Zelda

 

I was trembling, I couldn’t help it. For the last few minutes it seemed like everything was suddenly moving at light speed, going so fast that an unbelievable amount of things had happened in only the blink of an eye. I watched as Nester came bursting into the room, my unexpected knight in shining armor.

 

I had resigned myself to my fate. Santos was going to have his terrible, wicked way with me and then he was going to give me to his men. He was going to pass me around like some sort of sick toy until everyone had gotten a piece of me. And then, maybe, I would have been lucky enough to die. It was terrible on levels that I didn’t think I could live through—who could?—but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

 

When Santos had undone his pants and begun to stroke himself, growing hard at the thought of raping me of all the horrid things out there, I had felt a sickness overtake me. I was going to lose my mind, my sanity, my self-worth. Everything that I valued.

 

And then I would never have even the smallest chance of getting Nester back.

 

It seemed like a stupid, trivial thing to think about in that moment. Santos was on top of me, pinning me down, and his men were everywhere, inside and outside of the house, and he was about to do terrible things to me against my will—and Nester was what I thought of. I thought of how angry he’d been, and how terribly hurt he was, too. I thought of how we had loved each other for so long, cared for one another, promised to always be there for each other. And then I thought of how I had fucked that all up.

 

I’d abandoned Nester for all the right reasons. Santos had propositioned me and I accepted only as a means of protecting Nester from a worse fate. There was, realistically, no chance of me and him getting back together and I had known that at the time. When Santos told me to dump Nester and be his girl instead, I had known that he would never let me go afterwards. Sure, Nester was in prison for only five years, but my fate with Santos was a lifetime. But I told myself that once Nester was out, we could work that all out. We could find a way to get away from Santos, to run and never look back. I could save up money in an account that Santos didn’t know about. I could purchase a car that he didn’t recognize.

 

And I had done many of those things. I hadn’t been able to get a car, because I had to make a choice between buying a new car and saving up enough money to live decently, if modestly, for several months before I could get a job. But I figured that I could use my car to at least get out of town and then I could sell it and use the money to get a new car. The important part was getting away.

 

It was the reason that, when Santos told me to drop out of school because it was “unbecoming” of a woman, I didn’t resist as strongly as maybe I would have under normal circumstances. School was expensive and if I was just going to run anyway, then there wouldn’t be money and time enough to do both. So I sacrificed my schooling—a lifelong dream, though I tried not to dwell on it—and put that money towards a secret savings account instead. It had the added benefit of making Santos happy, making him feel as though he had won something. That he was in control of me.

 

But he wasn’t. He had never been.

 

Not until tonight. Santos wasn’t the kind of man who just hit a woman for no reason. But he wasn’t the kind of man who never hit a woman either. He was all about control, about making sure his women were listening, were obeying like good little housewives. And I hadn’t given him any reason to doubt that I was just that. It was self-preservation to some extent, but it was more, too. It was also about how I knew he had an unnatural amount of control over what happened to Nester in prison and until Nester was out, I couldn’t risk that he would do something terrible to him.

 

So I obeyed. I was dutiful. I dressed and talked and ate what Santos liked. I was the kind of woman he wanted and that kept me safe, or at least unharmed.

 

But then Nester got released from prison, time served. And everything changed. I hadn’t wanted to think about how hurt and angry Nester would be after what I’d done, but of course he was. As soon as I saw him on my doorstep that day, I knew he was. And I knew that he had every right to be. He didn’t know what I’d done—not the full extent of it anyway—or more importantly why I’d done it. How would I have felt if he’d broken up with me and suddenly began dating some other woman? Worse still, what if I’d known that woman my whole life and she’d spent most of it trying to make me miserable?

 

I would have been furious, of course. That’s the only reaction to have. A very normal, human reaction.

 

But some part of me had convinced myself that I could explain it all away and we could go back to being normal. We could live happily ever after and not worry about Santos or anyone else ever again. But of course things weren’t that simple and I was naïve to think they could have been. A week before Nester was released, Santos came to me. It was just like any other time over the course of the past five years. Santos would come to my house and we’d sit and talk. Or rather he’d talk and I’d try my hardest to listen dutifully, because that was what he wanted from me. It suited me, too, in all fairness. I would rather sit there and listen to him drone on and on about things I couldn’t care less about than have to try to converse with him about things I really cared about. I didn’t want to get to know Santos or for him to know me. In my mind, I had relegated this to a business arrangement, period. If he wanted more from me, well, we were going to have issues.

