Page 5

SERGIO

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. Mirella, back under the thumb of my father, the very man I’d tried to rescue her from once. She was a mystery, wrapped in elegance and strength, standing by his side as if nothing had ever happened. Why did she come back? Why now, and for what? I could feel the anger simmering beneath my calm facade, but the confusion hit just as hard.

It wasn’t long before I heard Ryan’s familiar voice behind me, giving me that exasperated sigh he always had when he thought I was doing something foolish. Ryan had been my battle buddy through two tours and patched me up more times than I’d like to admit. Now, he was right there beside me in this business hell we called “work.” His voice had that casual, knowing tone I’d come to rely on.

“So, is that her?” He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms, watching me with that same look he gave me when I did something stupid in the field.

I didn’t need to ask what he meant. “Yeah,” I muttered, a dry bitterness lacing my words. “That’s the girl.”

He let out a low whistle. “The one you literally took a bullet for?”

A humorless chuckle escaped me. “The very one. ”

Ryan looked over at her, his face turning serious. “You really sure you want to go down that road again? Last time, it didn’t exactly turn out so great.”

“I know,” I said, running a hand through my hair, still not tearing my gaze away from her. “But something’s different now. I feel it. There’s more going on here than meets the eye.”

Ryan shook his head, giving me that look he reserved for lost causes. “Come on, Sergio. You already tried to save her, and look where she ended up—right back with him. She made her choice.”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to accept that so easily. “Maybe she did. But it doesn’t feel right, Ryan. You know, sometimes people don’t get a choice. Not when it comes to my father.”

He sighed, glancing over at her. “Sergio, listen to me. You can’t keep trying to fight his battles for everyone. Mirella’s smart—she knows who your father is and what he’s capable of. She’s not some damsel in distress.”

“Maybe not,” I admitted, feeling the weight of the past pressing down on me. “But if there’s even a chance that he’s got something on her or that she’s here against her will. I can’t just stand by and let him hurt her.”

Ryan looked at me long and hard, and then he glanced away with a resigned shake of his head. “You’re still haunted by her, aren’t you? Or maybe it’s something else.”

There was silence between us for a moment, the kind that only Ryan could break. “Look, Sergio, I get it. You can’t seem to let this go. But you’ve got a hell of a lot more going on than Mirella’s tragic love story.”

Ryan was right. This wasn’t only about Mirella. I took a deep breath, my eyes drifting to the tattoo on my arm. One word. Jacqueline. My mother’s name.

I knew what he meant. I could never forget her—my father had made sure of that. Jacqueline had been beautiful, with a spirit no one could contain, certainly not a monster like my father. He had turned that love to ashes, and I wore her name on my skin as a reminder of everything I’d lost and everything I’d come to hate about him .

“You know why I can’t let this go, Ryan,” I said, my voice low. “I won’t let my father destroy another woman the way he destroyed her.”

Ryan’s expression softened, a hint of sympathy flickering across his face. “Sergio…”

My mind drifted back to memories I had tried so hard to bury. I’d been a kid back then, not even old enough to understand fully, but old enough to remember. My mother, Jacqueline, had been full of life, kindness, and laughter. She was everything good in my world, and my father had snuffed her out as easily as if he’d blown out a candle.

Ryan watched me quietly like he always did when I drifted into the past. He knew the stories. He knew about my father’s “accidents,” the so-called “incidents” that left people hurt or mysteriously missing. He knew what I’d suspected for years but could never prove—that my father had been responsible for her death and that he’d done it as coldly and calculatingly as he’d done everything else in his life.

Jacqueline. My mother, my heart, my promise. I’d taken that name as a vow, something to keep her close even when I was a thousand miles away on the other side of the world.

“She deserved better,” I murmured, almost to myself. “Better than him. Better than I could give her, too.”

Ryan’s hand landed on my shoulder, heavy with the weight of a hundred shared battles. “Sergio, she’d be proud of you. You don’t owe him anything, and you don’t need to keep carrying this.”

But I couldn’t let it go. I could feel her presence with me in the quiet moments and in the nightmares that plagued me when I closed my eyes. She was my strength and the reason I kept going and kept fighting. And every time I thought about Mirella being anywhere near that man, the rage in me burned hotter than ever.

“I’m not letting him hurt her, Ryan,” I said, finally breaking the silence. “No one deserves to go through what my mother did.”

Ryan shook his head again, his voice resigned but knowing. “You’re as stubborn as they come, my friend. But remember, Mirella’s not Jacqueline. She’s not someone you can just save. You’re going up against your father. That’s a war you might not walk away from.”

I shrugged, offering a dark grin. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been in a fight that didn’t favor me. ”

He laughed, a sound both amused and exasperated. “And here I thought all those close calls in the field had finally made you value your own neck.”

I raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him. “You know me better than that, Ryan. My neck’s never been the issue.”

He chuckled, shaking his head again. “Fine, go after her. Play the hero. Just don’t get yourself killed, alright?”

I flashed him a grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

But my gaze drifted back to Mirella, and the grin faded. This wasn’t some fleeting crush or childish love. No, it was a promise, one I’d made to my mother, to the woman who deserved everything and got nothing but betrayal and pain. I wouldn’t let another woman fall victim to him—not while I could still do something about it.

I watched her. Ryan could tell me to back off all he wanted. He could remind me of my duty, my responsibilities, and the risks. But none of it mattered. This was personal, and I wasn’t about to walk away.

Ryan glanced over at me, a glint of warning in his eye. “Just remember what we’ve got at stake here, alright? I don’t want to lose my partner over some damned vendetta.”

