29. Lucia
29
LUCIA
I ’m in the cellar when the shouting starts.
The sound makes me flinch. The shackles suspending me by my wrists clanks as my body jolts then sways, and I look toward the outside cellar door while panic seems to ensue on the grounds. I can’t make out the muffled words, but they sound worried.
Mendoza could be executing someone. He could have more prisoners, one who’s escaped. Yells don’t mean the cavalry has arrived. They wouldn’t even know I was here.
Then gunshots sound.
I lift onto my toes and strain against the metal locking my wrists to lean that way, trying in vain to peek through the crack in the outside door.
Are they here?
Is Papá really here?
The chaos outside erupts with machine guns firing together at what must be an army, and the more I search for an alternative, the more hope I feel.
It’s Papá. It must be Papá.
He found me.
“Papá!” I scream, my toes slipping from the dirt floor as I thrash. “Papá, in here!”
A loud, explosive bang rattles the chain I dangle from and makes my body still. I hold my breath while listening. The gunfire outside has ceased. One man screeches in agony, but his voice is the only that I hear.
The door at the top of the stairs opens before the large, goatee-having brute who brought me down here barrels down the stairs. He says nothing to me as he hurries to unlock my cuffs, and I don’t ask. The fact that he’s letting me out of the cellar so soon tells me everything I need to know.
I keep my head lowered in submission, but as soon as the shackles unlock, I hurl my fist at his neck, my eyes trained on the massive Adam’s Apple I use as a target. I expect him to stumble back in shock, his eyes wide, his hand flying to his neck, but he doesn’t even cringe. It’s my eyes that widen.
“Papá!” I screech when the man throws me over his shoulder like I’m a doll and takes quick, long strides toward the stairs. “Help!”
I bang on his back and try to kick to no avail while he hauls me upstairs then into a garage.
“Shut her up,” Mendoza barks when we enter, his voice holding a panic to it that makes my pulse jump.
“Papá! Papá! Papá!”
Goatee throws me off him onto the hood of the SUV that brought me here. When I open my mouth to scream, he slams my head on the hood, effectively silencing me.
My eyes close as my mind fuzzes. I slide off the hood, but before I ever hit the ground, Goatee scoops me up and puts me in the SUV next to Mendoza’s son, Manuel. As if the aching in my head isn’t enough, Manuel takes me by the hair and yanks me toward him while Mendoza takes the seat beside him and Goatee starts the SUV. Mario is in the front passenger seat, and weirdly, I wish it was him next to me. As if it would ever make a difference. As if his grip in my hair would be any looser.
“Please,” I say as the SUV pulls outside. “I won’t run.”
Manuel yanks harder. “ Silence .”
I cringe and press myself against him just to ease the strain. I can’t imagine ever living with this man. I can’t imagine how Mendoza could ever believe it was an option. As if Papá would stay away just because I said I was in love . As if he’d ever allow his worst enemy to have me.
He was always going to come. It was just a matter of time.
Men, guards I presume, collect into another SUV and exit first, machine guns hanging out the back windows. We make it a quarter of the way down the driveway before the SUV jolts with a pop of the tire. My hand slaps the door, but I don’t intend to flee. I’m just as concerned with the gunfire as the others.
When another tire pops, Mendoza curses. “Get us the fuck out of here!”
Goatee hits the gas, but then lets off of it when the SUV in front swerves off the path and crashes into a tree.
Manuel’s hand moves to the back of my neck where he grips hard, and curses under his breath. “Get us back to the house.”
Goatee yanks the car around and speeds back to the garage. The other SUV is going up in flames by the time I turn around to gawk at it.
I search for Papá but don’t see him anywhere. I don’t see anyone .
Is there a sniper ?
When Goatee gets us back inside the garage, Manuel hurries me inside, Mendoza, Mario, and Goatee on our heels. He leads me back to the sitting room then shoves me to the floor and takes out his gun.
“Papá!”
Manuel’s venomous eyes snap to me as he uses his boot to shove me backward. Air rushes from me as I land on my back and regret the moment I have a chance to take a breath but don’t. Manuel’s boot presses down on my neck hard enough that my eyes burst with panic. He keeps it there for several moments while the others try to figure out what to do now that they’ve lost their protection.
