I felt strange lying there beside Julie, the mattress dipping slightly under our combined weight. Being this close to a woman who wasn't Elena felt wrong in a way I couldn't fully expin. Not because I wanted Elena—god, no—but because my body felt... programmed. Like it had been trained to tense up, to brace itself, to only exist comfortably under Elena's shadow.

  Julie felt different. Safer. And that somehow made the confusion worse.

  "Should I tell you about my mom?" Julie whispered into the darkness. "It isn't as bad as you think... well—kind of."

  A breeze slipped in through the open window, cool and sharp, brushing over my skin and sending a shiver down my spine. I hugged the bnket closer to myself. I hadn't expected Mexico to get this cold at night, but the quiet chill fit the mood almost too well.

  "Y-Yeah..." I murmured, nodding even though she couldn't really see me.

  Her hand shifted suddenly, fingers settling on my hip. The touch was casual—almost absentminded—but my body reacted instantly, stiffening. I didn't like it. Not because of her, but because I felt like something terrible was gonna happen to me.

  I said nothing. I didn't want to ruin the moment. I didn't want to be difficult. Old habits clung to me like scars.

  Julie took a slow breath.

  "My mom... about ten years ago, she used to be part of all that." She hesitated. "She denies it now. All the time. But I knew."

  I swallowed.

  "Whenever she came home wearing that vest," Julie continued quietly, "the one she said was for 'work'... I knew."

  So one of my guesses had been right.

  "She left that life behind," Julie said quickly, like she needed me to understand that part. "She really did. But..." Her voice dropped even lower. "She owes them. A lot. More money than we could ever make in a lifetime."

  My chest tightened.

  "We can't pay it back," she went on. "There's no way. Car's been letting it slide these past few years—out of respect, or pity, or boredom, who knows. But all it takes is one bad day." She exhaled shakily. "And we're probably done for."

  My heart started pounding, loud enough that I was sure she could hear it.

  I stared up at the ceiling, at the faint cracks in the pster, my thoughts racing. This was the only family I had left. The only pce I felt even remotely safe anymore. And now there was this invisible countdown hanging over all of us, ticking quietly in the dark.

  I didn't know what to say.

  So I stayed still, listening to the night air slip through the window, hoping—desperately—that nothing would happen.

  "Y-You're... you're not scared?" I asked quietly.

  Julie shifted beside me, and I felt her hand move from my side to rest lightly on my stomach, warm through the fabric of my shirt. She traced slow, absent patterns there—not suggestive, just grounding, like she was anchoring herself to me.

  "I am," she admitted after a moment. "All the time, honestly. But I try not to let it take over my head." She paused. "I still have a life to live, you know? If I let fear run everything, then they've already won."

  I let out a long breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Yeah..."

  My eyes drifted shut as my thoughts spiraled anyway. The idea sat heavy in my chest—my aunt, this quiet, caring woman who hugged me like I was made of gss, possibly having blood on her hands at some point in her life. It felt unreal, like my brain refused to fully accept it.

  'People aren't just one thing,' I thought. Not victims. Not monsters. Not family. Just... complicated humans, except for the worst kinds of monsters.

  The room was quiet except for the faint sounds of the night outside—the distant hum of a motorcycle, a dog barking somewhere far off, the rustle of leaves brushing the window. The cool air mixed with the warmth of the bed, and my body finally began to rex.

  Before I could form another thought, sleep crept up on me, heavy and fast, pulling me under.

  Julie's hand stayed where it was, steady and unmoving. I didn't flinch though, because I trusted her. Fully.

  And that alone felt like a small miracle.

  -

  (Elena pov)

  "God, where could that whore be?" I snarled, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. "Fifty people. Fifty. And not a single trace of him."

  Nothing. No sightings. No calls. No leads.

  When I'd walked into the apartment two days ago, I'd expected the usual—Miguel waiting for me, anxious, obedient, ready to make things right. Maybe crying. Maybe apologizing. I'd even rehearsed what I'd say, how I'd hold his face and remind him who loved him.

  But the apartment had been empty. Silent. Cold. Impossibly cold...

  The realization hit me then, sharp and brutal, cracking straight through my chest. My heart shattered, splintering into a million pieces I didn't know how to pick up. After everything we'd been through—everything I'd done for him—he'd just... left.

  He abandoned me.

  "I didn't do anything wrong," I muttered, my voice shaking now, anger bleeding into something uglier. "I did exactly what I was taught by my mother."

