Chapter Forty-Nine
“May his death satisfy you…”
Glancing at the knife in my hand, I’m shaking. Shaken up, from everything that’s happened in the last hour…
I mean, shit. An entire war was being fought over no more than forty minutes!
Trevel broke me out an hour ago…
And now, here we are.
Hundreds of people standing by, on pause. Waiting for pajarito to make a move.
To… kill el diablo.
This is my last chance. One final opportunity to end all the pain, the torment, mind games and manipulation.
If I don’t do it now, I think it’s clear that I’m never going to.
In a sense, I’m honored that Velle gave this gift to me. That he stepped aside, so that I might finally get my revenge.
On the other hand, I don’t think he could do it either.
And if Velle couldn’t do it, what makes anyone think I could? He’s a million times tougher than me… He’s been fighting an active war for weeks against the cartel. Taking on an entire army from inside a damn shack.
Meanwhile, I’ve been in a bougie Airbnb eating delicious food and having hot sex. And crying about it!
While I am grateful for him thinking so highly of me, foisting the responsibility onto me probably isn’t the best option to get the job done. I’ve proved time and time again that I don’t have the stomach for following through on this plan to avenge my parents’ deaths.
Why can none of us kill this man?? I’m fairly certain Velle has killed for revenge before. I know many people here would love to take their shot at The Ivory. But would they actually be able to follow through?
Pull the trigger, plunge the knife…?
I don’t know that they would. Because callous as he is at times, for the havoc wreaked detrimentally on our lives, he has affected us all in other ways.
There can be good in evil. I’ve seen it.
That’s my reason… That is why I still can’t seem to fucking kill him.
“You can do it, Angel,” he whispers from where he’s kneeling at my feet. Black eyes shining a profound acceptance up at me.
It’s not like the first time… He’s not calling me weak, smirking and gloating like an asshole. Like he knows I won’t be able to do it.
He… wants me to.
He wants me to put an end to it. To end him.
“The next time I see you, I expect you to be ready to use this…” His words from earlier assault my brain. “I’m serious, Angel. You will kill me, because you have to. It’s why you’re here.”
“Está bien…” He nods, closing his eyes in a slow blink and taking a breath. “Ahora… Estoy listo.”
He’s calm, but with a melancholy sense of clarity about him. It’s choking me up…
Remembering earlier, how vulnerable he sounded.
And thinking back, over how much of his guard he’s let down in the last few weeks… For me. How much he’s showed me a real version of himself…
That man, the one who invited me on a date, fed me dinner and dessert, laughed and joked with me, commanded over my body—the only person who’s ever truly understood me for who I am, without confusion or question—and allowed me to command over his…
The man who, yes, killed my parents, who has probably killed dozens, maybe hundreds of other people’s parents, families… Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends… And who, indirectly, has harmed thousands more. Like Velle’s mom…
He isn’t defined by those atrocities alone. Who he is, this empire… It’s not all of him.
The Ivory doesn’t define Manuel Blanco, and I hate that he’s so goddamn stubborn that he refuses to see that.
I fell in love with that man. The one who woke up in my bed with me just this morning… before he shut it down, as he does, and left me locked in a cage.
It fills me with a vexing fury that has me trembling as I whip the blade out of the knife. His knife… not mine.
After all, it’s his family heirloom. My family simply stole it… after killing his. The true owner of this knife, the person who made it… Great Aunt Isabella Blanco.
And because of that, I suppose his killing of my family was justified, in a sense.
It’s just… sangre por sangre.
Always just blood for fucking blood.
“Why did you race over here, Diablo?” I ask quietly, attempting to keep my voice steady with all these eyes on me, from every direction. “Why did you stop this war that’s been so important to you for weeks when you found out I’d escaped?”
“My Angel…” he sighs, more exhaustion in those two words than I can even process. “It would be my greatest pleasure to die by your hand, sweet pajarito.”
“Right, because I belong to you,” I fight back emotion, forcing a roll of my eyes. “So you’ve said, over and over. And yet here you are, kneeling… Surrendering.” I bend to bring my face in line with his. “Why?”
I witness his throat dip. “This is what I deserve…”
“Tell me… the truth,” I hiss.
“You want the truth, little bird?” His voice turns seething. “Fine… I never should have caged you.”
My head tilts, confusion lacing my expression.
“I should have let you kill me the first time,” he grumbles. “Or the second… or even the third. I stole what you deserve, Angelito, because you are not mine. You never have been. But I wanted you to be, that’s the difference.”
