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“I didn’t,” I say, more to myself than her. If it weren’t for Rafael, I’d still be that ghost, wondering. Lost.
A frown pinches her features. “I’m sorry I cut your finger off. If I hadn’t, Nicholai would have sensed my loyalty to you, and he never would have let you go.”
“I thought you were going to save me.” I laugh humorlessly. “I should have known better.”
She closes her eyes for a beat, pain crossing her features. “I did everything I could,” she whispers. “And when I failed, I gave Rafael the means to get you out.” What does that mean?
“It’s okay,” I say. None of this is okay though, is it? Maybe it never truly will be. Or perhaps we’ll be fine. Can anyone truly recover from the kind of lives we’ve lived? “What will you do now Nicholai is dead?”
“People always need killing.” God, that sounds so cold. “What about you, Anna? What’s your purpose?”
“Purpose?”
“Everyone needs one, little sister. Without it, we’re just…existing. Mine was working for Nicholai. Then it was ending Nicholai. And now…I’ll have to find one.”
“Do you feel better?” I ask. “Killing the man who put you through so much misery…did it…does it make it better?”
Her lips curl at the corners. “Are you asking me? Or are you asking for yourself?”
My fingers tighten on the railing, and I drop my head forward. “Sometimes, I get so angry I can barely breathe. Because while I’m here, struggling just to survive, unable to sleep because of the nightmares, disgusted…they’re out there doing exactly the same thing to another girl.”
She suddenly stills, her head tilting to the side before her gaze snaps toward a point in the darkness. She steps in front of me and has her gun in her hand in the blink of an eye. Seconds pass before I hear the squealing of tires coming from the direction of the main gate. She turns and walks back inside.
“Stay in here. Lock the doors.” She hurries from the room, but I’m not staying in here. I step into the hallway, passing the bloodstains that still mar the carpets from the Elite assault. There are people everywhere when I get downstairs. I glance around frantically, seeking Rafael out. A hand slides across the back of my neck, and I spin around, coming face to face with Rafael’s massive chest.
“Avecita.”
“Rafe, what’s going on?”
“A car just dropped something at the gate. Carlos has gone to check it out.”
“Carlos…what if it’s a bomb?”
“Why do you think he’s taking so long?”
I groan. I can’t take this kind of stress.
He pulls me to his chest, pressing his lips to my hair. I melt against him, turning my head to the side until I can hear his heart beating. From the warmth of his arms, I spot Una standing across the lobby watching us. Her brows are knitted tightly together, her lips pressed into a flat line.
Carlos and another guy stagger inside, a massive plastic box between them. Rafael moves over to them, but I hang back, leaning against the stairway banister. Rafael, Samuel, Nero, Gio, and Carlos all crowd around as the lid hits the ground with a clatter.
And then there’s utter silence before someone takes a choked breath—a singular sound that rips through the air—a symphony of heartbreak. I watch Rafael’s entire body tense beneath his shirt, his fists tightening at his side. He walks away without a word, Samuel chasing after him.
I step forward, needing to see what’s in that box that has Rafael so angry.
Someone steps in front of me, and I look up into Carlos’ shadowy features. “No, Anna,” he says, so gently it scares me. He looks desolate, his features morphed by grief.
“Who is it?” I know someone has to be dead. He shakes his head. “Is it Lucas?” My voice hitches, reaching a point of hysteria.
I try to move past him, but he grabs both my arms. “It’s Maria and her family.”
Maria. Someone just killed the woman who was like a second mother to Rafael—to all the guys. The woman who cared for me without question when I had no one.
I close my eyes, tears breaking free. Poor Rafael.
