Staring down at my phone, I had the smallest spark of hope. It was tiny, and weak, but still there and I couldn’t decide if that was foolish or just… human. How would I know either way? I hadn’t felt human in so long, it had been years of nothing but cold and violence and all of that darkness inside me that I’d fed and fed as I worked my way into Paulo García’s trust.

So much fucking blood, so much death, so much violence and so many times I’d stood aside and let terrible things happen. There was no salvation for me, no redemption, but there was Nicky.

The only halfway decent thing I’d done in almost three years was stop Diego from raping her. Even though I’d taken her myself, and then continued fucking her every chance I got. Still, none of the other monsters in the house had touched her. Just me.

A fucking imperfect monster that couldn’t decide to be good or evil. I was somewhere in the middle, and it was miserable.

Maybe that was why God had finally given me a way out of hell, maybe saving Nicky would ultimately be the thing that let me bring them all down. It wouldn’t erase the blood from my hands, or the things I’d done to her — nothing could do that — but maybe it was enough to get me out. That shred of hope grew, and I remembered when I’d decided to be a cop instead of a thug. The day I’d had to come home and tell my mother that Hernan was dead. My younger brother, shot while we were selling stolen car stereos. Those assholes had run as soon as Benito and I had pulled our guns, taking the money and the shit with them, but Hernan hadn’t stood a chance. Two shots to the chest, he was choking on blood before I’d even had the chance to beg him to stay with me.

He’d died with Benito and I shouting at him on the hot, filthy concrete. Benito had run off, intent on finding them and killing them, but I’d stayed and stared at my seventeen-year-old brother, with his brown eyes open to the sunny skies but seeing nothing. I’d wanted to go back in time and not show up to the deal, go back and refuse to let Hernan come with us, but at the time it had seemed like the only answer. The only way to make rent that month, to have money for food, gas, and everything else we needed. Still, my mother had damned me, told me I was just like my father, the bastard who had died bleeding on a different stretch of concrete in Miami, forcing me and my brothers to step up to make the money. To keep us all afloat. But with Hernan dead, the whys didn’t matter.

I was supposed to protect him, I was supposed to do the right things, I was supposed to be better. I could have done better if I’d only tried. All things she yelled at me through her tears, through the slaps and the screams as she’d told me to leave. Leave and not come back, because God knew what I’d done and only he could forgive me. I had wanted to stay, to say goodbye to my younger siblings, but I had let her five-foot-two frame shove me out the door and slam it in my face.

Those two memories were burned brightly into my brain. The sightless eyes of my brother, and the agonizing fury of my mother mourning one son while she kicked out another for getting him killed — which was exactly what I’d done. I had been sure there were no other answers, no other ways to get money, but there were. They just weren’t as easy, weren’t as thrilling.

Weeks later I’d learned that one of the men who’d killed Hernan was dead, probably at Benito’s hand, and the other had been arrested. I’d never wanted to be a killer, never wanted to be a thug, a monster. I wanted to be the man my mother thought I could be. I used to be the one who helped my mother carry groceries, who talked to her while she cooked, who took care of my siblings and changed diapers and did everything in my power to make our lives better. The next week I’d applied for the police academy.

Only possible because of my GED, grateful my mother had insisted on it, covered in tattoos and already more dangerous than every other man in my class. I’d had dreams of doing good, of being someone my mother would be proud of — but before I’d even finished the academy I was approached to be exactly who I was trying to escape. Go undercover, take out the bad guys from the inside. They’d looked at me and seen the monster, and I’d agreed because I’d never known anything else.

Rubbing a hand over my face, I cursed under my breath. My mother wouldn’t be proud of who I was, worse than I’d been when she’d slammed a door in my face. More blood on my hands, more death on my soul, but I could do one good thing. I could get Nicky out as I took Paulo’s empire down from the inside. Nathan didn’t care about her, I could tell, but he’d insisted she was on the list — I still didn’t trust him though. I didn’t trust any of those fucks that were supposed to be my backup. They just saw the thug, the cold violence, and I knew they didn’t trust me either.

Which meant I had to get Nicky out before the meeting. Tonight. The idea formed in my head and I knew it was the answer. After everyone was asleep, I’d sneak her downstairs with her bright purple duffel bag, get her purse and keys, and make her leave the car behind. Open the gate and watch her go, ensure she was safe before tomorrow happened.

Because I could die tomorrow, we all could die tomorrow, and then Nicky would be lost in the chaos… but if I was going to die, I wanted one good thing when I stood for judgment. One act that I could point to. Then, even if I was damned to Hell, I’d go with a soul that wasn’t completely black. I’d go knowing Nicky was safe with the brother she’d given herself to protect.

