Book One.
The world has become a different place since the attack on New York. People have been forced to accept a reality filled with superhumans, machine men, and alien races. Earth has become a playground for the universe with humans getting los...
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Rafael Ramirez had no desire to be out tonight. He'd much rather be posted up in his apartment with a six pack, a large cheese pizza, and his PlayStation. That was how he'd spent almost every Friday night since Rita had broken up with him – of course, that was three months ago. His friends had grown tired of his "wallowing" and told him it was time to move on. There were other girls but they didn't understand, not really.
Rafael and Rita had been together since high school and he had thought they'd be together forever. Unfortunately, College had changed Rita's mind about him and where she saw their relationship going – or maybe it was Javier, her new and very rich boyfriend that had done that. Either way, she had decided that dating someone like him wasn't the best thing for her future.
She had no idea how right she had been about that.
Rafael's family wasn't made up of good people and the things they did to get by – they were less than legal. He would've ended up dragging her down until she was completely ruined. He had probably been dragging her down from the beginning and hadn't even noticed. He had just felt so lucky to have a girl as smart, beautiful and kind as Rita fall for him that he hadn't taken the time to consider anything else.
There were many things he should have considered, like the fact that he was the bastard child of Emilio Ramirez. A man of many faces and each one of them was terrible. He didn't have any good memories of his father. Most of the scars on his body he had gotten from his father – though the worst had been the time he found Rafael's letter of acceptance into an art program in California.
It had been his way of escaping his family. His way of having a future with Rita, one that counted anyway.
That night had been terrible. His father had sat him down at the table with a hammer and a gun told him that he had to make a choice – his mother's life or the art program. Rafael had thought about grabbing the gun and killing Emilio, but he was no killer – he was not his father. So, he had grabbed the hammer, gritted his teeth, and broke his own hand.
Emilio had taught him an important lesson that day.
He couldn't escape his family. He had tried and found out the hard way that he'd only be leaving if he was six feet under. He was obligated to them – for better or worse. Mostly though it was just worse, like tonight. That was why he was out here in the rain and cold, which only made the tendons and bones in his right-hand ache. His permanent reminder of what he had given up and how much worse it could be.
He flicked his cigarette away and fixed the hood of his sweater before crossing the quiet street toward the red Mazda that he'd been told to pick up. Rafael hadn't asked what was being transported in the car. Carmella, his half-sister, had sent him a simple text and he'd done as she'd instructed. He never asked questions, it was better the less he knew. It helped him sleep better at night.
