When Lies Unfold

Chapter 41

I barely registerthe burning pain in my shoulder when the second shot rings out and Belleza’s body collapses to the ground.

“Noooooo!” Horror assails me, icy dread filling the marrow of my bones. Shouting ensues, but it turns muffled, drowned out by my thundering heartbeat.

I drop to the ground beside her limp form, my hands searching for the bullet’s entry. Please let it be non-life-threatening. Please! The bottom of my stomach drops out the instant my hands encounter sopping wet blood already matting her fur.

I will my hands not to shake as I inspect her wound, my eyes pinching closed at the rapid outpouring of blood. But when Belleza lets out a wet-sounding cough as though she’s choking, and her tongue falls limp past her mouth, panic gouges deep into my chest.

Ohgodno. These are all glaring signs the bullet has penetrated her organs and she’s bleeding internally.

Ragged emotion coats my whisper. “Nononono.” Scrambling for my bag, I grab my cayenne pepper with shaking fingers and apply as much as I can to her wound.

But it’s no use.

Blood flows so freely from her precious body, and her pulse is already so weak, her breathing staggered. Her body twitches intermittently as if mustering what futile fight it has left to give.

All because she wanted to defend me. She was prepared to attack someone with a loaded gun to save me. This innocent creature owed me nothing, yet she sacrificed herself for me.

A strangled cry is ripped from my chest as I apply pressure to the wound even though I know it won’t do any good. I drop my head closer to hers, my ragged whisper suffused with desperation. “Please don’t leave me. Please.”

Santiago lowers himself beside me in an attempt to help. He sets his gun down beside Belleza, his tone filled with urgency. “What can I do?”

A surreal mix of shock, grief, and adrenaline swirls inside me, but I can’t answer him. Instead, I raise my eyes to Andro, who remains standing in the same spot he’s been in.

With his arms cinched by two of Santiago’s men, he stares down at us. His features hold disbelief and hurt, and I’m unsure how he can feel the latter. He’s not the one who’s dying.

With detached, almost robotic motions, I grab Santiago’s gun and aim at Andro. I don’t fully register the wetness trailing down my cheeks. I’m too focused on my target. My finger is poised on the trigger as I will my hand to stop shaking.

My throat feels as if it’s been coated with sand, and it’s a chore to push the words out. “It’s not bad enough that you tried to kill me more than once, is it?!”

I stare back at the monster whose eyes spear me with hatred while my one hand remains on Belleza. I don’t care how messy I’m becoming from her blood. I refuse to let her die without knowing some semblance of comfort in her last moments.

“You just had to take an innocent being’s life, too?!” My finger flexes on the trigger.

“Lola.” Santiago’s deep voice breaks through my haze of agonizing heartache and pain. “Takin’ a life stains your soul. You gotta know what you’re dealin’ with here.”

Concern laces his words, and it makes sense because he’s worried about me killing his nephew. “You don’t wanna have this on your conscience.” His voice deepens as though blanketed with thick emotion. “I promise you, I’ll take care of ’im.”

But he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know. My soul is already stained because I’ve killed before. I can claim I had no choice, but that’s a fucking lie. There’s always a choice. I chose myself over them.

And I’d do it all over again if I had to.

It doesn’t mean my conscience rests easy. He’s right about it staining your soul. It changes a person forever.

Voice raspy, Santiago continues, “Lola. Don’t do this to yourself. Let me deal with ’im.”

My chest heaves with labored breaths, and my vision blurs. I blink rapidly, desperate to maintain focus on the bastard who doesn’t bother to disguise his animosity. Andro’s lips curl in a sneer. “Better listen to ’im, bitch.”

“Shut the fuck up, Andro!” Santiago bellows. For me, his tone softens. “Lola.” The plea in his voice compels me to look at him.

Our eyes lock as he holds an outstretched hand in a silent request for his weapon. His brows pinch together in a fierce expression as my throat swells with marrow-deep heartache. “Lola. Don’t stain your soul. He’s not fuckin’ worth it. Please.”

“Fuck you!” Andro’s outburst barely registers because Santiago’s “please” ricochets in my mind. It’s only the second time I’ve ever heard him utter that particular word.

Please. This man is giving me yet another choice, all while reminding me of the repercussions, the consequences. He could’ve easily overpowered me to reclaim his weapon. But he hasn’t.

The question is whether I believe his promise that he’ll deal with his nephew.

Belleza lets out a weak, pained sound, and I flick the gun’s safety back on before shoving it into Santiago’s outstretched palm. Directing my sole attention to Belleza, I speak softly while petting her blood-soaked fur.

Estás bien. You’re fine.

Todo está bien. Everything is fine.

Estoy aquí. Estás segura. I’m here. You’re safe.

Mi Belleza dulce. Siento mucho. My sweet Beauty. I’m so sorry.

I stroke her and repeat whatever comes to mind that I think might console her. My tears fall more rapidly, dropping into her fur and combining with her blood as her breathing slows more and more.

Until she goes impossibly still.

She was the first to trust me when I came here. The first to allow me to help heal her.

She was the first friendly soul I met here…and now she’s gone forever.