* * *

Nicky

Squeezing out my hair with the towel, I rubbed until it wasn’t dripping anymore and then wrapped it around me to step out into the room. Andre was leaned forward in his office chair, elbows braced on his knees as he stared down at his phone. Tension was etched into every line of him, his bruised knuckles bulging with how hard he gripped the little device.

I leaned against the wall and watched him for a minute, wishing he’d just fucking talk to me. Tell me whatever his plan was so that I could help, or at least understand what was happening so I could feel better. When he didn’t budge, I walked over and sat on the edge of the bed closest to him, his dark eyes lifting to me.

“We need to talk,” I said, trying to sound confident.

“We do,” he agreed and I huffed out a surprised laugh.

“Shit, that was easy. I should have done that two days ago! I just want to—”

“Listen to me, Nicky.” He cut me off, shaking his head as he reached over and unscrewed the rum, which didn’t seem to have been touched at all. Andre took a drink first, and then handed it over. “Tomorrow is dangerous, really fucking dangerous, and there’s a good chance I won’t be back.”

My blood ran cold, panic surging through me as I tried to speak. “Bu— but, you have to! You have to come back, Andre. You can’t leave me here!”

“I know.” Again, he stunned me by agreeing, but the panic wasn’t going anywhere. “I need you to trust me, and I know I haven’t fucking earned it, but when I tell you to move, I need you to just do it. Okay?”

“Are— are you getting me out?” I pointed at the phone in his hands. “Is someone coming?”

He shook his head. “No one is coming for you, belleza. I just… I want you to know that all I’ve tried to do is keep you safe.”

Something warm fluttered in my chest, and I had to swallow more of the rum before I spoke. “I know that.”

“And — fuck — I’m sorry for everything. Everything that’s happened, everything I did, I just…” Andre leaned forward and plucked the rum from my fingers to take a few large mouthfuls, but I couldn’t even react. This was good, or possibly really bad.

“Are you going to die?” I asked, and I knew even as I said it that I didn’t want that. I didn’t want him dead. I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted otherwise, but that was absolutely clear. Andre needed to live, even if I had no idea what that would mean for me, for us if there was an ‘us’ at all.

“I don’t know, but I can’t have you trapped here if things go south.” He rested his forehead in one hand, the bottle of rum hanging between his knees, and I gambled.

“Is… is this what you meant when you asked me to hold on?”

His head snapped up, eyes intense. “You heard that?”

“I wasn’t asleep yet, Andre.”

The series of curses, a mix of English and Spanish, were full of anger and frustration, but they weren’t directed at me. He was furious with himself, and I didn’t care.

“Andre, I don’t know what’s going on. I wish you’d fucking tell me. I wish you’d tell me why you’re here with these men you clearly despise, I wish you’d tell me why you’re trying to help me at all — but if you’re not going to do that, for God’s sake just tell me how you’re going to try and get me out.” I slid off the bed, moving to my knees in front of him so I could catch his eyes as he stared towards the floor. “I want to help. I can help however you need me to, because I don’t want to die either.”

“Belleza…” His large hand brushed my cheek before he held the side of my face, and stared into my eyes. So much turmoil in his gaze, those dark eyes completely alive and desperate. “I’m not going to put you in danger, and in this house knowledge is dangerous. You’re better off not knowing anything until you have to. But I swear, I swear to God, I swear on my mother’s life, that I will get you out of here if it’s the last thing I do.”

Tears stung my eyes, and I tried to blink them away as I leaned up to grab his face in return, still wishing he would open up and fucking talk to me. “I believe you, okay? I believe you, but I’m not going to be any help if I don’t know what’s happening.”

“What’s happening is that I want to drink, and then I want to get into bed with you and fuck you until you pass out.” His hand drifted into my hair, fisting it at the base of my scalp hard enough to make me hiss between my teeth as I grew warm and wet below. “No more questions, Nicky. Drop the towel and get in bed.”

Obeying, again, I tugged the fabric free and let it fall. Enjoying the way he groaned and his tongue ran over his bottom lip. He released me and I stood, walking backwards slowly to the bed, as he followed me, prowling like a wild animal.

When I sat down on the bed, he shook his head. “Lay out, knees wide, I want to watch you touch yourself.”

A blush crept into my cheeks, but I did it. There wasn’t an inch of me he hadn’t seen or touched, and I could only hope that if I did this he would fuck me into oblivion like he promised… and then let me go.

Andre sat down on the edge of the bed, eyes intent between my thighs as I reached my fingers down, spreading my lips to find my clit. Starting to rub in slow circles as he took another drink. “Faster,” he demanded, and I felt the heat building as I found my rhythm.

Closing my eyes to relax into the bed and do what my body wanted. Dipping my fingers into my pussy, feeling the way I was still tender and reveling in it, wanting his cock inside me again. I moaned. “Andre…”

“Yes, belleza?”

