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“The knife?” She replies, shocked. Her eyes land right on it, but it’s like she refuses to acknowledge it.
“Yes. Take it. Take it and kill that motherfucker.”
“But you might bleed out.”
“I don’t give a shit if it gives you a chance. Now, do it.”
She rips the knife free from the wound in my shoulder and whirls just in time to shove it into the gut of Mateo, just as he’s about to pounce on her. His eyes go wide; hers do, too. Mouth agape, he stumbles backward; the knife protruding hilt-deep from just below his solar plexus. Blood falls like a waterfall down the front of his shirt.
“Alex?” He whispers, but his words come out as a wheeze. She’s punctured a lung. “What?”
Mateo collapses to his knees, his hands weakly trying to grasp the handle of the knife, but it's no use. He looks at Alexandra with a mixture of fear, agony, and regret washing over his features. Alexandra stands over him, her chest heaving with exertion and fury. The noise in the room dwindles down to the sound of Mateo’s labored breathing and my heart pounding in my ears.
“I always knew I was going to kill the people responsible for Lucas’ death, but I never imagined it would be you,” she says. “Go to hell, Mateo. I hope you suffer before you die, you piece of shit.”
“I didn’t want…” Mateo gasps out, blood bubbling from his lips.
With cold precision, Alexandra steps closer, leaning down and putting her face in his.
"No more words," she says. “Just die.” Then she places a hand on his shoulder, pushing him onto his back as he draws one final ragged breath. “I hope my brother kicks your ass in the afterlife.”
When she stands upright again, she is not the same Alexandra who had entered this room. She’s made of sterner stuff now — a weapon honed by necessity. She draws the knife out of Mateo and uses it to cut the rope around my hands and feet.
“You did what you had to do," I say.
“I know.”
Her voice is cold, tinged with a hint of regret.
“Yes, I’m impressed, Alex. You did well. Have to say that I’m a proud father at this moment,” comes the voice of Rafael from the doorway. “But I’m still going to kill you.”
Alex turns just in time to take a fist to the face that sends her crashing into the wall. Another hits her in nearly the same spot, and another in the gut, and she screams and pukes up a gushing storm of blood onto the concrete floor. Her father towers over her. “I wish you were smarter than your brother. I wish you understood your place in all this. Because I really would have loved to have you on my team. But you’ve shown me I can’t trust you.” He hauls her to her feet by her throat, squeezing so hard her eyes bulge in her sockets. I strain against my bindings, but they don’t give, though the chair starts to — metal shifting, groaning. “So I’m going to have to do to you what I did to your disappointment of a brother and get rid of another mistake.” He holds her by her throat, pins her against the steel wall, and batters her with his free hand. She screams, over and over, kicking and thrashing, landing blows that hit, but do nothing to halt the onslaught of her father’s fury.
I strain, pull, scream, with all of my strength while my blood drips down my shoulder, while joints and tendons pop and strain, and my sight goes black and my muscles howl at me in agony. I can think of only one thing: getting free and saving Alexandra, no matter what it costs.
Things break. Things inside me, and things in the chair.
In blistering black agony, I stand.
Without hesitation, without preamble, I charge at Rafael Reyes like an animal and throw myself upon him, seizing him by the throat and dragging him to the ground in a bloody tussle. Vaguely, I’m aware of Alexandra slumping to the ground in battered exhaustion, but I pay it no mind. Every ounce of me is consumed with the task at hand: ripping Rafael Reyes to shreds.
The fight is primal, our grunts and the clatter of our struggle echo off the barren walls. My vision is a red haze, my shoulder wound throbbing with my heartbeat and spilling blood, but none of that matters. I feel his fists against my body, but they're distant, inconsequential compared to the rage coursing through me. Rafael fights like a man possessed, his strength formidable, but I am driven by desperation and fury; this is the man who ruined my life; this is revenge, in my grasp at last; this is to save the woman I love.
We slam into the floor, snarling and clawing at each other. His nails find my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake, but I am relentless. I batter his face with my fists until my knuckles are raw, my blood mingling with his. Pain lances through me as Rafael lands a solid punch to my wounded shoulder. I howl, anger doubling, and with a surge of energy born from pure adrenaline, I pin him down.
His eyes blaze with hatred and shock, and something else that is sweetly intoxicating: fear. I try to memorize this look on his face, so that I can savor it for the rest of my life..
"You ruined everything," I spit out between heavy breaths. “What kind of father are you? What kind of man are you?”
"Lucas was weak," he growls, blood foaming at the corner of his mouth. "And you... you're nothing."
I tighten my grip on his throat; his face turns a sick shade of purple as he claws desperately at my arms. It would be so easy to end him now. My heart cries out for it and my head pounds with the drumbeat of vengeance for Alexandra, for Lucas.
Then his fingernails sink into the stab wound in my arm, and a blinding fire surges through me. I release my hold on Rafael’s throat, screaming in pain and clutching at his wrist to tear his hands from my open wound.
He laughs and slams a fist into my face.
I hit the ground and look up to the blood face of death towering over me.
