And Raúl’s life never would’ve been at risk because of me.
I blew out a long sigh, and for a single, weary moment, all the fight drained out of me. My shoulders slumped, and the sickening pressure in my head expanded.
The bus rolled to a stop, and a soft hiss signaled that the doors were opening. We’d arrived Juárez. The US border was mere miles away. The money in my pocket would buy my passage into the States. I’d come too far and endured too much to give up now.
I shoved my worry over Carmen and Raúl’s fates to the back of my mind, and I swallowed my self-loathing. Showing signs of weakness wasn’t an option. I’d paid for this entire, agonizing journey with my blood and tears. I wouldn’t allow it to end here, not when I was finally so close to a safe haven.
Raúl would’ve kept me safe. He did keep me safe. He protected me from Daniel.
I tipped my head back and sucked in a deep, fortifying breath. It was too late to go back now. I couldn’t undo my betrayal.
Raúl was holding me hostage. Even if he did protect me, he was my captor.
He’s a drug lord, a dangerous man. I had a history of falling for dangerous men, allowing myself to be swept up in the thrill of dark passion. My indulgence had cost me everything, and my loved ones had paid a heavy price, too.
Gehovany never would’ve allowed me to leave him. He would’ve hurt my family even more if they tried to keep me from him. I’d had no choice but to flee from my home, setting out on this dangerous journey that’d almost broken me.
My dark affinity for dangerous men would be my ruin. I wouldn’t make that mistake again, no matter how tempting it was to think of Raúl as my savior rather than my criminal captor.
That thought strengthened the steel in my spine, and I stood straight and steady when I got to my feet. I hadn’t left one controlling, dangerous monster back home just to find solace with another. I’d seen what Raúl was capable of. If I’d stayed with him, he eventually would’ve turned his strength against me. He was far stronger than Gehovany. I’d barely survived my ex’s violent, jealous rages. I wouldn’t survive a beating from Raúl.
Keeping one hand deep in my pocket to protect my money, I lifted the other to brush over my hair, checking to make sure it was still covering the bloodstain on my collar. As the blood dried, the fabric had become stiff and itchy, enflaming the sensitive skin on my neck. I’d accidentally tugged on it several times during the bus journey, when exhaustion and discomfort sapped my mind heavily enough to smother reason.
I glanced around at my fellow passengers as much as I was able in the cramped space. No one seemed to be paying me special attention as I filed off the bus along with the others, but every inch of my skin prickled with awareness.
No one’s watching me. I tried to reassure myself. I’m just tired. My skin always itched when I was tired. It was a maddening sensation on sleepless nights, but in situations like this—when exhaustion bore down on me like a leaden weight on my shoulders—it messed with my innate, animal ability to sense danger.
My fingers tightened around the cash in my pocket, and I exited the bus, stepping out into unfamiliar territory with my wits frazzled from sleep deprivation. I’d cycled through enough adrenaline dumps in the last thirty-six hours to knock me out for half a day, but I hadn’t so much as dozed off.
Someone bumped into my back, and I lurched forward. Now that I was up and moving, I felt almost drunk. Reasoning through my next action took far too long, and another person exiting the bus shoved me out of the way, harder this time. Coherent thought felt like struggling through quicksand. Even my next step forward seemed to take as much effort as running in knee-high water.
I trundled along, blindly moving away from the bus to avoid getting shoved again. I had enough sense remaining to know that people would start noticing me if I blocked the path for too long.
I have to find a pawn shop. I reminded myself of the plan I’d formulated during the long bus ride. I wasn’t familiar with Juárez’s neighborhoods, but if I could find a pawn shop in a shadier part of town, that would be a good starting point for locating someone who would be willing to help me cross the border in exchange for the money I had left from selling Raúl’s valuables.
A sudden, visceral flash of his stony face burst across my mind, and my guilt surged through my chest in a toxic wave. I bit down hard on my lower lip to stop it from quivering.