Page 81 of Inez

A woman I don't know slumped in a chair, bleeding from…everywhere. Just…blood. So much blood.

And Inez on her back on the floor in the ocean of blood, Rafael clutched in a leg-lock, his eyes wide, hands reaching, batting, swiping, pawing. Her face is a rictus of hate.

Her thighs clench around his throat, his face going red, heels scrabbling in the slick sea of blood.

I limp into the room. Draw my knife and drop it onto the floor next to Inez. Stare down at Rafael's gasping, gurgling face, into his desperate, terrified eyes.

Inez snags the knife. Whispers something to Rafael. I see her lips move, reading in them her words to Rafael: "I've waited a very long time to do this,husband.”

She drives the knife into his belly—slowly, slowly.

15

BONDS FORGED IN BLOOD

INEZ

Ican't stop myself from toppling into sleep. It's a restless slumber, fraught with nightmares—memories of bygone horrors. I wake screaming, my skin crawling with the memory of cruel greedy grasping hands bruising my flesh as the cot creaked beneath me, hot rank breath on my face, male sweat dripping into my eyes.

I claw back to wakefulness, panting and sweating. Levering myself upright, I see the woman still huddled in the same corner, listless and vacant-eyed.

Her gaze drags to mine. "You have many bad dreams," she says to me.

"Yes." I jut my chin at the door. "Because of him."

"If you do not tell him, then what? He will cut off all my fingers, maybe, or who knows what else. I will die—I know this. My Alejandro has his grandmother and grandfather, so at least I know he will be loved."

"I'm sorry," I whisper again. "You should not be here. This has nothing to do with you."

"You did not bring me here."

"But you are here because of me."

She shrugs. "Perhaps. What is the point of saying it is your fault, or his fault, or anyone's? I will not get my finger back. I will never see my son again. But when I am no more use to him, what else will he do to get you to tell him what he wants to know?"

"Anything. Everything." I sigh. "I will kill him. If I can save you, I will."

She shrugs as if it doesn't matter and turns her gaze away to the window.

I don't know how much time passes, then. Daylight fades. Evening descends.

I've almost fallen asleep again out of sheer boredom when I hear someone approaching outside the door. My stomach tightens, sours.

Here we go.

The woman hears it as well and shrinks into the smallest ball possible. "No, no, no," she whimpers, "god save me, please no."

It's not time, yet. Instinct tells me I have to wait, bide my time.

The lock disengages, the knob turns, the door swings inward.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."

Rafael enters, dragging a chair. The same two burly thugs enter after him, and they unceremoniously haul the woman to her feet, drag her to the chair, and shove her into it.

They stand on either side of her, each with a hand on her shoulder, holding her down.

Rafael tosses the bolt cutters onto the floor at her feet with a loud clatter that makes her jump with a startled half-scream.