 

But he never did. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Of course he did want more from me. He wanted me sexually, of course, but I was able to put off his advances with “I’m not ready” and “we’re moving too fast” and “I want us to do this right and be married first.” All of these had infuriated him, but he’d obliged.

 

Then that night a week before Nester’s release came.

 

There was a knock at the door and I went to it quickly, knowing already that it would be Santos. He’d been coming over almost every night for the last two weeks and though I was tired of him, I knew there was no way to get around it. This was part of our deal, part of my agreement to be his girl, even if it would never be anything short of a lie.

 

I pulled open the door to find that Santos was dressed in a suit tonight. It wasn’t wholly unusual, though he wasn’t above jeans and t-shirts, too. It just depended on what kind of a mood he was in—and what his purposes were. If he was riding with his gang, he preferred to look the part. Whether that be jeans or leathers, either way, he looked like a rough and tumble terror on two wheels. Which was of course the point.

 

But tonight he clearly had other things in mind. I wasn’t sure if he’d changed into the suit before heading this way—not wholly unlikely, though I could see it either way—or if he’d had some sort of meeting beforehand.

 

Santos had recently gotten into real estate and construction. As a result, he wore suits more and more often these days, saying it was important to show them that he wasn’t just some dumb slob. That he was a businessman and one with some real backing and power. I figured that a suit wouldn’t really do all of that for him, so he might as well just wear what he liked, but Santos wouldn’t have listened and I didn’t bother wasting my breath on telling him.

 

“Hi,” I greeted him, leaning forward to kiss him. I did my best to keep the kisses chaste but affectionate, though it was difficult. It was important, though, that Santos feel like I was making an effort, no matter what I was actually feeling for him. “Are you hungry?”

 

I figured he wouldn’t be, but I wanted to make sure that I asked so that he wouldn’t get annoyed and say I was being a poor hostess or something along those lines. I also had something ready to be thrown in the oven on the off chance that he said yes. Another one of those precautions that ensured everything would run smoothly, though it was little more than act and show.

 

“Not tonight, honey,” he said, tapping my chin with his forefinger in a sign that was probably either affectionate or possessive. Or both. “I thought we could just chat instead.”

 

I nodded my agreement. “Of course.” He stepped into the room and I closed the door behind him, taking just a moment longer than necessary so that I could settle myself and prepare for the long night ahead. I would have to be attentive, but not smart. He didn’t care much for smart women in the end. After a pause, I turned and followed Santos into the living room. He’d taken a seat on the couch, which was unfortunate, because it meant I would have to sit right next to him. If he’d gone to a chair, then I could sit in another chair or the couch and he wouldn’t think anything of it, but the couch meant I had to sit right beside him. I had to let his arm drape across my shoulders. I had to cuddle up to him.

 

It sent a shudder of disgust through me, but I was mostly used to it. I told myself Santos was a decent guy. I told myself that he took care of me. I told myself that maybe he even actually cared about me, because those were the things I had to tell myself otherwise I would never have been able to last this long.

 

Plastering a smile on my face, I plopped down into the seat beside Santos and did my best not to cringe or tense as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, just as I knew he would.

 

“We’ve been together a long time now, haven’t we, Zelda?” he asked, surprising me. When Santos and I had our conversations, it was generally on a topic that focused solely on him. How was his day? What has he been working on? Who pissed him off? What did they do? Why did they do it? He deserved so much better. This was completely out of left field and for a moment it had me completely caught off guard.

 

“Um,” I stuttered for a moment. Usually these conversations required less involvement from me. “Yes, we, um, we certainly have.”

 

He smiled at me, all teeth. He wasn’t an unattractive man, though I personally felt not physical draw to him. It was one of those chemistry things that I had just never been able to fake. It was especially hard because I had been with a man with whom there was passion and fire and chemistry. H had been all consuming and it was hard to go from that to this.

 

“I think we’ve really gotten to know each other, haven’t we?” he continued, his hand stroking my arm.

