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He looked at me once more, eyes glistening with the anguish he refused to acknowledge. In that single, fleeting moment, I knew we were both irrevocably changed, bound by the shared knowledge of betrayal and loss. And yet, amidst the turmoil, there remained a spark of hope—a lingering belief in the possibility of redemption.
The air in the room seemed to thicken with tension, an invisible barrier that threatened to suffocate us both. Manuel and Javier, acutely aware of the delicate balance between Antonio and me, exchanged a furtive glance before slipping out of the room like phantoms disentangled from their hosts.
“The note I mentioned earlier came from the Marriage Council. I was writing the Canciller to ask him not to announce anything yet.”
I blinked. “What?”
His fists tightened, then he turned around and picked up the pad he’d been scribbling on. He pressed a few buttons and then handed it to me.
I took it, opting to read aloud.
Renata Valarde Bordón, nos complace informarle que el contrato de matrimonio solicitado entre usted e Isaac Monroy de Léon ha sido aprobado provisionalmente. La aprobación final está pendiente de la publicación de sus puntajes.
I stared at the words. My marriage was pre-approved. A marriage to a man whose mother I killed in self-defense.
The pad fell to the ground, and Antonio bent to pick it up. “I knew I should’ve waited to tell you.”
I barely heard him. “So I must compete.”
Antonio nodded.
“And I must marry Isaac.” The words were sick to even utter. I had killed his mother—there was no way this would work.
He sneered. “That is yet to be decided.”
My heart was a wild beast, caged by the conflicting desires to scream and embrace the comfort of his arms. But neither could find its way past the lump lodged in my throat, and I remained silent as the tears threatened to spill over the edge of my lashes.
He looked at me long and slow. “What is decided is that you will get out of that atrocious dress and get some sleep. I can see the circles under your eyes," he said.
I took a long breath. “All right."
As I turned around, he paused. “You’ll be happy to know that Isolda is here to help you.”
I groaned.
PartTwo
Back To Blood
Chapter11
He Came To See
My body was heavy and disoriented when I awoke from a night of fitful sleep. I dreamed Antonio was holding me in his arms, the agony of a hundred cuts giving way to a brief respite. My eyes fluttered open and I was alone, drenched in sweat. I bolted upward and sobbed when I saw the closed curtains.
I was back in the room where Omar had kept me, and seeing Antonio had been a mirage.
I thought I was safe.
The door opened and I ducked under the sweat-dampened covers. “No,” I shouted.
My dreams had given me a taste of freedom, and my waking moments had snatched it away. My skin was searing hot, as if it was being cut over and over again.
Something touched me through the covers and I thrashed as hard as I could. My hip connected with something, and then my legs were grabbed.
“¡Déjenme!” I shouted, and sucked in a breath which rewarded me with a mouthful of clean cotton.
Awareness prickled over my skin as I tasted floral soap and fiber.
