Page 112 of Shadows of the Past
The room tightens around us. I want her to feel what I felt, the terror, the helplessness, the rage that still coils in my gut. This damn terror that’s been gripping me ever since I carried her into that hospital, not knowing if I’d ever hear her voice again.
“If it had been me—” My voice cracks.
She cuts me off, her gaze steady. “I would have followed you. You know that. I didn’t choose her over you, Max. I just…gave her a choice. Maybe too late.”
I search her face for regret, fear, anything that might tell me she wishes she’d run years ago. If I’d forced her, maybe she wouldn’t be here, stitched together by strangers, pain etched into every line of her body.
She shifts, wincing, trying to sit up, and I’m on my feet in an instant, hands catching her shoulders.
“What are you doing?” My voice comes out harsher than I mean for it to.
Her grip tightens on my wrist. “Don’t get lost in your head, Max. Come back to me. I love you. I’d die for you, but more importantly, I would live for you. For us. For that future that I know we can have. If I need to show my skills with a machine gun to Death itself, I will because there’s nothing in this damn world that can keep me apart from you. What happened with Lupe wasn’t about you. It was about Julia—the girl who watched them grow up, who dreamed of seeing them again. I know in my soul that Lupe is confused right now, that she wants to believe Aleksandr can change. But baby, you’re my choice. Cada día, amor.”
Her words settle between us, fragile and fierce. The morning sun slips across the bed, warming her skin. For a moment, the world outside the window doesn’t exist—just her heartbeat, my breath, and the promise that maybe, just maybe, we can survive this.
In the end, she melts against me, her head resting on my chest.
“I’m so tired,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I lift her gently, careful not to disturb the IV lines trailing from her arm, and reposition her on the bed. I brush a few strands of hair from her forehead. Somehow, even now, she still smells faintly sweet, and the tightness in my chest eases just a little.
I start to settle into the armchair, but before I sit, she catches my hand. Half asleep, she murmurs, “Stay with me.”
Something in me softens at how small and fragile she looks, and the anger from earlier dissolves. Julia would never be Julia if she didn’t put everyone else first, even if it means sacrificing herself.
“For life, Juls. And after,” I whisper, squeezing her hand.
My phone vibrates with a message from Roman.
?
While I’ve been here with Julia, Roman, Damien, and Niko have been pulling strings, tracking Aleksandr and Lupe to a traffic camera thirty miles outside Mexico City. From there, it was easy to follow the car.
If Julia were awake, she’d probably fight us on sending an army after them, but not this time. Not after what they did to her.
When she was hurt, all I cared about was getting her to a hospital. Every soldier we had was mobilized to clean up the mess at that colonial house. Two of our men were shot, but they’re recovering. Jeremy tore a ligament and he’ll need surgery.
But Aleksandr, officially, has no one left. His accounts are frozen, and we’ve made it clear that anyone who helps him willanswer to me and Roman. Whatever understanding we had died with every drop of blood he spilled.
I told Roman not to let anyone touch them. I know what I want to do, but if anything happens to Lupe, Julia will never forgive me. Even now, with Julia’s sister at the top of my blacklist, I have to remind myself she’s a victim too. Like Zoya.
No one believes manipulation can be that powerful until they meet a narcissist who knows how to twist your mind. I’ve seen Aleksandr charm a room with nothing but a smile.
Julia will decide what happens with her sister. Maybe she’ll send her to the other side of the world. I just know I can’t be in the same room with her anytime soon. But right now, the only place I need to be is here.
I step out to grab a bottle of water and spot Roman slouched in a chair, head against the wall, eyes closed. It’s strange seeing him like this, knowing he’s the same man who never hesitates to use violence. Now, he’s calm, untouchable.
“I’ll never understand how everyone thinks you’re the better looking one when even you can’t stop staring at me,” he says, a lazy smile spreading across his face, eyes still shut.
I drop into the seat beside him, shaking my head. “Thanks,” I say. It’s all I can manage. Emotionally, I’m wrung out.
Since he arrived, he’s taken charge without question, handled Julia’s transfer even when the hospital staff pushed back. I’m sure at some point he had Amalia translate something about his hunting knife, but my mind was elsewhere. He organized the team to track Aleksandr and Lupe, and he’s the one who got them to the States, where he and Julia and I will meet them.
“You know, the first time I saw you, beyond the shock that you were real, all I felt was guilt,” he says quietly. I don’t know what to say, but he keeps going. “All those years, and I neverfelt like anything was missing. But the moment we found out about you, Max, I think we all realized our family wasn’t whole. It’s okay to need someone. It’s okay to ask for help. And that’s coming from a man who never lets go of control.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips because I’m pretty sure this softer side of him has everything to do with a certain cinnamon-haired woman.
“I don’t agree with what Julia did, but I get it,” he says, and I turn to him, my brow furrowed. “That feeling, the one where you’re responsible for your siblings, where you have to be the one who sacrifices for them, it’s in your blood, Max. As the oldest, you’re born with it. If Victoria ever pointed a gun at me, no matter how wrong it would be, I wouldn’t do anything to stop her. I’d make the same choice Julia did. Because you can’t hurt them. It goes against everything you are even if they’re the ones putting the knife in your back.”
