Chapter 6
six
Natalia
The club is teeming when I wriggle my car into the gravel lot. I pass two cars vying for a parking spot up front, ambling all the way to the back of the lot and cutting the engine. The car cabin is deafeningly silent, my hands sweating as I grip the wheel for dear life.
The handful of noodles I had thirty minutes ago threaten to come back up, swirling uncomfortably in my stomach as I reach for the door handle and stumble into the lot.
My heels struggle on the pebbles, but I don’t feel them as I amble closer to the club. My limbs move like stiff rubber, compelled by the realization that I’m closer to Matias than I’ve been in years.
I should go home and text Dom. FaceTime Alma and find something to do.
I should be anywhere but here. But none of my limbs actually listen. I walk right up to the line waiting to get in the club, freezing when the bouncer points at me.
“Ladies night.” He calls out, beckoning me closer. “Pretty girls get in free.” I glance down at my short dress, feeling naked as I walk past the line of partygoers waiting to get in the club. Pretty—he thinks I’m pretty enough to get in for free?
My heart clambers into my throat as I skip the line, walking past the threshold of the club to catch my breath.
The floor trembles with an upbeat salsa-reggaeton remix, the DJ coming on and shouting about some type of drink special going on. A roaring crowd replies, but nothing prepares me for the sea of people when I push through the heavy velvet curtain.
Strobe lights flash across the cavernous room, briefly illuminating a glass bar in the far end of the room, a raised VIP section framing the DJ’s booth on the opposite end of the club.
Bodies crowd into the dance floor in the center of the room, but it doesn’t matter—there’s people dancing all the way on the furniture of the VIP section.
I want to stop and search for the face I came to see, but the constant flow of bodies in and out of the club makes that impossible. Instead of lingering, I push into the club, hiding in the crowd, trailing between people until I’m finally standing in front of the bar.
If I had an ounce of shame left, my face would burn as I push my way up into the bar. But I feel nothing. My fingertips are ice cold, teeth chattering as I use the clearance of the bar to get a good look around the club.
There’s too many people here. One body blends into the next—moving, writhing, getting lost in music and vices. I can’t see where one person ends and the other ends, let alone to make out Matias somewhere in the crowd.
I can’t remember the last time I was in a place like this. In either case, I was probably chasing after my sister. The bartender saddles up to me and arches a brow, and I blurt out the first drink I can think of.
“One shot of tequila!” He miraculously hears me over the music, shoulders working as he pours my drink. The couple crowding me on the left take their drinks and drift towards the dance floor, and suddenly, the sight two stools down makes my stomach nearly fall out of my ass.
I gasp, giving Santos my back before we make eye contact.
Matias’s best friend takes a step closer to me, shouting at the bartender for a neat whiskey, his heat seeping into my shoulder.
“Hi there.” He calls over the music, his breath wafting on my hair. “I like your dress. I’m Santos!” He says loudly, hand reaching around my shoulder for an introduction.
My breath gets stuck somewhere in my chest. He can’t see me—this was a mistake. I scramble, shaking my head and turning my back against him.
I flip him off too, for good measure.
He laughs loudly, his guffaws mingling with the music as he reaches over for his drink.
“Fine. Be that way, little lady. I was gonna put your drink on the house. Your loss.” I wait until he’s gone, gingerly accepting my tequila and downing it in one swoop.
It burns, a trail of fire going straight to my belly—but it’s exactly what I need to wake me up.
To bring warmth back into my limbs, blood flowing as I reach into my clutch and slap a ten-dollar bill on the table.
I hide in a dark corner, watching the VIP section Santos walked towards, clutching on to my shot glass for strength.
This is insane. I should go back home.
But as much as the words course through my head, I can’t bring myself to leave.
I watch Santos in his section, laughing, coaxing a pair of friends into his elevated part of the club, wrapping himself in women and loving every second of it.
Not really a surprise—he’s been a lady’s man since the day I met him.
But I don’t spot the face I’m looking for. Just Santos.
My phone vibrates in my clutch. Once, twice, and by the time I finally take it out, it vibrates a final time.
It’s my sister.
Why didn’t you tell me you were going out with Dom?
I need every single detail. NOW.
Why are you at Pandemonium? Are you guys clubbing?
Oh, God. I forgot she has access to my location. I should have turned off my phone.
Who am I kidding?
She would’ve called the police.
I’m tucking my phone back in my bag and turning to leave when it happens. The crowd parts, in slow motion. Strobe lights—flashing at just the right time, bolts of red and white washing over the club.
Washing over him.
