Page 42 of Forbidden Fate

Cruz walks toward me, hands me my shirt and jeans. I quickly put them on.

Then he does something I don’t expect. He sits down on the cot and pats the spot next to him. I sit.

For a while, neither of us says anything.

Finally, he speaks. “I never knew my father.” He’s staring up at the ceiling now, his expression distant. “My mother never told me who he was. And I stopped asking when I realized it didn’t matter.”

I don’t interrupt. Something in his tone tells me he doesn’t tell this story to just anyone.

“She worked in a brothel,” he says.

I blink.

That wasn’t what I expected.

“Local place. Nothing fancy. But steady business.” He clears his throat. “Men from Vega’s organization were regulars. I grew up there.”

“And your mom?” I ask.

“She did what she had to do,” he says. “Same as the rest of them. They took care of me.”

“Who did?” I ask.

“All of them. The women.” His expression softens. “They rotated. Watched me when my mother couldn’t. Fed me. Kept me out of trouble…mostly.”

I smile a little.

“I had a lot of mothers,” he says. “Or aunts. Depends on how you look at it.”

“And the madame?” I ask.

“Señora Valentina,” he says. “She ran everything. She was firm but fair. She made sure none of us went hungry. None of the women, either. She was like a grandmother to me.”

I glance at him.

“They weren’t what people think,” he continues. “Not to me.”

I nod. “I believe you.”

He looks into my eyes. “Most people wouldn’t. Most people would write them off as common whores.”

I shrug. “I’m not most people.”

“I learned early,” he says, “that respect isn’t about what someone does for a living. It’s about how they survive.”

“That’s a good lesson,” I say quietly. “But why are you telling me this?”

He goes still.

For a second, I think he might deflect. Shut down.

Instead, he draws in a slow breath. “Because,” he says, his voice quieter now, “I’m going to get you out of here.”

18

CRUZ

She doesn’t believe me. I can see it the second the words leave my mouth.