A shout erupts somewhere behind me. Then there’s the sound of a gunshot, Raul’s doing as he watches my back while I search for my daughter.
The cabin shakes beneath the chaos unfolding outside.
I round a corner just in time to catch sight of Ignacio Navarro disappearing through the back door. Our eyes meet and for one brief second.
The coward freezes, offers me a smile I want to cut from his fucking face, right before he escapes through the door. There’s no baby in sight.
Where the hell is she?
My grip tightens around my gun. Every instinct screams at me to follow. To put a bullet in his spine. I take a step toward the door he disappeared through.
And then I hear it. A soft fragile tiny cry.
My feet fall to a stop. The sound comes again from the room beside me. I feel a shiver rack through me as I turn slowly towards the bedroom door that hangs half open. As soon as I crack the door open completely, nothing else in the world matters.
The room is small and plain, devoid of nothing else but a bad, a lamp and cream colored walls. And right in the middle of the room on the mattress is a baby.
My daughter.
For a second I simply stare. Unable to move or breathe. She's sitting on the bed surrounded by blankets. Tiny hands balled into fists. Dark curls and round cheeks.
She has wild dark eyes.
My eyes.
The realization hits like a freight train. It feels like the world tilts to the side before righting itself again. My breaths come out shaky as I approach the bed slowly.
She blinks up at me, curious and unafraid. She has absolutely no idea she's just become the most important person in my universe.
My throat tightens. I've spent so much of my life feeling empty and broken. Like some vital piece of me was missing. After Tara died, I stopped looking for it. Stopped believing it existed.
The wounds never healed. They simply scarred over. I learned how to survive with them. Learned how to carry the weight. Learned how to function despite the hole in my chest.
Yet standing here now, I suddenly feel raw, cut open. Something begins to shift within me as I look at Mila’s face.Whatever raw wound I’ve been carrying, whatever’s broken. I feel it begin to mend.
My daughter yawns, and the sound nearly destroys me. A reluctant laugh escapes my throat.
“Hey there, mi vida,” I say roughly, referring to her as my life because, whether she likes it or not, I live for her now
She studies me. Then reaches both hands toward me. Trusting me instantly.
My chest caves in.
"Yeah," I whisper. "I've got you."
Carefully, I holster my weapon before liftin her into my arms. She's lighter than I expected.
Warmer and so fucking perfect.
Her tiny hand immediately wraps around one of my fingers. And just like that, I know I’m done for. This tiny little girl owns me already, body and soul
I press a kiss against the top of her head. Breathing her in and memorizing everything. The scent of baby powder, the softness of her curls. The weight of her against my chest.
Nine months.
I missed nine months of her life.
The thought twists like a knife.