  That voice—her voice—rose up in my head like it always did.

  "You need to woman up, Elena. You can't let him talk to other women. You can't let him trust them. Men like that need control."

  I pressed my fingers to my temples, breathing hard.

  Hitting him wasn't cruelty. It was discipline.

  Being harsh wasn't abuse. It was training.

  Breaking him down was how you made sure he stayed.

  That's how love worked. That's how it was supposed to work.

  I'd only been preparing him to love me properly.

  But now... now it was clear Miguel hadn't understood it that way at all.

  My jaw clenched, nails digging into my palms as a dangerous mix of fury and desperation twisted inside me.

  He didn't leave because I failed him. He left because he didn't know what was good for him. And that was unforgivable...

  "When I get my hands on you, Miguel Rodríguez..." I whispered, my voice low and trembling with something twisted. "You're going to wish you'd stayed. Like a good, obedient husband would."

  The word husband made my chest tighten. That's when it hit me.

  The ring.

  I froze, then turned sharply toward the bedroom, yanking open the drawer where I'd hidden it—nestled in velvet, untouched, perfect. I stared down at it, the diamond catching the light like it was mocking me.

  We were supposed to be married in a few months. Married. Bound. Permanent. Forever until death.

  Everything had already been decided. I'd pnned our life down to the smallest detail—where we'd live, how he'd dress, who he'd speak to. I'd chosen him. I'd shaped him. And still... he ran.

  My fingers curled around the box so tightly it hurt.

  "He doesn't get to choose this," I muttered. "Not after everything."

  I could already picture it—him coming back, crying, apologizing, finally understanding. Crawling back into the pce he belonged. Back into my arms. Back under my control.

  A slow smile crept across my face, empty and dangerous.

  "I'll have you again," I murmured. "Soon."

  And somewhere deep down, beneath the rage and certainty, something ugly stirred—

  Possession.

  -

  (Julianna pov)

  His body radiated warmth, mirroring the gentle curve of his smile. When I first saw him at the airport, my heart skipped, caught in a sudden, unexpected rhythm.

  The way he moved—so effortlessly graceful—and the unwavering politeness in his tone, no matter the situation, stirred something deep inside me.

  I couldn't name it, but it was there, pulling at me.

  I held him close now, his sleeping form pressed against mine, fitting perfectly into the contours of my body. "So cute..." I whispered into his hair, my breath catching as I inhaled his faint, familiar scent.

  But below, a heat began to pool, a damp ache spreading between my thighs, undeniable and persistent.

  Why was I feeling this way? He's my cousin. I know it's wrong, a line I shouldn't cross, yet this pull—this raw, aching attraction—refuses to let go.

  It's as if my heart has already decided, whispering that it wants to be bound to him, always.

  The heat between my thighs pulsed relentlessly, a sweet ache that felt almost too good to bear. "You don't mind, do you, Miguel? I usually do this to myself when I'm alone, but I just can't help it tonight..." I murmured softly to his sleeping form, my voice barely a breath as my hand slid down my trembling body.

  My fingers found the damp warmth of my core, and I began rubbing slow circles, my eyes locked on his face—his serene, beautiful face, those soft lips and delicate features so painfully adorable even in slumber.

  "Mmmhh... ohh... it feels so damn good touching myself while holding someone close... I think I'm addicted to this..." I gasped, my moans slipping out as I pressed harder, my hips twitching uncontrolbly against his side.

  The friction of my body against his hip sent shivers up my spine, amplifying every sensation as my fingers worked faster.

  "Why the hell do I feel this way about you, Miguel... f-fuck..." I groaned through gritted teeth, my toes curling tight against the sheets. My breath hitched, coming in quick, shallow pants as I fought to stay quiet.

  Instinctively, I cmped a hand over my mouth, muffling the desperate sounds as a wave of heat surged through me.

  My release hit hard, slick warmth soaking through my thin pajamas, seeping onto my fingertips as my body shuddered against him.

  "T-That was... so fucking good... I'm sorry, Miguel, I couldn't hold back..." I whispered, my voice shaky as I slumped against him. My damp fingers lingered on the fabric of his shirt, the sticky residue clinging to my skin and his shirt.

  The heavy pull of my climax dragged me down, my eyelids fluttering shut as I sank into the sweet, enveloping darkness of exhaustion.

  ———

  Extra chapter—Thanks to whoever donated!

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