“ Mario ,” Manuel snaps. “Keep her quiet.”
When Mario enters my line of sight, the boot lifts from my neck. I gasp and scoot backward, my heels digging into the carpet, until Mario lifts me by my dress. He pulls out a familiar knife and holds it to my throat.
I remember the story he gave me about this knife. It was his father’s. He gave it to him when he was seven years old. It’s hard to say if it was true, but … probably. He couldn’t have made everything up. No one has that kind of imagination.
There was so much that he told me and so little that I knew.
The knife pressed against my neck, I close my eyes and try to be brave. Try to remember everything that depends on the success of Papá. The couch is tipped over to give shelter to the father and son while Goatee stands with his back pressed beside the door. All guns are pointed at the entrance. I have to warn Papá of our location.
“I loved you, Mario,” I whisper carefully. “I could’ve loved you my entire life.”
“Shut up,” he growls in my ear.
“ Please , I need to say this. If I could’ve stayed with you instead of your cousin, I would’ve agreed to the deal with your uncle. I could’ve forgiven you.”
When a sound comes from the hallway, my ears zero in on it until it’s the only thing my senses register.
Footsteps .
The others notice too. Mendoza and Manuel exchange a look before pointing their guns at the wall.
“I could still forgive you. It isn’t too late. I can tell Papá I ran away with you willingly. He’ll spare you.”
The knife leaves my throat long enough for Mario to spin me roughly around, and I use every moment of the opportunity.
“Guns!” I screech before Mario punches me in the stomach. Nausea rips through my stomach and up my throat, but before I can even consider vomiting, Mario’s hand is squeezing my throat.
Bullets blast through the wall to hit my rescuers on the other side while my legs swing in empty air. I claw at Mario’s one hand holding me up, but he just stares at me with fiery eyes.
When the gunfire stops, he drops me to the floor where I land hard on my side. Gagging, I roll to peer at the open doorway. The gunfire was so loud that my ears ring, so I can’t tell if any sound comes from the hallway.
Goatee slowly peers around the corner of the door, gun lifted, and he must think it’s clear because he disappears into the hallway.
A gun fires.
Nobody speaks a word for several seconds as we wait for Goatee to return.
“Luis!” Manuel hisses from behind the couch.
I try to listen past the ringing in my ears. The seconds that pass are filled with tension, and any minute, I think Papá will step through that door with his men, guns blazing.
But it isn’t Papá.
The man who steps through the door, gun raised as he fires several shots directed at the couch is too tall. Too light-skinned to be Papá.
I squint as my eardrums cry, and it isn’t until the man falls back into the wall, several bullets piercing him that I realize who it is.
In the blink of an eye, my world crumbles. I feel my face contort with a sob not fully formed, and my lungs expand.
“Luka!” I rush to crawl to him as he lays still on the floor. My eyes are flooded with tears by the time I make it. “No!”
Mendoza’s screams are just as loud as mine as he and Mario tend to Manuel, who by the sound of it, is dead. But I don’t care to look to be sure. I throw myself on top of Luka’s chest, my face buried in his shirt, but something bulky and tough makes me lift my head back up.
Luka’s groan snaps my gaze to his face as he blinks.
“Luka,” I say on a breath of air. I lean over him to cup his face while I lift his shirt to inspect his wounds. Blood seeps through a hole in his shoulder, but his chest was spared. Three bullets stick into the thick vest he wears.
“ Run , Peach,” he says, his voice sounding pained. “Fucking run .”
I whip behind me to see an enraged Mendoza stomping this way, gun in hand. I don’t even consider moving, even though I know it kills Luka as much as a bullet. My heart swells to the point I think it might explode as I lay myself on top of him, turning myself into a human shield. As if that could ever work.
But I have to try.
“You came for me,” I say, his blood smearing my arm.
It was him.
It was never Papá. It was Luka who came. Luka who found me.
“I love you, Lucia,” he says to me as Mendoza approaches. I look in his eyes as he pushes my hair back from my face.
I love you, too .
The bullet fires before I get a chance to speak the words. I scream while clinging to Luka, but Mendoza’s shouted curse makes me jerk my head his way.