Sobs overtake me, my body shuddering with gut-wrenching grief as I cradle her head in my lap. Barely audible, the words inch up my throat before falling from my lips. “Don’t leave me. Pleasepleaseplease, don’t leave me…”

A gunshot rings out, jolting me from my grief-filled stupor. My head snaps up to witness one of Andro’s legs giving out. Eyes widening in shock, I turn toward Santiago, who lowers his weapon at his side.

His hardened gaze never veers from his nephew. “You’re done here.” Tone reinforced in steely foreboding, his expression is granite hard. “Don’t you ever show your fuckin’ face around here again.”

With a lift of his chin, his silent order is obeyed by the men who drag Andro away by his upper arms. His nephew shouts obscenities and complaints the entire time, but I don’t grant him any more of my time or attention.

My sole focus returns to Belleza. She didn’t deserve to die like this. Shot by a monster on someone’s lawn. I slide my hands beneath her body in an attempt to pick her up, but she’s heavier than she appears.

When Santiago lays a hand on my shoulder, a sharp lance of pain has me recoiling from his touch.

“You’re hurt.” His low, even tone is filled with command. “Let me carry her for you.”

I peer up at him, attempting to gauge his sincerity. I don’t know why he’s trying to help. None of this would’ve happened if he had just left me alone from the start.

His mouth presses thin, those dark eyes never leaving mine. “I’ll carry her.”

I scramble to my feet, ignoring the nagging pain in my shoulder. “We need to take her into the jungle.” My words emerge rapid but robotic. “I need a shovel.”

With more gentleness than I would expect, he carefully lifts the panther’s body in his arms and starts walking. Numbly, I trail after him, barely registering his curt command for someone to find two shovels and flashlights.

He leads me around the other side of the house, weaving around the vast area until we arrive at the well-guarded stone steps that descend to another section of the jungle. A handful of his men close in behind us while the others stand watch above.

Someone shines a spotlight ahead of us, illuminating our way into the thick, dense brush. Santiago pauses in deference to me to lead the way.

One of his men offers me a flashlight. Wordlessly, I accept it and edge past Santiago to venture beneath the canopy of trees. The humidity is stifling, so dense it makes it challenging to breathe.

Drawing to a stop in a relatively flat section near two Ojoche trees, I peer up into the mass of branches in the darkness.

“Here.” That’s all I can muster.

Sightlessly, I grab a shovel from one of his men. Then I set the flashlight on the ground nearby and start digging. The sound of another shovel soon accompanies me, but I pay it no attention.

Sweat trails from my hairline and down my face, mingling with tears that refuse to cease. My bare feet sink into the terrain as I plant them more firmly with each shoveling motion. My clothing clings to the dampness at my lower back and between my breasts.

I lose all semblance of time as we dig a grave for Belleza. Finally, I stop and let the shovel drop to the ground beside me. As I stare down at the shallow grave, grief feels as though it’s drowning me from within.

When I turn to face Santiago, he spears his shovel into the dirt beside the area we’ve dug. He gestures to Gordo, who holds the panther’s body, and the other man lowers to his knees and carefully lays Belleza in the grave.

My hands fist at my sides while my entire body twitches with longing to climb in with her. To have them bury us both. Because I know what’s in store for me after tonight. I have no doubts about that.

I disrupted the course of events and threw down the proverbial gauntlet. My life will become a living nightmare—albeit a slightly different one from years past.

With my heart in my throat, I pinch my eyes closed and whisper a weak apology to Belleza. Then I grab my shovel and scoop the first bit of dirt to scatter it over her body as I say a silent prayer.

Santiago helps me as we redeposit the dirt until she’s completely covered. Using the rounded back of our shovels, we compact the top of the dirt mound as best as we can.

My shovel drops from my now limp fingers, thudding to the ground. My knees give out, and I drop heavily onto them, the dirt serving as a subtle cushion. I splay my fingers over the newly filled grave, wishing with every molecule of my body to wake from this nightmare.

Lightning flashes, illuminating patches of sky still visible beneath the dense trees. Thunder rumbles in the distance, giving us the typical brief precursor before a few drops of rain begin to fall.

Dirt clings to my damp palms, and I lower my forehead to the ground. As tears drip from my face and into the earth, it’s as though my heart hemorrhages inside my chest. It doesn’t faze me when the sky lets loose with rain pelting down in stinging fashion. I relish it.

If only it could wash away my pain. If only it could clean my filthy soul. Because I did this. I caused this.

It’s my fault that she’s dead.

Santiago thought he was sparing me from having a stained soul, but he doesn’t know that my soul is already stained in the worst way.

But for some reason, this—witnessing Belleza’s death—has tipped me over the edge.

“Give and take, amor. That’s what life is.”My abuelita often said this. She’d remind me that death was inevitable, but that it wasn’t something to be afraid of. She told me that no one should allow grief to overtake their life. That death meant a rebirth.

But right now, in this moment, I don’t know how not to let grief overtake me. Especially when it should be me in that grave.

“Lola.”

I ignore Santiago and close my eyes. Strong hands land at my waist before I’m gently lifted and cradled in his arms. Face drenched, it’s impossible to decipher between the torrential downpour of rain and my incessant tears.

Grief and heartache have suffocated any fight I might’ve had left in me, so I let myself be carried away.