Ruthless Savior - Julia Sykes Page 0,86

way. We might have fifteen minutes. Can you get here?” The desperate question was so high and thin that it was barely audible.

“Go inside the house.” His ferocious snarl sounded over the squeal of tires burning against asphalt. “Lock the doors, and do not come out for any reason. Don’t let your father try to defend you. All of you, inside. Now.” The commands became rougher, less intelligible as rage and panic overtook him, but I understood every word.

I ended the call, so I could repeat his orders to my family, my father in particular. I practically shoved them into the house. Gabriela clutched Mario to her chest, and he began to cry.

When we’d locked the doors and barricaded ourselves in the bedroom, my current nightmare mingled with my most horrific memories.

I clutched my family tight, as though I could protect them all if I just held them close enough.

My mother’s cheery yellow dress blocking my view of Gehovany. Her arms spreading wide to shield us. Her body lurching backwards in the instant the gunshot blasted through our tiny house.

Flashes of heat and icy cold rolled just beneath the surface of my skin; a nauseating, storm-tossed sea. A loud buzz filled my skull, scrambling my brain.

As the minutes stretched out interminably, a single thought coalesced in my mind: No one will die because of me. Never again.

Willing my shaking knees to support me, I got to my feet and moved toward the bedroom door in a daze. Just like on the day my mother had been murdered, I felt untethered from the world. I was nothing more than an apparition, hovering uselessly amongst the mortal terror of my loved ones.

Never again.

“Marisol.” My father’s hand grabbed my wrist when I reached for the doorknob. “What are you doing? Stop!”

“Raúl said if he’s not back by now, I should go into the garden. He wants me to be able to run if Gehovany gets here before he does.” The lies left my lips in surreal bubbles, floating from my chest without thought.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Gabriela squeaked. “Please, don’t go.”

“Raúl knows about these things. Trust me. You all should stay inside.”

My father’s fingers reluctantly fell from my wrist, and I slid away from them without looking back. If I lingered on their horrorstruck faces, I might lose my resolve.

Never again. None of them would die because of me. I wouldn’t survive the loss. I’d be as good as dead, anyway.

As I stepped out the back door, I found my phone in my pocket. It felt strangely solid in my ghostly hand, but I was able to place the call to Raúl.

“I’m almost there. Marisol? Answer me!”

“I can’t let him hurt them.” My voice was soft and light, untouched by emotion.

“Don’t you dare,” he seethed, immediately understanding my intentions. “Stay in the house. Stay the fuck inside, and wait for me.”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see.

I would stay out of sight amongst the greenery, but if Gehovany arrived before Raúl, I would go to him. He would not touch my family.

I didn’t know if he’d immediately kill me in a jealous rage, or if his cruel possessiveness would drive him to take me away with him. He might drag me someplace where Raúl wouldn’t be able to find me.

I shoved down my budding fear before it could drag me back to the horrors of my reality.

He will not hurt my family. Never again.

“I’ll keep him here for as long as I can. Hurry.”

“Marisol, just wait for me,” he begged. “I’m coming for you. I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t let him hurt you.”

“I love you.”

The echo of his deep, booming voice roaring my name dropped away as the phone slid from my phantom fingers. I floated to the side of the house, watching the road through the thick leaves of the lime tree that my mother had loved so much. I traced the shape of the waxy leaves, feeling her love that’d soaked into the plant through hours of toil and care.

An SUV squealed to a stop in front of the house, but it wasn’t Raúl’s sleek, black vehicle.

My heart twisted at the sight of my abuser flinging himself from the driver’s seat of the beaten-up, burgundy car. His long, shiny black hair was pulled up in a topknot, ensuring it wouldn’t obscure his vision. A few stray, glossy tendrils had fallen free to frame the face I’d once thought of as handsome.