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I can be difficult. Intolerable at times. I won’t deny that. But he loves me regardless. He protects me, and I’m certain he always will. I can accept his disappointment in me. I can find a way to bear his shame, which can’t be worse than my own. But I will show him there’s still something in me to love. Something worth salvaging. I just have to pull myself together and figure it out. The way I always do.
I release a few shuddering breaths and force my gaze to the reflection in the mirror. I don’t recognize the person staring back at me. The woman with the long black hair and dark eyes may as well be a stranger. I feel detached from her. Empty. And it’s a fucking relief.
That means numbness is setting in. As long as I can stay like this… unfeeling, I can survive.
Robotically, I brush my hair and dress in the cheap sweats Santi bought me on the way here. They are a far cry from my usual clothing, but I don’t care. I’m exhausted, and I need to face him. I need to show him that it’s okay. I’ll find a way to fix everything.
When I emerge from the bathroom, my brother stands by the window, his gaze unfocused as he peers through the glass. I know he feels my presence, and he certainly heard me open the door, but it takes him a few moments to turn and face me. His expression is guarded, his eyes equally anguished and frustrated. It sets me on edge, the tightness in my chest gripping my breath like a vise.
“Santi.” My strangled voice forces his name out. “Why are we here?”
He swallows the words he doesn’t want to say, and it hits me like a punch to the gut. Even so, I can’t accept it. I have to believe there’s a purpose for me being here other than what my instincts are screaming at me.
“Tell me everything,” he orders in true De La Rosa fashion.
I make myself move, taking a seat on the bed, my hands twisting together in my lap. “I will. But I need you to promise you won’t hate me. No matter what. I need to hear that from you.”
“I can’t promise you anything.” He glares at me.
A quiet sob slips from my lips before I can stop it, and tears hover precariously on the edges of my eyes as I turn and try to wipe them away. So much for being numb. I swore I wasn’t going to do this, but for the first time in my life, I really can’t control it. I hate crying. I despise it. And more than anything, I hate that I allowed my brother to see such a display of emotion. If our father were here right now, he would have backhanded me into the next week for showing such cowardice.
“Now, Mercedes,” Santiago clips out. “If you don’t tell me now, you will decide for both of us. You will never hear from me again.”
Horror washes over me as I glance up at him, blurting the words out before I can think about how pathetic it makes me look. “No, you can’t do that!”
“You aren’t in a position to argue anymore.” He turns back toward the window, reaching for the curtain as he glances down into the courtyard again.
I’m terrified of what he might be looking for, but I’m even more terrified that he’ll follow through on his threat. If my brother disowns me, I’ll have nothing left.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” I cry out. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I was just so irritated with you, Santi. To see the way you looked at that Moreno girl. You were falling for her right before my eyes. I could see it, and it felt like such a betrayal."
He releases the curtain and turns to look at me, his pity unmistakable. He can see my jealousy for what it is, but I don’t care. What did he expect? He betrayed our family when he married the enemy. He committed the most egregious crime he could by falling for her. And in the end, instead of following through on our plans as he had promised, he ousted me from the scheme entirely. Our revenge fell by the wayside, and now he’s making his own little family with the blood we swore we’d extinguish from this earth.
"She was going to take you away from me," I snap. "I had to do something. I just wanted to make her hate you. So I hired that courtesan who used to work for IVI to lure you away at the gala and seduce you. Ivy was supposed to come out of the bathroom and see you together. That was it. Nobody was ever supposed to get hurt."
He’s quiet as he paces across the room, refusing to look at me, and in my desperation for his understanding, I rush to get the rest out. I go on to explain how I knew it was a stupid idea, but I thought I could trust her. I could never have predicted that she was in bed with the enemy too. That mistake almost cost Santiago his life, and I was trying to make it right. That’s why I went to the courtesan’s apartment tonight. I just wanted to make it right, so he’d forgive me.
"How can I believe anything you tell me?" He turns and shakes his head. "How can I believe any of what you're telling me now is even true?"
"Because she told me so herself!" I bellow.
"When you were beating it out of her?"
The silence is deafening as I try to recover from that fatal blow, the reminder I don't need. He doesn't have to tell me what happened. I’ll never forget.
"It wasn't like that," I whisper on a shaky breath. "I was fighting for my life. I didn't mean to kill her, but I had no choice. It was either her or me."
Santiago collapses into the chair by the door, and I can see that nothing I’ve said has managed to soften his anger. It eats at me, and I just wish he’d look at me for one second without complete revulsion. As I consider that it might never happen, a fresh wave of tears washes over me.
"Would you rather it was me? Is that it? Do you wish it were me who was dead on that floor?"
"What I would have rathered was that you never lied to me at all!" he roars. "You betrayed me. You schemed. You nearly fucking killed me. My own sister. Do you understand that?"
I suck in a sharp breath and stare at him pleadingly. "I would rather die than hurt you, brother. Please believe that, if nothing else."
His eyes move over me, his grief palpable. He feels as if he’s lost me too. But instead of death, it was the darkness that stole me. I’m too far beyond redemption, and he’s tired of trying to save me. I can feel it in my bones. It rattles my teeth, and for a second, the agony makes me wish I were actually dead. Perhaps that would have been the best outcome for everyone tonight. If I’d given up the fight and let her win, at least I wouldn’t have had to witness this anguish from the one person who’s always loved me, even at my worst. I wouldn’t have to feel him giving up on me.
“Get in bed and try to get some sleep,” he says quietly.
