Ines

Silvio arrives to the hospital just after five PM. I had enough time to calm down, to compose myself, to steel myself against the fear like I've learned to do in these last ten years. It took longer than it usually does, because Rook shook my ability to do that with the passion he still has for me, and his desire to have me back in his life—his wish to take me away from my terrible life and keep me forever. And that's a good thing I guess, because it proves I still have a heart, that I can still love, that Silvio didn't destroy all my softest parts. But it won't do me any favors now that Silvio is back.

He has a very dark expression on his face as he stands there by the door of my father's hospital room—something between the look of a feral beast and a man who's reached his breaking point. It's the look he always gives before he hurts me the worst. But I ignore it as I look at him over my shoulder from where I'm sitting by papa's bed, clutching his hand.

"You're back early," I say and smile at him. "Thank you for coming to visit my father."

He grunts something and strides over. He's a slender, rather short man, but he still towers over me. I clutch my father's hand hard for comfort, so hard his bones dig into my palm painfully.

"I heard you left this room without permission and without escort yesterday," he says curtly. "You know I don't allow that."

"Who told you? Rodrigo?" I ask without thinking, speaking much too sharply. I don't want to believe he’d betray me like that, but it's the only explanation. I also very acutely regret wanting to stay so I could make sure Rodrigo was safe from Silvio's wrath before I disappeared with Rook.

"Yes," he says. "Did you really go to the church, or were you somewhere else?"

The question freezes all the air in my lungs, makes what’s left of it in the room harder than concrete. Does he know about Rook? What did Juan tell him?

"I went to light a candle and pray for my father," I say quietly. "I wished to be alone."

He grips my throat with no warning—not even a flash of anger in his dead black eyes—and squeezes. Now I can't breathe for real.

"You are mine," he hisses. "You do not do things alone. You do as I say. God will not save you. He will not save your father. Only I can save you. And you must obey me, if you want me to save you. Do you understand?"

The whoosh of blood rushing through my veins and the soft fuzziness as I begin to loose consciousness make his voice hazy, faded, like I'm listening to it from a great distance. But I do hear the warning in it, and I manage to nod despite the tight grip he has on my throat.

He forces me to stand by pulling me up by my throat, and only then releases me.

"It's too late for your father," he says viciously. "But you can still redeem yourself."

He releases me, the breath of air I can finally take again entering my throat painfully like it's laced with razorblades. I don't know what he means, and my heart is thumping so hard in fear I'm shaking from it. But I have no time to ask before he goes to the door and calls for the doctor to come.

"What's happening, Silvio? What are you doing?" My voice is hoarse, comes out painfully, but it's not worse than the terror filling me, because I think I already know the answer.

"Your father is already dead," he says venomously, quietly. "It's time to end his suffering."

"No!" My scream feels like a piece of my throat got torn out with it. "I'm not ready to say goodbye to him yet. Please, Silvio, not yet."

He cracks a smile at my pleas, and I know I'm doomed.

"I told you what will happen to your father if you ever defy me," he says softly. "I told you over and over again and still you didn't believe me."

This is to be my punishment. He will kill my father like he promised over and over he'd do if I tried to run away from him. And I'm to watch my father die with Silvio by my side, knowing he's the one that ordered it. All me coming with him ten years ago bought me was these ten years. I should've run then, like my father said. And I should've run with Rook when the Heavens gave us another chance. I blew both those chances and there might not be a third.

I know all this. In my heart I know it. I also know that no amount of begging and pleading will make Silvio change his mind. I won't beg anymore. I won't plead. And I won't cower and cry.

So I don't say anything, just lean down and give my father one last kiss on the cheek.

"Goodbye, Papa," I whisper. "The angels are waiting for you. Go and join them and say hello to Mama for me."

I might see her soon.

But I don't add that. Because I mean to fight and I mean to survive, and I mean to correct all the mistakes I've made.

I'm not even trembling anymore once my father's doctor and three nurses come in.

Silvio explains that I've made the choice to unplug my father's breathing machine and end his suffering.

I keep my face like a mask as the doctor looks at me, even though everything inside me is screaming "No! Silvio decided to punish me! I want my papa to live!"

But a very calm voice—a voice that reminds me of Rook, of his soul, which I once knew as well as my own when it touched mine for a brief time—is telling me all will be well, that it's time to let go. It's a warm, soft, kind voice, making the room pleasant and cozy, stilling my racing heart, dousing my terror with healing waters, erasing it, lulling me into a state of calm the longer I listen to it.

I watch one of the nurses give my father an injection, a strong sedative, the doctor explains, to ease the pain. He's eyeing me like he doesn't think it was really me making this decision, like he's waiting for me to stop it.