Matias stalks towards Santos’ section, moving with the predatory stride of a panther, completely at ease with the couple of guards following him. My heart skips a beat, jaw sagging as I push further into the club, blending into the faceless mass of people.
He hasn’t changed. Red lights flash over his full bottom lip and neatly kept goatee, dark eyes blinking lazily as they wash over the club. So handsome that he still takes my breath away.
Silly me. I never really made a plan on what I’d do once I actually found him.
It’s not like I’m going to confront him. I mean, how desperate would that be?—
The room goes into a high-pitched blur when I see her.
The woman from the picture. She’s two steps behind Matias, dark curtain of hair gleaming as she steps beside him. My chest cracks in two at the bored expression on her face, like she’s done this all a million times. How long has she been standing beside him?
She’s younger than me, I think. Smaller than me, for sure. And even though it’s such a dumb thing to think about, it’s all I can hone in on. That, and the easy way Matias slings an arm over her shoulder.
That used to be me.
While I was wasting away back home, wishing he’d finally come find me, putting my life on hold…he moved on.
He left me for good.
I just wish he’d sent me the memo.
I stumble out of the club, the music long turning to discordant notes that I can’t quite hear. Someone complains as I push them on my way out of the club, but they shut their mouth when I vomit my dinner just a handful of feet away from them.
People give me a wide berth, and I don’t even care that I make a scene.
I don’t even realize the moment I come to stand in front of my car.
He’s all I can see. Matias and that girl.
My hands move unsteadily as I root in my purse for the keys, vision blurry with something I refuse to acknowledge.
He said he would always love me.
It takes me a moment to realize I can’t even grab the keys because I still have the stupid fucking shot glass in my hand. I throw it on the ground, glass shattering on impact.
It’s such a small break, no one would give it a second glance. But it makes me feel a tiny bit better. So I stomp on it, ignoring the pain on the side of the foot where the glass flicks off my skin. I stomp again and again—until there’s nothing left but shiny pebbles on the ground.
But it’s not enough.
It’s not enough.
Because just past the tears clouding my vision, there’s something else. A monster that snaps its jaws from the pit of my stomach, making my skin itch and my vision go red.
I need to break more. There’s just no way he’s going to end his night in that girl’s arms, and I’m going home empty-handed. He can’t win. Not tonight.
In the corner of my eye, I spot it. Nestled in the shadows so expertly most people would miss it. But I know what a supercar looks like.
I know exactly what Matias’ Bentley looks like. Matte black, fast, and a little terrifying—just like its owner. Matias and I used to make out in that car—and now he probably does it with her.
I spent months, years—lying to the FBI. Laying in a hospital bed, wishing he’d come find me. And just when I was starting to accept it was all over, he swooped in and saved me.
Now I’m wishing he’d just left me rotting in the back of that van in New York. Because that is the reality. He’s not coming for me.
And I really wish he’d stop pretending he gave a fuck about me.
I pace around the supercar, looking for something to smash it to pieces with. What I’d give for a bat, right now. It would annoy him, take him a couple of weeks to get fixed up—not even close to what I’m feeling right now.
Not enough, the monster in my stomach says. And I listen, an idea blooming in the back of my mind.
I listen, driving all the way to the gas station, not faltering as I buy an empty tank of gas and fill that bitch up.
Not hesitating, when I drive back to the empty side of the parking lot, watching the Bentley for a moment before I get out and haul the gas canister beside me.
I could have destroyed his life, but didn’t. Because I loved him.
No more.
An eerie calm settles in my limbs as I douse his car with gasoline, the pungent scent hanging heavy in the air.
He left me for this life—and I made it easy for him. Because I loved him.
Papa always told Sylvia and I to carry lighters. You’ll never know when you’ll need to light some candles, or burn some evidence, he liked to say.
I’ve never been happier to be a good girl who listens.
I throw the lighter at the car, the hunk of metal going up in flames. I watch as it licks up the chassis, flames dancing in the darkness, consuming the car, plumes of smoke rising high in the air.
Finally, the monster inside of me settles. Just enough to allow me to get back in the car and drive off.
Firefighters race past me as I get on the highway ramp back home, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes me as I leave a message for Agent Bryce.
“Hi Agent Bryce. This is Natalia. I, uh, I just want you to know that I am fully on board with your investigation. I’ll help you put him in prison. I’ll do whatever it takes.” I don’t recognize my voice, but she sounds sure. “I’m free this weekend. Call me.”
I’m done keeping his secrets. If he loves this life of crime so badly, if he loves that girl so badly, he can try to keep them.
We’ll see what’s still standing after I’m through with him.