He falls to one knee as blood stains his white pants. I turn back to Luka and check him as if this is some kind of mistake. But Luka looks fine.
We both turn to the door as Vitaly enters, his gun raised, eyes pointed at the couch. When Mario raises his gun, Vitaly fires. The gun knocks from Mario’s hand as the bullet rips it apart, and his screech overpowers us all.
“Who else?” Vitaly asks. He doesn’t look at me, but I imagine it’s me he’s speaking to. His eyes scan the room.
“Th-that’s all.”
“I thought you were staying outside,” Luka says to him, his voice so even he almost sounds disinterested. But I know him well enough to know it’s because he’s overwhelmed. The less Luka shows, the more he feels.
Vitaly kicks the gun away from Mendoza then drags Mario to kneel next to him.
“I got bored,” Vitaly says, extending his hand to Luka.
Luka closes his eyes for a few moments, as if taking this in. We’re safe. All of us .
We’re okay.
He loves me.
He loves me .
I stand as Vitaly helps Luka up. Luka sighs with relief and asks if I’m okay, but Vitaly grasps his uninjured shoulder before I answer.
“They’re here,” Vitaly says.
They ?
“Who’s they?” I ask Luka, but he doesn’t answer. He stares forward, color draining from his face as he slowly nods. When he turns to me, he kisses my forehead and says no more. Because he can’t. Because this is something serious.
Luka turns and trudges from the room, ignoring me when I call his name.
I turn to Vitaly for an explanation.
“Your father is outside,” he says.
My father.
My stomach lifts into my throat. I divert my eyes, as if I’m ashamed. It’s too ironic that all I wanted a half hour ago was for Papá to arrive, but now it feels like the worst-case scenario.
I shake my head and force my eyes back to Vitaly. “You need to get Luka out of here,” I say, my voice strong and firm. Far more confident than I feel. “They don’t know about his involvement with me, but Vitaly, even if my father finds out the minor details, he’ll kill him. I was supposed to be a virgin. I’m not allowed to?—”
“He already knows.”
He already knows.
Tingles spread across my arms as the world sways. I stumble but catch myself and start for the door. “Luka!”
Vitaly grabs me and pulls me back.
“Let go of me!” I shriek. “Luka!”
“He thought he’d need your father’s backup,” Vitaly says, his voice low and close to my ear. “This was his decision. It’s already been made.”
“He called him?” I cry, my attempts at breaking away from Vitaly weakening.
“Yes.”
“And he… He told him?”
“Not everything. But enough.”
“No!” I sob and sink to the floor. Vitaly’s hold gently releases until I’m in a heap on the carpet. A minute passes while I grieve something that hasn’t even happened. But maybe that makes it worse. Maybe it’s the hopelessness of the situation. The knowing without being about to stop it.
Vitaly crouches behind me, his energy wrapping me in a calmness that doesn’t feel right. Not here. Not now.
“It’s time to go, Lucia,” Vitaly says, his voice holding so much understanding I wish he’d hug me. But I don’t ask. It wouldn’t help.
I close my eyes and breathe, my hands clenching into fists while I compose myself.
Tears don’t help. Hugs don’t help.
It’s unlikely Papá will listen to a single thing I have to say, but I would be a coward not to try.
Luka needs me. I have to try.
Opening my eyes, I stand. I take one step toward the door, but Mario’s whimper stops me. I turn back around just as Vitaly brings Mendoza to his feet. Mario’s destroyed hand is coddled against his chest, and he shakes with fear that makes me pity what lies ahead for him.
When Vitaly forces them to walk toward the door, I hold up a hand. “Wait.”
They stare at me expectantly while I walk to where Mario choked me. I search the ground for his knife and snatch it up.
When I return to him, he narrows his eyes and tries to control his trembling lip.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice full of contempt that sounds forced now.
With a quick jab, I stab the knife into his neck and watch as he grabs the knife with his good hand. His eyes are burst wide as they stare at me with youth I thought I saw when he held me behind my father’s secure walls.
When he crumbles, I stand over him and watch him struggle for a breath that will never come.
“Granting you mercy.”