Those words feel like the knife plunging into my gut. I don’t know why… I’ve been fighting against the notion of being nothing more than his little bird trapped in a cage for weeks. But now that he’s apologizing for claiming me, it’s pissing me the fuck off.
Because… well…
Who the hell am I if not his??
Straightening, I pin him with a wounded look. “Wait, so you’re saying that all this time was for nothing? That my capture, the cage… it was all a mistake??”
He simply stares up at me. “What did you expect, Angelito? For this to somehow work out? I’ve told you over and over that I am evil, and it won’t stop.
Whether I apologize, or surrender makes no difference…
” His voice trails until it’s so soft that I think only I can hear him.
“I will always be a nightmare that you don’t need, baby… ”
My eyes are round, tears behind them threatening to slip out.
It tics his jaw. “I ruined your life, Angel Alvarez. I have ruined so many people’s lives, and for that, you must kill me.”
“What if I don’t want to…” I mumble in between chewing on my lower lip.
“I don’t fucking care what you want, pajarito,” he hisses. “You must.”
“No…” I whimper.
‘Si! Do it, Angel, this is not a fucking debate,” he snarls. “You will not throw your life away loving me, do you understand?? Now take that fucking knife and plunge it into my goddamn heart!”
“No! Shut up,” I sniff, dizzy and struggling not to break down like a baby, but it’s pouring down on me.
He knows that I… love him. “You think my killing you would solve anything at this point?? It won’t.
You’ve already ruined my life, Diablo! Don’t you see that?
? You ruined it when you killed my parents and became my whole fucking world, and then you ruined it all over again when you made me fucking love you! ”
Someone gasps. Maybe it was him, maybe someone watching, since there’s an entire audience of people witnessing this pathetic meltdown. But I can’t stop…
Vision blurred with tears, I’m fucking buckling in rage and shame and… the most awful, torturous love ever.
“Stop,” he growls, voice uneven and infinitely raspier than usual. “Stop crying, Angel, and fucking kill me or I swear to God…”
“You swear to God what??” I choke. “You’ll kill yourself? No, you won’t do that because you’re too selfish. You’re too much of a narcissist to kill yourself, and too fucking scared to admit that you don’t need any of this as much as you need love, so you’re trying to gaslight me into killing you…”
“Because you should kill me!” He roars.
“I know, but I can’t!” I sob. “I’ve tried and I just can’t fucking do it! I know it’s what you deserve, but I just… I can’t kill you, Diablo… I’m sorry…”
Crying, wheezing and grappling to stay upright, I let the tears fall, because I don’t care.
I can’t do this anymore.
The Ivory is just kneeling in front of me, in the dirt.
Fuming, I can see it. But he’s also petrified and miserable; I can’t see that too.
Chest moving up and down, his fingers twitch at his sides.
But he doesn’t reach for me. He’s leaving me to break down and gasp for air because of him. That’s who he is.
A fucking monster. I know it’s not all of him, but I’m fearing that it’s more dominant than the rest. That Manuel Blanco will never be strong enough to overpower The Ivory.
And I’m just a foolish little bird… Crushing on this horrible, treacherous man since I was a child, when all along, he’s been exactly who he is.
El fucking Diablo.
He fed me lines, that manipulation he spews so well, and despite how rotten it tasted, I swallowed it all anyway. I feel pathetic, and it’s winding up my every insecurity, bringing them all to center stage.
“Angel, I…” he croaks while I blink away tears that tumble down my cheeks. The mound of his throat bobs. “I’m alone for a reason…“
“I know that,” I snap. “You deserve to be alone forever, Diablo. I’m not stupid.”
“I know you’re not,” he mumbles. “And you deserve more—”
“But I don’t want more, I want you!” I snarl, the helpless resentment taking over until I’m burning pure wrath.
Grabbing a fistful of his silky white hair, I yank him forward, pressing the blade up to his throat.
“There you go, pajarito,” he rasps. “Do it. Fucking kill me.”
“I’ll fucking do it…” I teem.
“Do it.”
“I’ll do it!”
We’re staring at one another, eyes locked, conveying all the frustration in the world for this sick fucking need. The toxic chemistry, the hate, the fierce all-consuming devotion neither of us can sever no matter how hard we fight and how much we bleed…
This love is a fucking bloodbath.
“Ugh!” I shove him back, ripping the knife away with an impotent roar. “Why are you like this?! Why can’t you just—”
“Just what?” He grunts, visibly vibrating himself. “What do you want from me, nino??”
“I want… I just… want…” I stammer, exhausted to my core from all of this.