Chapter 40
Alma
Asharp, chemical cold floods my nose and I gasp on instinct.
The entire world blurs around me. I see the San Benito statute fading in the distance.
The rose I picked for Missy loosens in my grip, and in the distance I can hear Efren shouting my name.
My vision fractures like broken glass as the trees smudge into streaks of green and black.
San Benito.
Red Rose.
“ALMA!”
I try to fight it, but my arms feel like water. My legs don’t belong to me. Panic surges, but it has nowhere to go. My lungs forget how to breathe. The forest swallows me, and my thoughts slip like sand through shaking fingers.
San Benito
Red Rose.
“ALMA!”
I manage one sound, a broken whisper. “Ef… ren…” The word slices through what’s left of my consciousness. Cold air hits my face as I’m dragged deeper into the trees. My eyelids flutter, and then it’s all black.
San Benito.
Red Rose.
“ALMA!”
Eventually, when my eyes begin to open again, everything comes back blurry, and a sharp pulse spears through my temple. For a second, I think I’m still in the rose garden, but the more I blink, the more I see a face I recognize but don’t know.
“I was wondering when you’d wake up,” a voice says calmly.
It’s Ignacio Fernandez. A tremor runs through me when I taste the chemical still clinging to the back of my throat. Is he the one who captured me? I sit up quickly, but my limbs feel heavy. My eyes burst open, and I push my back into the metal wall behind me.
“What do you want from me?” I cry out. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“No. No. Tranquilla. Look.” He turns to show me where his hands are zip tied behind him. Cautiously, I sit up and move my arms to find that my wrists are also bound together. We’re trapped here, together.
“Don’t force yourself,” Ignacio says, his voice calm and collected. “You’re not gonna be steady for a while.”
“How long have I been out?” I ask.
“Twenty minutes. Maybe a little more.”
I let out a groan when another wave of nausea hits. Twenty minutes has felt like days. I keep my eyes closed tight.
“Movies lie,” he adds, almost amused. “Chloroform isn’t magic. Knocks you out for a couple minutes. After that?” He gestures at me. “The groggy, sick part, that’s real.”
“Where are we?” I ask. My throat is raw and dry, and my tongue feels thick
“The back of a diesel truck, I think. At least it smells that way.”
Just then, the smell of gas hits my nostrils.
My body sways to the left, and I pull against the heaviness in my stomach.
The movement confirms we’re in some type of vehicle.
The truck jolts over a pothole, and I gasp.
My head spins so hard that nausea punches through me in waves until I empty my stomach on the ground next to me.
“It’s the chloroform,” Ignacio explains.
“Or my pregnancy,” I say, spitting out the taste of my vomit.
“You’re pregnant? Felicidades.”
“Who did this?” I ask, tugging at my skirt and realizing the bodice is still intact. Still tied. Still in place. Relief mixes with a sick twist of fear. Ignacio watches me from the corner, wearing a sad expression.
“Relax, no one touched you. Not like that.” His voice is comforting despite the circumstances. “I hope the same is true for my daughter.”
“Genesis?” I whisper her name.
“You know her?”
“Sort of. I mean, she did have a knife pointed at my chest once.”
“Ya, you met her then.” Ignacio lets out a small chuckle. “What did you do to make her mad?”
“I wasn’t very nice to Ariella.”
“Ya, that will do it. Ariella’s like a sister to her.” His eyes narrow, and he looks trapped in his own memories. “She’s loyal to a fault, like me. There are a lot of bad qualities she picked up from me, too, though.”
“I hope my child doesn’t get any of my bad qualities,” I murmur.
“Why are you in here, kid? How do you know Cassiel?” Ignacio changes the subject.
“Cassiel?” My face falls at the name.
“That’s who took us. Outside the wedding. It was Cassiel and his fucking hooligans. Took me before the ceremony even started.”
What the fuck would Cassiel want with me?
The truck begins to slow, then there’s a hard brake that sends me sliding, and Ignacio bracing the wall. My heart jumps into my throat. There’s a metal bang from the outside.
Knock
Knock
Knock
The driver kills the engine, and I scoot close to Ignacio as fear creeps through me. A muffled voice comes from outside, but the words don’t form. It’s not English or Spanish.
“Fucking Italians,” Ignacio curses under his breath.
My pulse stutters. The rear lock clicks before the metal door groans open.
Boots scrape the ground. Two shadows loom tall in the doorway, rifles shouldered, silhouettes filling the entire opening.
A flashlight shines directly into my face.
Ignacio shifts in front of me instinctively, trying to shield me even with his wrists tied.
The beam drags over me again, slower this time, as if cataloging my dress, my hair, my bare feet. Ignacio tenses like he’s ready to break the cuffs off his wrists. Fear crawls up my spine, cold and merciless.
