Chapter 34 Cecilia
CECILIA
Sleep was basically an illusion at this point.
However many days I spent locked up in that basement, unable to get more than an hour's rest at a time, ended up doing a number on my circadian rhythm. I woke up in Mateo’s bed, with the moonlight brightly seeping into the glass that lined the exterior wall of his bedroom.
I groaned at the pounding in my head and rolled to look at the ceiling only to feel an excruciating pain burning through my back.
Puta Madre!
Had I slept all night into the next day? Had I slept an hour?
The scent of pine and old leather coursed through my senses as I rolled to my other side to see him there next to me.
His raven hair draped over his eyes, and a serenity displayed on his features that I hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing for myself yet.
Where did he go when all the worry had been smoothed out of his face? Where did that peace come from?
I spent the last few months fighting my brain and my heart, letting them wage a battle against each other while I sat on the sidelines as a mere spectator.
Falling for Mateo Kane was a mistake. I knew it would be, and somehow in the end, I’d suffer for it one way or another.
But right now, I couldn’t stop myself from letting those feelings rise to the surface and take over the empty space that had been carved out in my chest. He came for me.
As alone as I felt in this vast world, I couldn’t deny what I had witnessed with my own eyes.
Mateo saved me.
My head throbbed from the drugs that had been continuously shoved into my system, and my body ached from being pent up in that tiny cage. My pulse quickened at the thought and worry began to tumble its way into me.
What if they put me back down there now that I’m here again? What if Ronan shoves me back in that closet?
Maybe I just needed to get the hell out of here before I let myself become anyone else’s plaything. I thought about going to Santos and demanding that he help me, but another thought crossed my head before I could act on it.
He wasn’t there last night.
I was really fucking out of it, but not fucked up enough to know that I saw Ronan and Mateo last night. Not Santos.
I groaned loudly as I rolled my way out of the bed, unable to avoid feeling the pain slicing through my back.
Something tugged at my arm, and that’s when I noticed the IV connected to the inside of my elbow, hanging from a metal hook over the bed.
Pulling the needle out slowly, I hissed with discomfort as I freed myself from all the tubing, fully aware the empty saline bag was likely the only reason I didn’t feel like death walking at this very moment.
My feet hit the floor, but my legs gave out underneath me before I could take a step.
Rayos.
I looked back at the bed to make sure Mateo was still fast asleep.
That would have been embarrassing.
I used the wall to help myself stand again, and inch by inch, I made my way to his en-suite bathroom.
Que Chingados?
My face was every array of color imaginable under the black and blue spectrum, and my bad eye was just now starting to open up.
My black hair was dull and lackluster, riddled with knots and tangles throughout.
My neck sported a colorful purple and yellow hue in the shape of the leather belt I had been dragged around by for most of the night.
Gathering the courage I needed to face my newest demon, I spun away from the full-length mirror and sipped a large inhale before turning my head to inspect the rest. A gasp tumbled its way out of me as I stared into the flogging gash that split my back open like a fault line.
My eyes pooled with tears, and I reached behind to graze my fingers along it, but it was more sensitive than I could have imagined. I pulled back immediately and turned around.
Monstrua.
I hurt a lot of people in my life, and I somehow had also been on the receiving end plenty of times as well. This was a new kind of horror I hadn’t seen yet for myself, and yet somehow it was the clearest reflection of who I was inside, now shining on the exterior.
How fitting.
“I was waiting for you to wake up to call the Doc. Are you ready?” Mateo’s soothing, deep voice cut through the fog of my self-deprecating thoughts.
He stood at the entrance of the bathroom leaning an elbow on the wall, his eyes full of a sadness that I knew was directed at me. I nodded and wanted to respond but my voice cracked, and my throat burned when I tried.
“Don’t talk yet. Do you want to eat something?” He asked me sweetly, and I nodded again.
He took his shirt off and handed it over to me.
I painstakingly put it on, feeling the fabric burn against my fresh wound while I fought a wince.
He grabbed me by the hand and walked me to the kitchen.
If he noticed my awkward limp, or my clear discomfort he didn’t mention it, and I appreciated it. Being weak was not my strong point.
