(Alejandro’s POV)The moment I stepped outside, I knew something was wrong.“She’s waiting outside,” Tom had said earlier. But now? Nothing. We scanned the whole parking lot, there was no sign of her.“She was here,” Tom said again, his voice laced with doubt. “When I came out earlier and I didn’t see her inside I thought she’d wait by the car.”Something wasn’t right. I could feel it deep in my bones.“Estella!” I called out, turning sharply toward the bushes where I thought I’d heard… something. A faint sound, almost like a struggle. Nothing but silence now“She wouldn’t leave,” I muttered, more to myself than to Tom, who was trailing behind me.He hesitated. “Maybe she went to the restroom or—”“She wouldn’t leave,” I snapped, cutting him off. Estella wasn’t reckless. She wouldn’t just wander off.My eyes darted across the lot, landing on a glint of something half-buried in the shrubs.I moved before I could think, my heart racing as I crouched to inspect it.Her phone.Emerald gre
(Estella’s POV)Drip. Drip. Drip.The sound dragged me back to consciousness, sharp and relentless, cutting through the haze clouding my mind. My head throbbed, a deep, pulsing ache that felt like it was splitting me in two. I moved slightly, and agony radiated from the side of my skull.My hair clung to my scalp, sticky and damp. I didn’t need to touch it to know what it was—blood. I could feel it sluggishly sliding down the side of my face, warm against the icy chill of wherever I was.I blinked, or at least I tried to. My eyes refused to focus, everything swirling in a mess of dark shapes and painful light.Why couldn’t I move?Where was I?I swallowed hard, my throat dry and raw, and tried to lift my hand to touch the wound on my head, but my wrist jerked against something. Chains rattled with a metallic clang, stopping me cold. Panic surged, sharp and electric. I tried again, harder this time, pulling at my wrists, but the restraints only bit deeper into my skin.No.Panic clawed
(Alejandro’s POV)The black car was a fucking ghost.“No rentals, no recent purchases. If it’s not registered, it’s off the grid.” Enrique, my informant, muttered over the line. His voice was clipped, frustrated. “I’ve checked every dealership within a fifty-mile radius. Nothing matches the description you gave me.”I slammed my fist against the desk. “So, what? They just vanished?“Unless it’s off the books, yeah. Could be stolen or custom plates. I’m still digging.”I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Dig faster.”Enrique hesitated. “Alejandro, you sure you don’t want to accept the GIA’s help? This isn’t—”“I don’t need anyone else,” I snapped. “Just find that damn car. Call me when you have something real.”I ended the call and slammed the phone down, pacing the room like a caged animal. Every second she is gone felt like another blow to my chest.My phone buzzed again. This time, it was Raul, one of my tech guys.“I’m in,” he said, his tone brisk. “Traffic cameras, toll booths, any
(Estella’s POV)My head throbbed like someone had driven a nail through it, and when I shifted, the bite of the cuffs around my wrists dragged me fully into the nightmare.He is back. The bastard was crouched near my legs, his shoulders blocking the dim bulb swinging overhead. He was fiddling with something, metallic clink of keys echoing in my ears. I blinked hard, trying to focus.“There she is,” he said without looking up. “Sleeping Beauty wakes.”I stayed silent, every nerve in my body was screaming from the soreness in my limbs. My throat was too dry to reply. Not that I had anything to say to that monsterHe sneered, glancing up at me with a look that made my skin crawl. “You looked pathetic passed out, but now…” His gaze traveled over me. “You’re even more pathetic awake. Yet somehow still so damn hot.”I wanted to spit in his face. Instead, I clenched my fists, the raw skin on my wrists stinging as the cuffs loosened with a sharp click. He tossed them to the floor.The relief
AlejandroThe building looked like it had been pulled straight out of a horror movie—a broken-down shell of concrete and rust, every creak and groan echoing.I knew this was a trap. Every inch of my body screamed that something terrible awaited me insideI reached the main door, shoved it, and cursed when it didn’t budge. Locked. Of course.Grimacing, I stepped back, lifted my leg, and kicked the door with all the strength I could muster. The hinges groaned in protest before the lock gave way. The door slammed open, the sound ringing out into the empty space like a gunshot.I didn’t wait to see who might come running. My steps were quick, taking in every shadow and corner as I moved deeper into the maze of halls. My throat was dry, my hands twitching with impatience.And then I saw her.She was sitting in the middle of the room, her body slumped in a chair like a broken doll. Her mouth was taped shut, her hands bound behind her back. Her hair was a tangled mess, blood matted at her te
Estella The grogginess hit first, thick and cloying, weighing down my limbs. My eyes fluttered open, the blurry room around me solidifying into harsh lines. My wrists ached—no, burned. Shackles. Cold steel biting into my skin, chaining me to the corners of an old, rusted bedframe. I tried to sit up. Nothing. My head pounded like I’d been slammed against concrete. Poisoned, I realized. That bastard poisoned me. Alejandro was slumped in a chair across the room, his hands tied behind him, his chin resting against his chest. Unmoving. My heart twisted, panic gripping me. “Alejandro?” My voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. He’s alive. For now.” My eyes darted toward the source, and there he stood—Benjamin. He wasn’t wearing the mask anymore. His face was plain, unremarkable, but for the jagged scar running along his jawline. That scar was the only thing memorable about him, yet somehow, it made him all the more terrifying. He didn’t need to l
