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On shaky legs, she got to her feet.
She was bloodied from head to toe. Some was hers, still flowing freely from between her legs, the other was from her victims. After the adrenaline of the moment wore off, she started to feel the effects of her exertion. Blinding pain hit her from all sides as she swayed on her feet.
“No,” she whispered. “It’s not over yet.”
There was one more person who had to pay.
The one whose betrayal stung the most.
Lucero.
Why? Why had she handed her baby to Sergio on a platter? She’d known he would harm him, and she’d still done it.
Why?
“Whyyy?” she screamed, though her voice was barely above a whisper.
She’d trusted her more than anyone. Hell, she’d trusted her with herchild.
Though Noelle could hardly believe that her beloved friend would do something like that, she couldn’t deny the evidence in front of her.
Lucero had taken her baby straight to Sergio, leading him straight to his death. And that… she could never forgive that.
As she walked down the corridor, Noelle realized she could barely keep herself upright. Every step she took was one step closer to her death. Her body was failing her, it was as simple as that. But even as she knew she was dying, she couldn’t allow anyone who’d had a hand in her son’s death to live.
Only her steely will led her to the stables, from where she procured two tanks of gasoline. Unscrewing the lid on the tanks, she held one in each hand as she walked alongside the inside of the house, pouring gasoline onto the floor. She covered as much ground as she could before she headed outside, doing the same thing to the surrounding area of the hacienda. She bathed every bit of land in gasoline, knowing fully well there were still people inside. But they, too, were people who had, directly or indirectly, led to the death of her son. As such, they would die too.
She didn’t care about morality, about principles, or about the value of human life. In that moment, she was one with her despair, one with her revenge. She was, and she wasn’t.
Noelle could recognize the anguish that drummed against her ribcage, but she was too focused on her plan to let it loose, for she knew that once she gave in… Once she truly let herself feel the magnitude of what had happened, she would die from her soul’s pain alone.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed those thoughts out of her mind.
There were still things to be done.
Though the tanks were getting emptier, they felt heavier to her weary body. When she reached the front of the hacienda, she emptied the last drops, dumping the containers to the ground.
She took a deep, painful breath as she looked at the house for one last parting moment.
Tears trickled down her cheeks as slowly, the box in which she’d hidden all her pain started to crumble.
“I’m sorry, Raf,” she murmured, her heart breaking anew. No matter how much she loved him, she could never face him again after what she’d done—after their child had diedbecauseof her. How could she?
She loved him just as much as she hated herself.
Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved a box of matches. Lighting one of them, she flung it to the trail of gasoline she’d left behind, watching as the flames roared to life, quickly swallowing everything in their path.
One spark turned into an inferno, the fire blazing across the lawn and licking at the house’s walls.
It took only moments for the entire building to be enveloped in flames.
All the while, Noelle watched from the sidelines.
“I couldn’t keep my promise,” she mouthed, the ghost of a smile pulling at her lips. “I’m sorry I couldn’t wait for you, Raf. Maybe we won’t meet again in this life. But maybe the next…” she trailed off. “Maybe in the next you’ll forgive me,” she choked on her tears as the pain in her heart became too much to handle.
In her short life, Noelle’d had two big loves. The first had been Rafaelo. Her blue. The other half of her soul and the only person with whom she’d ever shared herself fully. He’d been the light to her darkness, the one beacon that helped her muddle through the ups and downs of her life. The second had been her child. She might not have met him while he’d been alive, but she’d had nine months with him—nine months to talk to him and tell him how much she loved him.
Despite the tragedy of her life, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.
