21. Isabela
ISABELA
It's late and I can't sleep. I've been lying here for hours wanting to go see my father but afraid that Sergei will once again intercept me, and this time, no one will be around to stop him. So I lie in Demin's bed staring at the swirls on the textured ceiling wishing he were here.
My heart has been back and forth on what to think of all this for days now.
When I climbed into that crate, I didn't know what to expect or what would happen.
I had one thing on my mind and that was getting my father out of that walled compound so they'd stop beating him.
I pictured some rich man at the other end of the shipping route who would help me.
What actually happened has been mildly traumatizing, though we did get Papa out of there. He's safe here, albeit still caged, but at least I know Demin isn't beating him and starving him.
And the mystery of this man whose bed I lie in is so tangled around my heart, I'm not sure what to think of it. I want more than anything to know what the hell is actually going through his mind, what he thinks of me and why he claims to own me now. We know so little about each other, and sex isn’t enough to build a relationship on.
This possessiveness could be a dangerous thing, but he hasn't harmed me either.
But it's late and I'm tired. I want to sleep, but just as I start to doze off, I hear voices outside the door.
I can tell one of them is Bart. I've heard him speaking enough to recognize his tone.
But the other man I can't pick out. There are so many guards, though I can tell who Demin's favorites are, that sometimes, I fear running into another man like Sergei.
Tonight, however, when they speak, I'm not fearful of one of them coming into this room to harm me. I'm curious.
I slip out of bed and walk over to the door, pressing my ear against the wood. I know by the tone of their voices that whatever they're saying isn't good. It makes my shoulders draw tight and my eyes shut to block out other senses so I can hear better.
"…burned down. I guess Solano got away again." Bart sounds angry, and the other man replies hastily.
"Shit, man… Yuri's dead?" He sounds shocked, maybe a little scared too. I remember the name Yuri, one of the guards who has walked me to and from dinner a time or too. He's dead? So, what's going on?
I press my ear harder, straining to understand.
"…Boss is coming back now. He'll be here any second. I'm sure he'll have details, but yeah, Yuri is gone… another one too." Now Bart sounds heavy. I'm sure they have relationships with these men, but why did they die? And what burned down?
When I hear footsteps approaching, I pull back from the door, not sure who it is. So someone attacked Demin's men and a few died, and something got burned down. That's where he's been and why he's not in bed with me right now.
My hand unconsciously lifts to my mouth and I chew my nails as I pace across the room and glance out the window.
There are lights outside, someone's car, and men moving around it.
I think Demin is home now, and if they've had some sort of attack, he’s probably out there fighting, maybe getting shot at.
It makes fear creep across the back of my shoulders and neck, causing hair to rise on my arms. I heard Bart mention Solano too, which means somehow, this is retaliation for what happened. God, I'm so stupid. Of course.
Javier is pissed that Demin waltzed right into the Cartel compound and stole my father right out from under their noses.
There's no way he was ever going to leave that like it was without fighting back.
They have no way to cook their drugs now.
They've lost a lot of money and they're losing more every day that my father works for the Roshins instead of them.
Of course, they were always going to come.
And I know exactly how scary Javier's men are. They have killed men right in front of me for fun, shot dogs in the compound for sport. They're evil and they are trained and armed. If they're coming after Demin it means—
The door swings open, revealing Demin. He looks exhausted and filthy. His face and hands are covered in soot, white shirt stained black with filth. He glances at me as he shuts the door but says nothing as he struts to the bathroom.
As he passes, I see blood streaking down his arm, soaked through his shirt like when he took that bullet in Madrid.
A stab of fear tears through my chest, and I rush after him, following him into the bathroom where he's already half naked.
I see the wound on his bicep, just a graze of a bullet or a scrape of something sharp, but it's a wound.
"You're injured," I mumble, feeling tears well up. This is my fault. He wasn't at war when I came to him. I brought this fucking fight to his doorstep—me, because I wanted my father out of that compound and safe, and now Demin is fighting the battle against Solano that Papa was fighting with fists.
"I'm fine," he grumbles, turning away from me as he strips his pants off.
I'm not sure how to approach this topic, but the jolt of adrenaline that shot through me when I saw that wound reveals something to my heart I've been in denial about.
I care about this man. I care whether he is safe or upset, and the idea of his being injured and not coming back here scares me.
"You're bleeding, though," I say softly. He glances over his shoulder before he turns on the shower and steps in. Last time, I got in with him to help him clean his wound, but this time, I watch the glass fog and the silhouette of his dark form moving behind the veil of steam.
When he's clean and gets out, the wound is much more visible, not obscured with blood.
Guilt snares my heart like barbed wire and I lean against the doorjamb watching him dry off.
What sort of misery and hell have I brought on this family by wanting peace for myself?
And how selfish have I been to think there would be no consequences for this?
"Are you okay?" My question makes his eyes shift upward toward my face as he wraps the towel around his waist, hair still dripping onto his shoulders.
