me like he's seen some ghost-like I'm some dream or hallucination

He is careful and walks towards me with questions in his eyes

But I'm not here to give him answers.

When he's close enough to reach me, his lips part, his scent, so unique to him, like cedar and spice, it punches me in the gut but I hide my reaction behind a smirk.

“Catalina..You’re-”

Whack!!!

His words are shoved down his throat when a sharp sound fills the air, his head plowed to the side as my fingers sting from the slap I just delivered

I smile at his shocked face.

Let the games begin.