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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SONIA
I’m tooshocked to move for what seems like an eternity. Finally, unable to resist, I touch my face and pull my fingers away to find blood. “¡Dios mio!” I say in horror, feeling sick to my stomach.
As if he’s just noticed me, Santos’s eyes widen. He reaches for me. “Sonia.”
“Stay away from me!” I scream as I take off at a run.
“Sonia!” he yells after me.
My heart thunders in my ears as I race away from him. When he catches me, I whirl around and slap him. “Let me go!”
“Stop. Be still.” He wraps his arms around me tighter.
I slam my palms into his chest. “Let me go. You’re a murderer!” I hiss.
He releases me suddenly and I fall hard onto my ass. His gaze blazes with a rage that mirrors my own. Then he turns to one of the men standing near. “Get her into the house,” he orders before he storms back into the building.
The guard takes my arm, gently lifting me to my feet. “I’ll get you inside.”
I allow him to escort me into the house but slip out of his grasp the moment we step through the door.
“¡Señorita!”
The moment I’m in my room, I begin to undress, desperately ridding myself of the bloodstained clothes. I toss them aside, completely disgusted.
Turning on the shower as hot as I can stand it, I get in and start to furiously scrub every inch of my body with a rough loofa. But it doesn’t matter how much I rub, I can’t get the image of the blood on my skin out of my mind.
I drop the sponge to the floor and step away from it as if it’s infected with the execution I just witnessed. I’ve heard stories of what the cartel is capable of doing. Of how easily they can dispose of human life. Santos didn’t even blink when he fired that last shot into the man begging for help at my feet, as if he does this every day. As if he’s killed so many times, it doesn’t faze him.
As for me, I’m just a coward. The man begged for help and I stood there like an idiot. I shut my lids tightly, wishing I could somehow take it back. But I can’t.
It was the shock of what I was seeing. There’s no other explanation.
“Sonia.”
I press myself against the shower wall when I hear the sound of Santos’s voice. “What are you doing in here?” I demand, covering my chest when I see him standing in the doorway. “Get out!”
“Let me explain. Things aren’t what they seem.”
“So you didn’t kill a man before my very eyes?”
His jaw tightens. “I did, but there’s a reason for it.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your reasons. And to think I almost…” I trail off, but he catches on.
“You almost what?”
“Nothing. I almost nothing.” I face away from him, unable to look at him any longer. “Please,” I whisper. “Please leave me alone. Just give me space.”
“All right. For now. But we will talk.” He takes a few steps, then pauses and says, “I’m sorry,” before walking out.
I break down, dropping to the floor and sobbing like a child. What world have I gotten myself into? It’s hell. I’m literally in hell. I mean, they don’t call themselves the Diablos del Sur for nothing!
After I’ve allowed myself to wallow in self-pity for a long while, I stiffen my lower lip and straighten my spine. I’ve never considered myself a victim, even when life’s been tough. I’m not about to start now.
There’s no other option. I have to leave. Now. While the guards might still assume I’ve resigned myself to being Santos’s wife.