“Touch me?” I begged, not even caring as I moved my fingers back to my clit and spread my legs wider. Then his fingers slid inside me, much larger than my own, and I gasped, bucking my hips to the rhythm we were creating as I focused on the bundle of nerves under my control. He stroked and thrust, teasing my g-spot with taps and rubs until I was squirming and trying to make it last. It was so intimate, being spread out in front of him like this.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded and he held up the back of my head as he poured rum in. I almost choked, but managed to swallow, and when I opened my eyes he was smirking. “More?” he asked.

“Yes,” I moaned, hips twitching as I fought the orgasm that was edging closer. Spicy and sweet, more rum flooded my mouth and I swallowed but some escaped and Andre leaned forward to lick me from neck to cheek to lips, capturing me in a kiss. Heat exploded, and my veins caught fire as I came, pure ecstasy erasing everything else from my mind except for his touch and his mouth on mine.

He nipped and groaned against my mouth. “I don’t deserve you, belleza, but I don’t want to give you up either.”

“Just fuck me.” It was all I wanted, because I didn’t want to stay here, I didn’t want to be a prisoner, I didn’t want to die — but I also didn’t want to leave Andre to this hell either. I could tell he wanted out, he wanted to escape, but there was no way out for him and all I could give was this. Exactly what he gave me, a few moments of forgetting, a few moments where the rest of the world fell away.

Andre didn’t waste time, setting the rum down on the table to rip open the drawer with the box of condoms. He tossed one on the bed and then stood to tear his shirt over his head, and I let myself enjoy the view. He really was beautiful, the ink and the hard muscle, the intense expression on his face, and the tease of dark hair that wound from his belly button down to the edge of his jeans. Soon, those were gone too and there was just his cock, hard in his fist, as he tore the condom wrapper and rolled it on.

I started to turn over so he could fuck me while standing, one of his favorite positions, but he stopped me. “No, I want to see you.”

Damn that warm little flutter in my chest, I needed to crush it before I lost myself to this monster. But then he moved onto the bed, settling between my thighs, his chest pinning my hips as he kissed across my ribs. Taking one nipple, and then the other, to gently suck and tease, leaving me to writhe against him, seeking friction that I couldn’t find. “Andre, please!”

“Hush,” he demanded, and I whined as he kissed and licked his way down, leading his mouth lower until he ran his tongue between my pussy lips and growled.

In an instant all the sweet touches shifted, and he devoured me. Fingers slid deep, holding my twisting body to the bed so he could do what he wanted. Another orgasm and I was pleading for him to fuck me, wanting him on top of me, inside me, but after the next I was screaming for it. Desperate, needy, craving the feel of him filling me, the power of his thrusts, the weight of him holding me down. “Jesus Christ, Andre, please! Please fuck me, please.”

A low growl rumbled against my tender cunt just before he nipped my thigh and then shifted over me. Propping himself up on one arm he bent my knees and looked down to slide slowly inside. I couldn’t help but watch as well, staring down between us as he eased himself in, not rushing, even though we both wanted it, and I managed to keep my hips still, to wait.

When he was finally balls deep, skin to skin, he dropped to his elbow, dragging me into another deep kiss as he barely shifted his hips. “You are perfect,” he whispered just before he pulled back for the first hard thrust.

I cried out, in pleasure and sweet pain, reveling in how sore I was, enjoying the strength he could put behind each thrust. But he never did more, this was slow and intimate as he alternated between world-blurring kisses, and soft licks and nips across my neck and shoulders. I was dizzy from pleasure already, constantly whispering moans as I dug my fingers into his back to pull him closer, wrapping my legs around his hips to get him as deep as he could possibly go in this position. His purposeful strokes brought me to another orgasm and I was lost in a haze, a golden swirl of warmth and heat. I was barely aware when he hooked one of my legs over his arm and managed to thrust deeper, a little harder, but his lips were on mine again. Whispering in Spanish with words I sometimes caught, and sometimes didn’t. Words like pretty, perfect, sweet, and mine.

I’d never wished more that I had studied Spanish harder, but I hadn’t been a serious student, never had, and so the harsh whispers were mostly lost. Just an odd collection of broken vocabulary that made that warm fluttering intensify in my chest as his thrusts increased in pace, growing rougher as he leaned his forehead against mine. “Nicky,” he groaned just before he came, cock kicking deep, but instead of pulling out of me he kissed me. Let his weight drop over me to press me to the bed, still linked, connected, and I poured everything I couldn’t manage to find words for into the kiss.

All I wanted was for everything to work out, for us all to be safe. Me, Chris… and Andre. But even as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him again, refusing to let go, I knew I was being stupid. If I managed to live through this, I’d be lucky, asking for anything more was ridiculous. No matter how intense the pain in my chest became as I imagined Andre dead. Dead for trying to protect me, to save me from my stupidity.

If he died, it would be all my fault. All mine.