 

I wanted to squirm away from him, but I managed to keep myself right where I was and forced a smile. No, I honestly did not think that we’d gotten to know each other. Santos didn’t know the first thing about me, nothing honest anyway, and he’d been playing some sort of role the entire time with me, so there wasn’t a damn thing honest between us. But that wasn’t the answer Santos wanted to hear, so I nodded my head. “Sure. I think we’ve come a long way.” Far enough that I wasn’t sure if Santos realized that I was still pretending, that I had been pretending all along. Which was more dangerous than I realized, but how could I know?

 

His smile widened and he pulled me closer. I let him, forced myself to relax against him and even placed a hand on his firm chest, palm flat. I could feel his heart beating out a steady rhythm beneath my hand and knew that it was impossible that he felt chemistry with me with a heart that was so steady, so unaffected. I tried not to think it, but I did anyway: Nester’s heart always beat like a jackrabbit when we were together. Too eager, too thrilled, too passionate to be ignored.

 

“I think so, too,” Santos told me seriously. He used his free hand to grip my chin between his thumb and forefinger so that he could turn my head to look me in the eye. I swallowed harshly and hoped he couldn’t notice. “And I think that, after five years together, we should take things to the next level.”

 

I couldn’t help it; I froze.

 

The next level? Surely he didn’t mean… Sucking in a harsh breath, I maintained my smile, but told him, “Santos, dear, you know that I don’t want to…um, well, to take the next step before I’m married. It’s very important to—”

 

He released my chin and waved that same hand in the air dismissively in front of us. “Don’t be stupid, woman, I remember.” He sounded briefly irritated and I winced.

 

I worked hard not to irritate him, but this was one of those things that simply could not be helped. I had to stand my ground on this, because I couldn’t give it up. I couldn’t lose this piece of myself, not to Santos. I couldn’t lose the last memory I had of Nester and me together.

 

Santos sucked in a steadying breath and when he spoke again, he was calm once more. “I remember, my sweetheart. What I am saying is that I think it is important that we take the next logical step to that end.”

 

I frowned at him in confusion. “What are you suggesting, Santos?”

 

His grin was wide as he dug into his pants’ pocket, reaching for something buried there. I felt a sudden spike of nervousness in me. What was he doing? What did he mean the next logical step? And to what end?

 

Santos pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket and I froze. Dawning realization swept me. There was no questioning what was in that box and there was no more question as to what Santos was getting at. I wouldn’t sleep with him before marriage. He wanted to sleep with me. He really wanted to sleep with me.

 

Enough to marry me.

 

“Zelda Rivers, I am asking you to be my wife. Would you do me the honor?” He opened the velvety box as he popped the question, revealing a diamond the size of a small country. It glinted and glittered and was probably incredibly expensive. There were women across the country who would have swooned at the mere sight of it. But that didn’t matter to me. As soon as I laid eyes on it, I felt disgust roll in my stomach.

 

No, was my immediate reaction. No, I would not marry Santos DeArma. Not for all the money in the world. Not for anything.

 

But then I met his eyes. His grin was suddenly sinister and I understood with sudden, intense clarity what was really going on.

 

Santos was proposing because, yes, he wanted to sleep with me. But it was the timing that really tipped me off. On some level, this really was about the sex. Santos wanted nothing more than to have me, he always had, and while I was willing to give him kisses and sometimes groping—though I detested it—I would never give him more, no matter how he pushed. But his reasons for wanting sex from me were…more complex than I would normally give him credit for.

 

He wanted to sleep with me because, on some level, he thought I was beautiful. Or maybe just sexy or whatever. He saw me as a womanly object to be possessed and thoroughly used. It wasn’t a notion I appreciated, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

 

There were other reasons, too, though. He wanted to sleep with me because Santos needed control. He didn’t like that I withheld this one thing from him—a rather important thing in his little mind—and that I stood so defiantly against him, unyielding. Santos didn’t like limitations imposed on him and he definitely didn’t like the concept of me having any sort of self-determination.

 

But the third reason was the one that I hadn’t considered until right now in this moment.

 

Santos wanted me because I belonged to Nester.

 

In one week’s time, Nester would be released from prison. Of course I knew that. I had been counting the years, the months, and then finally the weeks. Now I would count the days and the day before his release, I would count the hours until he could come home.

