Page 10 of Fall
“I never told him about your business, Dante!” Her voice breaks as she sobs. “I didn’t tell him anything. I promise.”
Miguel pivots into her. “You told me enough to know there’s information available to you.” He wipes a teardrop from her cheek.
“Get away from her!” I roar like a lion, struggling in vain to reach her.
His arm lifts, and he aims his Glock right at me. As quick as it targets my chest, my brave sister bolts in my direction.
“No, Miguel.” Her voice vanishes behind the snap of a bullet.
Gabriela’s shoulder slams into my chest the moment the cap hits. Time ceases to tick. The planet screeches to a halt. My heart explodes into a trillion spiky fragments. Watery eyes find mine. Her knees weaken, and her legs crumple. My sister's precious soul escapes her wounded body, and she slides down my chest after the impact.
It takes a split second for reality to kick in. For the nightmare to unravel. A shattered heartbeat hammers until all the serrated pieces lose control. I sink down beside her and cover the bullet hole with my hands. It continues to ooze a crimson tide of life, while her lashes no longer flutter and her lungs remain still. A barbaric yell rasps from my throat. “You fucking bastard.”
Whatever wrath I’d contained up to that point surfaces in a frenzy of brutality. I lunge at the fucker who shot my baby sister and wrap his neck in the crook of my arm. Boots wallop into my liver from behind when his goons step in to help. In the ongoing battle, the table of candles flips on its side. Flames engulf the floral drapes my sister hand-stitched when we first moved in. Fire spreads as rapidly as my fury.
He empties the gun of bullets and shoves it in my hand, forcing my fingers to automatically wrap around the handle. “Your fingerprints are all over the murder weapon, Valez. You’ll go to prison for killing Gaby.” Miguel's voice hitches to insane. “And don’t think we can’t get to you on the inside. We’ll get that fucking list one way or another.”
Ferocious flames crackle and spit. Before the trio of murdering bastards makes for the exit, Miguel pulls out his phone. “I need help. It’s my girlfriend,” he says with a false tremor. “I think she's dead.” He turns away. “It was her brother, Dante Valez. He flipped out because I got her pregnant. Hurry. Please.” Miguel ends the call and hurriedly returns the phone to his pocket, then storms out through the front door.
I hunker down at her expressionless pretty face and press two fingers to her throat. Even in death, my little sister is graceful.
Fire seethes and licks. Fury burns deeper than the molten heat blazing over my hands, deleting my fingerprints and my existence. The pain doesn’t compare to the destruction of grief. Or the hissing need for revenge.
In the furnace of affliction, ghosts are born.
My sister will dance with the stars and rest in the heavens.
I will walk the wretched earth with evil and kill every last one of them.
4
Gravitating to the earth backwards felt like a lifetime.
In reality, it was a matter of seconds.
One scream.
Two blinks.
Treble heartbeats.
Branches scraped my waving arms during the quick descent, failing to soften the blow. I landed on a wooden ledge. Shocked and winded.
Dante watched from his celestial position in the clouds as I plummeted. I believed the drop alone would kill me––except, I didn't fall far enough to cause any degree of pain or injury.
He waited until my ass hit the boards, then drew back inside the aircraft and hid from sight as the helicopter skimmed the treetops.
My new prison is a deck wrapping mature bark, miles high from the leafy lower terrain where danger hunts unprepared victims. Weathered planks house one half of the hardy tree hut with not much space for daily exercise. A metal locker takes up one corner and a solo folded chair sits by worn timber railings. It’s rustic and basic compared to the five-star lodgings I was accustomed to in the cabin.
Punishment wasn’t a single bullet or a pair of damaged throttling hands. It’s a remote, uninhabited hideout. Solitary confinement.
I’ve paced the length and breadth of the cramped lookout station. Cursing el Fantasma for not believing me. Screaming to the uncaring creatures for the kiss that riddled me with a kaleidoscope of emotions. Desire. Hatred. Lust. Revulsion.
Those warm wet lips of his held so much potency that common sense seeped into the darkest parts of my brain. He was the air I breathed. The crime of his ravaging mouth obstructed the world. My body responded to his forbidden flavor. All the wrongs evaporated. His rough edges dissolved, and my defenses weakened. Our searching tongues danced, signaling to my brain that we belonged together. It felt like a man giving a woman his heart, and then he shoved me out of the helicopter.
Bastard.
That kiss was divinely hateful. I’ll never forget how he offered me an inkling of hope when calculated cruel intentions followed. Nor will I forgive him for banishing me to the jungle without food, running water or even a bed fitted with a mosquito net.