But I did make this decision. It is time. And I've said goodbye to my father. In my heart I said goodbye a long time ago. He'll be alright now. Finally, after ten years, he'll be alright again.

I shiver as the second nurse switches off my father's breathing machine. It's suddenly so quiet in the room without its rumbling and hissing, I can hear my heart beating. It's slowing down just as I'm sure my father's must be.

Silvio puts his arm around my shoulders, and I clutch my father's hand, knowing what comes next, knowing I'm about to lose him forever, but at the same time—not knowing. Because I've never been here before, never watched someone die, never felt life leave someone's body.

The room starts to become fuzzier and fuzzier around me, until it's all just soft shapes and even Silvio's touch isn't bothering me anymore. Everything is wrapped in gauze as soft as breaths and a golden light is shining at the edges, growing stronger. As is that voice, that calm voice telling me all will be alright.

Papa shakes, struggles to breathe, but doesn't open his eyes, doesn't regain consciousness. If it weren't for the hazy light, the calm voice speaking in my mind, I'd freak out, scream for them to hook him back up, to let him live.

But Rook's voice is with me, as it's always been during my hardest moments. That's how come I recognize it. Because it never left me after we parted.

And I know all will be well, because I found him again. I know it deep in my heart, deep in my soul. We were meant to be together. There can be no other way.

My father is passing to a better place. I can feel the angels beckoning him. But I can also feel how tightly he's still clutching to life to stay with me. To be with me.

Let go, papa, I tell him in my mind. You can let go. I will be alright.

I feel his hold on me and on this world loosen soon after. Dissipate as mist fades with sunrise, as darkness fades at dawn. Slowly at first, struggling, trying to hold on, until the light gains a foothold and things start happening fast. It’s the same with my father. His struggles to breathe lessen. Then fade. And then he is gone.

But he is still with me. In my heart. A young man once more. Healthy and happy. In my mind's eye, I see him exactly the way I want to remember him forever, see his smiling face, his happy, clear eyes. He's alright now. He's finally alright.

Silvio is speaking to the doctor, but I don't understand the words. I'm still looking at my father's face, smiling on the inside, because he is finally free. I will soon be free too, Papa.

Silvio's bony fingers dig into my upper arm as he guides me from the room, pretending to only be leading me, but actually forcing me to walk alongside him.

I will be free soon. There can be no other way.

* * *

Rook

I met Ice at the bar awhile ago, yet conversation isn't exactly flowing. But being able to sit together in silence is what I liked about Ice back when we first met. I like not having to talk if I'd rather think. Tonight, I'd rather not think either.

This bar's a dingy place, smells like vomit, spilt alcohol of every kind, and piss. Spilt whiskey starts to smell especially nasty after awhile and there's lots of that here. It's not helping my mood at all.

"Did you tell Cross or anyone else why I'm really here?" I ask.

"No," Ice says, finishing his beer and waving to the waitress for another. "It's none of my business."

I'm still nursing my first beer, since I wanted to keep a clear head in case Ines calls, but I'm starting to reconsider. Maybe the solution to this is me getting so drunk I forget everything. Forget how good Ines smells, which is the one thing that I wasn't able to hold on to after she left. I remembered her sparkling eyes, her candy-red pouty lips, her glistening skin, the flash in her eyes when she was excited, and how different yet the same it was to the one when she was angry. But her smell—of roses, of fresh air, of fire burning bright and hot on a cold night—that I forgot. And she made me remember it all over again now, only to force me to forget it all again. I don't know if I can.

"I'll have a scotch," I tell the waitress as she brings Ice's beer. "Make it a double."

"Your Spanish is excellent," Ice says, tipping his bottle of beer at me before taking a long swallow.

"I think she disappeared on me again," I say, since I'm done just gnawing on it inside my head.

Ice nods solemnly. "That fucking sucks. Seeing as you didn't see each other for so long."

It's a mere statement of fact. From anyone else I'd take offense at it, but from Ice, it's not meant to mock. He's just telling it the way it is. We always understood each other in that regard.

"But are you sure?" he asks.

"Can you ever be sure about anything with women?" I ask, and down half the scotch the waitress brought in one brave swallow. Too brave, since it burns my throat badly enough to bring tears to my eyes.

"She's making excuses why she can't meet me, and I'm afraid she's lying about everything else," I say when he doesn't answer my question.

"What's everything else? She married?" Ice asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's worse than that."

Ice just frowns at me, probably thinking I'm saying it for effect. I wish I was, but I'm not.

