Chiquita jerked upright. “Carmen!” she cried out. “Don’t do this!”
Her words did little to deter me.
My mind was made up.
For them, I had to fight.
Death or freedom…
They were the only choices that remained.
“It’s the only way.”
“No, it’s not! Just listen—”
Static filled my head when the door swung open, and El Diablo stepped into the room, the smell of bourbon and stench of evil wafting off him in waves. Glassy, bloodshot eyes narrowed into tiny slits, he swayed the slightest bit as he glared at Little One, focusing on her.
It was the shot I needed.
“What the fuck are you doing up here?” he asked her, hands fisting at his sides. “I told you—”
The scream that ripped through the air—mine—was a battle cry as I leapt up and lunged forward, taking the bastardo by surprise. Knife clutched tight in my left hand, I swung it with every ounce of strength my muscles possessed, wasting no time in sinking it deep into his side. Blood instantly wept from the wound, staining his fitted, white t-shirt, crimson.
My soul roared in triumph.
But it was far too soon to declare victory.
That truth became apparent when he threw a single punch, nailing me in the jaw. Dazed from the powerful blow, one which I hadn’t even seen coming, I stumbled back, losing hold of the knife still stuck in his side.
Time for plan b…
“You crazy fuckin’ bitch!”
Ripping the blade free of his flesh, he stared down at it as his chest rose and fell in rapid succession. Rage, along with disbelief, painted his chilling features, but I refused to give the fear nipping at my spine sanctuary.
I was done being scared.
Chin raised, I extended my arms and wiggled my fingers, beckoning him closer. “Come on, papi,” I taunted, knowing full well he hated that name. “You want to rip my throat out? Then come on and do it!”
He needed no further urging.
Sadistic smile locked in place, he lunged forward, eliminating the space between us. Wanting him to come closer, I neither moved nor fought against him when he wrapped one hand in my hair, rendering me immobile, and used the other to press my blade to my throat.
“Carmen!” Little One shouted seconds before Chiquita yelled, “Dominic, don’t!”
El Diablo’s eyes darkened, filling with the promise of revenge. “She’s gotta die, Tesora!”
His words gave me the strength I needed.
Lips curving into a smile, I glared up at him. “You first, pendejo.”
In a lightning-quick move and one he never saw coming, I grasped the revolver he always kept tucked in the front of his pants and ripped it free.
Leaping back and out of his shocked grip, I raised the gun high, pointing the barrel straight at his chest. Feet shoulder-width apart, my body remained stock-still. “I will not let you hurt my girls,” I screamed, cocking the hammer. “Not another damned time!”
He may have survived my blade…
But he would not survive his own bullet.
“For almost two years, I have watched you cause them pain, Ashley especially, and I am fucking done! Do you hear me? I am done! I may be a worthless whore”—tears blurred my vision—“but I’m about to send El Diablo back to where he belongs!”
I steadied the gun.
“See you in hell, Dominic.”
My lungs froze as I pulled back on the trigger, more than ready to snuff out the evil standing before me so he could do no harm to anyone else, my beautiful makeshift family included.
But things didn’t go as planned.
To my horror, just like sixteen years before, when mi madre stood between her children and the men intent on ripping her world apart, the gun did not fire.
Instead, it merely clicked.
I knew why too.
The chamber was empty, devoid of bullets.
Refusing to believe that history was repeating itself, I pulled the trigger once more.
Another click.
“You stupid fuckin’ cunt.” Dominic chuckled humorlessly. “The chamber is empty,” he said, stating the obvious. “The last round is buried in the sidewalk out front.”
My face fell.
The final bullet…
He’d fired it at Chiquita.
The bastardo sneered; it was a warning of the pain to come. “That mistake you just made, bitch? It’ll be your last.”
He was right.
It would be my last.
There was no coming back from the bridge I’d just crossed, and because I’d failed to kill him, my life was about to end.
Chin trembling, I dropped my arms to my side, allowing the gun to slip out of my lax fingers. It fell to the floor, clattering against the aged wood with a thud as unimaginable terror gripped me, nearly squeezing my hammering heart until it almost burst.
Once again, I’d fucked up.
And now, those I loved would pay.
Little One. Chiquita.
Faye. Amelia.
Guapo.
Dios mío, James…
Moments away from ceasing to exist, I’d never see him again. The thought almost killed me, stealing what remained of my existence before El Diablo had a chance to.
Mind in freefall, my hearing dulled as my life—as cliché as it sounds—flashed before my eyes, replaying my most cherished memories one last time before my light was extinguished.
Forever.
Heart cracking down the center for what would be the final time, I saw a younger me standing next to Mamá in our kitchen back in Colombia as she taught me to make cachapas for the first time, while a smiling Papá looked on from the table where he sat, holding a squealing Alejandro on his lap.
I then saw Chiquita’s beautiful face as she held her newborn daughter in her arms for the first time, and I glimpsed Little One’s smile as she sat on the floor next to her, peering down at the sweetest little face any of us had ever seen.
I smelled the smoke covering James’s shirt and skin as I slammed into him that very first night in which he’d held me in his arms for the briefest of seconds before I’d lifted his wallet and stolen every dime he had.
I felt the moment his lips touched mine for the first time and heard the deep rumble of his voice as he confessed that his heart now belonged to me, a beautiful gift I’d done nothing to deserve, but one he’d
