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Inhaling a deep breath and then letting it out, I began.
Elias stood by and watched my every move like a hawk.
The shirt was filthy, covered in stains and stretched beyond repair. I carefully used the shears to snip away the loose fitting pieces first. It took me a second to work around the chain going across his sternum.
Alex remained silent, staring me down as if I were the devil reincarnated. Once the shirt was removed, I stepped back and surveyed his hairy chest.
“Now what?”
Elias said something I yet again couldn’t understand, to which Mateo replied back in clear cut English.
“Mark him with an E and an R.”
“An E and an R?” I repeated, thinking I’d misheard him. Why would I use my initials?
“Yes,” was Mateo’s blunt response.
“Wh–––.” Elias shook his head, stopping me from asking the one question that kept trying to roll off my tongue.
“How am I supposed to do that?” I asked instead, trying to ignore the nausea beginning to churn in my stomach as a million different scenarios ran through my head.
“You have all the tools you need right in front of you, although I personally recommend the butane.”
I looked at the sharp point of the garden shears and then to the can on the floor. Neither option would be harmless, but I tried to imagine which one would hurt less.
Was it more painful to slice into someone’s flesh or burn it? I couldn’t believe I was contemplating it.
“Five minutes, amada,” Mateo’s voice poured through the speaker.
God, this was all really happening. He wanted me to hurt this man who had done nothing to me, who I didn’t know a damn thing about.
“I can’t do this!” I protested. My gaze darted between the items I’d removed from the chest, unable to choose a lesser evil.
“How badly do you want to see Eva again? What would you do to save the only thing left of your parents’ legacy? Ask yourself how much the truth matters to you.”
I wanted to say fuck the truth and that none of this was my problem, but the words wouldn’t come out.
“I need the truth,” I solemnly admitted.
“Are you willing to kill for it?”
Did he just say…?
“I’m not a killer, Mateo!”
He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a low laugh.
“We are all killers, Elena. You especially. Do you think I cannot see it inside you? That dark aura wrapped around your pure little soul? My twisted angel, you are far more dangerous than you give yourself credit for, simply because you hide how dangerous you are under this illusion of naïve innocence.”
I stared at the phone in Elias’.
Was this really what my life had come to? I just wanted to escape it all, but I couldn’t do that either. Guilt was a brutal affliction. If I turned my back on my family, no matter how screwed up they were, it would eat me alive.
The fact that I’d semi told Eva to steal Mateo’s damn book, even if it was unknowingly said without a clue of who it belonged to or what would ensue, was nibbling away at my psyche.
I hated the pressure weighing heavily on my shoulders.
I asked myself the same question Mateo just had. What was I willing to do for the truth?
