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With one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing up and down my back, he pressed soft kisses on the top of my head, “I’m here, Darya… I’m yours.”
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I was pulled awake by the faint trail of Yuri’s voice. I woke up slowly and then all at once, jolting up in bed ready for a fight. My hands flew to my neck where my tender skin pulled tight as if Denis’ hands were still wrapped around, choking the life from me. It had been my only dream, but it had also been my reality. For some cruel reason, my body didn’t want to remember that I was safe– laying in a soft bed in a room smelling of vanilla and old wood– I was still back there, kicking and clawing for my life.
Another beat of his voice came through and everything faded. The tension in my body melted and my eyes finally adjusted to the stuffy, small bedroom I was in. Wood paneling covered every wall with tiny trinkets and knick-knacks packed onto every flat surface. The twin-sized bed took up most of the floor space above a green shag rug with the door pulled nearly shut.
“Yuri?” It came out like a whisper, even after I cleared my throat. I peeked to see through the door, but his voice had quieted. I pulled myself up and stretched, wincing as every single inch of my back was sore. I caught the quickest glimpse of myself in the oval mirror on the wall and averted my gaze, the dusting of bruises all I could see. They wrapped around my throat like a necklace and shadowed beneath my eyes. I knew from the tightness in my side that I would find black and blue marks there too and decided to leave the shrinking room before stray tears made another appearance.
I was done crying, done breaking down.
I closed off everything else in my mind and followed the sound of his voice. He was speaking in Spanish as I padded through the cozy living area, nearly tripping while scanning the animal heads that hung above me. It had to be some kind of hunting shed. There was another door opposite the one I came out of, a sore excuse for a bathroom within it, and a tiny one-burner kitchen tucked near the front door. Few windows let the light of the morning in and I slipped out the front door into the already humid air.
He paced near the car with the phone glued to his ear. He was shirtless. His hair was still slick from a shower, and I watched the muscles in his back clench with each breath.
“Bueno,” the phone left his ear, and I sucked in a breath when he noticed me.
“Darya,” his eyes raked over me. “How are you feeling?”
My hand went to my side, where each breath was a chore.
His pupils dilated, “I should have killed him.”
“I'm okay,” I whispered, hoping he didn’t focus on my lost voice. His possessiveness flared and his jaw clenched. I couldn’t imagine the torment he was wrestling with. Denis was his family, and I was… his? He’d said so last night. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d only known me for weeks.
Before I knew it, he was directly in front of me, his fingers caressing my neck. “I'm okay, I croaked again, trying to cool the anger rolling through him.
“No, you're not.”
“Yuri, what is this place?”
I followed his gaze to the cabin I had emerged from. The cream-colored siding was stained green near the bottom where weeds had overgrown. Half the shingles on the roof were torn or upturned from the wind with fallen branches littering every inch. It was a far cry from the luxurious house the Zaragoza’s lived in and I couldn’t imagine Lucia ruffing it in a place like this.
“It’s a safe house. One of them.”
I nodded. “I’m not going home?”
He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me flush against his chest. “No.”
“And we can’t go back?” I knew the answer, but it felt like a necessary conversation.
He shook his head. “We're here,” he rasped, “because he’s not the only one who will try to kill you.”
It made sense. I knew everyone's faces, knew names. I knew the inside of the family home and had seen the faces of Yuri’s victims. Most of all, I knew their intentions— how important it was to lower the scrutiny at the border. Because at the end of the day, Yuri was running a million-dollar cartel operation and the United States was a big part of the business.
“Have you ever let your victims go after not being paid the ransom?”
“We’re the fucking cartel, Darya. It's not as simple as just letting you go.” He brushed my hair off my shoulder and his fingers linger on my collarbone.
“But you would if it was up to you?” I searched him for the truth. He turned and stepped away my heart leaped to follow him to feel his arms around me, but I stayed put.
“It is up to me, Darya. And the answer is no.”
I stepped away, my eyebrows knitting and seeing him anew. “What?” I breathed.
“I’m not keeping you because of what you've seen. I won't let you go because you're mine.”
He bent and crushed his lips to mine, gripping the back of my neck and keeping me planted. There was nowhere to run, and my body craved him. My core fluttered as he deepened the kiss, seeking me out with his tongue. It was passionate and needy and left me wanting when he pulled away. “I wasn’t just saying that, cariño. You’re not leaving my sight again, and if that means I have to take on every single Zaragoza until there is no one left against you… I will.”
