Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
RAFAEL SANTOS
I stare at her lifeless form a second longer, my heart shattering at what she’s become. What they’ve done to her—what I’ve done to her.
I don’t know how we got here, how I’ve allowed myself to become someone so weak and afraid, I’d allow a woman to be abused in such a way, especially by my own brothers. It’s sickening, and I’ve never hated myself more.
Still, fear grips me, fear for what my brothers will do when they find out I’ve helped her. But more than that, fear that no matter what I do, it’ll never be enough. Am I giving her false hope?
Is she trapped here, same as me?
A board overhead creaks, and I freeze, straining my ears for signs my brothers have returned. I sag in relief when it comes again, accompanied by the wind whistling through the shattered window. I’m a coward, and I know my mother would be so ashamed, she’d never speak to me again.
It’s the thought of her that has me moving.
I splash a handful of water onto the girl’s face, afraid if I touch her, I’ll only hurt her more, stepping over the boundaries we’ve already obliterated with misplaced hatred.
She jolts, the chair wobbling beneath her, and then her dark eyes fly open, sadness and terror pouring from her like a thick fog. I choke on it, my throat tightening at the sight of her.
“Keep quiet,” I croak around the lump forming in my throat, and she groans, her body shivering in the chair. I watch the ropes cutting into her skin for a moment before I begin wiping a wet cloth across her face.
Dale doesn’t so much as squeak, and I realize the fight’s almost left her body—we’ve broken her, destroyed her, and I know it’s the worst thing I’ll ever do. But I want to help her; even if there’s no redemption for me, there has to be hope for her.
I quickly untie her bindings, trying to ignore the raw, ravaged flesh beneath.
“We have to hurry. Marco won’t like me cleaning you up.
” I bite my tongue. Not trusting my voice, I point at the bucket near her feet, encouraging her to wash up.
When her eyes find mine, I expect the unfiltered hatred I know I deserve, but instead, I’m met with a look of gratitude.
And if I didn’t know that I was going to hell before, I do now.
She stands with an urgency that speaks to her desperation, and I hate that this is the first time I’ve truly offered her clean water and soap.
Adalene deserves so much better than this.
Instead of being steady on her feet, she wobbles with weakness, and I grip her bicep to keep her from falling. “Slow.” I offer, and she nods.
She sinks to her knees before the bucket, and I wish once more that I could get her out of this place. Offering her a bucket and bar of soap is pathetic, but it’s all I have for now.
Dale begins sobbing, with each pass of the soap and sponge, her cries growing louder and louder.
And even though I know we’re alone, I can’t help but fear.
In the end, if we’re caught, it won’t be me who’s hurt.
Marco knows me well enough that he knows hurting Dale would be more punishment than anything he could do to my own body.
Still, I need to fix this for her. No human should have to experience what she has, and I can’t live with the knowledge that she’s suffering. As she sobs, I quickly pour another bucket of soapy water onto the chair, mopping around it to clean away the filth that’s gathered.
Shame fills me so completely, I’m damn near bursting at the seams from it. And I should feel that way—this entire thing is as evil as it comes.
A broken cry fills the room, and I quickly move back to her, grabbing her elbow. “That’s enough. You’ll have no hands left if you continue,” I beg, afraid she’ll make herself bleed if she doesn’t stop.
“Can I…can I wash my face?” She doesn’t look at me. The fact that she feels like she has to ask is a knife through the heart.
I release my hold on her and nod. After she finishes washing at her face with the same ferocity as her hands, I extend a towel to her.
She stares at it for several seconds and then shakily raises it to her face and wipes away the water.
When she pulls it away, she looks at it again before breaking into a fresh wave of sobs.
Not knowing how long I’ve been down here, I whisper, “We have to hurry, princessa. I brought you water and some food.”
Dale quickly stands, wobbling back to the chair, staring at it for only a moment before obediently sinking back into it.
I extend a plate of food toward her, hating that it’s not something better.
Instead of taking the plate quickly, she stares at my opposite hand, the one extending a set of silverware, and another wave of guilt crashes through me.
What have we done to her?
With tremoring hands, I set the plate and silverware in her lap before taking several steps back. There’s no way she’s comfortable being around me—I’m not even comfortable being around me. When she begins eating, I let out a heavy breath.
“Why’re you guys doing this to me?”
My gaze snaps to hers, my mouth opening, but I don’t know what to say. There’s no justification that seems remotely worth the crime. Still, she deserves something, so I sigh. “They have to pay for what they’ve done to my family.”
“Who?”
In my soul, I know she doesn’t know; she’s not just not involved. She’s innocent in every way. We’re not only doing something evil, but we’re doing it for no reason.
I grab her nearly empty plate, feeling the need to get away from her gaze crawling over my skin like a thousand spiders. Without thinking, I say, “The innocent shouldn’t pay for the sins of others, and yet, she didn’t take mercy on him. Marco and Javier feel that we can’t either.”
Surprising me, Dale asks, “But you don’t?”
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll suffer regardless.”
The words are barely a whisper, and yet, we both feel their weight.
“Aren’t you going to ask what I did to deserve this kind of punishment this time?” she hisses, and I’m grateful for her hate and anger. It’s the least I deserve. And if she can hold on to its heat, then maybe she can make it through the storm that still awaits her, to see the other side.
No matter what, I’m going to get her out, even if its the last thing I do.
“No one deserves this.” And then, I run from the basement and my demons who lurk there.
