Chapter 22
RAQUEL
After Dante took me away from that place, I came straight to the hospital, even though by that point, it was the last place I wanted to be. I tried to insist on treating my own wounds, but Dante wasn’t having it. He gave me no choice.
I knew I was being foolish, but I didn’t want to be poked and prodded, even when it might have been for my own good. I had him promise not to take me to the same hospital I work for, so he drove a little farther to the next best one.
The day has turned to night. I tried to get the doctors to allow me to go home after they tended to my wounds, but the on-call doctor wanted me to stay for observations and promised I can leave tomorrow morning.
Every single time I close my eyes, I see that blade Carlito held in his hand. I feel the agonizing pain, as though I’m being slashed all over again. I try not to sleep, afraid the memories will follow into my nightmares.
The police have also come by for a chat.
That was one interesting conversation, considering I couldn’t exactly tell them the truth.
It’s not as though I could have said, “Sorry, officer, but what really happened was that I got kidnapped by a psycho, who my mafia parents allowed to hurt me, only to be saved by my husband, who doesn’t exactly have a clean record either. ”
Instead, I told them I was leaving our house when a van came out of nowhere and a single masked man took me inside and hurt me while I was barely conscious before tossing me on the street a block from our home.
There are no cameras in that vicinity, so the police will have a difficult time corroborating my story.
It’ll remain unsolved. Indefinitely. They just don’t know it yet.
I’m sure they recognized my last name, and I’m sure they’re very aware of my family’s reputation. I bet they assume what happened to me was some sort of payback for something my father did. I doubt they’ll spend too much time trying to solve my case.
My mind jumps to my father’s dead body. Those eyes staring blankly at me.
A knot aches in my throat. I miss him, yet I hate him at the same time for what he did to Dante’s family.
Earlier, I begged Dante to tell me everything, and he did so reluctantly. He wanted to wait until I was home with him, but I insisted, and he doesn’t stand a chance when I beg.
Not only did he tell me about his past, but he’s given me a glimpse into the awfulness my family has caused. Children and women being trafficked and hurt.
I know he’s going to find them and get them the safety they so desperately deserve.
He hasn’t left my side for a second. He’s only gone now because I pleaded with him to run home and take a damn shower and put on clothes not splattered in blood. His brothers are here, and Dominic said Chiara was on her way too.
I can’t wait to see her. Even knowing she never told me the truth about any of this when she knew it all, I don’t care. None of that matters anymore.
She’s the only family I have left, and I know she didn’t keep secrets without a good reason, or at least one she thought was good at the time. Chiara’s always had my back. She’d never hurt me intentionally.
I stare at the cheerful lavender walls, feeling anything but. I can’t stop thinking about the call I should probably make. My cell phone is beside me on the nightstand. Still no missed calls from my mother. She really doesn’t care.
Dante told me what he did to her.
No secrets, he’d said as he spilled every dirty detail, describing how he had no hesitation when he shot her.
But the way he said it…it’s like he wants to find the one thing that’ll make me turn and run.
But I’m not running. He did what he had to do to find me, and if he hadn’t hurt her, she’d never have told him.
I don’t feel sorry for her. If anything, I wish he’d hurt her more.
I’m sure she knew what Carlito would do and welcomed the torture.
She’d have deemed it a proper punishment for my disloyalty to my fiancé and the family.
But Carlito was never anything but a virus she attached to me. I owed him nothing, and I owe her even less. Picking up the phone, my fingers tremble as I dial her number. The call rings twice before she answers.
“What the hell do you want?”
“I never wanted anything from you except my freedom and your love. But now, your love is the last thing I want.” There’s malice in my voice, but I no longer care. I’m done.
“Good. Now you have your freedom. I don’t want anything to do with you, either. You’re dead to me as much as your father is.”
I close my eyes and pull in a breath so soft she can’t possibly hear it, saying goodbye to the mother I never had.
