Chapter 89 - Celia #2
When the worst thing that could ever happen to you finally happened, the whole world slowed down.
You played every action, every thought or movement you had leading up to it, wondering if at any point there was any chance of it going any other way.
If you could blame something other than yourself for leading down this path of no return.
“Caro! Stop! Let them go,” I cried, raising my head shamefully.
If there had ever been any doubt in my mind that I needed to kill her, if there had been any shred of love left inside of me for her, it had rotted and festered right before me. But that didn’t matter, because she was going to be the one getting the last laugh.
I’d already gone through the pain of losing Ronan… twice.
A third time would kill me.
But for once I didn’t have it in me to be a selfish bitch. He’d suffered my loss too many times as it was, and he didn’t deserve to watch me die. If that was the only gift I could give him in this life, it would have to suffice.
“Have you made your choice hermanita? Or shall I choose for you?” She spun her pistol towards Mateo, his big brown eyes full of fear.
I nodded slowly.
Every second up to this moment was still replaying in my head.
What could I have done differently?
What could I have changed?
Even if I had gone inside with them together, none of us had weapons on us after our flight.
Hindsight was more than twenty-twenty here.
I had cost us our lives.
“Wait,” I shouted just as I heard the click of the safety.
“It’s okay sunshine,” Mateo attempted to calm me while Ronan shouted, telling her to point the gun to him instead. “I love you fuckers.”
Santos’ hazel eyes had a blank fog rolling over them, something I recognized from our time in his primo’s basement.
He’d given up. He didn’t care if he was the first or the last to go because he knew this was how our story would end.
I think somehow, we all did. Our protection had run out, and in the end people who dealt in death were almost always next to die.
“Ronan!” I screamed. “I choose Ronan,” I sobbed, closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to meet his.
“I love you, flower.”
“I’m sorry, baby, I can’t let you watch me die. I love you,” I explained hoping that he’d be able to somehow forgive me in his last seconds of life as if it would matter at all.
We would all meet again in hell.
I was sure of it.
Me and the demons who found themselves at the end of my leash willingly.
Just as we had figured it all out, it would be over.
I guess only good people got happy endings.
What had I ever done to deserve something more than exactly this?
“Wow, I was not expecting that one, I’m not gonna lie. Really thought she loved you more than that Ronan.” Carolina chuckled, the blast of the gun ringing out was almost as loud as the scream that barreled out of my lungs.
But it wasn’t his body that dropped down to the ground, it was the bald Russian.
The shock and surprise of Taylor Constance charging into the room with her pistol burning hot had us all freezing in the moment out of disbelief.
Her distraction was enough to throw my sister off and give me the chance I needed to overtake her.
I elbowed her in the side, using my bound wrists to knock the gun from her hand.
“Por que consigues todo?” she spat out, yanking my hair and ripping it from the scalp.
I screamed from the pain, sending my bound fists down to her face simultaneously.
Gunshots rang out all around us, but I couldn’t focus on anything but Carolina, knowing if I took my eyes off for even a split second she would use that as a chance to kill me.
Taylor said she was always watching, and though there was a part of me that wanted to question the breach in my privacy, I couldn’t help feeling anything but grateful for this window of opportunity she had given us.
“Because I’m better,” I hissed out, bashing my forehead into her nose as I pressed both my hands down into her throat, earning a forced choking sound from her. “Stronger,” I panted, cutting off her breath. “And I want it more.”
She scratched at my arms but the weight of my body sitting on her chest was too much for her to push me off.
My fists moved on their own, repeatedly coming down her face with all the force my arms could muster.
Her screams of pain muted in my ears and my vision lost focus as my muscles repeated the action my brain no longer connected to.
Her bones crunched under my hands and eventually the burning sharp pain radiating through my extremities dulled.
The bullets died, or maybe they just ran out.
The room went quiet. Nothing but the sounds of my fists still hammering into her face.
I felt hands on my arms, pulling me back and lifting me off of her.
I screeched a feral sound, panting heavily through my rage.
“Your hands, morena,” was the only thing Santos could manage to say.
I looked down at them, bloody, cut up with shards of bones from my sister's face sticking out of them. Wrists still bound, my middle fingers broken and bent into awkward shapes. I didn’t bother to look at her face to see the damage, I knew she was long past dead.
I opened my mouth and the involuntary wail of a broken woman echoed out of my lungs.
Santos was there to catch me as I fell into him, his hands no longer zip tied and able to hold me to his chest as I mourned my little sister for the second time.
“Call an ambulance,” Mateo said with worry in his voice.
Ronan was already on his phone and the way he paced back and forth let me know everything was not okay.
