Page 13

SERGIO

I felt my lungs collapsing as the air whooshed out of them, slow and ragged.

I stood in the center of the room. It wasn’t bright, and all the edges were so dim that I could barely make out where I was, but I knew exactly where I was.

I was home, one I hadn’t stepped foot in for years but could never forget—the kitchen from my childhood. The heavy scent of burnt bread and cheap cologne lingered in the air. My mother stood by the counter, her back to me, humming a tune that had haunted me for as long as I could remember.

“Mom,” I called out, but my voice was swallowed by the room. She didn’t turn around. Her movements were slow, almost mechanical, as she sliced bread with a knife that gleamed too brightly under the dull light.

I stepped closer, my boots scuffing against the floor, but she didn’t flinch. I reached out to touch her shoulder, and she turned sharply, the knife still in her hand. Her face was pale, her eyes hollowed with a sadness I couldn’t bear.

“You weren’t there,” she whispered, her voice breaking like shattered glass. “You left me with him.”

“No, I didn’t. I—” My throat tightened. The words wouldn’t come.

“You ran away, Sergio. You thought leaving would fix everything, but it didn’t. Look at me.” She gestured to her chest, and blood seeped through her dress, spreading like ink on paper.

I stumbled back, my hands trembling. “I couldn’t save you. I was a kid—what could I have done?”

“You could’ve stayed,” she snapped, her voice rising. The knife clattered to the floor, but the sound was deafening. “You could’ve fought for me.”

Her body crumpled to the ground, and no matter how fast I moved, I couldn’t catch her. My hands reached out, but the room twisted and turned, pulling her away from me.

“Mom!” I screamed, but the darkness swallowed her whole.

I jolted, gasping for air, struggling to breathe, my chest heaving as if I’d been sprinting for miles. My hand shot out instinctively, gripping the edge of the bed as I tried to ground myself. The room was dim, the only light coming from the moon filtering through the curtains.

“Sergio.” Mirella’s voice was soft, pulling me from the remnants of the nightmare.

I turned my head, and she was there, sitting up beside me, her hair falling in messy waves around her face. She must’ve fallen asleep after tending to my wound. I had asked her to stay, but I wasn’t sure when we had both drifted into sleep. Her presence was grounding, but my pulse was still racing.

“It was just a dream,” she assured me, her hand brushing against my arm. I must have woken her up by the way I jolted out from my dream state.

I shook my head, the images still vivid. “It wasn’t just a dream.”

Her brows furrowed, and she moved closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I didn’t answer right away. Talking about my mother felt like reopening a wound that had never truly healed. But the concern in her eyes broke something in me.

“She blamed me,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “For leaving. For not being able to save her.”

Mirella’s hand rested on my shoulder, her touch warm and steady. “Sergio, you were a kid. There’s no way you could’ve stopped what happened. Also, she died before you left town. You were there for her till the end.”

“I know that,” I said, though the words felt hollow. “But it doesn’t stop the guilt. I left her to deal with my father alone. I could have stood up to him more when he treated her so badly right in front of me. I could have saved her from the monster he is. She didn’t deserve that.”

Mirella leaned closer, her hand moving to my cheek. Her touch was soft, and I found myself leaning into it without thinking. “You can’t carry that guilt forever,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

I looked at her, really looked at her. Her words were a balm to a wound I didn’t know how to heal. The dream had been haunting me for years, and for the first time, I didn’t let myself wallow in feelings of guilt. Her words reminded and reassured me of things I already knew but wouldn’t let myself believe.

“Thank you,” I responded, my voice steadier now.

She smiled faintly, her thumb brushing against my cheek. “You don’t have to thank me.”

I glanced at her, her frame becoming clearer in the dim light. She was beautiful even in the darkness. Her hands on my cheeks sent shivers and electrical waves down my bones, shocking my very core and essence. Melting every will to fight the urges I had been battling ever since I saw her walk into the gala in that dress days back. I don’t know what came over me, but I leaned in, my lips brushing against hers softly at first. She didn’t pull away, and the tension that had been building between us for weeks finally snapped. My lips coiled gently in her as my hands cradled the small of her back, pulling her ever so gently to me. Her lips pressed against mine, and I could taste the sweet taste of cherries and berries just like I did years back, her soft palm still on my cheeks trailed down to the rough edges close to my jaw.

The kiss deepened, and I felt her fingers slide up from my jaw into my hair, pulling me closer. My hand moved to her waist, and I felt her shiver under my touch. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an explosion, a release of everything we’d been holding back.

Her lips were soft, warm, and tasted faintly of honey mixed with cherries. I tilted my head, deepening the kiss as my other hand slid to the small of her back again, pulling her flush against me. She let out a gentle moan against my mouth, and it was everything I had dreamed of since that night. She made another small sound in the back of her throat, and this time, it drove me wild.

I broke the kiss for a moment, my forehead resting against hers as I tried to catch my breath. “Mirella,” I whispered, her name feeling like a prayer on my lips.

