Chapter 43 Thalia
“Move, and I’ll shoot,” Claudia says.
“Where is my daughter?” I ask through gritted teeth. I’m on my knees, contemplating my next move. I watch bright red heels circle to the front of me and French-tipped nails reach for my fallen weapon.
Then I take her in. She’s tall, with long blond hair and colored eyes. She has a curvy frame, and by the looks of it, she has invested a lot of money into plastic surgery. The amount of work done to her face has left her expression stuck in a permanent smile. It is creepier than the doll threats she’s been sending me.
“I’ve been dying to meet you,” she says, her smile far from welcoming.
“Claudia.” Her name falls from my lips like a curse, a long awaited hex that could not be reversed. She nods her head.
“You know what we have in common?” she asks. I don’t bother answering her. I don’t care.
“Both of us were lied to by your father.”
Great, join the club, bitch. She continues to take me in before standing to her full height. She paces back and forth in her red high heels, both guns tight in each of her hands. She lets out a long sigh.
“Ivan told me this would be easy. That he would remove the obstacles, and I would effortlessly inherit the lands. We would ride off into the sunset together.”
Her hands fly up in a theatrical way as her voice heightens. Her face stays the same. Even though the story she’s recounting feels like tragedy, the damn Botox smile doesn’t falter.
“Ivan told me about Lucia. We always planned to eliminate her, but then Silas killed him. Leaving me to do this all on my own.” My heart tightens at the revelation. Was my father plotting to hurt Lucia?
A knock sounds on the metal door, but Claudia ignores it. She makes her way toward me and crouches back down to face me. I look down at Ricky’s blood stained on my hands. None of this would be in vain. I faintly hear my name from behind the door. I stare at Claudia for a good minute before I react. I bang my head straight into hers. She falls back on her heels, losing her balance. I push her forward and climb on top of her. I trap her arms under my knees and send my fist flying to her botched face. I deliver several more punches before I stand and kick her on to her side. She moves to all fours, but I’m quick. I yank her head back by her long blonde strands.
“Where the fuck is my daughter?!” I ask.
When she refuses to answer, I slam her face forward. Her head hits the cement below me, and blood spurts out around us. This woman deserves no mercy. Not after her months of threatening me. Not after what she put Silas through. Not after she took my daughter.
I slam her head forward again. Unable to stop myself.
Smash.
“Where.”
Smash.
“The fuck.”
Smash.
“Is my daughter?!” I scream.
I chant the question between every hit. Over and over again. I’m stuck in a continual cycle. Lost in my rage. I don’t stop. Not when the door bursts open. Not when her body goes limp and her blood surrounds me. Not until I feel Silas reaching down for me. My chants become whispers, and I finally let go of her. He pulls me to my feet, and I turn and bury myself into his chest.
“We have to go,” he says, picking me up.
“Where’s Lucia?” I ask, my eyes searching his. I look down at the blood all over me. I hold my breath, waiting to see her appear, but she doesn’t. Silas carries me in his arms down the stairs and into the back of the van.
Inside are two new faces, watching me as I climb in. Their faces had changed with time, but I still recognize their distinct features—Rosalinda and Maikel.
“You found them?” I say.
“One of the men led us to an underground storm shelter on the east side of the building. She was hiding them there,” Efren says.
“And Lucia?” I look from Efren, to Silas, to his siblings, desperate for someone to say she’s safe. That she’s okay. Silas’s eyes tell me everything I need to know.
“We saw her,” Maikel says, his tiny voice cracking. He looks to Rosalinda, and she looks back at me. Her eyes are identical to Lucia’s.
“She was only with us a day before they rescued her,” she says before looking down. I slump back in the seat and stare down at all the blood on my hands.
“Rescued her?” Silas asks.
“That’s what he said. That he was here to rescue her,” Rosalinda says.
“He took her on his motorcycle,” Maikel says. His face falls with his answer. Silas hugs him, and Rosalinda begins to cry.
Nausea forms in my stomach. It is a never-ending nightmare. I rub my hands together, desperate to remove the blood. I watch as Silas comforts his siblings. I turn and look through the back window. A large fire ignites from the auto repair shop in the rearview mirror, burning the last of my hope with the bodies in the building behind us.