Chapter 23 – Noa
Pain is the first thing I feel.
It sits heavy in my bones, a dull ache radiating outward, like my body is waking up from something unnatural.
Then, all at once, it sharpens—biting at my wrists, burning at my shoulders, pulsing beneath my skin like an open wound.
The pain is alive, thrumming in time with the sluggish beat of my heart.
I try to move.
The second I shift, something yanks me back. My breath snags in my throat as I realize—
I can’t.
My arms are in front of me, my wrists bound together, tight enough that my fingers have started to tingle with numbness.
My first instinct is to fight, to pull against the restraints, but the second I do, a sharp sting lances up my arms. Wire.
I recognize the unforgiving bite of it instantly. Not rope. Not plastic. Metal.
A slow, sickening realization creeps up my spine.
They don’t plan on keeping me here long. Wire isn’t meant to restrain someone for days. It’s meant to cut. To punish.
The thought sends a bolt of adrenaline surging through me, but my body is sluggish, uncooperative. Everything feels wrong. My limbs are heavy, my thoughts sluggish, my pulse a distant drumbeat.
Drugged? Maybe. But the effects are wearing off.
I can feel too much now.
The floor beneath me is cold. Unyielding. Concrete, rough against my cheek, scraping against my skin as I shift my weight. The air smells of damp stone, mildew and sweat, with something deeper beneath it. Blood.
Not just mine.
I try to inhale slowly, forcing my senses to catch up with me. The pounding in my skull is relentless, pressing against the inside of my head like a vice. Every pulse of pain sends stars bursting behind my eyelids. I blink them open, force myself to see.
The world is a blur of gray and shadow.
Darkened edges. A room without windows. A single, low light flickering above me, casting warped silhouettes across the walls. My vision wavers, the room shifting in and out of focus, as if the air itself is trembling.
A sound breaks through the haze—
The slow scrape of boots against the concrete.
Close.
Too close.
I freeze. Every nerve in my body goes rigid, my breath catching in my throat. The footsteps stop. A presence looms nearby. Watching. Waiting.
A rough, male voice cuts through the silence, sharp and laced with amusement.
“She’s coming to.”
The words send a fresh wave of ice down my spine.
I keep my head down, my cheek still pressed to the floor. Don’t react. Don’t show them how weak you are. But my pulse betrays me, hammering wildly beneath my skin, and I know—they can hear it.
The boots scrape forward again. Closer this time.
A heavy presence kneels beside me, the weight of their stare pressing into me like a physical force. I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath rattling in my chest, willing the fog in my head to clear faster.
I need to wake up. Now.
Then—
A hand clamps down on my arm, yanking me upward hard.
Pain explodes through my body, my shoulders twisting painfully as I’m hauled off the ground.
A strangled sound tears from my throat before I can swallow it down, my knees buckling beneath me.
I jerk against the grip, but the wire bites deeper, the sting sharp enough to make my vision black out for a second.
My body slumps forward, but the hand yanks me back up.
“Get up, Noa,” a voice growls at my ear. Low, rough, dripping with disdain.
Elias.
Recognition lances through me like a blade, slicing through the haze in my head. I know that voice. It all rushes back to me with the jolt of his tone. That cruel amusement, like he’s just waiting for me to break.
I grit my teeth. Force my head up.
The grip on my arms tightens, fingers digging into my skin like iron claws.
My knees nearly buckle as Elias yanks me fully upright, his strength unforgiving.
The movement sends a sharp, searing pain through my shoulders, and for a second, my vision goes white-hot with agony.
My bound wrists strain against the wire, the pressure biting deeper, carving into my flesh.
The warmth of blood trickles down my fingers.
I grit my teeth, swallowing back the sound clawing up my throat. I won’t give him the satisfaction of hearing me whimper.
Elias’ breath is warm against my temple, thick with the stale scent of tobacco and something heavier beneath it. Contempt drips from his voice. “You don’t look so tough now, do you?”
I force myself to lift my chin, my pulse hammering in my ears.
My vision is still blurry around the edges, but I can make out the broad outline of his frame—shoulders squared, arms crossed, the smirk likely curling at the corner of his mouth.
He’s enjoying this. Enjoying the power, the way I sway on my feet, the way he holds me up like I’m some weak thing barely capable of standing.
A voice cuts through the air—sharp, feminine, laced with authority. “Let her go, Elias. That’s unnecessary.”
Renata.
Elias doesn’t release me right away. His grip lingers, fingers flexing like he’s considering squeezing harder. Like he wants to see how much more I can take before I crumble.
Then, with a scoff, he shoves me forward.
My body pitches, my legs failing for half a second, but I catch myself before I fall completely.
The rough edge of my boot scrapes against the concrete as I right myself, sucking in a shaky breath.
The world spins, my head throbbing, but I force myself to focus. To see.
Renata stands a few feet away, arms loosely crossed, expression unreadable.
She looks different than the girl I once knew—the girl who used to laugh, who used to tease, who used to stand beside me with unwavering loyalty.
She doesn’t smirk now. Doesn’t gloat. Doesn’t look like she’s enjoying this.
She just looks at me.
Elias exhales sharply, crossing his arms. “You shouldn’t be so sure how good a captive Se?ora Castillo is going to be.”
Renata’s gaze flicks to him, something hard passing through her expression. “She’s smarter than you give her credit for.”
