Page 114
Story: Convenient Vows
“You know I was going to let the sickness take him,” he says, voice calm now—too calm. “Nice and clean. A quiet natural death for an old king.”
I lift my gaze slowly, bile rising in my throat.
“But now?” He leans in, his voice a whisper made of knives. “Now I may have to kill him myself before you start getting ideas in your head.”
My lips part, but I swallow back the nausea and say nothing.
He smiles, looking satisfied with my silence and horror, and continues talking. “There will be no matches for your father’s because he is on a ticking clock, and I’m winding down the last minutes.”
The back of my head presses into the leather seat, my fingers digging into my sides where the pain flares hot, and my pulse stutters at his words.
So Cristóbal is planning on executing my father by delay.
I stare out the window with blurry vision. My home, my family, my father—they're all being dismantled piece by piece. And Ihanded Cristóbal the blade. While it is true he already had his plans in place, my taking Maksim and walking into his den handed him the last piece to topple my father completely.
I don’t say a word for the rest of the ride. But inside me, something old and sacred snaps loose. Something that will never heal until Cristóbal ’s gone.
But how do I make him disappear?
The pain hasn’t settled—it throbs in waves, dull and sharp, like aftershocks. My arms remain tightly wrapped around my torso, but I force myself to breathe evenly. To think.
We’re halfway home. The silence in the car is thick. Cristóbal taps his thumb rhythmically on the armrest like he didn’t just crush the air from my lungs minutes ago.
I shift in my seat, slow and careful. The seatbelt bites into my side, and I flinch. But I speak anyway.
“What if…” My voice wavers. I clear my throat and try again. “What if my mother is a match for him?”
His laughter erupts so suddenly that I jolt.
“You really are cute sometimes,” he says, shaking his head like I’m a child who just asked why the sky is blue.
I don’t speak. I don’t move. I just watch him, trying to understand how my family ever thought this monster was a friend.
“The doctor’s been told what to say,” he continues, still smirking. “Your father’s not getting a match. Even if one turns up.”
My mouth goes dry. “You’re controlling the doctor?”
He turns toward me, eyes gleaming like a predator who enjoys the moment his prey realizes it’s already too late.
“I control everyone and everything,mi esposa.Everything that matters.”
I swallow hard and gaze out the window. The city rushes by—gray buildings, blurred trees, intersections I once knew. Yet everything feels foreign and cold. As if the world is slipping away from me, and I’m sinking into something I can’t name.
Something I may never escape.
I swallow hard and fix my gaze on the skyline.
The temperature in the car feels subzero. My skin is clammy. My hands tremble, hidden in my lap.
He’s not just a brute. He’s meticulous. Strategic. I thought I could play along, keep Maksim safe while I worked out a plan. But I didn’t account for this level of control.
For this level of evil.
He looks out his own window, like he’s bored now that he’s delivered his monologue.
“I’ll make it quick for him,” he says softly. “For your sake.”
I want to scream. I want to reach across the seat and claw the smug off his face. But I don’t. I can’t. Not when my child is still in his house. In his grasp.
I lift my gaze slowly, bile rising in my throat.
“But now?” He leans in, his voice a whisper made of knives. “Now I may have to kill him myself before you start getting ideas in your head.”
My lips part, but I swallow back the nausea and say nothing.
He smiles, looking satisfied with my silence and horror, and continues talking. “There will be no matches for your father’s because he is on a ticking clock, and I’m winding down the last minutes.”
The back of my head presses into the leather seat, my fingers digging into my sides where the pain flares hot, and my pulse stutters at his words.
So Cristóbal is planning on executing my father by delay.
I stare out the window with blurry vision. My home, my family, my father—they're all being dismantled piece by piece. And Ihanded Cristóbal the blade. While it is true he already had his plans in place, my taking Maksim and walking into his den handed him the last piece to topple my father completely.
I don’t say a word for the rest of the ride. But inside me, something old and sacred snaps loose. Something that will never heal until Cristóbal ’s gone.
But how do I make him disappear?
The pain hasn’t settled—it throbs in waves, dull and sharp, like aftershocks. My arms remain tightly wrapped around my torso, but I force myself to breathe evenly. To think.
We’re halfway home. The silence in the car is thick. Cristóbal taps his thumb rhythmically on the armrest like he didn’t just crush the air from my lungs minutes ago.
I shift in my seat, slow and careful. The seatbelt bites into my side, and I flinch. But I speak anyway.
“What if…” My voice wavers. I clear my throat and try again. “What if my mother is a match for him?”
His laughter erupts so suddenly that I jolt.
“You really are cute sometimes,” he says, shaking his head like I’m a child who just asked why the sky is blue.
I don’t speak. I don’t move. I just watch him, trying to understand how my family ever thought this monster was a friend.
“The doctor’s been told what to say,” he continues, still smirking. “Your father’s not getting a match. Even if one turns up.”
My mouth goes dry. “You’re controlling the doctor?”
He turns toward me, eyes gleaming like a predator who enjoys the moment his prey realizes it’s already too late.
“I control everyone and everything,mi esposa.Everything that matters.”
I swallow hard and gaze out the window. The city rushes by—gray buildings, blurred trees, intersections I once knew. Yet everything feels foreign and cold. As if the world is slipping away from me, and I’m sinking into something I can’t name.
Something I may never escape.
I swallow hard and fix my gaze on the skyline.
The temperature in the car feels subzero. My skin is clammy. My hands tremble, hidden in my lap.
He’s not just a brute. He’s meticulous. Strategic. I thought I could play along, keep Maksim safe while I worked out a plan. But I didn’t account for this level of control.
For this level of evil.
He looks out his own window, like he’s bored now that he’s delivered his monologue.
“I’ll make it quick for him,” he says softly. “For your sake.”
I want to scream. I want to reach across the seat and claw the smug off his face. But I don’t. I can’t. Not when my child is still in his house. In his grasp.
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