Chapter 54
Claire’s POV
Her fingers tightened just barely around mine, like she was afraid if she let go, I’d vanish.
“I’ll be right back,” I whispered, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead. “I swear, I’m not going far.”
Her lips parted like she wanted to protest, but no words came.
So I kissed her temple and slipped away.
The moment I stepped into the hallway, the quiet hit me like a wave. Warm light streamed through the tall windows. The scent of chamomile and something faintly burnt drifted from the kitchen, too calm for the storm I had just come out of.
I found them where I expected.
Valeria was leaned stiffly against the counter, arms crossed over her chest, her eyes fixed on the floor like she was holding herself together with nothing but sheer will.
Emilia stood at the stove, slowly stirring a saucepan with no real focus. She hadn’t known Vera—not really—but the set of her shoulders was tight. She was waiting for something. Bracing for it.
When they looked up and saw my face, the world shifted.
Valeria straightened so fast the stool behind her scraped the tile. “What?”
“She’s awake,” I said, breath catching in my throat. “Fully. Talking. Aware.”
Valeria didn’t say anything.
She was already gone.
She pushed past me like a bullet through glass—no hesitation, no questions. Her footsteps echoed down the hall, faster, harder, her composure breaking apart with every step.
Emilia stayed frozen for a beat longer, then set the spoon down with shaking hands.
“She’s really awake?” she asked, slower, more cautious.
I nodded once, eyes burning. “She asked about Gabriel. She cried.”
Emilia’s lips parted slightly. She didn’t cry either. She just looked at me, and in her face I saw it—the shift.
Not grief for Vera.
But fear for Valeria.
Fear for me.
“See, I told you she'll be okay,” Emilia said quietly. “Stubborn as her sister.”
“She’s still weak. She’s in pain. But yeah. She’s here.”
Emilia stepped toward me, placing a hand on my arm. “What do you need?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. Just… be here for Val.”
Emilia’s face softened, and she pulled me in without asking. Her arms wrapped tight around me—not delicate, not polite. It was grounding. Fierce. Like she understood something without needing all the details.
“She’s your family now,” Emilia whispered at my ear. “Which means she’s mine too.”
I closed my eyes for a second, breathing her in.
And in that quiet between us, I let myself believe—We made it—Not whole. Not untouched. But at least together.
Vera's POV
The room was quiet again after Claire left, but not the suffocating silence I’d grown used to.
This one was different.
Warmer.
There was breath in it.
I stared at the ceiling, blinking slowly. The pain in my body had dulled to a low hum—constant, pulsing. But it wasn’t what held me still.
It was the weight of everything else.
Gabriel was gone.
Antonio was alive.
Claire had said she loved me.
And I believed her.
I didn’t realize how hard I was gripping the edge of the blanket until I heard it—
Footsteps. Fast. Familiar.
Boots on wood.
I didn’t need to see her.
I knew.
The door creaked open, and there she was.
Valeria.
She stopped cold in the doorway, her breath catching somewhere between her chest and her throat. Her eyes locked on mine—and whatever armor she’d been holding together with sheer will finally shattered.
Her jaw tightened. Her eyes filled. She didn’t speak. Just moved to my side like she couldn’t get there fast enough.
I turned my head slightly toward her. “Hey,” I rasped.
That one word broke her.
“Hey?” she said, voice cracking, eyes glistening. “That’s all you’ve got?”
I tried to smirk. It hurt. “What else do you want, a parade?”
Her laugh came out wet—angry and relieved, all tangled together.
Her mouth opened like she wanted to yell, curse, say something sharp—but nothing came. Just a tremble in her jaw and the smallest twitch in her brow, like holding it all in was killing her.
Then she crossed the room and dropped to her knees beside me.
She didn’t ask if I was okay.
Didn’t say my name.
She just reached for my hand—gently, like I was something fragile. And I let her. For once in my life, I didn’t pull away.
Her fingers closed around mine. Warm. Rough. Grounding.
“Mírame,” she whispered, her voice thick.
I did.
Her eyes were glassy. Fierce with emotion. When she spoke again, her voice cracked.