I nodded, giving him a reassuring smile, though I knew he saw right through it. “Relax, Ryan. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath, but I barely heard him. My gaze had shifted back to Mirella just as she turned, her eyes finding mine across the room. The look she gave me was soft and vulnerable, as if she was waiting for something, someone to pull her away from all of this. She walked away from my father, and this time, I didn’t follow her with just my gaze. My feet trailed after hers.

Mirella was by the punch table, swirling her glass in the way she always did when she was ready to disappear at any second. Her eyes moved around the room, wary but calm, like she was seeing the world through glass. That was Mirella for you, always wanting to be anywhere but where she was.

“Surprised to see you here,” I said, strolling up beside her, leaning casually against the table. “I thought you hated these gatherings.”

She looked up, and a tinge of surprise crossed her face before she smiled, that familiar hint of defiance in her eyes. “You thought right. I’d rather be just about anywhere else.”

“Still avoiding the small talk, I see,” I smirked, helping myself to a glass of the punch. I remembered how, as kids, we’d sneak off as soon as anyone tried to corner us with questions. “Remember how we’d sneak out and make a game of rating the guests?”

A glint of amusement lit up her face. “And when we got stuck, we’d pick out random people to read and guess their entire life story based on nothing.”

“You think I’ve lost my touch?” I raised an eyebrow, grinning.

“Prove it,” she dared, crossing her arms as her eyes darted over to a tall man near the buffet table. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got. Him.”

I looked the guy over. “Hmm… former athlete, peaked in high school, spends half his salary on a sports car he can barely afford. He’s probably here because he heard the host is connected, and he thinks he’ll ‘network his way to greatness.’”

Her laugh bubbled up, soft and real. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard her laugh like that. “Alright, that was a decent warm-up. Try her,” she pointed at a woman standing by the window, tapping away on her phone.

I studied her for a moment, leaning in closer to Mirella with a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s been roped into this by her boss, texting her boyfriend about how boring it is and thinking of excuses to duck out early. But I’ll bet she’s also texting her backup date, just in case the boyfriend flakes. She’s got options.”

Mirella’s smile widened. “Impressive. You haven’t lost your touch.”

“I still surprise myself,” I shrugged, and for a moment, I let myself just enjoy seeing her happy. Her laugh felt like some kind of achievement. I couldn’t help but grin at her. “You know, I’ve missed that laugh.”

Her smile faltered for a split second, and I could see something behind her eyes, something she didn’t want to admit to. “It’s just been a while since I had anything worth laughing about.”

“Funny. I seem to remember a time when you’d laugh at just about anything. ”

She tilted her head, challenging me with her eyes. “Well, people change, don’t they?”

“Maybe. But some things stay the same.” I leaned in closer, letting my tone turn serious. “Like your terrible poker face. You’re hiding something, Mirella.”

She stiffened slightly, her smile turning guarded. “Is that so? You think you can read me that well?”

“Oh, I don’t think,” I smirked. “I know. Which means whatever story you’re about to tell me, I already know it’s a lie.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile like she was playing along. “Alright, genius, if you already know I’m lying, why bother asking?”

“Because the truth’s more interesting. But go on, humor me with the fake story anyway.”

She paused, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Alright, here goes. I left because… I didn’t know what I wanted.”

I nodded, pretending to believe it, letting her spin her tale. “Of course, the classic ‘I’m finding myself’ reason. So, how’d that go? Did you find yourself?”

She gave me a long look, something unreadable in her gaze. “Not really. I guess I kept losing myself instead.”

“Impressive. It takes real talent to lose yourself that many times,” I shot back, smiling as she glared at me. “But seriously, ‘I didn’t know what I wanted’?” I shook my head, clicking my tongue. “I expected something with a bit more flair.”

She huffed, but there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Alright, Mr. Know-It-All. What would the ‘truth’ sound like, according to you?”

I pretended to think deeply, tapping my chin with exaggerated deliberation. “Let’s see. You left because… you were scared. Scared of what you might mean to people or what people might mean to you. Or maybe you were scared you’d lose yourself if you stayed.”

She watched me for a long time, her gaze turning softer, almost vulnerable. “Maybe that’s a little too close to home,” she said, voice dropping just enough that I had to lean in to catch it.

For a moment, we just stood there. I could feel that old pull between us, the way it had been when we were kids, when we were friends, before my father became the wedge driving us apart. But before I could say anything, she cleared her throat, the mask slipping back into place.

“So, how about you, Sergio?” She leaned against the table, watching me with a teasing glint. “What is your truth?”

“YOU,” I confessed.

She laughed, shaking her head, and for a second, the Mirella I’d known so well was right there in front of me again.

“Still good at seeing what you want to see, I see.”

I sighed, leaning in closer, glancing around to make sure no one was watching before I grabbed her hand and pulled her behind one of the decorative columns. She gave me a look, half-surprised, half-amused.

“Listen, Mirella,” I kept my voice low, all joking gone now. “This isn’t a game. You don’t have to do this. Whatever my father has on you, it isn’t worth it. You can leave—leave now while you still have the chance.”

She stared at me, her eyes searching mine, and for a second, I thought I saw a crack in that armor she wore. But then she pulled her hand back, crossing her arms as if to shield herself.

“It’s none of your business, Sergio.”

Her voice was cool and detached, and it hit me like a punch to the gut. She turned and walked away without another word, leaving me there, alone with the punch bowl and an ache in my chest that I couldn’t shake.