Chapter 42
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Julia
Every breath hurts. Even drinking water feels like a battle. Everything aches, but I force myself to push through, to heal faster.
When I open my eyes, Max isn’t here. My chest tightens, tangled up with the memory of him telling me I left him behind, that I didn’t choose him.
I glance toward the window and spot Amalia. I try to sit up, wanting to look normal, but the IV tugs at my arm and a sharp gasp escapes me.
She spins around at the sound. “Por Dios, Julia. What are you doing?”
Dark circles shadow her eyes, and her brow is furrowed as she hurries to help me sit up.
Her green-brown eyes lock with mine, and for a heartbeat, I see our father reflected there.
The knot in my throat tightens, but there’s comfort in it too because something of him still lives on in her.
With her round glasses perched on her nose, she looks so small in this moment.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
She gives me a gentle look, searching for the right words.
“You? Julia, you were almost killed just because we let him in. That was the second time he came to our house. Tío Felipe never liked him, but Lupe was so happy with him that nothing we said would have changed her mind.”
Guilt gnaws at me. I disrupted their quiet lives. If it weren’t for me, that snake would never have found his way in.
“You said it was the second time? He didn’t show up on any cameras,” I say, wondering who he hired to wipe the footage so quickly.
She bites her lip, and I watch her, confused.
“I deleted them. But only because Lupe begged me to. The first time, she said dangerous people were after him and she didn’t want him found. The second time, after he showed us those photos of you, she said you were trying to kill him.”
I see the regret flicker across her face, but I can’t help the pride swelling in my chest. My little sister’s always been a genius. Always curious, always a bit of a nerd.
“You managed to delete them yourself?” I ask, unable to hide my smile.
She nods, letting out a nervous laugh. “I’ve loved computers since high school.
I had a teacher who saw my potential and asked if I wanted to make a little extra money.
He taught me everything. I never did anything bad, but I learned how to access a terminal from an external server, and the rest is history. ”
I listen, soaking in every detail she wants to share, every story from her teenage years that I missed. I know we’re both just avoiding the elephant in the room. Lupe should be here with us, not out there with a madman who carves up little girls.
“Your boyfriend is terrifying,” Amalia says quietly.
I look at her, knowing she could never understand what Max and I have been through together. She could never grasp the connection between us, and honestly, I don’t think words could ever do it justice.
“He is,” I admit, because it’s the truth.
Maksim wasn’t raised to be gentle or charming. He was raised to be a weapon—an heir to horrors most people can’t even imagine.
And yet, he’s good. He’s good when he waits for me in the morning with my coffee ready. He’s good when I catch him watching me with that warmth in his eyes that no one else ever sees. He’s good, because I know, deep down, he’ll find it in himself to forgive Lupe for what she’s done.
She leans in, voice barely above a whisper, her fingers nervously twisting together. “I heard him talking to that man who looks like him. They found them.”
I’m not surprised. I knew he wouldn’t wait for someone else to track them down, not after knowing that she held that gun pointed at me.
He could’ve killed Aleksandr right then, but those few seconds with me must have felt more vital to him than revenge.
That’s how he says “I love you, not with sweet words or flowers, but by letting the last snake go free because I was dying.
Maksim, years ago, would have lived for vengeance and nothing else. Now, he’s learned to put it off for someone else’s sake. It’s been a long road.
I’m not saying everyone involved didn’t deserve what came to them, but somewhere along the way, their poison seeped into him too.
You can’t spend over twenty years surrounded by darkness and expect to walk away clean.
I see it in him, feel it when he falls into that black hole of doubt, still convinced no one could truly love him, that no one would ever choose him.
“He won’t hurt Lupe,” I say, my voice steady.
I’ll have to talk to him because I know he probably used an army to find them, and putting her in danger isn’t something I can just ignore. But how could I blame him? If our roles were reversed, I don’t know if I’d have had the self-control not to tear someone apart.
Just then, the door opens and a pair of gray eyes lock onto mine, but they’re not my gray eyes .
Roman steps in, dressed like he’s about to walk into a boardroom, beige suit immaculate, an Omega Speedmaster 1957 on his wrist. He probably doesn’t realize he looks like he could buy the entire hospital before he’s finished his morning coffee.
“Can you give us a few minutes?” he asks Amalia, though it sounds more like an order than a request. My sister just nods and slips out quietly.
For a moment, we just stare at each other in silence. His gaze is sharp, like he’s dissecting every flicker of emotion on my face.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he says, and I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to clarify.
He shakes his head, that icy look settling back over his features. “I couldn’t protect him for thirty-two years, Julia, but I swear, if I ever see my brother break down like that again, you and I are going to have a problem.”
There’s no malice in his voice, just a clear warning, and I can’t help but smile.
“You, of all people, understand what it means to be the older sibling. If I’d made a wrong move and she’d gotten hurt, I’d never forgive myself. I won’t pretend it was my best decision,” I admit, shifting upright, but a sharp pain in my abdomen stops me.
“That’s why, for now, it’s just a warning. He’s suffered enough, Julia. Don’t give him a reason to hurt even more.” With that, he leaves, and I’m left swimming in my own thoughts.
I knew I was hurting him in that moment. I knew exactly what it meant for him to see someone he loves bleeding out on the floor again. A groan escapes me, and I press the heels of my palms to my eyes. I don’t know how long I stay like that, but eventually, I feel him in the room.
I don’t hear him, don’t see him, but I know he’s there, his presence settling over me like a shadow.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, still not looking up.
“You’re not looking at me,” he says, his voice close now.
I lower my hands, and those storm-gray eyes, somewhere between thunderclouds and the promise of summer rain, steal every thought from my head.
His pinky finds mine, and a single tear slips down my cheek. His fingertip traces the path it left before brushing softly against my lips.
“Next time, you wait for me. Next time,” he says, pressing my hand over his heart, “you understand that if anything happens to you, this will stop beating, Julia.”
“Te lo juro, amor.”
It’ll take time for him to trust me again, and I know it’ll be a long road to chase away all those shadows whispering that he’s not enough, that he doesn’t deserve love, that everyone will eventually leave.
But if I have to spend the rest of my life surrounded by his shadows, I’ll do it—with my hand in his, just like I always have.