Page 102 of Chris

They were secluded.

It was a strength as much as it was a weakness out here. There was no way out of this fucking ranch except the road. The miles and miles of desolate land surrounding them only led to the cliffs, or more fucking land.

How were they supposed to get out?

Or … was that the point?

Jorge stared over his shoulder to the women on the porch. “So, we fight back. We’ve got the artillery, and—”

“The girls need to go,” Samuel muttered. “They can’t be here for a fucking gun fight, Jorge. You were the one who demanded we stay on the ranch while the Garcías were tearing us apart outside of here because it would be safer. That’s what you said, but it’s not fucking safe anymore. They need to go if the Garcías are coming here. Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not, I’m—”

“You won’t have time,” came a quiet, yet still strong, voice.

Valeria’s gaze drifted to the bruised, sore-looking man approaching the group with the rest of the guards at his back. He looked like Chris, sure. From the browns of his eyes, to the shape of his face. He wore the same clothes, although now they were dirty, tattered, and bloodied, that he had when he left. Everything about him reflected a man she fell in love with through stolen moments and heated stares. With only a passing glance, one wouldn’t be able to see he wasn’t Chris.

She sensed it in her heart.

His raising hand, empty of a familiar woven leather band, only confirmed what her heart and soul already recognized. He swore to Maria he wouldn’t take that band off his wrist, and he didn’t break his promises. Ever. The man standing in front, the one who sounded and looked just like Chris, was not Chris at all.

His twin, she realized.

Valeria was looking at Corrado Guzzi.

She had another striking understanding. She was the only one who saw the difference. He had never mentioned his twin to anyone else there—never spoke about his life, family, or siblings.

The man—Corrado—passed her a glance, but didn’t linger. There was no familiarity in his stare beyond recognizing her face, perhaps because someone had told him who she was. She wasn’t sure, but he didn’t stare at her the way Christopher did.

His eyes didn’t hold love for her.

Because this man didn’t love her.

“What does that mean?” Jorge snapped.

“They dropped me off just far enough away to walk in,” Corrado said, wiping at the blood on the corner of his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, “but they weren’t waiting. If they’re not already coming in on the ranch, they will be soon. You won’t have time to get out of here. And not the women, or your daughter.”

Abril stepped forward, taking the front stairs on the porch two at a time until she reached the ground, interjecting herself into the conversation with, “The horses. We can take the horses out with a couple of men, yes? We’ll be safe as long as we’re away—they won’t think to search for us out there, Jorge.”

“I don’t kn—”

“Let them take the fucking horses,” Samuel snarled. “We don’t have time for this shit!”

The roar of an engine punctuated Samuel’s statement in the distance. Following that came the sound of rapid fire shattering the silent night.

Pat, pat, pat, pat.

Jorge was already turning to head for one guard homes where they kept the guns, and whatever else they needed to defend the land. “Take the horses, then. And a man for Val, and one for Abril. Go.”

He didn’t glance back as he left.

Because he didn’t care, Valeria realized.

Jorge never had.

It didn’t even sting.

Abril wasted no time looking Valeria’s way. “Get Maria … the horses are already tacked up.”