"She belongs to the Gentleman. You know, the Mexican cartel boss?" I explain, but I can tell that doesn't mean much to him. Ice has been out of the loop for a long time while he was the Spawns' prisoner.

"You mean the guy Cross wanted us to avoid when we came here to kill Scrooge and the rest?" Ice asks, surprising me, since I didn't think he paid any attention to the planning part of the job.

"Yeah, that guy."

"And when you say, "belongs" you mean…" he lets his voice fade, expecting me to fill in the blank.

"She claims she's his prisoner, but she's a very well-kept one if that's the case," I say. "Fancy car, a driver and all the money she could ever want, plus an apartment in one of the fanciest towers this city has to offer." And it offers a lot of fancy towers.

"So I take it you don't believe her?"

I shrug and finish my scotch. "She could be telling the truth. But she could also be lying. She was known for that back when we were still together. Sorta."

I don't think she ever lied to me, not about anything important. But she sure lied to other people easily and well, if it got her what she wanted.

Ice just looks at me for awhile, and I have no idea what's going on behind those winter eyes of his. Nor do I have to know. I wave to the waitress for another scotch. Talking about this hasn't helped, but I think alcohol might. It has up until now. For ten years, it helped. As much as anything did.

He's still just looking at me even after my new drink arrives, and it's starting to unnerve me.

"What?" I finally bark at him.

"It's not doing you any good trying to think up the answer," he says. "And if she's telling the truth you're gonna hate yourself, if you let her go now, then find out you could've had her later."

"I can't fucking have her," I snap. "She wouldn't run away with me, and now she won't even meet me."

"So go meet her," Ice says and shrugs. "You say you know where she lives?"

I nod.

"Finish your drink and we'll go get her," he says like it's the most sensible thing in the world. It's not. It's the dumbest thing.

"Me and you against all the bodyguards a cartel boss has following him around?" I ask. "Yeah, that’ a great idea, Ice."

Ice shrugs and I remember that dark, cool, determined look on his face from the cage. It never left his face, while he was fighting his opponents. And he won every fight.

"You'd rather not involve Cross and the rest of your MC brothers, that much I figured out. But you have me, the undefeated, six-year running Death Match champion. Come to think of it, the title's mine for life, since I retired and no one can take it from me," he says, chuckling, since retiring is not actually how his career ended. It ended by Devil's Nightmare MC springing him at the start of his last Death Match fight so he could be reunited with his long lost sister. She’ll never forgive me if I let anything happen to him. Cross probably won’t either.

"I don't even know if she wants me to save her from him," I say evasively instead of pointing all that out. He must realize it without having to be told anyway.

"Did she tell you she's not sure?" he asks.

"No, she told me she'll come with me, but asked me to wait," I answer truthfully.

My phone is vibrating and won't stop. A couple of hours ago I would've pulled it out in a flash to see if it’s Ines, but now I just let it ring without checking.

"As you said, women are impossible to understand at the best of times. I always found it's easiest to just take them at their word," Ice observes. "They can be cagey as hell, but there's always some truth in what they say."

I shrug, pulling my phone from my pocket, since it stopped ringing. It was Ines, but I doubt she wants to meet, since it's almost midnight. She just wants to spin me more tales and have me risk everything to be with her, my sanity most of all. Ice is right about one thing. It's always best to go for the simplest explanation. And in this case, the simplest explanation is that Ines doesn't want to go anywhere with me, else we'd already be far away from here. But she does want to keep me around for some more playtime, for a change from whatever sick whipping shit her boyfriend likes to get up to. If she wanted to be free, she'd have come with me. But she didn't.

"No," I say and drink the rest of my second scotch. "It's too fucking dangerous. Roxie and Cross will kill me if anything happens to you."

Ice snorts. "Dangerous? I haven't had a good fight in months. The Spawns are all pussies who can’t even put up a fight when cornered. I'm ashamed of myself that they managed to keep me locked up for as long as they did. And I didn't become the undefeated Death Match champion without knowing how to defend myself. Besides, Roxie knows I pick and choose my own battles, and she's fine with that."

I shake my head. My phone's vibrating again, but not with a call. This time it’s a text from Ines and she sends a few of them back to back.

"Fine, I won't pressure you. It's your call," Ice says and leans back in his chair, cradling his half-finished bottle of beer in his lap. "But my offer stands."

He's squinting at me like he thinks my mind’s not made up yet, and that I'll tell him we can go beat up some Mexican gangsters to free a lady any second now. But I’ve made my decision. I can't lose Ines a second time. And the only way I'll achieve that is if I don’t make her mine a second time.