 

Not to mine, of course, but that didn’t stop a girl form dreaming.

 

Was it really any sort of coincidence that with only a week to go, Santos was proposing marriage to me? Was it any coincidence that he would marry me and then proceed to fuck me just before Nester was free? I shuddered at the idea

 

He probably wanted a shotgun wedding, too. Maybe in Vegas or someplace equally as gaudy.

 

All of these thoughts raced each other through my head and made me angry. Angry enough that I wanted to throttle him, wanted to curse him and spit on him and yell at him that I was a person and had a right to feel whatever I wanted to feel. I wanted to tell him that he couldn’t control me and he would never have me.

 

But with a shock, I realized that I couldn’t.

 

Nester was still in prison and with only a week to go, I knew that he still wasn’t safe. Not from Santos. But there was more than that. If I said no, then Santos would do something else. Something worse. I didn’t know what it was, but I could feel it like a snake wrapping around my windpipe, threatening to crush it if I said the wrong thing.

 

And with the despair that only came with this kind of defeat, I realized that I had to say yes. For Nester’s safe and for mine. Santos would never let me go, and it broke my heart, because I could no longer delude myself with notions of running away into the sunset with Nester.

 

This was my life now. I would never get away from Santos.

 

Forcing a smile that I was sure he had to know was fake, I breathed out, “Yes.”

 

If I’d known what was going to happen that night, I would have shoved that ring down his throat. Because we were already in trouble. All of us. Santos was a monster and now he had a gun stuck against my head, holding me in a vicelike grip that I knew from experience I couldn’t break free from.

 

I struggled to keep my ruined shirt closed, humiliated enough that Santos had seen and groped my bare breasts. Standing across from us, I saw Nester. He was so handsome, so brave. He had always been what I’d wanted and some part of my damaged heart soared with the knowledge that he’d come for me. Nester came to rescue me.

 

At the very least, I would die knowing that he hadn’t left me to this monster.

 

“Give it to me or I’ll fucking kill her!” Santos screamed at Nester, spittle flying from his wet lips. His face was flushed with anger, I knew, and was probably that ugly, blotchy red that made him look like someone had messed up a paint job pretty badly. “Fucking destroy it!”

 

I watched as Nester looked torn. Surely he had to know that if Nester did as he was told, it wouldn’t solve anything. It would only leave Santos with all the power and leverage. He wasn’t going to let us walk out of here alive, not a single one of us. I never thought of myself of a martyr and I still didn’t, but I knew that I was dead. There was no getting me out of this one, so why destroy evidence and waste both of our lives?

 

But as I stared at Nester’s hurt expression, I knew that it didn’t matter. He was going to do the noble thing, because that was the kind of man Nester was.

 

I shook my head ever so slightly, trying to tell him No silently, but it did no good. He looked at me, his bright eyes meeting my dull ones and I knew in that moment that he would do whatever he could to save me. Despite everything that I’d done to him, he would do this for me, to save me.

 

“Please,” I begged. “I’m not worth it.”

 

Santos jerked me against him, shaking me like a ragdoll, yelling at me to shut up, but I never broke my gaze away from Nester and he didn’t either.

 

“Yes, you are,” he answered me so fiercely that a ripple of pleasure as well as shock rocked through my body. I was still trembling, upset and hurt from the violation I’d received from Santos, and part of me had been sure that I would never be able to feel pleasure again. Yet here I was, suddenly wishing for nothing more than to be wrapped up in Nester’s warm, strong arms. To stroke him and touch him and feel his skin against mine, because that was where home and safety were.

 

I needed him.

 

“Zelda, you’re the only thing that’s worth it anymore,” he told me so sincerely that my chest hurt at his words. He gripped the document with both hands and began to twist. “I love you, Zelda Rivers. I always have and I always will.” Then he tore the document clean in half.

 

My heart swelled and broke at the same time. I watched in horror as Nester sacrificed the only thing he had to use against Santos, the only chance he stood at getting out of here with his life, and felt both incredibly loved and uncharacteristically angry.

 

You fool, I thought, but couldn’t be as furious as I wanted to be.

 

Nester loved me. He would always love me. Even if that always would be abruptly cut short in only moments, I took pleasure and solace in that knowledge that at least I had him. Here at the end, he was mine again.