She didn’t answer. She just pulled me back in, her hands gripping my shoulders. The pace increased, and I could feel something snap between us. I wanted her, and I could tell she wanted me just as badly as I did. My fingers found the edge of her dress, and I started to slide it off her shoulder, my lips trailing down her neck.

“Sergio, wait.”

Her voice was quiet but firm, and I froze immediately, pulling back to look at her.

Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were swollen from the kiss, but her eyes held a mix of emotions—desire, confusion, and something I couldn’t quite place.

“We can’t do this,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “Did I do something wrong?”

She shook her head, her hands moving to smooth her dress. “It’s not that. It’s just… this was a mistake. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Her words hit me like a punch in the gut, but I nodded, forcing myself to take a step back. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice rough.

She stood, her hands fidgeting at her sides. “I should go.”

I reached out, my hand brushing against hers. “Mirella, wait.”

She paused but didn’t look at me. “Goodnight, Sergio.”

And then, she was gone, leaving me alone with the echoes of the kiss and the regret that followed. I stood up. I wanted to chase after her to confess all the secrets I had kept from her and tell her that I was the man who she had shared a night with years ago. But it didn’t feel right. I moved to the window and saw her get into her car downstairs and drive off. She didn’t look back. I paced back to my room desk, wallowing now in regret. Maybe I had done too much. She wasn’t ready, and I had pushed too far.

“Fuck!” I cursed out loud. I picked up my phone, wanting to dial her number, but I stopped myself from going down that route. I was sure she needed time to process all this.

I leaned against the edge of my desk, staring at my phone like it held all the answers to my messed-up life. My head was a jumbled mess of guilt, frustration, and—of course—Mirella. That kiss kept playing in my mind, over and over, like a song you can’t stop humming even when you want to.

The screen lit up as I dialed Ryan’s number. The guy always had something sarcastic or brutally honest to say. But right now, I needed that. I needed to talk to him and take my mind off Mirella. The ringing felt like an eternity before his gravelly voice finally came through.

“Are you still alive, or did Don Carlos finally finish the job?”

I exhaled a dry laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Barely. But let’s just say I’m not calling to talk about my health.”

“Should’ve known,” Ryan muttered. “Alright, spill it. How are you holding up after Carlos tore you a new one?”

“I’m a mess,” I admitted, pacing the room now. “He’s furious about the shipment, which I get. But I can’t keep doing this, Ryan. Being under his thumb? It’s suffocating. I want out—now more than ever.”

Ryan’s tone shifted, the humor fading. “Sergio, we’ve talked about this. You want out? Fine, but you better tread carefully. The second Don Carlos sniffs out your plan, you’re as good as dead. He doesn’t let anyone walk away, especially not his son.”

“I know,” I said, frustration bubbling in my chest. “But I’m working on something. I’m gathering the manpower I need, building connections outside his reach. I just… I can’t keep living like this.”

“You sure about this?” Ryan asked. “You’re walking a thin line, man. One wrong step, and you’ll end up in a ditch somewhere. Probably one of Carlos’ ditches, too.”

I stopped pacing, leaning against the wall as my mind shifted to the ambush. “That’s not even the worst part, Ryan. The shipment being hijacked? That was too clean. They knew every move we were going to make, even with the last-minute changes. There’s a rat in our crew—I’m sure of it.”

Ryan let out a low whistle. “You’re not wrong. It was too precise. You think someone’s feeding intel to the other side?”

“Absolutely,” I said, the certainty in my voice surprising even me. “And I need you to figure out who it is. I don’t care what it takes—no stone unturned. Find the rat.”

Ryan was quiet for a beat before speaking. “You know… Mirella’s the newest addition to the mix. Could be her.”

I froze, the thought hitting me like a sucker punch. “Mirella?” I repeated, disbelief dripping from my voice. “She’s not a rat, Ryan. She doesn’t have it in her to hurt a fly, let alone sabotage an entire operation.”

“She’s the only new face, Sergio. It’s worth considering.”

“No,” I retorted firmly. “I know how it looks, but I’ve spent enough time with her to know she’s not the type. If you knew her, you’d say the same.”

Ryan let out a sigh. “You’re vouching for her pretty hard, man. Just saying, keep your eyes open. Trust is a dangerous thing in our world.”

I ended the call shortly after, my mind swirling with Ryan’s words. Mirella, a traitor? No, it didn’t sit right. She wasn’t some cold-blooded schemer. She was… well, Mirella. The girl who tended to my wound with a gentleness I hadn’t felt in years. The one who looked at me like I was more than just my father’s pawn.

Still, doubt crept in like an itch I couldn’t scratch. Could I be wrong about her? Could the kiss, her kindness, her presence—could it all be an act?

“No,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head. “Stop it, Sergio. Don’t be an idiot.”

I ran my hand through my hair. Mirella wasn’t the rat. She couldn’t be.

Whoever it was, I’d find them. And when I do, they’d wish they’d never crossed me.