“I’m glad that we’re in agreement for once,” I say. “One day, when I’m a mom, I hope like hell I don’t turn out like you.”
She snickers, all high and mighty. “When you’re a mother, if you ever get to be one, I hope your daughter doesn’t turn out to be a slut. That’s what you are. Spreading your legs for that disgusting man. You know what he did to me?”
“I sure do. I’m only sad he didn’t do worse. You deserved it.”
“You little bitch!”
I’m the one laughing now. “You think you’re so much better than him, don’t you? You’ve always thought you were better than everyone. But you never were, Mother.”
I know this conversation is the last one we’ll ever share. It’s a relief. I’ve finally shed her. She’s been forever ripped from my roots.
“I wish I’d never had you,” she huffs.
I can picture her face as she says that. The tension spiraling over her muscles.
“Someday, when you’re old and alone, you might realize what a horrible mother you were,” I remind her. “But by then, it’ll be too late.”
Her rough breaths cut through the line, and I can practically feel their teeth puncturing my skin.
“Go to hell,” she finally spits out.
“You’d better pray I never see you again. Because if I do, you’ll get a lot more from me than a bullet to your foot.”
She gasps.
“I am my father’s daughter, after all.”
“You’re nothing.”
Then the line goes dead. I got to her, and not a damn thing has ever felt better.
I clutch the phone to me, saying goodbye to that part of my life and knowing I’m better for it.
There’s a light knock on my hospital door.
“Come in,” I say, knowing who it is already.
Chiara peeks through the door, concern swimming in her round, brown eyes.
“Just get in here,” I laugh. “Give me a damn hug already.”
A big sigh sways her shoulders before she comes in and shuts the door.
“So does this mean you don’t totally hate me for being an awful cousin?” She tugs the corner of her lower lip, her brows creasing.
“No, I don’t hate you.” I roll my eyes.
She rushes to my side and takes a seat on the single black armchair next to my bed.
“Fine, maybe a little,” I tease. “How could you not tell me about any of this when we spoke on the phone? Who Dominic and Dante were? Killing your damn father?” My eyes widen as I remember what she did. “How much have you actually been hiding?”
Pressing a button, I lift up the top half of my bed, which allows me to sit up.
I can see pure exhaustion in her eyes. See it plaguing her body.
That’s one thing about us: we’re as close as sisters.
I know every one of her expressions, even when they’re as simple as an eye twitch, which usually means she’s mad as hell but trying not to show it.
You don’t want to mess with her when she’s that pissed.
“I’m sorry, Raquel. I only wanted what was best for you.
” Her eyes plead for understanding as her head slants, lips set in a deep frown.
“When I called you that day we spoke, Dante begged me not to say anything, and just hearing how he talked about you, then listening to how happy you finally were…” She exhales harshly.
“I didn’t want to rip it away, even if it meant you being mad at me in the end. ”
Her palm lands on my knee, squeezing gently.
“But I knew I’d win you over eventually. I’m very hard to resist.”
A bubble of her laughter blends with mine as my eyes meet hers.
“Now I kind of want to stay mad at you,” I throw in. “Just to prove a point.”
“Well, it worked out anyway, right?” Her face winds with a grimace. “Kind of. You know, minus you being here and all. But Carlito is dead.”
She grins mirthlessly, like someone pointing out the positive in a crappy situation.
“Yeah, we seem to have a row of dead bodies following us, don’t we?” I shake my head, hating the way our life has been.
She shrugs, but I can tell how much it bothers her too. She’s always been the strong one between us. The one keeping people up when all she wants is to hide where no one can find her. I don’t know Dominic at all, but I hope he’s the man who can finally hold her up for a change.
“How come you never told me about Dominic when we were kids?” I’ve been wanting to ask her that as soon as I found out about them from Dante.
“I was afraid you’d blab to your parents, bigmouth.”
“Hey!” I swat her on the chest. “I was good at keeping secrets. Maybe. Sometimes.” I roll my lips side to side. “Okay, fine, I was awful.”
