Chapter 31
Chapter 31
I sat in the dimly lit waiting room, gloved hands buried inside my jacket, still shivering from the cold outside. I smiled back at the grinning, toothless baby held by his mother in front of me, waiting for my name to be called.
The little girl, with a full head of dark hair and bright, inquisitive eyes, had a contagious laugh that filled the small office space. The boy beside her, no more than four, laughed along, kept her giggling, and occupied the entire time.
Their sweet interaction had tears come to my eyes. I knew it wasn't the hormones this time. I cried for every little thing these days.I
Yesterday, an old man crossed the street alone. The day before that, I was at the local supermarket, tearing up at the bewildered poor kid after he told me they didn't carry any guava jam and were out of canned coconut milk.
And I wept when I saw the snow for the first time.
When I got off the plane with Agent Aethra, I took my first breath of the cold, dry air and felt the unfamiliar chill settle deeply in my bones.
My first breath of freedom was a cold, dark reality.
I felt the ache, the sharp stabbing sensation in my chest of a place I would learn to have to call home. My family was lost to me forever. I knew Mami would carry my secret to her grave, and my goodbye was in the letter I left for her. I prayed to be able to see Samara again one day.
"You have a beautiful family," I told their mother as she began to pack her things and bundle them up to face the temperature outside.
It was currently twenty-eight degrees and lightly snowing in Burrow.
A small yet thriving town of about twelve thousand people located away from what was considered civilization. It was isolated. It is so remote that you can only get here by plane or boat.No roads were coming in or out of Barrow. The arctic waters that surrounded it were frozen over. It was the perfect place to hide and keep a low profile. They called it the midnight sun. It was jarring initially, but I had gotten used to the sun never setting.
Aethra delivered on her words. She got me out of Castillo safely. That morning, she met me in the ocean caves with a small boat to take me into international waters. " Thank you and congratulations ," she offered kindly with a knowing smile, looking down at my belly hidden under my heavy coat.
I thanked her that day, but the word "congratulations " ached in open and raw places, wounds I couldn't yet address.
"Niobe Cardossa," I heard the name being called from the window.
"Miss Cardossa," the woman called out again impatiently, my mind finally registering that she was calling me.My new name.
The sound was still strange and foreign to my ears. Dove De Los Santos no longer existed. She was a ghost. The witness protection program allowed me to have a new life.
My identity was wiped entirely, and the American government was able to make me "officially" disappear. I left behind the only people I knew and loved most. I stood up quickly, not wanting to feel the poisonous rush of guilt in my chest.
I picked up my bag and approached the large, impatient woman waiting for me. I was taken through the standard procedures, including the weight check and vital signs, and grudgingly had some blood work drawn.
I laid back nervously on the examination table, dressed in the customary medical gown, hands rubbing my stomach in soothing circles. This was a new habit, and I'm not sure who it comforted more, me or the baby.
Although the clinic was old and outdated, it was clean and warm, and I was grateful for the help and assistance in a foreign place where I had no one.
This was my first ultrasound and checkup since finding out I was pregnant. I prayed to hear a heartbeat, terrified that there wasn't going to be one. It had been eight weeks, and I spent four of them in the custody of the DEA.
Meroveo's arrest made international headlines for weeks. The eyes of the world had turned to witness a silent war that had begun between the Castillian government and the United States.
I turned my attention to the small television on the wall, silently running the news. His arrest was called the "one of the century."
The Castilian government refused to extradite Meroveo, citing the charges as "bogus," claiming it was a "personal vendetta" of the United States government.Meroveo was accused by the media outlets of being the leader of the violent and dreaded De Los Santos family.
Countless charges were brought against him of drug trafficking and smuggling, assassinations, racketeering, money laundering, murder, political corruption, extortion, and human trafficking.
The list of his atrocities was endless, the people he had killed, the innocent lives he had destroyed.
My heart pounded watching the footage of him descending the court steps. That piercing gaze was unfazed as he faced reporters swarming him after leaving the Castilian high courts.
Reporters gave him a wide berth, afraid to get too close, his mastery of staying calm under pressure in full effect. Roman grinned for the cameras in the background, even stopping to pose for pictures. Hector's stony face remained impassive and coldly aloof.
I wanted to see him punished to the full extent of the law, but something told me I was being naive. Meroveo couldn't touch me physically anymore, but some nights, it felt like he was inside of me, making sure his grip on my soul would never be free of him.
I closed my eyes and turned off the TV, not wanting to hear or see anything more. All I wanted to know was that my baby was healthy. I heard three quick, hard knocks on the door and found an older, kind-looking woman in a white coat and graying hair.I sat up, anxious to know that everything was okay and progressing with my pregnancy. Despite my physical and emotional fatigue, I felt healthy, drinking raspberry leaf tea daily and red bean soup, which my mami would prescribe to any pregnant mother.
"My name is Doctor Igah, Happy Birthday, by the way. Eighteen is quite the milestone", she introduced herself, offering her hand. Dr. Igah was from the Inupiat nation, the natives of the north end of Alaska. The Inupiat nation made up seventy percent of Burrow.
"Do-Niobe, thank you." I had extended my hand, almost forgetting my new name.
"I noticed your blood pressure was a little high. Are you stressed out more than usual?" she inquired politely, taking her place in the chair.
I nodded my head.
"Is the father in the picture? Do you have any family or friends helping you through this time?" she asked routinely, without any judgment in her eyes.
"Just me."
"Well," she patted my hand reassuringly.
"Stress and pregnancy should never go together. I want you to take it easy from now on. Prenatal every day, a good diet of fatty fish, and deep breaths. There's a free yoga class for pregnant mothers at the rec center."
I appreciated her kindness but was still too afraid to leave my house. In the past week alone, I only went out for supplies and groceries once.
"I'll be sure to check it out," I lied, and she seemed satisfied with my answer.
After a couple more questions, I felt the cold gel on my stomach and the quick sounds of clicking and typing into the ultrasound machine.
The room was filled with quick and loud fluttering and a robust little drum beating.
A heartbeat, thundering, wild and intense.
"Oh," I heard Dr. Igah exclaim, moving her head closer to the screen and adjusting her glasses. My heart dropped at her sudden exclamation, and terror gripped me.
"Is there something wrong with the baby?" I begged, trying to steady my breath and swallowing the lump in my throat.
"All is well, Niobe," she quickly soothed. "I just hope you're ready for an extra birthday surprise." She raised her eyebrows, looking at my belly.
"Your babies," she emphasized, grinning wide, "are more than okay. Congratulations, you're having twins."