Chapter 63 Celia #2
“Los Muertos?” I asked, wiping the tears off my face.
“You got your big brother to thank for that,” Mateo grunted while he and Santos used each other for support to make their way up the stairs.
I frowned, shaking my head and looking at Ronan.
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s some wingless Black Crows up there too, but he brought a hundred and fifty Diablos to Guillermo’s door.
A few Los Muertos escaped, but it looks like we got all the ones that mattered.
” Ronan shifted his gaze, and I followed it to see Santos was holding Guillermo’s head in his hand like a bowling ball. Fingers hooked into his eye sockets.
We made our way out of the basement to find bodies scattered all over the house.
Bikers clad in leather vests were dragging them into a corner making a neat pile of corpses.
The sun shone brightly through the windows, but even so, I wasn’t prepared for the shock of the daylight once we crossed the threshold.
I shielded my eyes from it until l could make out César’s shape in the distance, leaning against a van with a cigarette in his mouth. He frowned seeing the state I was in, but I couldn’t help but smile to see him here for me, risking himself and his men for my sake.
“You do love me,” I said as we collectively made our way towards the van.
He chuckled, flicking his cigarette to the ground.
“Familia eh? Don’t say I never did anything for you, princesita.” He grinned, bringing me into his chest and placing a kiss on the top of my head.
“I thought I knew what family was supposed to be, now I’m not so sure anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” César asked.
“Carolina. She’s alive. This was all her,” I said, hating the words as they came out of my mouth.
“That was the woman we saw leaving then. Fuck!” César cursed, kicking the side of the van.
The joy that came with being reunited was short.
Everything felt cold. I should have been exploding with happy emotions at the sight of Ronan and Mateo, but between the weakness and thoughts of my sister, I felt like I was crashing.
There truly was nothing that could have prepared my heart for the overwhelming joy that came with seeing both of them alive. But instead I was frozen.
Mi corazón. Broken and full at the same time.
Alone, surrounded by people who loved me. I felt nothing. My heart, draped with a layer of ice, and every time I looked at Santos and found his gaze awkwardly shifting away it cemented the feeling deeper into my soul.
“We’re gonna get both of you better okay, sunshine? Fuck, I’m so glad to see you.” He was crying, he was actually fucking crying and maybe if my soul hadn’t shriveled up and died inside of me I’d still be crying too.
He looked to Santos and found the same empty shell of a stare coming from him. Mateo pressed his lips into a fine line and nodded his head like he understood we’d need time to sort ourselves out from this.
“They’re mostly all dead now, except your sister,” César explained.
“I’m sure she scurried off to Ignacio to warn him. Her time is coming too,” I said as he helped me into the backseat of the van.
Mateo climbed into the front with César while I sat between Santos and Ronan, staring out the window as the car slowly began to move. Ronan’s head dropped back onto the headrest of the seat, and he winced from pain with every bump the tires hit.
“You doin’ alright?” Mateo asked, looking back.
It was meant for Ronan, but his eyes scanned all three of us. Ronan’s hand on my lap squeezed, and I placed my palm over his for comfort.
“Emory and the cavalry are waiting to know where to meet. Then she’ll be able to give the three of you medical attention,” César announced from the driver’s seat.
“Emory is here?” I asked, not feigning my surprise.
“She said the Diablos’ doctor wasn’t qualified for the level of damage Ronan was risking.” He shook his head. “So where to, sister?”
“Send your men south,” I told him. “We’re crossing the border tonight.”
The conversation ended there, and we rode in silence for nearly another hour.
I stared out at the scenery. It wasn’t until I felt Santos’ finger lacing through mine and the gentle squeeze of his hand that I realized I was crying again.
I broke free of both of their hands in order to wipe my face dry.
Ronan didn’t miss it. He took my chin between his index and thumb.
“Tell me what happened in there, flower,” he whispered. “Let me help make it better.”
I wanted to tell him that just by coming, he already had, but instead Santos spoke.
“Nothing happened,” he bit out, like lying was somehow going to save me the shame of what had already happened.
I wasn’t embarrassed.
It wasn’t me who got taken advantage of.
It was the stupid pendejo who thought he could trust to shove his dick into the open mouth of a pirana with the expectation that it was somehow going to come out still whole.
I turned to face him, hardening my stare and dropping my voice down to a cold octave. “Nothing happened?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said in a hushed tone, and César turned the radio off completely, the silence in the car becoming damn near unbearable.
“Then what did you mean? Because you couldn’t even stomach looking at me Santos. You looked away every single time. Why couldn’t you look at me?” I raised my voice to a yell.
He sighed, looking out to the road again, like he couldn’t voice out his reasons.
“Santos?” I shouted and César cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“I couldn’t stand to see you that way. That’s not who you are. I didn’t want to see you like that.” His voice broke and a tear fell down his fucked-up cheek.
He turned completely away from me once he noticed my gaze fixed on the scarring flesh.
“I needed you to see,” I said desperately, and he whipped his head back at me.
Ronan’s grip squeezed around my thigh. His head was still dropped back, eyes closed, but his face was wet.Mateo looked out the window and I couldn’t hear a single breath in the car.
I’d broken all my men.
César’s gaze met mine in the rearview mirror, and with a single look he gave me back the strength of our family.
He nodded like he understood the entirety of my experience, and for some reason I felt it in that moment.
All of our pain and suffering, it was always unified even when we were far apart.
“I needed you to see that it was my choice. That he wasn’t making me into a victim because I was doing it of my own volition. I was saving us. I don’t regret it, and I’m not ashamed. I’d do it a million times over if it kept his blade away from you,” I spat out, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I’m sorry.” he said, regret being the flavor of his sorrow.
“I did it because I love you, Santos. And I would have done the same for any of you fuckers in this car.” I attempted to keep the bitterness from my tone, but I was tired of being looked at like I was some poor thing who’d been beaten.
I was a fucking survivor. I’d proved it over and over again.
There wasn’t shame in that.
“So what’s the plan, reina?” César asked, changing the mood in the car.
“Guadalajara. If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right. First we get what’s mine, then we go home, hermanito.”
I leaned into Ronan. He let out a low, pained sound and wrapped his arm around me, bringing me into his chest. He dropped his head over mine and I let the comfort of his embrace soothe me for the rest of the ride.