“Nunca más te dejo sola, hermanita.”
Something in my chest crumbled.
I felt her thumb brush over my knuckles—slow, firm. Like she needed me to believe her even if she never said another word.
“I thought I lost you,” she finally said, barely audible.
“You didn’t,” I rasped, throat burning.
She pressed her forehead gently to the back of my hand, breath shaky.
Valeria hadn’t moved.
She was still on her knees beside me, her forehead resting lightly against my hand like she was trying to anchor herself through my skin. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. The silence between us was thick with everything we never said—and everything that didn’t need saying.
Then the door creaked open behind her.
Footsteps. Two sets.
I didn’t need to guess.
Claire’s voice filled the room a second later.
“Well,” she said, her tone dry as hell, “if I knew this was going to turn into a sisterly sob-fest, I would’ve brought popcorn.”
Valeria didn’t move, but I felt the faintest twitch of a smile on my lips. I didn’t have the energy for more, but God, I missed that voice.
I turned my head slowly, and there she was.
Claire leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes red but shining with something fierce. Her expression softened when our eyes met, even if her mouth still wore that half-smirk I loved too much.
Behind her stood Emilia—still, quiet, unsure.
She took a step in, then paused like she wasn’t sure if she was welcome. I didn’t blame her.
The last time we were in the same room, I’d had a gun to her head.
We stared at each other for a beat.
Then she took another step forward.
“It’s nice to officially meet you,” she said softly. “Under... less dramatic circumstances.”
My throat was raw, but I managed something like a nod. “You too.”
Claire walked over and plopped herself dramatically on the edge of the bed, brushing Valeria’s shoulder as she sat. “So. Do we all hug now? Or should I leave you two to cry about how much you look alike?”
Valeria muttered “cállate” under her breath, low and annoyed, but didn’t even bother to move.
Claire, absolutely undeterred, grinned like she’d just won a prize. “Hey,” she said, sliding onto the bed beside me with all the grace of a cat who knew it ruled the room, “don’t speak to me in Spanish. Only my girlfriend can do that—because it turns me on.”
I stared at her, blinking.
My ears went hot.
“Honestly? Same,” Emilia said, stone-faced as she stepped farther into the room. She held her palm up.
Claire high-fived her without hesitation.
The sound echoed.
Valeria made a choking sound. “What is wrong with you?”
Claire shrugged. “Too much, probably. But it’s endearing.”
I blinked again, looking between them like they’d lost their collective minds.
Valeria turned to me, deadpan. “Control your girl.”
“I’m literally wounded,” I croaked.
“So?” Valeria muttered.
Claire leaned over and kissed the side of my head. “And also a bottom.”
Emilia and Valeria both choked, their heads snapping toward me in perfect, horrified unison.
“I will fucking kill you,” I growled, glaring at Claire.
“Shh, be a good girl now,” she whispered, patting my head like I was a cat she’d tamed. I felt my entire face burn up.
“Hm,” Emilia mused, casually throwing a grenade. “Who would’ve thought? Looks like you have more in common with your sister than we thought, Val.”
“Emi, what the fuck?” Valeria snapped.
Emilia grinned and high-fived Claire again.
“I’m leaving the room,” Valeria announced, standing.
“No you’re not,” I said, grabbing her wrist with the strength of a damp napkin.
She sat back down.
“I don’t even know how to contribute to this dynamic,” I muttered, dragging my hand over my face.
“Just say something inappropriate in Spanish,” Claire offered helpfully.
“I—absolutely not.”
Valeria rubbed her face like she was praying for patience. “God help us all.”
Claire stretched out beside me, smirking like a devil. “He already did. I’m here.”
I covered my face with my arm. “Shoot me.”
“Too soon,” Emilia and Valeria said in unison.
Claire cackled. “Okay, okay—just one sentence?”
“No,” I barked.
“Okay, one word,” she negotiated sweetly.
“Can you call that doctor back to put me in a coma?” I asked Emilia, deadpan.
Claire leaned in, lips at my ear. “Fine. I’ll just make you scream it for me later.”
If I died again, it would be from this.
And honestly?
Not the worst way to go.