Being helpless, even more so.
He pulled the stool out from the island for me and then walked to the other side before opening the refrigerator.
“I’m uh, I’m not the one who usually cooks.
But everyone else is asleep so it looks like you’ll have to settle.
” He looked back and gave me a smirk. As terrible as every part of me felt, I couldn’t help but return it.
There was just something about Mateo when he gave you a smile that wasn’t totally coated in crazy that could melt the ice inside you.
I took a quick glance at the oven clock, and it read a little past one-thirty.
Either I slept an hour or two or I slept a full day, and by how trashed my body felt, I honestly didn’t know for sure.
Mateo dropped a glass of juice in front of me and put a straw through it before pushing it towards me.
“Little sips,” he instructed, and I nodded again.
I couldn’t control the moan that came from the deepest part of my soul as the orange juice coated my tongue and slid down my throat.
It was the first thing I’d consumed since I’d last been in their care.
And though their version of kennels was a five-star hotel compared to the basement of the assholes who had taken me, I wouldn't have considered it being cared for in any way.
“Not too much!” He pulled the straw from my lips, and I groaned in protest. “Don’t want you getting sick.
” He pulled out a carton of eggs, some butter from the fridge, and a pan out of the cabinet before turning the gas on the cooktop.
Before I knew it, there were slightly overdone scrambled eggs in front of me and a bottle of ketchup.
I raised my eyebrow at him, but I couldn’t stay silent on this one.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I laughed out in a raspy voice that resulted in a dry cough and a pained look I couldn’t fake away.
“There is no better way to eat scrambled eggs than with ketchup. Trust me,” he said confidently as he crossed his arms over his chest and dipped his head at me to try the food.
“This is an abomination. Haven’t I suffered enough?” I joked, but his attitude deflated, and he turned back to the fridge. Before he could grab the ketchup from the counter, I snagged it and squeezed a glob onto my plate.
“Let it be known, I wasn’t scared of anything,” I announced, and he let out a hearty laugh at my proclamation.
He cocked an eyebrow as he waited for me to judge his terrible food preferences.
Maybe it was the fact I hadn’t eaten in days, or perhaps the lunatic was right.
That shit was good, but I wasn’t going to let him know.
My ancestors would be rolling in their graves over this one.
“And?” He asked when I didn’t say anything after my second or even third bite.
“It’ll do,” I responded without looking back up at him, but my face betrayed me when the smile tugged on the corner of my lips.
“You’re damn right it will,” he shook his head at my refusal to give him any more than that and he began to clean up after himself while I finished my food.
“How long was I gone?”
“Three days.”
“And how long have I been asleep?” I asked again.
“Give or take a day, you were really heavily drugged,” he said, and his expression turned serious before he continued, “You actually overdosed. Ronan saved your life.”
“Oh.” My thoughts were running wild, Ronan saved me?
Ronan who couldn’t spend two seconds around me without treating me like I was the worst person to ever walk this Earth–Ronan? Ronan who hate-fucked me like it was the only way he could tolerate to be around me without murdering me?
No. Absolutely not.
“There’s something else too.” He scratched the back of his head nervously and I pushed my empty plate at him, this time it was my turn to wait for a response.
“It’s hard to explain, but… it’s probably better I tell you instead of waiting for Zerkos to come back up.
” He wasn’t rushing to tell me whatever it was, and the silence kept dragging on until I could practically feel my anxiety floating around in the room like a tangible thing.
“Spit it out! You’re making me nervous,” I rubbed my arms, trying to figure out what else could have happened that I didn’t remember.
“We know who you are, Celia Flores.” He looked straight into my eyes as he said my birth name, and there was something hypnotizing about the way the dark vortex of our gazes collided when we looked at each other like this.
Like there was only us in the chaos of the entire universe.
I was drowning in the pitch black of his stare before I could snap back to reality and focus on the words that came out of his mouth.
It was like the ground had been removed from right under me, I was floating, waiting to free fall and lose everything once again. I hadn’t been Celia Flores in twenty-two years, I certainly didn’t expect the name to be casually tumbling out of Mateo Kane’s mouth.