Chapter 3
THREE
RAFAEL SANTOS
Inside the house, there’s boisterous laughter and the clinking of glasses tapping as they fill and refill. Men and women’s voices filter out, some loud, others quiet, but all full of joy and excitement. It’s like they’re feeding off each other, each deeply happy in a way I’ve never been.
What would it be like to have friends and family who could be this happy together? What would it be like to have a family gathering where no one talked about sickness or death or how we’re going to afford our next meal?
I don’t know. And now, I never will.
I don’t want to ruin their day—that’s not why I’m here. Lord knows they’ve been through enough in the last year, and I don’t want to add more to it. But the opportunity was just too good to pass up.
I don’t have resources the way they do, so when I see her car racing through the town, her face tear streaked and livid, I follow.
It may be my only chance, and I’m not missing it.
Valentina Reyes must die. For my family.
She leans against the hood of her cherry red car, her silken top clinging to the curves of her body like it was made specifically for her—fuck, maybe it was—fitted in all the right places and so soft looking, my fingers twitch with the want to see what riches like that must feel like.
Her lower half’s sucked into a pair of black pants so tight, I can see every muscle in her mile-long legs, leading to feet covered in black heels, the bottoms red and covered in sand.
It’s her face, though, that my eyes continue to wander back to—the gorgeously tanned skin with red lips matching the color of her car, fiery red hair dancing around her heart-shaped face so at odds with the look of devastation contorting her features.
Tears cut through her makeup in an unmistakable path, dripping off her chin and leaving dark stains on her silken top.
Valentina’s lips wrap around a joint in the delicate fingers of one hand as she takes another pull. The end flashes red, and her nostrils widen as she breathes deeply. In her other hand hangs a small, silver revolver, the piece glittering in the late afternoon sunshine.
I don’t want to be curious about her—she’s a fucking egotistical killer—but watching her makes me wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye. What am I missing?
Why hasn’t she gone inside, and what has her so upset? Is her perfect little world finally falling apart?
She sobs angrily, dropping the flashing ember and grinding it to nothing beneath the toe of her shoe. The revolver quivers, and she raises it, pointing toward me but not, and for a second, I wonder if she sees me.
Her throat bobs, her eyes wide as she stares, and I slowly look to my left, trying to remain in the shadows but still see what she’s pointing at.
Adalene stands at the window, a deer frozen in the headlights, and my heart detonates at the sight of her.
What’s she doing? Why isn’t she moving?
My mind races. If I yell at her, not only will my cover be blown, but I’ll likely be caught. And if I don’t, I might finally witness her end when I worked so hard to protect it from happening.
I regret everything that happened to her—no one deserved the kind of torture she endured—but can I really betray my family for her? Again?
They’d still be alive if I hadn’t helped her escape into the woods that night. And even though I wonder if they got what they deserved, their blood’s on my hands.
I let them down, and now, I must pay the price.
It’s the debt my conscious owes.
Before I have to choose, another woman emerges from the house, walking toward Valentina like she doesn’t have a care in the world. I admire her bravery, but how stupid can you be?
She has a gun, for fuck’s sake.
The woman’s smaller, petite, light blonde hair pulled into a tight bun at the top of her head. She looks like the ultimate girly girl—soft and gentle. So what the hell is she doing with a maniac like Valentina?
They speak in hushed tones, and I strain to hear them. Unable to, I watch in deafening silence, the only sound the roar of my heart as Valentina finally drops the gun aimed at Adalene.
I breathe a ragged sigh of relief.
The woman turns on her heel, walking away, and I resume watching the villain, her distressed demeanor so different from the violence I expected. Her face is fallen, her eyes downcast and heavy. I feel myself beginning to crack, my determination to end her wavering.
The sound of tires against the gravel fills the air, and panic once more consumes me. I’ll never get another chance like this, and even though I don’t know if it’s right, I refuse to let my family down again.
I raise the gun, the motion catching Valentina’s gaze, and her head snaps in my direction. I freeze, not even breathing for fear she might actually see me. Her brows plummet, and I know the shadows are doing their job of keeping my face hidden.
Her golden eyes glitter with something I don’t recognize as they drop to the gun in my hand. She stares at it, and I stare at her—locked in a silent battle of wills. Time stands still, and nothing else matters but the heavy weight of the gun in my hand and the look transforming Valentina’s face.
There’s a ghost of a smile there, and something about it shatters my reservations.
She’s a villain, dark and evil to her core.
I don’t think about it a moment longer. I can’t. I aim, closing my eyes and squeezing the trigger in the same motion. The sound cuts through the air, splitting it open with an ear-shattering finality.
My knees quiver with the magnitude of my action, and for a second, regret fills me so completely, I want to collapse. Instead, I retreat farther into the shadows as a scream pierces the air.
What have I done?
I lift my gaze to the scene only to stop, staring in horror. It’s not only Valentina laying in the sand, but a man lying on top of her.
She flails beneath him, and my heart sinks. I didn’t shoot her—I shot him.
The sound of shouts and screaming continues, this time accompanied by a growing number of voices, and I slink away further. Without turning around, I race to the back of the house and out into the field, my arms and legs pumping as I push myself farther and farther away.
I failed—I didn’t kill Valentina Reyes, and I’ve let my family down.
I reach the edge of the property, my breathing labored as I hop over the fence and climb into my car. It’s quiet out here—too fucking quiet—and the silence tugs on the tattered ends of my mind.
Defeat and disgust war inside me—how could I have messed this up?
Between heavy breaths, I take out my phone and dial the familiar number. It rings and rings until going to voicemail.
“Mama, I messed up.” I turn the car on, backing out, my mind and heart racing at equally maddening speeds. “Marco would be so disappointed. I let her get away, again. What have a done? How do I fix it?” I wait as if she’s going to answer me, but of course, she doesn’t.
I turn the car onto the road and begin the drive back into town. If she answered, she’d tell me to think of the next best thing—to keep trying until I get it right. She’s always been supportive like that, believing I’m capable of anything.
I know this isn’t what she had in mind, but I can’t think about that now.
The thought has my determination growing tenfold—my rage a living, breathing thing. I won’t miss next time. Next time, I’ll be close enough that I can’t miss.
“Mama, I have an idea.”