September 30th, 2025
If I have to sit in this sweat box a second longer, I might just die.
Weak moonlight filters in through the small window of the bunkhouse, made weaker by the thick film of dust caking the glass.
I stare as it dances across my naked chest, over the firm ridges of my whitened knuckles where I fist my hands on the bedsheets.
Rage burns through me, making the heat of the late summer and the un-air conditioned bunk feel like the fiery pits of hell.
Valentina Reyes isn’t as viscous and simple-minded as I expected. She’s complicated and sad and desperate. Where I thought I’d find an evil bitch, I’ve found a broken one.
And I despise her for it.
I have to get revenge; if I don’t, I’m as weak as my brother always said I was. But it seems far less sweet when the revenge is against someone as complex as Valentina Reyes.
Just when I feel like I’m making progress, she surprises me.
I just need to get closer to her—see beneath this sad, misunderstood mask she likes to wear for sympathy to the conniving, selfish woman beneath. But I can’t do that from here, and certainly not with McCrae and Faith intervening at every turn.
Reaching for my bag, sweat slick between my fingers, I stand and exhale away my gathering anger and hesitation. I pat my back pocket, not pulling out the photo there but remembering it all the same, and stride from the pungent, heat-filled room toward the house—dark in the late hour.
I could’ve come sooner—the air conditioner’s been out since this morning—but I wanted there to be no way for them to investigate until tomorrow. I couldn’t chance my opportunity to get into the house, to get close to Valentina while she sleeps.
I walk up to the door with sure steps, an act I’ve done in the darkness every night since moving here, only this time, I knock on the door instead of sneaking in.
After several minutes, I think no one’s going to come, but then Valentina slowly opens the door, and if I didn’t hate her, I’d fall at her knees.
She’s a bitch that I hate. But she’s also the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Just thinking it makes me hate myself more—I’m a weak, selfish man. It should’ve been me who died.
I plaster on a sheepish smile and lean against the frame. Lifting the bag and motioning over my shoulder, I say, “Sorry, I know it’s late. The a/c went out in the bunkhouse, and even though I tried to sweat it out, I’m gonna die if I stay a second longer.”
Her eyes drop to the bag, and mine drop to the thin cream satin covering her chest, her nipples hard little points underneath. As I stare, I get a closer inspection of the piercings I caught glinting against her naked flesh only two days ago straining beneath the fabric of her top.
And because I enjoy torture, my gaze drifts farther south until I’m met with a thin strip of skin, her perfect stomach, hard and tan—exposed, with a thick layer of goosebumps.
Below it, a matching pair of satin shorts are pulled tight over her rounded hips, plump enough to sink one’s teeth into, and the longest legs I’ve ever seen.
She’s clearly carved from hell—only the devil could grant such otherworldly, sinful looks to a mortal. What did she exchange to look like this? And then I remind myself: her soul.
“V, damn it! I said I’d get it,” McCrae barks over her shoulder, and she just keeps staring at me.
My skin pricks, and I fight the need to squirm under her heated gaze.
Can she read my thoughts? McCrae makes it to the doorway, looking out at me with so much disdain, I’d whither if I was a weaker man.
But I’m not. And I don’t.
“Santos was just coming in. I told you I could handle it.” Valentina backs up, bumping into McCrae to make room for me. I watch McCrae for signs she’s affecting him the way I know she always does, but all I see is shock and anger warring on his face.
He’s pissed, but something tells me he’s afraid too. Afraid of her? Or afraid of hurting her?
“Thanks.” I smile, holding my bag tightly as she closes the door behind me.
“Absolutely not,” McCrae hisses.
“I wasn’t asking you, McCrae. Last time I checked, I’m still your boss. Isn’t that what you keep reminding me?” Valentina glares at him, and to my shock and horror, he backs down, walking away without a backward glance. What does she have on him?
And what the fuck am I getting myself into?
“Theres an extra room down the left hall at the end. It has a bathroom. You know where the kitchen is.” It’s short and to the point, a small bite lacing the words. And then, Valentina turns on her heel and leaves the room. I stare after her, focusing on the hatred burning through my veins.
And not the way her ass looks so perfectly round beneath the thin satin of her shorts.
A few hours later, the night bleeding into early morning, the dark and quiet settling over the house like a blanket, I slink into Valentina’s room.
She’s sprawled across the bed, the sheet pulled back, her body a dark shadow—she looks nearly velvet in this light, soft and supple, and my fingers twitch to touch her.
Shame fills me at the thought. Am I really so weak? Valentina’s a siren, and I’m a stupid, death-seeking sailor, tipping over my boat just to see how long I can float before she pulls me under.
I’m playing with fire being around her, having these thoughts. Valentina Reyes is fucking evil, and it’d do me good to remember that. She killed my brothers, for fuck’s sake!
Still, as I stare at her, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, one hand splayed over the silken skin of her stomach, I know I’ll never be able to kill her.
Not because she doesn’t deserve it, but because I’m better than that. Or, at least, I want to be. I have to believe I can be.
No, after seeing her bleed following the accident I caused, I’ve known I won’t be able to go through with killing her. Just seeing her hurt sent a wave of panic through me so deep, it gripped the core of who I am and twisted.
I’m not a killer. It’s why Marco and Javier were always so disappointed in me. I’ve never been able to take another life—no matter the cause.
But I can destroy one. I’ve got practice in that department. I’ve done well enough with blowing up my own life—destroying Valentina’s should be a piece of cake.