27. Mia
27
MIA
Y ou would have thought by now that I might have become well acquainted with imprisonment. Perhaps, on some masochistic level, my isolated pregnancy had almost prepared me for this.
But I would do it again—nine months of loneliness. I’d do it a hundred times to spare myself three days of agony.
Three days of confinement, fear, and a silence so thick I can barely breathe through it.
When I close my eyes, I try to picture Liza and Luca’s tiny faces, the way their small hands grasped at mine. The thought of them makes my chest ache and my spirits soar. Do they miss me? Will they even remember me if I don’t make it out of here?
And Leon…
Is he dead? Is he dead? Is he dead?
The words echo through me more consistently than my one heartbeat.
“She doesn’t shut up, even in her sleep,” someone sneers.
Another chuckles—a low and ugly sound. “She’ll crack soon enough. They always do.”
My stomach growls a loud and empty protest. I’ve barely eaten since they dragged me here, and I’m not sure I could keep food down even if I had it. I bite down hard on my lip, forcing myself not to react.
Let them think I’m breaking. Let them underestimate me.
My cell is a windowless box barely big enough to stand in. The cot I lie in smells of mildew, but it’s better than the cold floor.
Sleep doesn’t come. I’m constantly haunted by the fractured memories of Leon bleeding on the casino floor and the twins crying out for me. I thrash against the blankets, jolting into a state of half-consciousness as I try to reach for them.
I swallow hard, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill. I can’t let myself think like this. Not when the guards outside are looking for any excuse to make my life a misery.
Like every other day, time passes until the moment the cell door opens.
The guards aren’t gentle. They learned the hard way that I’m not some subdued little damsel in distress—the scabbed-over scratch marks on their faces are a testament to that.
My body is a live wire of exhaustion, every muscle trembling as I shuffle down the dim hallway, guards flanking me on either side. Their hands hover near their weapons, just in case.
From what I’ve managed to deduce so far, I’m in some kind of compound. I’ve been stealing glances as we walk down corridors that seem alive with activity.
It’s sprawling, like an ant colony, with corridors branching off into who-knows-where. I count every door, every intersection, every detail I can store away for later—if later ever comes.
But there are too many of them. Everywhere I look, eyes follow me, sizing me up. Waiting for me to step out of line.
The interrogation room is stark and cold; its single metal chair bolted to the floor before a table. The guards waste no time tying me up, my restraints biting into my skin as I sink into the unforgiving seat.
The fluorescent light overhead buzzes faintly, a persistent hum that drills into my skull. The room feels smaller today, or maybe it’s just me shrinking under the weight of exhaustion and hunger.
Just like every other day, Carmen enters a bit later.
Her posture is perfect, hands folded neatly on the table. Her beautiful curls are tied back from her blank face, making her usually soft features seem so much more severe. Or perhaps that’s just the lighting.
“Tell me where they’re moving next, Mia.” Her voice is a razor slicing through the silence.
Perhaps it’s just the lighting, but there’s torment in her expression, in the darkness of her eyes, the bags beneath them, the tightness of her lips, the bob of her throat. A slight tremor in her hand.
Oh Carmen, what did they do to you?
“You already know the answer to that.” I hold her gaze, my throat dry, my voice scratchy from disuse.
“Tell me where Teo Vitale is hiding.”
“I don’t know,” I bite out.
Round and round in circles, all over again.
“You’re aware of what my father is capable of?” her cold tone betrays a hint of irritation. “You’re aware of what happens to you if you don’t cooperate?”
I stick out my chin stubbornly. “I’d rather die.”
Her eyes narrow, furious flames cracking through the ice. “When did you learn to be so loyal?”
And there it is. The crux of it all.
Beneath the months of grief and isolation and torment lies the huge emotion that started it all: guilt.
I betrayed Carmen Rubio, and I would do it again if it kept my family safe. But there’s not one second that I don’t regret throwing her back into that world without so much as a tether to reality.
I saw firsthand how they treated her and knew they intended so much worse for the debutant, and yet I walked away with the belief that I never once cared for her.
The truth is that I did, more so than I had ever intended. I still do.
“You don’t need to do this, Carmen,” I whisper.
Her gaze hardens, and she leans back in her chair. “What I need is for you to answer these damn questions so he doesn’t kill you.”
“Why are you doing this? You don’t have to follow him—be like him. You’re better than this.”
For the first time, her composure completely cracks.
“Better?” she spits, her voice trembling with barely contained anger. “I trusted you, Mia. I thought you cared about me. But the whole time, you were lying. Spying. Using me.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Carmen?—”
“Don’t!” she cuts me off, her voice rising. Her eyes glisten, but she blinks rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. “You’re smarter than this, Mia. Make yourself invaluable, please. Give me something. Please.”
My heart begins to break. “You shouldn’t care about that.”
“You think I don’t know that? When you turned out exactly like everyone else? Playing me. Manipulating me.”
“I care about you too,” I whisper, the words barely audible.
She slams her hand down on the table, making me flinch. “No, you don’t! If you cared, you wouldn’t have betrayed me.”
I can’t answer that. I don’t know how to. The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.
Carmen wipes a hand across her face, her jaw tight as she fights to regain control.
“You were the only person I thought was real,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me. “And now you’re just...nothing but a walking death wish.”
She rises from her chair abruptly, pushing it back with a screech. For a moment, I think she’s going to storm out, but she pauses at the door, her back to me.
“Tell me why, Mia,” she says quietly. “Why did you do it?”
I open my mouth, the words forming on my tongue, but the sudden wail of an alarm cut me off.
The shrill, piercing sound makes me jump, and I see Carmen flinch, too, her hand jerking back from the door as if it were electrified.
My heart hammers in my chest, a wild hope blooming inside me despite my better judgment. If that alarm is what I think it is…
“No.” Carmen’s wide, panicked eyes meet mine. For a fleeting moment, she’s just a young woman caught in the crossfire of something far bigger than herself.
“They’re here, aren’t they?” It comes out like I’m begging her to confirm it.
She takes a shaking step away from the door. “They’ll kill me.”
“No, Carmen, listen to me,” I say, leaning forward as much as my restraints allow. “I won’t let that happen. You just need to let me go.”
She’s already shaking her head like she can’t process what I’m saying. “No. I can’t. My father?—”
“Your father isn’t here, is he?” It’s a shot in the dark, but why else would she look so terrified? “No one else is here to protect you. Please, let me do it again, one last time.”
Her lips tremble, hesitating as the alarm shrieks through the room.
I press on, desperate. “Please. You trusted me once. Trust me now. Let me go.”
Her jaw clenches, tears glistening in her eyes. For a moment, I think she will walk away, to leave us both to our wretched fates.
But then, with a sharp inhale, she takes a decisive step toward me.
The door bursts open, and both of us freeze.