⊰ Marcel ⊱
Stepping out of the shower, the steam and fading scent of soap cling to me as I pull the bathroom door open. Wrapped loosely around my hips, a pair of gray sweats is all that separates me from the cool air of my bedroom. I pause at the doorway, my gaze flickering from the charcoal gray rug on the floor to the bed sheets reflecting the black painted walls. Just beneath them, Mercy lays sound asleep, her breathing steady and even, and a peaceful expression resting on her face.
The sight of her, the epitome of what I’ve fought to have, fills me with a deep, resonant satisfaction.
After taking her, making her mine, we sat at the dinner table, and in silence, I admired her. No matter how many times I have her, I’ll never stop loving the way her cheeks light up, embarrassed, every time she catches me watching her. Now, having her here, I plan to never let her go. I won’t ever let her go.
This bedroom—my bedroom—is now
My body shivers beneath my soft pink sweater and blue jeans as I cross my arms just beneath my breasts. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the familiar black SUV pull up beside the one Marcel, Frank, Rick, and I have just emerged from. Just before Guillermo and his men step out of it, another one, identical, parks beside us, and this time, I can’t help but turn to look, watching Levi and Santiago step out of them wearing an unreadable look on their faces. My heart skips a beat at the sight of Levi, uneasy and bitter that this is where we stand now. All this time, everything we’ve done, and somehow, here we are, standing beside the men who discarded our parents and tore us apart. I suppose it was inevitable. It was eitherthisor death. I just want to get the hell out of here. I hug myself tighter as the cold winter air flicks my loose hair to the side, feeling my skin breakout in goosebumps. My eyes gloss over the target
The ringing in my ears gradually subsides as I blink away the haze, the world around me slowly coming back into focus. The feeling of Marcel’s hand on my shoulder is a distraction, and after a moment, I find it in me to look up at him, seeing him standing beside me, a glint of concern in his eyes despite the stoic mask he attempts to wear. It’s only then that I register the wet tears on my cheeks, growing colder as the cold wind blows. Embarrassed, I quickly bring my hand up to my face, concealed by the sleeve of my sweater. I wipe my face, ducking my head in a futile attempt to hide the evidence of my regret. I can’t let anyone else see me this way—vulnerable, weak. Especially Guillermo. It’s as though he was waiting for the perfect cue, hearing the sound of slow, deliberate clapping from behind Marcel. My heart sinks as I shift my gaze to see Guillermo emerging, walking towards us, a sinister smile playing on his lips. “Well done,” he says, his voice tinged with a cold satisfacti
I stand before the mirror in my bedroom, staring at my reflection as my mind wanders elsewhere. The car ride backhomewas silent, the weight of everything that had happened looming in the air like an airborne sickness. The light humming of the air brushing against the SUV as Rick drove us down the empty country road offered a semblance of relief, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, the worst had been left at that hilltop where we parted ways with Guillermo, his men, Levi, and Santiago. Unfortunately, whoever’s writing my story has a pretty fucking sick sense of humor, always finding a way to pull the rug out from under me just when I think I’ve found my footing. As the adrenaline began to fade, the reality of my situation came crashing down on me. Nausea hit me like a tidal wave, a sickening twist in my stomach that I couldn’t ignore. My voice was low and strained as I said, “Stop the car.” Marcel looked over at me, concern e
As Marcel’s hand shifts from my breast, slipping out from under my shirt, my face flushes, burning a hot red. My gaze still locked on Levi, the urge to want to hide myself under the pool table as Marcel’s touch leaves me grows by the second. Despite the interruption, he doesn’t back away, my back still pressed against him as he remains close, his possessive nature never wavering.I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until I snap my head forward, feeling myself sink deeper into the black hole of my embarrassment. It’s like I’m 18 again, only this time, the modification is tenfold. Being caught in the middle of a heated, full on make-out session with my…Marcelis a new level of humiliation.There goes my dignity.In the next moment, Marcel reaches for the glass and cigar he’d set down on the pool table and steps back, away from me. Without a word, he moves toward the parlor’s door
I throw my head back, laughing as I remind Levi of the time he tried to make me breakfast in bed for my 15th birthday and nearly burned down the kitchen. “Remember how the smoke alarm went off and you were running around like a headless chicken, trying to air out the house before I woke up?” I tease him, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. He shakes his head, chuckling as he takes a sip of his Coke. “Yeah, well, I never said I was a fucking chef,” he retorts, a grin playing on his lips. On a picnic table, we sit side by side, in the parking lot of a food truck lot. The remnants of our taco feast lay scattered on the white paper plates before us, the scent of cilantro and lime lingering in the air. It’s all too familiar, a reminiscence of the countless nights we spent together, just me and him, trying to figure out how to live a world without our parents. And that’s why I did all the cooking. “You know,” he says, his voice tinge
As I pull into the driveway of Marcel’s mansion, my heart is pounding in my chest, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. My hands shake, barely able to keep the car steady as I drive through the already opened gates, somehow managing to bring it to a stop. Through the haze of my panic, I see Marcel, Frank, Rick, Miguel, and a few other men I don’t recognize standing outside the house—their faces tense and rigid. I hardly register parking the car before I’m scrabbling at my seatbelt, my fingers fumbling with the release button. After what feels like an eternity, I finally hear the click, and I practically rip it off, the rough fabric scraping against my neck. I reach over to Levi, my hands trembling as I try to undo his seatbelt. “Levi?” I call out, my voice cracking with fear. “Levi, we’re here. We’re at Marcel’s.” But he doesn’t respond. His head is slumped against the window, his eyes closed, and his face is frighteningly pale beneath the dark red of the
⊰ Marcel ⊱ As I sit in the parlor, my gaze drifts to Mercy’s sleeping form on the couch. She’s curled up beneath a blanket, her head resting on a cushion, her face still bearing the traces of the tears she shed before she fell asleep. She refused to go to bed, and given the circumstances, I didn’t have the heart totryto force her to. How could I, when her world is crumbling around her? It’s been a few hours since my medical team arrived, and the wait has been agonizing. Every minute feels like an eternity, the silence broken only by the distant sounds of the doctors working to save Levi’s life. My mind wanders, replaying the events of just a couple of hours ago, the fear in Mercy’s eyes, the desperation in her voice as she pleaded with me to pray for her brother. Levi. The man who took care of her for the better part of a decade—her protector. I’ve seen the bond they share, the depth of their love
The warm water cascades over my body as I stand in the shower, lost in thought. Before I made my way up to my bedroom, Guillermo, Valentina, Santiago, and Alessandra stopped by to see Levi. As soon as I heard them coming through the front door, I took the opportunity to excuse myself from the room, not wanting to be in the same room as them unless otherwise necessary. Now, as the steam wafts from my body, I can’t escape my seemingly restless mind. I haven’t seen Marcel since last night, and my mind keeps drifting back to the revelation of Levi’s secret family. Why didn’t he tell me about them before? Why keep something so important a secret from me? After everything we’ve been through, I thought we could trust each other. Unfortunately, thus far, all I’ve learned is that while I may trust him, for some reason, he doesn’t feel the same way, and I can’t help but feel like our relationship isn’t a truly reciprocal one. Without even realizing it,