 

Nester continued to tear up the document until it was scattered into bits and pieces that fluttered to the floor. Soon there was little left of his leverage and I wanted to weep at that fact. How would we get out of here now?

 

“There’s a good Nester boy,” Santos said with menace and lingering fury. Santos had always hated Nester and I considered for a moment how much that might have intensified in the moment that Nester told me that he loved me.

 

Off to the side, I noticed Wildcard move. He was going for something that was tucked into the waistband of his jeans. I knew without seeing it that it must be a gun. I had wondered where Nester’s had been all this time, but then I realized that of course Santos would have insisted he come unarmed. There was a good chance he’d asked the same of Nester’s men, but I also knew Wildcard. He got his nickname for a reason as he could be crazy and unpredictable. There was a chance that even if Nester had ordered him to do otherwise, Wildcard had brought in a gun. Or at least some kind of weapon.

 

Unfortunately, since I was easily able to see Wildcard moving, Santos could, too. “Fucking stop moving!” he yelled at Wildcard.

 

Wildcard didn’t do as he was told, so Santos pressed the gun harder against my forehead, the cold metal biting into my skin and making me whimper. Wildcard froze, glancing over to Nester for orders one way or the other. Nester gave a discreet shake of his head, a very simple command of don’t do anything stupid.

 

Wildcard gave a much put upon sigh, but made it clear that he would follow orders. This time.

 

“Why don’t you go ahead and keep going, eh?” Santos told him, his attention on Wildcard rather than either myself or Nester. Nester slowly began to inch towards me and Santos, but was taking care to do it slowly lest Santos get wind of him trying something. “Go ahead,” Santos continued. “Show us what you got, then put it on the ground.”

 

Wildcard did as he was bid, only because Nester urged him to do so all the while still trying to get closer to me. Santos’s grip didn’t lessen on me and I was aware that it was painful. It was all the worse because my body roiled with disgust at the thought of Santos touching me at all, much less like this when I was so clearly still vulnerable.

 

Slowly so as not to startle Santos, Wildcard reached behind him again and pulled out the gun that he’d been going for early. At Nester’s pointed look, Wildcard shrugged his shoulders as though to say, Sorry, boss.

 

“Good, now put it on the ground,” Santos ordered. I felt him relax against me, feeling more confident now that he seemed to have all the cards and all the control.

 

Wildcard did as he was bid, placing it carefully down on the ground near his feet.

 

“Kick it away from yourself.” Santos was all but gleeful, like a kid on Christmas morning, as he was obeyed every step of the way. It was making him confident, self-assured, maybe to the point of fault.

 

I hoped so.

 

Wildcard hesitated for half a second, and that’s when everything happened. Wildcard kicked the gun not towards Santos, but towards Nester instead. At the same time, he dove towards Santos and me, making sure that Santos’s attention was fully on him. It was enough for Santos to pull the gun away from me and point it towards Wildcard, his incoming opponent. I took the opportunity to jerk out of Santos’s grip while at the same time a shot went off, echoing in my ears until I felt like I was partially deaf.

 

I stumbled to the ground, my back slamming against the corner of the dresser behind me painfully. I let out a cry, but amongst the commotion, the shot, and the sudden angry yelling, I was sure it was lost. I slid to the ground and then scrambled back as far from Santos as I could until my back hit the wall and I could go no farther.

 

I looked up to see that Wildcard was on his knees, holding his side and cursing, but at the very least alive. Santos had the gun pointed at him and looked ready to pull the trigger again. But he was so focused on Wildcard that he didn’t see Nester.

 

The gun Wildcard had kicked skidded across the floor and right into Nester’s waiting hands. He scooped it up and took aim at Santos. Now that I was safely away from him, Nester didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger and Santos gave a loud cry of pain, stumbling back and away from Wildcard.

 

“Get out of here, Zelda!” Nester ordered me, going for Santos again.

 

This time, I didn’t freeze when Nester told me to go. Though I was still terrified and things were dangerous—for Nester and for Wildcard—I knew that I wasn’t doing anyone any good by staying here. I had done that before and cost Nester way too much already. Now there was a chance that Wildcard would die—I couldn’t see how badly he was injured or where Santos had hit him—and that Nester could get seriously hurt while engaging with Santos.