“Move,” one of the men says in a thick Italian accent.
When my feet stall, another dressed in military attire steps into the truck and yanks me forward by my upper arm.
“Hey cabrón!” Ignacio groans when a second soldier climbs into the truck.
There’s a hard thud as he slams Ignacio against the wall before pulling him out of the truck.
“Move or I shoot,” the soldier says. I follow him down a metal staircase through a door.
We step into a large room with circle tables placed strategically throughout. Each table is equipped with a green top, poker chips, and ashtrays. The lights are low, and the silence is sickening.
“Hijo de tu puta madre.” Ignacio huffs when the men throw him in behind me.
“Is it customary for Mexicans to insult their host?” a man says, emerging from the shadows.
He’s in a green suit. The small amount of light showcases the almost God-like features of his straight nose and chiseled jaw. His eyes land on me first, then Ignacio, and he smiles like he’s been waiting an eternity for this moment.
“Untie me, motherfucker, and I’ll show you how Mexicans treat backstabbing Italians.”
“Backstabbing? Coming from you?” He tsks.
“Fuck you, Cesidio,” Ignacio spits out.
My head jerks up, catching the cold green eyes of the infamous Cesidio Biondini.
“Almita. I’ve been eager to meet you.” He looks at me curiously and then back to Igancio, searching for something.
What, I’m not sure. He takes a step forward and his hand extends, knuckles grazing my jaw.
“Extraordinarily similar and yet so different.” He observes.
My pulse raises, and I turn, my eyes pleading with Ignacio to do something. Anything to get us out of here.
“Where is she?” Ignacio says calmly before he shouts. “ADELINA!”
“Adelina!” he yells again, and something inside Ceisidio snaps.
His hand disappears beneath his suit jacket and reemerges with a gun.
A shot fires, and Ignacio drops with a sound that’s half-gasp, half-choked scream.
His leg folds under him, blood blooming across his pant leg.
My ears ring, and my entire body goes numb.
Cesidio exhales like he just corrected a minor inconvenience.
“Don’t you ever say my mother’s name! EVER!” Cesidio screams into Ignacio’s face, and the walls seem to shake around us.
His fist clenches the gun as he moves back, and his hate filled eyes return to me.
“And you. You are the reason for all of this!” He stares at me like I’m the root of every one of his problems.
I try to make sense of his words, searching my memory for any idea of Adelina, or any connection to him or Cassiel. He stares at me, and I walk backward slowly until my back hits a wall.
“I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on,” I cry.
“Of course you don’t know anything. My family paid Missy so you wouldn’t know a thing. But the plan backfired. And you know why?”
He lowers the gun to my face, and I shut my eyes. The cold metal of the barrel grazes my chin.
“Because you just wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t just leave well enough alone. You want the truth, Alma? Here’s the truth. That man bleeding out right there. That’s your father.”
The words hit me so hard my lungs forget how to work. Something sharp twists behind my ribs, and for a second, all I can hear is my own heartbeat slamming in my ears. I shake my head.
Once.
Twice.
Too fast.
“No,” I whisper, looking to Ignacio, who’s staring up at me, his brows furrowed.
“How do you not see it!” Cesidio laughs. “The hair, the nose, your entire pathetic existence is thanks to this man.”
I’m stunned to silence—my body not sure if I should run or cry. Cry or scream.
“And Adelina?” I say looking to Cesidio.
“Oh no.” He laughs. “Adelina is my mother.”
Cesidio pauses, looking at Ignacio, his face filled with disgust.
“My mother was Ignacio’s secret lover. Quite romantic, the story. While my mother was married to my father she met Ignacio Fernandez. Star crossed lovers from two different worlds but madly in love.”
Cesidio paces the room, the anger in him visibly boiling at the surface before he calms himself and finishes his story.
“See, they thought no one would find out. Not Raquel, not my father, but Ogni santo ha il suo Giorno,” he says with a thick Italian accent. “Ignacio impregnated both women.”
Cesidio’s voice rises, his hand with the gun shaking, and sweat beading at his temples. “You know he chose you over my mother?” His nostrils flare. “Power and wealth over genuine love.”
“I didn’t know Adelina was pregnant,” Ignacio says weakly, his voice cracking around the pain.
“And when you did find out? Tell her that part,” Cesidio says, turning and pointing at me. “Tell her about the night she went missing, how you didn’t see a tragedy, you saw an opportunity. You went to my grandfather, you pleaded your case, and you took Genesis away from us.”
The heavy metal door creeps open, and all three of us turn. Genesis stands in the doorway, her eyes sharp. Confusion and fury twist together as they narrow in on me. And I can see her resemblance to Cesidio—the hate in their light eyes.