Stolen Innocence (Stolen 0.5)

“She’ll be a woman soon enough,” Cristian said, addressing Vicente. He wasn’t even glancing in my direction. “She already looks like one. Do we have a deal or not?”

“What deal?” Andrés demanded. “What are you talking about?”

Cristian’s black gaze turned on him, pinning him in place. His lips curved with malice. “Father left me with a few debts. Mr. Rodríguez has generously offered to forgive those debts. For a small price.”

“Get out,” Abuela seethed, her tanned skin going red. “Get the fuck out of my house.” I’d never heard her curse before. It made my pulse spike and my palms sweat.

“This is my house,” Cristian drawled. “And you’ll be lucky if I allow you to stay here when she’s gone.”

She? Who was Cristian talking about?

His dark eyes found mine, and my heart dropped. In that moment, I knew. I couldn’t hide behind a child’s ignorance.

It’s me. I’m the price he’s paying.

The cold way he regarded me told me he thought he was getting the better end of the deal than Vicente.

Andrés seemed to understand at the same time, because he launched himself at Cristian with a furious roar.

My beloved brother might be big, but Cristian was older. Crueler. More practiced at hurting people.

Abuela shrieked when Cristian’s fist slammed into Andrés’ gut. She wrapped her arms around me in a protective gesture, but Hugo was already moving toward us. Andrés dropped to his knees, and Cristian punched him hard across the jaw. I screamed as blood sprayed from his lips. He dropped to the hardwood floor. He didn’t get up.

Cristian didn’t seem to care that Andrés had been subdued. He drove his boot into my sweet brother’s ribs again and again. Andrés moaned and curled in on himself.

I struggled against my grandmother’s hold. I had to get to Cristian and make him stop hurting Andrés.

I couldn’t have freed myself from her desperate grip by my own strength, but Hugo grabbed her arm and ripped her away from me. Cold air closed around me, freezing me in place for a moment. I was alone, completely unprotected. And the people I loved were being hurt. I couldn’t go to both of them at the same time, and my hesitation cost me the chance to get to either of them.

Vicente’s hand closed around my wrist. “Let’s go, chiquita.”

I screamed and lashed out. I’d never fought anyone in my life, but my fist swung toward his face. It glanced off his jaw, seeming to cause him no harm at all.

Instead, my defiant action incited rage. His eyes flashed, and I had a moment to register his fist drawing back before pain exploded through my skull. The world flickered around me.

I felt my body being lifted up, trapped against a strong chest. The movement made the pain spike. I registered one last moment of terror before I fell into darkness.Chapter 1ValentinaMy head throbbed, and my mouth was dry. I’d been awake for a while, drifting in and out of awareness, but I hadn’t dared to open my eyes. I couldn’t face reality. It was easier to sink into the pain in my head than to think about the fact that I’d been ripped away from my home and my family.

Hot tears slipped from beneath my closed eyelids to fall down my cheeks. I couldn’t drift in pain and exhaustion anymore. The soft illumination through my lids let me know that night had passed. The sun was rising, rousing me.

I became more aware of my essential needs. I was desperate for water, and I needed to go to the bathroom.

I peeled my eyes open, wincing against the wash of morning light.

I didn’t have time to really study my surroundings; my needs were too insistent. Spotting a sink and tiled floor through an open door across the room from me, I quickly got out of the unfamiliar bed and rushed into the bathroom.

My hasty movements made my head ache, but I almost welcomed the discomfort. It gave me something to focus on. If I was preoccupied by my physical distress, I could put off the moment when I’d have to fully contemplate my situation.

I saw to my most pressing urges before going to the sink for water. A small glass on the counter served me better than cupped hands, and I gratefully filled it. The cooling liquid relieved my parched tongue.

Once I’d drained the glass, I noted that a new, packaged toothbrush waited for me on the counter, as well as a fresh tube of toothpaste. Moving on autopilot, I brushed my teeth, feeling moderately better when my mouth was minty fresh and no longer dry.

I finally took a moment to really look at my reflection in the mirror. My black hair was wild around my face, my tanned cheeks paler than usual. A bruise darkened my jaw. It was purple and ugly, marring my face with violence. Cristian had left bruises on my body in the past, but he’d never touched my face. The shock of the vicious mark made my chest tighten. While I knew it would fade, the sight made tears pool in my brown eyes. The warm droplets caught in my thick lashes as I struggled to blink them back. I took a deep breath, but it hitched in my throat. When I exhaled, the air left my chest on a harsh sob.