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It’s impossible to tell with him. And it doesn’t help that our whirlwind relationship has barely even existed for long enough to properly process anything. Hopefully, this time away from him will help me clear my head and look at everything with a fresh mind...
The limo slowly pulls to a stop and I look out of my tinted window. A familiar river runs just off in the distance. We’re close. We’ve probably stopped just at the edge of the bridge that leads into town.
But why?
I try to put down my window to get a better look of what’s ahead, but it’s locked. Sometimes, around here, a fruit cart will get tipped over, or a lazy donkey will take an unexpected break right in the middle of the road. The wave of nostalgia lapping inside of me gets a little stronger as I tap on the black partition.
“What’s happening?” I call.
No answer.
Instead, I hear the passenger door open. From out of the corner of my eye, I can see the big burly guard step onto the dirt road. His gaze is fixed ahead. Just as I press my cheek against the cold glass of the window, trying to get a better look, the partition starts to descend. I scramble back to it, eager to find out what’s happening.
“Hey, why’d you—” I’m about to ask the driver, before the words catch in my throat.
There’s no need to ask him why he stopped. It becomes horrifically clear as the partition drops and I get a full view of my home town...
Or, rather, what’s left of it.
The whole place looks like it’s been firebombed to smithereens.
Pale plumes of smoke drift up from charred buildings, their skeletons crumbling and black. Beat up cars are tipped on their sides, surrounded by shards of glistening glass from shattered storefront windows. Other silhouettes litter the streets, but we’re too far away for me to make out exactly what they are. I have a bad feeling I know exactly what they are.
“Stay here,” the driver says, opening his door to join the body guard out front.
“No, wait—” he slams the door shut before I can finish.
Sharp panic skips around in my heart like a hot needle. Acid tears at the lining in my stomach. I feel like throwing up.
What happened here?
... Marcela!
I throw myself against the backseat door and desperately try to push it open. It doesn’t budge. I try the other one. Same story.
My eyes dart around the plush leather cage I find myself trapped in. I want to claw and punch at the windows until they shatter, but I know they won’t. Angel doesn’t trade in non-bullet proof vehicles.
Up ahead, through the partition, I can see the driver and the body guard conferring.
Through the partition...
It’s not very big, but neither am I.
What do I have to lose? If I get stuck, then I’ll just be a little more trapped than I am now.
I lunge for the opening in a swan dive of desperation. My arms make it through first, then my head, then my torso...
The ridge of my butt smacks against the top of the opening just as my hand falls against the center of the steering wheel, activating the horn. A harsh blare breaks through the hushed silence and I spot both the driver and the body guard turn and spot me at the same time.
I struggle to free myself before they can arrive. Stupid butt, why couldn’t you be just a little bit smaller...
As if on cue, it slips through the open partition and I crash against the dashboard. I don’t have any time to lick my wounds, though. Angel’s men are approaching.
I’m not scared of them—they’re here to protect me, after all—but I know they won’t let me go inspect the destruction.
I have to know what happened. I need to know if Marcela is alright. The body guard gets to the passenger door first. Before he can open up, though, I kick at the driver’s seat door, propelling it open.
The scent of black smoke fills my nostrils as I roll out of the car, landing on the dusty road with a huff.
