Empire of Carnage

Empire of Carnage © 2023 Santana Knox All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000. Editor: Karen Washo, Utterly Unashamed LLC. Cover Design: Izabeladesign Author's Note Here we are again, at the end of a deep dark tunnel. If you are new to my writing, please understand I do not write these stories in an attempt to romanticize anything, not violent and dangerous situations, not the cártel or gang life, or any of the things you may see in my writing. These are just stories that live deep in the trenches of my troubled mind. Any of the kinks seen in this book are not meant to be used as educational material. This book is the darkest in the series, please heed the trigger warning page (next page) seriously, if this book is not for you, please reach out to me and I can tell you how the story ends. Always prioritize your mental health above all. Due to the nature of this book, there is no playlist. Content Warnings: Nonconsensual drug use, racism, sexual assault (not done by the love interests), torture, mutilation, decapitation, teeth removal, burning, cutting, suicidal ideology, human trafficking, guns, reckless behavior. To every person who was forced to adapt to survive, and lost a piece of themselves in the process. GlossaryAbre la boca - open your mouthAmiga - friendCarajo - damnCabrones - bastardsCállate - shut upCállate idiota - shut up idiotCálmate - calm yourselfClaro – of courseChingadera – fucking thingChisme - gossipCobarde - cowardEntidendiste? – do you understandCorazón - heartCultura - cultureDesmadre – messDios - godEl es familia - He is familyEl pasado ser el pasado - the past be the pastEstá bien - it’s all rightFamilia - familyGüera - blondeHermanito/a - brother/sisterHijo de la chingada - bastard/motherfucker/insultJefa - bossLa Flaquita - in reference to Santa MuerteLa Madrina - in reference to Santa MuerteLoca - crazyLo juro por dios - I swear to godMamá - motherMi vida – my life (term of affection)Morena - term of affection for dark haired, Brown womenMuerte - death (Sometimes used in reference to the deity of death Santa Muerte)Papá - fatherPayaso - clownPayasada - ridiculousPendejo - dumbassPinche - fuckingPorque soy mejor - Because I’m betterPuta - bitch/whorePuta madre - mother fuckerPresidente - presidentPrimo - cousinPrincesa (princesita) - princessQuerido - dear/darlingQue chingados? - what the fuckQuiero ser tu todo – I want to be your everythingReina - queenSeñorita - MissSobrina - nieceSoy mas grande - I’m biggerTe amo - i love youTe quiero - i love youTe acuerdas de mi? – remember me?Tío - uncleTodo es mio - everything is mineTodo se fue a la verga - everything went to hellVen a mi - come to meVamos - lets goY quiero eso mas - And I want this moreZorra - slut, insult 1Celia Lo juro por Dios que, this is the last time I end up in the fucking trunk of another sedan. Fucking cocksucking hijo de la chingada. Guillermo’s lackeys had barely shut the trunk before they opened it again, this time to throw Santos in with me. I watched the needle slide into his neck, and the same medicine they used to immobilize me was now coursing through his veins as well. His gagged screams of protests turned into mumbles just as his tongue froze inside of his mouth. There was nothing worse than staring into the face of someone you loved and seeing nothing but pain, knowing that there was absolutely nothing you could do to make it better. We laid there, staring into each other’s eyes, crammed into that tiny, piece of shit trunk Los Muertos had stuffed us inside of for what felt like an eternity. An awkward tear rolling down our cheeks every now and then that we could only ignore and pretend we didn’t see. Time moved slowly and eventually my muscles tingled with an intense burn when sensation began to return to my body. I wiggled myself closer to Santos, resting my forehead on his chest. He moaned a muffled sound that was filled with pain. He was hurting, physically and in every other way possible. Mateo and Ronan were dead, and we were headed towards our end too. The realization was a blade dead center in my chest. It was all my fault. I would have gladly met my demise a hundred—no a thousand times over if it meant the boys would have survived. But it was too late now to make those kinds of compromises and I had cost them their lives. I deserved this, they didn’t. My sobs were an incoherent mess of sounds echoing off the trunk that caged us in together. They were gone. They were fucking gone. My ocean, my fire. Both snuffed out from right in front of me and there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening. Nothing I could have done to save them. I wanted to drown. I needed to burn. Instead, I was trapped inside my own body and locked in this trunk, forced to do nothing but feel and come to terms with my loss. Our loss. They’d been glued to each other for half their lives, and in a matter of weeks I destroyed it all. I wasn’t the rain that mortals knelt for, I was the deluge that swept all of existence from the Earth. The question of whether or not we’d be able to survive without them briefly crossed my mind before I realized we wouldn’t be surviving at all. We were headed towards