She was promised to me. I was promised to her. She was the daughter of a drug lord, I was the cousin of one. Together we could have been beautiful. Oh, so beautiful. But beautiful doesn’t factor into my life. Death. Destruction. Pain. That was my life. She’d had her taste of it. But was she really ready for it? Because I lived in hell, and my wife would soon be Satan’s bitch. She wouldn’t be prepared. She could never be.