"What's wrong?" He walks over to me, curling all ten fingers around the back of my neck as he studies my face.
"You're hurt, and I heard Bart say someone died and there was a fire…" My eyes search his face. "Are you okay? I mean… Was it bad?"
His thumbs brush my cheekbones before he kisses me slow and deep, pulling me in so I can't get away. I don't even want to. My hands splay on his chest, still damp from the shower. When he pulls back, I'm breathless.
"I'm fine… Solano attacked because he’s angry we took his chemist." Demin walks past me into the bedroom, where he goes straight for his dresser and a pair of boxers.
"But Papa is okay?" I turn, following him, and watch him drop the towel and dress. The wound seeps a little, but it'll scab over by morning. My fear of his not coming home to me isn't rational today, but someday, it might be.
"Your father is fine. He's probably resting by now, but he started work earlier.
" When Demin turns to look me in the eye, there's such exhaustion there.
I can tell this whole day has been one problem after another.
I want that to not be his existence right now, but I'm powerless to do anything except feel ashamed that I'm the one who made it this way.
"You got hurt," I say again, more timid this time. He crosses to me and wraps his hands around my waist, letting our hips press together as we both lean back slightly to look each other in the eye.
"Are you worried about me?" His question seems playful, almost mocking, but it makes tears well up in my eyes which I blink back.
I've been headstrong and stubborn with him for weeks and all of a sudden, I fear for his wellbeing.
I'm not sure what I feel for sure, but I know the way I felt when I saw that blood.
"You could die." My words come out so small, they don't feel like me at all. I'm not weak and pathetic, and I don't shrink myself for anyone. But being in Demin's presence makes me want to open up and be vulnerable. Like exposing the truth of what I'm thinking is safe here.
"Yes, in my line of work, there's a very real possibility that I could die every time I leave this house.
But I'm not dead and I'm not planning on dying any time soon.
" His hips sway, grinding his pelvis on mine as he narrows his eyes.
"You're worried I'll get hurt?" His head dips, as if prompting me to look up at him, but I feel ashamed and I look away.
"Well, don't flatter yourself too much. You're still the monster who has my father locked up in your basement.
" There is a tinge of saltiness there, anger that what I hoped would happen didn’t work out.
I feel personally responsible this time for my father being in the position he's in.
That guilt won't go away no matter what I do to distract myself, and it's worse every night I sleep in this comfortable bed knowing he's still on a cot in a basement.
"Isabela," he mewls, pulling me tighter.
"I will always come home to this place, and so long as you're here, to you.
" When he says that, I look back into his eyes.
I see desire there behind his gaze, but it isn't sexual this time.
It's like he's trying to reassure me and communicate what he's really thinking at the same time.
He's saying it like I have a choice. But he said he owns me, so I'm confused.
"I don't understand," I mumble, feeling his heartbeat under my palm.
"Now that Octavio is doing his job, I can focus on protecting you both without so many obstacles.
What happened tonight isn't going to happen again.
Alright?" His lips press against my forehead in a chaste kiss but he pulls away, letting one hand slide down my arm to my wrist. He takes me by the hand and leads me to bed, then shuts the lights off as he pulls me down into his arms.
The house is still now, no guards talking outside our door and no noise from outside.
But somewhere in this house, I know men are still dealing with the fallout of whatever attack Solano made on Demin's property.
I sink into the mattress in his arms, but finally, the tears come and they shake my whole body.
I'm overwhelmed suddenly by everything that's happened, like I've been living in a fog for so long that now that it's clearing and I see where I'm at, I realize the damage done and how awful things really are.
Demin holds me through the tremors and sobs, pressing a kiss every now and then to the back of my shoulder as he pulls me in more tightly, and when I'm finally calmed down, he sighs.
"Shh, hey. You're okay now, Milaya. I give you my word.
I will come home to you." His voice is so soothing, I barely recognize it, and it makes me want more of this.
This man who lies in bed with me, not the harsh, angry man who demands things.
I turn in his arms to face him and tangle my legs with his.
"You said home… Is this my home now?" I ask, looking up at him. He cups my cheek and dries my tears, but I can't really see his face now.
"This is your home, Milaya, and you have nothing to worry about now. Go to sleep. Let me hold you so you feel safe. I'm exhausted, alright? We will talk more in the morning."
I bury myself in his chest, arms curled between us under my chin, and let him hold me.
It's a good long time before I fall asleep, and while I’m waiting for sleep to come, I listen to the light snoring he does and think about what happens if I give in to what my heart wants and stay here, stop fighting him.
Papa will never be free for the rest of his life, and I will have doomed him to an old age of hard labor and chains.
But I think I might just be falling in love with this man, and what if staying here is what I really want to do?
I don’t know if my father will survive it or if he'll ever forgive me.
And I'm not sure which man in my life I should choose now, the man who gave me life or the man I might just want to be my future forever.