EstellaA week had passed since everything went down. A week of silence, of tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Alejandro hadn’t looked at me the same since that night. He’d become distant, detached, like a wall had gone up between us. He was still there—physically. Watching me. Guarding me. But he wasn’t the same man. Not the one who held me through the storm, not the one who promised me we would survive.I’d catch him staring sometimes, like he wanted to say something, but he’d turn away before I could hold his gaze. And I… I didn’t push. Because, deep down, I was scared of what he might sayHe didn’t talk to me unless he had to. And when he did speak, it was to ask about my wounds, nothing personal. It was like I was invisible, even though he hadn’t let me out of his sight for more than a minute. He made sure I knew he was there, watching, but he wasn’t with me.It killed me. Slowly. Every damn dayI sat on the couch, my hands fumbling with the fresh bandages I was su
EstellaHis left hand slid up, curling around my neck beneath my hair, while his right cupped my chin, holding me in place. I should’ve protested, said something—anything—but my lips parted too late, and the only thing my hesitation accomplished was leaving me wide open for him.His mouth descended, far from gentle. This wasn’t soft or sweet—it was commanding, consuming. His lips crushed mine, searing them with a kiss so fierce I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. His tongue swept inside, bold and unapologetic, leaving no corner of my mouth unexplored. It wasn’t like Marco’s sloppy kisses. Alejandro’s kiss wasn’t just an action; it was a brand.My head spun, my pulse hammering in my chest, but I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t.One kiss bled into another and another, each one hungrier than the last. His hands slid down, no longer cradling my face but gripping my back, pulling me so close I could feel the steady drum of his heart against mine. I gasped, and before I even realized w
Five Years LaterEstella had insisted on having the windows open despite the doctors' protests—she needed to breathe something other than antiseptic and fear."Almost there," The matron encouraged from between her legs. "One more big push, Estella."Alejandro's hand was nearly crushed in her grip as another contraction seized her. The twins had decided to arrive three weeks early, sending them rushing to the hospital in the middle of the night."You're doing amazingly," Alejandro murmured against her temple. The entire pregnancy had been classified high-risk from the beginning.Estella bore down with a primal scream, feeling the first baby slide from her body."It's a boy!" The matron announced, lifting the wailing infant for them to see before placing him on Estella's chest.She touched her son's dark, wet hair. "Hello, little one,"The moment of joy was short-lived. The monitors beside her bed began beeping erratically."Blood pressure dropping," a nurse called out.The doctor in ch
The following weeks were filled with medical tests, therapy sessions, and small but significant milestones.Three weeks after waking, he took his first unassisted steps, gripping the parallel bars with so much intensity as he forced his atrophied muscles to cooperate. I watched from the sidelines, heart in my throat, as he pushed through pain that would have stopped a lesser man."Fuck," he growled through gritted teeth when his legs threatened to give out halfway through. "I'm not stopping."His physical therapist—a no-nonsense woman who'd quickly learned to match his intensity—nodded approvingly. "Two more steps. You can do two more."He did three before collapsing into the wheelchair afterward with sweat pouring down his face."Next time I'll do ten," he promised, breath coming in harsh pants.I handed him a towel, leaning in to whisper, "Watching you fight like this is incredibly sexy, you know."His exhausted laugh was all the reward I needed.By the six-week mark, he was walking
When we broke apart, I rested my head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent beneath the antiseptic hospital smell. "Don't ever scare me like that again," I whispered."I'll try not to make a habit of getting stabbed in the heart," he replied dryly."This isn't funny, Alejandro." I lifted my head to meet his gaze. "I thought I'd lost you. I thought our daughter would grow up without her father."His expression sobered. "I know. I'm sorry." He squeezed my hand weakly. "How bad was it?""Bad," I admitted. "The knife nicked your heart. You lost so much blood... They weren't sure you'd make it through the first surgery." My voice caught. "And then you didn't wake up. Days turned into weeks, and you just... stayed asleep.""I'm sorry," he repeated. "For putting you through that. For not being there for you and Arielle.""You're here now," I said. The door opened quietly, and we both looked up to see Dr. Matthews returning, accompanied by a neurologist I recognized from previous consultat