“Yeah.” She giggles. “Remember that time I told you I had a crush on that neighbor of yours, and you told your mom, who told your dad, who ended up telling mine? Yeah. Mm-hmm. I wasn’t telling you shit about Dom, especially not with how much my father hated him.”
“Dante filled me in on all that. I’m sorry your life was such hell, Chiara. I know I’ve said that over the years, but I don’t think I truly grasped how much you had to live through, especially being so young.”
“It’s okay, cuz. What doesn’t kill you makes you one tough-ass bitch.”
“Well, you are that.” There’s genuine awe in my voice.
“Oh, I know.” She tosses her hair back while her eyebrows flip upward. “So, when are we busting you out of here? Dante told me all your wounds should heal well. I’m so glad you’re not dead.” She grins.
“Well, thanks. It was a close call there.”
She balls her hand. “Every time I think about it, I want to raise Carlito from the dead and kill him all over again. Dante said he suffered. Did he really?”
“Yeah, Chiara. He suffered. Dante doesn’t play games.”
She leans back in the chair, her eyes to the ceiling for a mere second. “My man.”
We spend a few minutes discussing our corrupted family, the people our fathers are involved in trafficking, and our uncles, who are still out there, probably wanting Chiara dead for killing her father.
Probably wanting to take me out too. It’s risky for her to even be at the hospital, but I know nothing would’ve stopped Chiara from being here. Not me, and sure as hell not Dominic.
“I talked to my mom right before you got here,” I throw in. “We’re done.”
“Well, I’m happy for you. Cut the toxicity, and that woman was toxic. We both know it.”
“I know. It just hurts. I’d do anything to have the kind of mom you—” My pulse slams into my ears and my eyes bug out at my own stupidity as I look away.
“The kind I had? It’s okay. You can say it.”
Her face lights up at the mention of her mother, and my own turns with disgrace.
“She died,” Chiara adds. “But I had her. I loved her. And the time we had, was our time. So it’s okay. Don’t feel bad. She was amazing.” Her hand is back on my knee, holding me reassuringly.
I lift my head, finding kindness in every facet of her expression.
“I wish you’d had a mom like that too,” she says.
Tears well in my eyes. My heart is surrounded by a bout of emotion, squeezing at me from all sides.
“I’m so lucky I have you.”
“I’m lucky too.” She smiles softly. “As people, we tend to see the world in all its negativity, but I’ve learned to see all the good instead. And you’re one of the good things.”
She gently circles her arms around my neck, and mine come around her, clutching tight. My cousin. My sister. My friend.
“Ow, shit,” I mutter as one of the wounds on my upper arm burns.
“Damn it. I’m sorry.” Her face contorts with horror as she practically jumps off of me.
“It’s okay.” I brush it off. “I’ll be fine. I can’t wait to go home tomorrow.”
“With Dante?” She sits back down on the chair, wagging her brows.
“Duh. I don’t think he’d let me get my own place in my condition, even if I wanted to.” I pause, staring absently and missing him. “And I don’t want to. I mean, we are married.”
“Wow, someone’s got it bad.”
“Speaking of, how are you and Dominic? Or Dom, I should say?”
“Hot. Amazing.” She stares dreamily at me. “God, that man…who knew? And those ties….”
She bites into her lower lip as her head falls to the back of the chair.
“Umm…okay. So when are you planning on telling me what happens with said ties?”
She peers back up at me. “Probably when you’re well enough not to bust your stitches?”
“I don’t have that many.”
Her shoulders reel with a laugh, and then she fills me in on all the ways he likes to…uh, enhance their sexual experience with his work ties. She tells me everything, going back to how it all began from the time they were little.
We spend a while talking, and it’s nice to have her back with me after thinking I’d never see her again. But here we are, forgetting about our past, at least for now, and focusing on the present.
The past will always be there, and the future is buried in the unknown, but the present is what we live for. And I’m here. Living, fighting for every moment and every breath, and never taking it for granted.