Then I saw Taylor, on the ground, eyes wide and blood pooling at her mouth. Mateo hovering over her with his shirt pressed into a wad against her stomach.
“Taylor!” I rushed to her side, unable to touch her without feeling a burning pain against every part of my hands.
Santos cut my restraints before lifting her head up under his lap.
“I told you, that I’d do anything for these fuckers.” She choked on her own blood with a smile, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Taylor, keep your eyes open,” I commanded her.
We’d lost too many innocent people already.
They’d lost too many of their friends.
I was not worth these deaths.
Santa Muerte please.
Why them and not me?
“You can’t shroud me from pain if you keep taking everyone from me!” I screamed, my tears falling over her face and my yells not registering any reaction from her.
As if La Madrina heard my plea, the sounds of the ambulance drew closer and closer to our home.
“We have to get her into the main area,” Ronan instructed, reminding us of the dead putos in the room that were going to be drawing more attention to the situation than we needed.
“Call Dominico, have him reach out to Ramírez to clear this mess.” My voice sounded hoarse though I couldn’t remember screaming. Santos nodded as Mateo and Ronan lifted Taylor off the ground and carried her out of the piano room.
The paramedics rushed in, loading her into the gurney while trying to explain to Mateo in a language he didn’t speak that he’d have to meet them at the hospital separately. He didn’t take their no for an answer, climbing in anyway and disappearing with the sounds of the sirens.
I stayed sitting there on the floor, paralyzed and numb as I thought about the last half of the year.
Was this who I had been meant to become all along?
Had there been another path set out for me that kept begging me to stay the course, but I just refused to follow it?
Or was my destiny always meant to be one filled with carnage and death?
I was built for it.
I knew I was.
I shook off the imposter syndrome crawling up my spine once again and reminded myself that I’d made every promise against my enemies come true.
“Raa Cocksucker!” Pluto’s voice jarred me out of my thoughts, making me involuntarily laugh as I looked up to find Ronan holding his cage.
“Hola Amigo.” The tears rolled down my face and he turned his little head to the side as if he was trying to recognize my pain as something he understood.
“Hola Puto!” he cawed, forcing my tears to stream down faster with my laughs.
“I didn’t know you spoke spanish.”
Ronan sat, placing the cage on the ground and bringing me into his lap.
The bird alluded to conversation every now and then, mostly letting us down each time it turned into repetitive insults.
He plucked the sharp bones sticking out of my hands one by one, the burning sting a welcome pain.
We sat there together for an hour before his phone rang.
He lifted me up to reach for his cell in his pocket.
“Where are you?” he asked as soon as he answered.
“Okay, go without us. We’ll meet there soon, ask Kane if he needs any clothes.”
I waited anxiously for him to disconnect the call and give me all the information.
“Santos made contact with Ramírez, he’ll make sure there are no questions from the paramedics.
Dominico is sending a crew to clean the bodies up while we're gone.” He lifted me up to my feet, my legs barely able to hold me.
Instead of letting me get my bearings he lifted me up into his arms, carrying me out of the room and taking me up the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Taylor’s in surgery,” He told me, some of the weight of the universe lifting off my shoulders.
“She’s not dead?” The tears began again, I no longer fought to wipe them or prevent them from falling.
I think I had finally learned that crying didn’t make me weak.
It made me someone who felt pain.
“Looks like she’s gonna make it.” He carried me through my bedroom and sat me on top of the closed toilet lid once we reached the bathroom. “We can go to the hospital after I get you cleaned up. Get your hands checked out. The mayor elect can’t show up to the hospital covered in blood.”
He walked to the shower, turning it on and adjusting the faucets to a warm temperature before helping me to stand. He pulled each item of clothing off of me with complete and total care, being careful to not hurt my hands any more than they’d already been damaged.
“I love you,” I whispered into the air, unsure if it was even loud enough for him to hear.
He looked up at me from a kneeled position as he undid the buckles on my shoes and helped me out of them. I had a million ideas of what might have been coursing through his head right at this moment.
Nothing said I love you quite like being the first one picked to die.
“You’re my entire world. It was the right choice,” he reassured me, the sobs pouring out of my soul with a ferocity I’d never experienced before, making me unsure if I’d ever be able to stop myself from crying again.
He helped me into the warm stream of water, washing me gently and avoiding doing anything but letting the water carefully roll off my skin to avoid any more pain.
My hands throbbed, but it was the kind of ache you could ignore.
The kind that reminded you that you finished that very thing you sought out to do.
I’d won.
It was all mine.
Even if it had cost me just as much.