Something about the way she says it sends a chill through me, but I don’t let it show.
I keep my shoulders squared, my face unreadable, even as my wrists throb and my body protests every second I remain upright.
My breath is still uneven, but I steady it.
I won’t give them anything. Not fear. Not uncertainty.
Renata looks at me again.
I hold her gaze, searching for something in her eyes. A hint. A weakness. A reason.
Why? Why is she doing this?
My legs tremble, but I refuse to sit. The pain in my wrists is sharp, my fingers tingling from the lack of circulation, but I won’t give in to the weakness threatening to pull me under.
Renata watches me, her expression still unreadable, though something flickers beneath the surface of her calm. A hesitation, maybe. Or regret.
“Sit down before you fall down, Noa,” she says, softer this time.
I stay standing.
“Why?” My voice is raw, my throat tight. The question is barely more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a blade.
Renata exhales, running a hand through her hair. “Why do you think?”
I shake my head, the motion making my vision swim. “You had my father killed,” I say, the words thick with venom. “You had Tomás killed.”
Renata’s gaze doesn’t waver. There’s no shock. No guilt. Only a cold, steady certainty.
“I had to.”
I suck in a breath, a tremor running through me.
“It was them or me,” she continues, her voice quiet but firm. No apology. No shame. Just fact.
A hollow laugh forces its way from my lips, bitter and sharp. “And now it’s me,” I whisper.
Renata steps forward, crouching until we’re at eye level. For the first time, I see something else in her face. Not just calculation, not just control. Something softer. Something dangerous.
“You were right, you know,” she murmurs.
A cold shiver runs through me. “About what?”
Renata tilts her head, studying me. “That the only way out is in a body bag.” Her voice is quiet, almost gentle. “Unless we change the way things are.”
Her words settle in my chest like stones, heavy and suffocating. I want to reject them. To throw them back in her face. But I don’t.
I can’t.
“You think we can?” I ask, my voice barely above a breath.
Renata’s lips press together. “I know we can.”
She leans closer, her voice a thread of steel. “If we take this from them, we make the rules. They’ll have to listen. They’ll have to take us seriously.”
I exhale sharply, shaking my head. “You think the men in charge will ever let that happen?”
Renata’s jaw tightens. “They won’t have a choice.”
I feel the shift before she even says it. The weight of something inevitable pressing down, forcing the air from my lungs.
“Matías won’t let you,” I whisper.
Her eyes darken. “Matías will be dead.”
The world tilts.
My stomach drops.
My heart pounds, the sound of it roaring in my ears, drowning out everything but the weight of her words.
Matías will be dead.
I hear it, but I don’t believe it.
Renata watches me, eyes unwavering, her posture deceptively calm.
I know that look. It’s the same one she wore when I was nothing more than a slip of a girl and she talked me into sneaking out, the same one when she told me to trust her, that she had a plan.
But this isn’t teenage rebellion. This isn’t a game.
This is murder.
This is war.
I feel like the floor beneath me isn’t solid anymore, like I’m sinking into something dark and bottomless. My breath comes fast, too fast, my chest tightening as panic slithers into my veins. I want to move, to back away, but my legs won’t obey.
“You’re doing the same thing my father did,” I whisper. “The same thing Matías does.” Renata doesn’t flinch, but something flickers in her eyes. I seize it, my voice trembling but strong. “You’re making choices for me.”
She takes a step forward, careful, measured. “I’m trying to save you.”
I shake my head, my throat thick. “By taking everything from me?”
Her jaw clenches. “By giving you control.”
My chest tightens painfully. The air between us is thick, charged, like the seconds before a lightning strike. My wrists throb, my pulse erratic. I don’t know if I’m furious or devastated, if I want to scream or sob.
“I love you, Renata,” I say, my voice breaking. The words taste bitter, like something spoiled. “I always have. But you’re treating me like a pawn just like they did.”
Renata inhales sharply, and for the first time, I see something close to regret cross her face. It’s fleeting, but it’s there.
“I wanted to believe you were different,” I whisper, my throat raw.
Her lips part, hesitation tightening the lines of her face. When she speaks, her voice is unsteady. “I am.”
“Then call Matías.”
The room stills.
Her entire body goes rigid.
“No.”
I move before she—or Elias—can react.
Elias sees it too late.
I lunge, twisting my wrists in just the right way, ignoring the fresh sting as the wire digs deeper. My fingers close around the cold, solid weight of the gun at his hip.
For a split second, everything is still.
Then I pull the trigger.
The gunshot is deafening, a violent crack that splits through the air.
Elias jerks, a guttural sound ripping from his throat as the bullet slams into his stomach. His body crumples, folding inward, hands clutching the wound, blood already seeping through his fingers.
Renata gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. But I’m already turning the gun on her next.
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t run. She just stares at me, her eyes wide and shining.
Tears burn my own vision, hot and relentless. My hands shake around the grip, my breath ragged.
“Call him,” I whisper.
Renata swallows hard. “Noa…”
“If you don’t, I have to.”
Her breath catches, her gaze flicking between me and the gun. For the first time, I see real fear in her eyes. But not for herself.
For me.
Slowly, carefully, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. The room is so quiet I can hear her breath trembling. She presses a button. The dial tone rings.
Then, Matías’ voice cuts through the line, sharp, furious.
“Where the fuck are you?”
I exhale, my grip tightening. My voice is steady when I say it.
“Come and get me.”