Ernesto turns his head to look at Miguel. “Those women didn’t hurt Juan. This fucker did. You didn’t think to help my brother, your cousin?”
Miguel swallows. “I didn’t think they’d kill him.”
Dead. They were all dead. Lauren, Cara, Amanda, Penny. Angel was struck down before he could evaluate what was going on. He was so worried about Lauren; his reactions were as slow as mine were.
I failed every one of them. I failed my agency. My head throbs with the realization that I’ll never be able to look into Cara’s pretty blue eyes ever again. I’d accept all the hate in the world from her if I could just make things right.
I deserve what I’m being dealt right now for all the sins I’ve committed, the lies I’ve told, but those women were mine to protect until I could get them to safety. Yes, every one of them were violated with pelvic exams and having to strip down daily for showers, and despite Lauren informing me that Angel didn’t even look at them unless there was a concern, it still doesn’t make it right. I could blame the government for being slow to respond. I could blame the slow trickle of information. I could blame anyone and anything for those women being murdered in that house, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m the reason they’re gone. No one will ever be able to convince me otherwise.
“So, you just stood by watching while he got the shit kicked out of him, and then you continued to stand by while this guy shot and killed him?” Ernesto asks, drawing my attention away from my guilt and back into their conversation.
“I—” Miguel scratches at his jaw. “I didn’t want to die, too.”
Ernesto growls, a low feral sound that makes it clear he isn’t impressed with the way his cousin handled the situation. “And then I have to learn from Oscar that my twin is dead?”
“You guys hated each other. Haven’t talked in years. I didn’t figure it mattered.” Miguel is shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his demeanor telling me who the alpha is in this situation.
“He’s family!” Ernesto roars. “You die for family.”
I see it happening before Miguel does. He’s dropped his head in shame and doesn’t see the single light overhead glint off Ernesto’s gun. The sound is deafening, as loud as a bomb blast in the tiny, dark room they’ve been torturing me in for the last two days.
Killing his cousin right now explains a lot about the man’s control. He could’ve very easily killed me at any point, but he’s kept me alive for a reason.
“Where is my brother’s body?” he hisses, using the hot tip of his gun to raise my face.
I can only see out of one eye, and the other one is blurry from the blood of my forehead injuries trickling into it.
“My family can’t find peace until he’s laid to rest.”
“I don’t know.” I tell him the same answer I’ve given every other time I’ve been asked.
“My mother cannot begin to grieve until she places flowers on his grave.”
I move my head, looking down at his cousin’s body. “You just killed the last man who knew. Angel had him take care of Juan. Miguel was the one who dragged your brother from the house and disposed of him.”
His hand goes back before he smashes the butt of the gun against the side of my head.
The sounds around me grow strange. I no longer hear the incessant dripping of a leaky faucet or Ernesto’s harsh breaths. My pulse pounds in my ear, and it takes a very long moment for me to realize he’s damaged my hearing on the left side with that last blow.
I lift my face to him—knowing that taunting him will be the fastest way to get this over with—and smile.
“Miguel was more worried about my rules of not touching the women than he was with whatever he did with Juan’s body.”
I close my eyes when Ernesto’s flash with rage. This is it. I’ve sent prayers up begging for forgiveness but also thinking I don’t deserve it. I feel like I’ve made my peace with whatever is going to happen to me.
But Ernesto turns, firing three more shots into Miguel’s body before facing the other man in the room.
“Put him in his fucking cell. Maybe after a couple of days of starvation he’ll tell me the truth.”
The other guy nods, moving around Miguel’s body to untie me from the chair in the center of the room.
I want to fight, to try and break free, but I just can’t manage it. As ready as I feel I am to die, I know that will be an immediate death sentence, and I’m finding that I’m a fucking coward. I know I don’t want to live in a world where Cara no longer breathes, but I just can’t commit to dying right now.