Epilogue #2
I drag him out of the room. We’re both running now, our laughter echoing off the empty walls and following us into the courtyard.
“Faster!” I shout, letting go of his hand and sprinting toward the studio.
Reaching the door, I grip the handle, hoping it isn’t locked. It turns easily, and I let out a breath as it creaks open. I step inside, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Maybe it’s crazy, but I swear I can still smell the faint traces of oil paint and linseed oil lingering in the room.
Despite the decades that have passed, it feels as if I can reach back through time and find her here, where so much history lives within the walls, so much loss and love that somehow survived long after everyone left.
Thiago’s arms wrap around me from behind, and his lips brush my neck. I cover his arms with mine and lean against him.
“Minha chama, are you happy here?”
More tears roll down my cheeks.
“Yes.”
“It’s yours.”
THREE MONTHS LATER
I never thought I’d get used to waking up at Villa Dorada. It turns out, I was right.
Every morning, I still find something that makes me stop and stare, whether it’s the early sunlight stretching across the courtyard, the old stone walls turning gold at sunrise, or the view my parents used to sit together and watch all those years ago.
And every evening, when the sky burns orange and pink over the property, I finally understand why Thiago would post pictures of Texas sunsets.
I used to wonder what he saw in them.
Now I know.
When that faction of Helios fell apart, Thiago discovered years of untouched field bonuses and hazard pay had accumulated in an account he never knew existed. He used most of it to buy out the owners of the estate.
The house isn’t empty anymore, and neither is the art studio.
ME: I’m on the south side, by the flower stand.
Best Husband Ever: I’ll be there in five.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and claim an empty bench beneath the shade while I wait, watching people weave between the rows of vendors scattered throughout the outdoor market.
Texas has given me plenty of things to get used to over the last three months, but the goddamn sun might be the hardest. I bring my water bottle to my lips as my attention catches on a flash of fiery red hair across the way.
It falls in waves down a woman’s back, and just as I’m about to look away, she sweeps it over one shoulder, revealing a large, intricate tattoo spanning her back.
The second I see it, the bottle freezes against my lips.
A scorpion stretches across her skin, and above it are the three words I’ve spent nearly seven years searching for.
Sub umbra venimus.
We come from the shadows.
It feels like every bit of air in Texas disappears all at once. My legs are moving before I can think, my blade already in my hand.
As if she senses me coming, the woman whips around when I’m barely a few feet away. She doesn’t have time to reach for a weapon, but the way her body shifts into a ready stance tells me everything I need to know.
She isn’t just some innocent shopper with a familiar tattoo.
I lunge, and she does the same.
Her shoulder drives into my middle, and we crash to the ground, knocking the breath from my lungs. Shouts erupt around us as people scramble out of the way, but I barely register any of it.
I swing the blade toward her side, but she traps my wrist and drives a fist into my ribs. Pain shoots through me, but I twist free and slam my elbow into her jaw, making her head snap sideways before she comes back with a punch that catches me across the mouth.
Tasting blood, I hit her back.
We scramble to our feet, trading punches as the crowd around us grows. She’s fast. Really fucking fast. But I stay with her, meeting her blow for blow.
She throws a hard right at my head. I duck beneath it and slash toward her stomach, but she jerks back before the blade can connect.
Her hand clamps around my forearm when I pull it back, and her knee drives into my abdomen, folding me forward as she wrenches my wrist sideways, knocking my knife to the pavement.
“Fuck.”
I throw my weight into her before she can reach it, and we slam into the side of a vendor’s table. Something crashes behind us as she grabs a fistful of my hair and tries to drive me down. But I hook my leg behind hers and take us both to the ground.
She lands first, and I barely get one punch in before she bucks me off.
Jesus, she’s a fucking beast.
Rolling onto my back, I kick at her as she comes for me again, driving my foot into her stomach. She stumbles, but instead of buying me time, it only seems to piss her off.
She grabs my ankle and yanks, dragging me across the pavement before she drops on top of me.
I drive my fist into her ribs once, then again, but she absorbs both hits and pins me with a forearm across my chest. Her other hand disappears beneath her shirt, and metal flashes in the Texas sun as she pulls out a gun and presses the barrel to my forehead.
Well, shit.
Her finger tightens on the trigger, but all I hear is a useless click. She glances at the stalled weapon, then immediately tries the trigger again.
“REMI!” Thiago’s voice booms from across the market, and the woman’s head snaps toward him. Whatever she sees has her throwing herself sideways.
A gunshot cracks through the market, the bullet striking the pavement where her head had been a split second earlier. She keeps her attention on Thiago, and it’s the opening I need. I reach for the knife and swing.
Again, this bitch is faster, jerking away before the blade can reach her throat, but not fast enough to avoid it completely.
The edge slices across her face, and a sharp hiss tears from between her teeth as blood pours from the cut, splashing across me.
She recoils, and I shove her off, scrambling to my feet with the blade still clenched in my hand.
I start to lunge for her again, but blood runs into my eyes and blurs everything.
I wipe at my face with the back of my wrist.
When I can see again, she’s gone.
Spinning toward the crowd, I search through the bodies moving in every direction, but there’s no sign of the red hair or the scorpion.
She just disappeared as if she was never fucking here.
THE END