Vicious Angel (Criminal Sins 2)

It’s strange, hearing Angel asks for anything. Usually, he just takes, but I guess these are dire times.

“Of course, my boy,” Wilmar smiles. “I will have a room set up for the three of you immediately.” The old man turns back to the door and cups his hands over his mouth. “Anna!”

For a silent moment, my pounding heart stops beating. Could it be?

It only takes a split-second to confirm that it is.

“Anna!?” I’m saying her name almost even before she bursts through the door.

It’s the young seamstress who helped me escape Dante’s wedding.

“Catalina!” She cries back, immediately rushing forward to embrace me. Angel allows her to pass, but Anna stops when she sees the precious bundle wrapped up in my arms.

She covers her mouth with a straight hand and gasps. “Who is that little cutie!?”

My first instinct is to spill my guts to her. The truth is, I’m proud of my baby boy. He’s been through so much already in his short life and he’s been just as good about it all as any mother could ever ask. But the moment my mouth opens, something else tugs it shut again. How much should I reveal? Outside of a very small and tight circle, no one knows about Oscar. Unless someone got Lady to talk...

“This is Oscar,” I say, not lying, but the fact that he’s my son, our son, could put him in so much danger that I just can’t bring myself to elaborate any further.

Anna seems to pick up on my hesitancy. She respects my vagueness, while also appearing to understand what it means. This is my child. My eyes dart over to Angel; he looks just as apprehensive as I feel. This is our child.

“What an adorable little cherub,” Anna lilts, peering into my arms. “And so quiet! What a blessing!”

It feels so nice to hear something positive about Oscar from an outsider. “He is a blessing, isn’t he?” I smile, looking down at my baby boy.

Wilmar’s bones creak as he pushes himself off of his makeshift throne and onto his feet. “My dear,” he addresses Anna. “It looks like we’ll be having company tonight. Would you mind preparing a room for our guests?”

Anna’s excitement at the proposal is almost enough to mask my desperate fear—but it also serves to fan the flames of my guilt. If we leave, we’ll be leaving people like Anna behind; people who’ve risked their lives for the good of my family.

Oscar wriggles in my arms and I can’t help but sigh.

If we stay here and something happens to us, then will those who’ve helped us have sacrificed their lives for nothing?

The conflict threatens to tear me apart from the inside as I follow Anna out of the makeshift office. Angel stays behind to discuss matters with Wilmar.

“How romantic!” Anna lilts, when we’re out of sight. “The rebel prince and the princess staying here, right next door to me!”

“You don’t live here?” I ask, subtly sniffing my armpits. I don’t feel like a princess. I’m dirty and bruised and oh-so exhausted. There was a small shower in the corner of our bunker, but it had no curtains and I only ever remembered to use it every other time that Lady went for supplies.

Poor Lady... she’s another one we’d be leaving behind. How could we do that to her? Her kindness has literally saved my family.

A heavy responsibility nearly drags me through the rickety floorboards as Anna leads me up a tight cement spiral staircase to the third floor.

“I live with my family just across the street, but I often do housework around here for Wilmar. He’s so kind and generous that I’d probably help him out for free if he asked... but don’t tell him that!” Anna giggles and I force a friendly smile onto my face. Her levity is a welcome change of pace, but I just can’t bring myself to feel joyous right now. So many things have gone wrong, and I still have the biggest decision of all to make.

“How’s your... I mean... How are...” I want to ask Anna how she’s feeling but I just can’t quite seem to settle on how to say it. We both experienced the same chaotic violence at the wedding, and I know how badly it’s haunted me. It’s likely that I killed a man, and Anna’s threading needle was just as bloody as mine when I saw her last.

“I’m not bad,” Anna says, seemingly oblivious to what I’m getting at. From behind, I study her skin for signs of damage, but I don’t spot any. She practically bounces up the stairs. “Though, I am still a little sore from the wedding...” For a split-second, I swear I hear the hint of something very heavy and disturbed in her voice, but she trails off quickly enough to disguise it. Anna may be better at hiding her pain from the outside world, but I can still sense it in her. Everybody is fighting for their lives now; it’s not just me.

“Me too,” I respond, forcing out a half-chuckle to keep from sounding too dark. “That was crazy.”

“So crazy,” Anna agrees, before I see her head fall again from the weight of the memory. “I’ve been trying not to think about it so much, though. You know? It’s almost too crazy.”

I nod and hold Oscar a little tighter in my arms. “I know exactly what you mean,” I assure her. “There was footage of the aftermath on the news...”

“Yeah, I saw that, too,” Anna mumbles, before opening a door and changing her demeanour.

Faint beams of sunlight shimmer in through a half-closed window. Outside I can hear birds chirping and even children playing... but it’s all undercut by a constant rumble in the distance—people are still fighting; still dying.