 

No, it was definitely time for me to go.

 

Clutching at my shirt, I made a mad dash for the door, avoiding the guard who was still on the floor and Wildcard who was kneeling, and definitely making a point to avoid Santos and Nester at all costs. They were both armed and I wouldn’t give Santos the chance to shoot me, or Nester the chance to accidentally catch me instead of Santos.

 

Ducking around them, I got to the door and slammed headlong into a hard body. I let out a scream of surprise and despair—would I never get out of here?—before two large, strong hands wrapped around me.

 

“Easy, honey,” came a familiar voice that sent relief spiraling through me. “We gotcha.”

 

It was Bobby, Jr. and I was so happy to see him and the gaggle of men who were coming up the stairs behind him, all wearing the jackets that marked them as Berserker, that I sobbed into his chest as I hugged him. He patted me awkwardly, clearly not used to having a woman cry on his shoulder. Then he must have seen what was going on in the room because he abruptly shoved me aside, sending me spiraling into the arms of another one of the Berserkers.

 

“Get her out of here!” he ordered as he raced into the room.

 

I heard a shot ring out as another man—I recognized him, though I didn’t know his name—slipped off his jacket and threw it around my shoulders. I felt better instantly, grateful for more clothing and another barrier between the eyes of men and my poor, abused body.

 

The shot terrified me, though, and when the same man tried to usher me down the stairs in the opposite direction of the men coming up it, I struggled against him. “No! Nester, I need to see!” I didn’t want to be in anyone’s way, but I needed to know that that shot wasn’t for Nester. That he was still okay. That we were all going to make it out of this alive.

 

I shouldered past the men and managed to escape the grasp of the man to get back to the door —he cursed and muttered something about Nester killing him, but I ignored him. I could just barely see in and saw that the shot had been from Nester to Santos and it had made contact. Santos was howling as he griped his arm, cursing at Nester and the men who poured in through that small entrance.

 

I had a sudden, overwhelming sense of relief as I realized, finally, that it was over. All of it. The Berserkers were winning. Santos was outnumbered. Nester was okay—

 

But as soon as I thought that, I saw Santos lift his good arm, the one holding the gun. He took aim and before anyone could do more than shout, he yanked harshly on the trigger. The shot rang out and there was this long, impossible pause of silence as I viewed the world as though in slow motion. Then everything kicked back into high gear and the bullet lodged itself into Nester’s skin. He cried out, though I was pretty sure the bullet at least went all the way through. The shot had actually hit him in the hand of all places and Nester cursed loudly at having received the hit.

 

Even so, there was nothing more than Santos could do to hurt anyone. The men had rushed in and two big burly boys had grabbed Santos by either arm, a third coming to take his gun. Santos cried out in pain as one of his arms was shot, but the man didn’t care and might have even twisted it harder to get him to scream again.

 

Another man had gone to Nester, offering what looked like a bandana for his bleeding hand. It was wrapped up, Nester still cursing, but clearly okay.

 

My heart eased and I let out a sob. I was trying to keep it together, to be quiet, but it was all too much and I couldn’t help it. Nester looked up from his wound at the sound and shouldered past the man who had been tending to the shot in his hand. He pushed past his men who were tying up Santos and helping Wildcard to his feet, checking him over to see how bad it was. Nester paid little attention to any of it, even as his men tried to talk to him. He was distracted, because he only had eyes for me in that moment.

 

When he pushed through the last of his guys to me, he reached out and pulled me into his arms. He crushed me to his chest and held me there for a long moment, just holding him. I could hear his heart thundering in his chest like that of a wild animal’s and remembered how I had known that Santos would never have chemistry with me—that filthy animal—and how I had always known without him saying anything that Nester felt so much for me.

 

Nester’s heart told me the whole story and I leaned against his chest to listen to it gratefully. I had been sure that I’d lost him and not to a gunshot or to prison, but to my own stupidity.

 

But he’d come to save me. Maybe there was a chance that we could still make things work. Maybe there was a chance that I hadn’t lost him at all and that when we came together again, it would be permanent this time. I clung to him tightly, determined to hold on to him with all my might and to never let him go again.

 

Now that I had Nester Perry back, I would never give him up without a fight again. Never.