Falling With Grace

“Perhaps that was too harsh.” He raised me to my feet and pulled me into his embrace. “I recall the first time my papa killed a man in front of me.” He let out a soft sigh. “I suffered nightmares for weeks.” His hand traced through my hair, cascading over my spine, and lingered at my lower back. “But the more he exposed me to death, the more the dreams lost their reality. Soon enough, it meant nothing to me anymore.” He shrugged.

I shuddered and buried my faceinto his warm chest, his spicy, amber scent lulling me beyond the blood-red room.

He was dangerous, but he was my salvation.

“Do you understand?”

“He was a nice man.” I wiped my tears on his shirt. “You didn’t have to kill him.”

“Just because he seemed kind, doesn’t mean he was. He was just as vile as the rest of those men.”

His hand trailed down my hair, repeating the process until my hair crackled with static.

“Like you?”

He sighed, and a faint chuckle resonated behind us. “I’m no exception to the rule. I’ve done and will continue to do things that society deems evil. But this is the way life unfolds in the cartel.”

I shook my head, my jaw tight. “I just want to go home.”

Elias walked us backward into the hall, then dislodged my tight grip from his waist. “Tell me where I can find Andrés, and you can see your family again.”

My heart ached as though he’d stabbed the knife into my chest. Wincing, I ripped myself from his hold. “Next, I’m sure you’ll tell me his death was my fault.”

Elias slipped his hand into his pocket and retreated into the room, where blood pooled, a slight smile curling one side of his mouth. “Those words never left my lips.” He paused, his other hand resting on the door. “Go back to bed, Grace. And never set foot down here again.”

He closed the door, leaving my tears to curl beneath my chin and my shaking hands swiping at my wild hair.

Carlos’ wide, frightened eyes lingered like haunting specters as my feet hit the first step. The vivid memory transformed into something more sinister as I ascended to the top, my hands tangled in my hair.

He killed him.

I glanced up the stairs towards my bedroom, my chest heavy and suffocating.

He wants me back in there?

Complacent.

How can I sleep?

I needair.

Turning on my heel, I sprinted through the back door and stopped by the poolside. I slumped down on my butt, dipping my toes into the heated water, wafts of steam rising as though it were a sauna in the cool night air.

I swiped at the unrelenting tears and sniffled, letting my legs hang in the pool’s placid water.

Had it been four years since touching a pool?

A guard dressed in black cargo pants and a bulletproof vest walked the far end of the pool, his rifle crossed over his chest, the strap on his shoulder holding the weight of the death machine.

He looked at me before he rounded the corner, his gaze cold and empty, sending shivers down my spine.

I hung my head and squeezed my eyelids closed, my hands rubbing my arms, the warm water luring me in like a worm to a fish.

Glancing behind me, I raised my rear and slid over the edge, casting a single ripple out into the middle of the rectangular pool.

I exhaled, my teeth nibbling my inner lip as the water tickled my chin, my feet moving me closer to the center of the pool.

Sucking in rapid breaths, I built oxygen in my lungs as my high school swim coach taught me.