Two months laterThe hospital room had become my second home. The nurses knew my schedule better than I did—when I'd arrive each morning with fresh clothes for both of us, when I'd step out for coffee, which chair I preferred to sit in while reading aloud to Alejandro's unresponsive form.Sixty-one days of talking to someone who couldn't answer. Sixty-one days of watching for the slightest movement of an eyelid or the smallest twitch of a finger. Sixty-one days of hope slowly eroding into something that felt dangerously close to despair."The medical journal says coma patients show increased brain activity when family members speak to them," I said, turning the page of the medical text I'd been studying obsessively. "So I'm going to keep talking, even if I'm starting to repeat myself."Alejandro remained motionless. They'd removed his breathing tube last week when he started breathing on his own—a positive sign, Dr. Matthews had assured me. But his consciousness remained locked away,
"Aunt Eleanor," I gasped, shocked to see her. In the chaos, I'd almost forgotten she'd been injured in the initial car crash where Arielle was taken."You look worse than me," she said weakly, attempting a smile that turned into a wince.For some reason, it was the sight of her—battered but alive, just like the rest of us—that finally broke through the numbness I'd been hiding behind. The tears came suddenly and violently, sobs wrenching themselves from my chest as she wheeled herself closer, reaching out with her good arm to pull me against her."I was so scared," I admitted between sobs. "I thought we were all going to die. I was scared history was going to repeat itself self. And this time Arielle, Alejandro—""But you didn't," she reminded me. "You saved them both."I shook my head, glancing at Alejandro's still form. "I didn't save him. He's still—""Fighting," Eleanor cut in. "Just like he always has. Just like you have."I cried until I had no tears left, letting go of the fear
I must have dozed off despite my determination to stay awake, because the next thing I knew, someone was gently shaking my shoulder."Estella? Can you hear me?"I forced my heavy eyelids open to find Raul standing over me, his face lined with worry. Clara hovered behind him, her eyes red-rimmed."Raul," I croaked, my throat dry. "Alejandro?""He's out of surgery," Raul said. "It was touch and go for a while, but he made it through."Relief made me dizzy. "He's okay?"Raul and Clara exchanged glances."What aren't you telling me?" I demanded, suddenly fully awake.Raul sighed. "The damage was extensive. They repaired what they could, but... he's in a coma, Estella.""A coma? For how long?""They don't know," Clara said gently, stepping forward to take my hand. "All they said was the next 48 hours are critical."I struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain that shot through my body. "I need to see him.""You need to rest," Clara countered. "You're no good to him or Arielle if you collapse."
"BP's still dropping," one of the paramedics called as they loaded Alejandro into the ambulance. "We need to move!"I climbed in after them, collapsing onto the bench seat as the doors slammed shut."Arielle," I suddenly remembered, panic clawing at my throat. "My daughter—where is she?""Already en route to Memorial," one of the paramedics replied without looking up from Alejandro. "She's stable."That small mercy gave me the strength to stay upright as I watched them work frantically to keep my husband alive. They'd cut away his shirt completely now, revealing the full extent of his injuries. The wound in his abdomen wasn't as deep as I'd feared, but the chest wound—it was a different story altogether."Left hemothorax," the paramedic muttered. "Need to decompress."I watched in horror as they inserted a large needle between Alejandro's ribs. Blood gushed out immediately, filling a collection bag."What's happening?" I demanded."Blood's filling his chest cavity, compressing on his
He yanked the makeshift blade free and shoved Alejandro toward me with such force that we both crashed onto the wooden planks of the dock. I barely registered the pain through my ankle as I caught Alejandro's limp body."No, no, no," I sobbed, cradling him against me. His eyes fluttered, struggling to focus on my face as blood bubbled from his lips."Est...ella," he managed, each syllable a battle."Don't talk," I begged, pressing one hand against the stomach wound while frantically trying to stem the bleeding from his chest with the other. It was too much—too much blood, too many wounds.Marco staggered to the boat, his own strength clearly waning. He tossed the bloodied metal shard into the water and began fumbling with the ropes that secured the craft to the dock. His movements were clumsy, his injuries making the simple task laborious."Pressure," Alejandro whispered, his voice so faint I barely heard it. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, staining his ashen lips crimso
We dove behind a heavy chest of drawers just as the explosion tore through the room. The blast was deafening, sending splinters of wood and plaster raining down on us. Dust filled up the air in the room.Through the ringing in my ears, I heard movement—Marco is making his escape in the confusion. I struggled to my feet, eyes stinging from the dust, and saw a shadow moving toward the far windows."Alejandro," I croaked, pointing.He was already up, blood trickling from another cut on his temple where debris had struck him. Together, we staggered through the devastated room toward the windows.Marco had reached what appeared to be a balcony beyond the shattered glass. As we emerged into the clean night air, I saw his plan—a rope, hastily secured to the balcony railing, leading down to the ground below. Near the edge of the property, barely visible in dark of the night was a small dock with what looked like a speedboat tied up."Stop!" Alejandro shouted, raising his gun.Marco turned, hi