Page 142 of Marks of Rebellion

Hunter is out there, watching me, but I don't know why. It's clear what my fate is. I told him about my dream and what will happen, and anyone can see how my every move is guarded and followed by someone on Carlos's staff.

More times than not, Carlos has made me kiss him on the balcony or in the driveway.

Those moments pain me more, thinking about Hunter and what he must be feeling, than the act of kissing Carlos and him holding me in his arms.

Hunter has seen my infidelity. I've betrayed him.

But every day, I wake up to new red hibiscuses. Some days are harder than others for me to control my emotions, and it is those days the flowers will move, or more will be added.

I never see him, except in my mind.

His chiseled face, golden-brown eyes, and thick sandy blond hair are permanently inked on my brain. But I dream of his lips, and his arms, and the way he used to touch me.

More frequently, when Carlos comes and bellows out whatever he's upset with me about, I get a panic attack. In my head, I hear Hunter telling me to breathe. I miss him holding me and just inhaling air with me.

I'd give anything to kiss him one last time before my death. But that will never happen.

Thoughts of ending my life early torment me throughout the day. At least if I did it myself, it would be on my terms. But the only way to do that would be to jump. And I don't want Hunter to witness that.

There is no guarantee I'll die, either. I'll probably just end up paralyzed.

I think of the other women often. Where are the five of them? And then I think about Hunter and the other men who risked their lives to save us. They put everything they had on the line to get us to safety, but fate is cruel and had other plans.

The Global Leaders are too powerful. There is no way to stop them.

We should have known better and not ruined the lives of such honorable, loyal men, too.

Guilt, sadness, and anger always spin inside me. The closer I get to the wedding, the more panic attacks I have.

And every time Carlos comes near me, my insides shake so hard, I feel dizzy and nauseous.

Since the shooting of Jorge Cano and Eduardo Macias, Carlos has been working nonstop. It's still unknown who killed them. Or if Carlos or anyone else does know, they aren't telling me.

There's good and bad to Carlos's current work situation. He's not around a lot. But when he is, he's even angrier than usual.

We have another party to attend tonight. I've spent the last hour getting ready.

Carlos comes out of the closet and barks, "Are you ready?"

I jump. "Yes."

He puts his hand on my back. We're almost out the door when he stops in front of the mirror.

"What the..." He picks something off his suit.

"It's lint. There's another piece. Let me help—"

His palm slams against my face, and I step back into the wall. Blood drips on the floor and onto my new dress.

I sob and cower, and his hand moves back in the air to give me another blow.

"Stop that. Do you want bruises on your bride-to-be?"

Carlos freezes while scowling at me.

"Clean yourself up," Arja instructs me.

I don't move. It would require me to push past Carlos.