Pain exploded through my shoulder.
The gunshot still rang in my ears, deafening, drowning out everything else. My knees hit the cold marble floor of Helena’s estate, my hand instinctively clutching my wounded arm. Warm blood seeped through my fingers, thick and unforgiving.
Helena’s footsteps echoed as she moved further into the darkness, her voice as calm as ever.
“You never understood, sobrinha.”
I forced myself to breathe through the pain, blinking against the blurring edges of my vision. The wound wasn’t fatal. Not yet. But if I didn’t move—if I didn’t do something—it would be.
Helena was slipping away, her silhouette barely visible in the dim lighting.
I gritted my teeth, forcing myself onto shaky legs.
“Why?” My voice was rough, raw with pain and betrayal.
Helena chuckled softly, barely glancing over her shoulder. “You were always meant to take your mother’s place.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
“She didn’t listen,” she continued, her tone almost conversational. “She refused to see what was right in front of her. But you… you see it, don’t you?”
I swallowed hard. “See what?”
She smiled.
“That power was never hers to hold. It was always meant for you.”
The room tilted slightly as I fought against the searing pain in my shoulder. My mind raced, piecing together the fragments of truth hidden within her words.
My mother hadn’t just stumbled onto something dangerous.
She had been standing in my way.
Helena took another step back. “I never wanted it to come to this. But you’re a survivor, Bela. I had to be sure.”
I clenched my jaw. “Sure of what?”
Her gaze darkened.
“That you’d be strong enough to finish what she couldn’t.”
My breath caught in my throat.
This wasn’t just about control.
It was about legacy.
My legacy.
And my mother had never been part of Helena’s plan.
I staggered forward, my legs screaming in protest. “You’re insane.”
Helena tilted her head. “Perhaps. But I’ve never been wrong.”
She took another step back, disappearing into the shadows.
And then—
Another gunshot.
But this time, it wasn’t aimed at me.
It was aimed at the door behind me.
I turned just in time to see Marcelo bursting in, gun raised, his eyes wild with urgency.
“Bela!”
My body gave out.
Everything around me blurred.
And then...
Darkness.
I woke up in a haze, my body heavy, my limbs sluggish. My shoulder throbbed in protest, a dull but persistent reminder of what had happened.
The ceiling above me was unfamiliar.
White. Clean. Sterile.
I was in a hospital.
A groan slipped from my lips as I tried to move, and immediately, warm hands pressed against mine.
“Bela.”
Clara.
Her voice was thick with worry, her fingers gripping mine tightly as I turned to face her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, dark circles shadowing her face. She had been crying.
I hated seeing her like that.
I swallowed hard, trying to push past the dryness in my throat. “How long?”
“Three days,” she whispered.
My stomach dropped.
Three days.
Three days since Helena disappeared.
Three days since everything changed.
I tried to sit up, but the sharp sting in my shoulder forced me back down. Clara was instantly at my side, her touch both firm and gentle.
“Don’t,” she murmured. “You need to rest.”
I clenched my jaw. “I don’t have time to rest.”
Clara’s expression hardened. “You almost died, Bela.”
“I didn’t.”
“Because Marcelo found you in time!”
Silence stretched between us, heavy and unyielding.
Clara exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
My fingers tightened around hers. “I don’t want to do this alone.”
She hesitated. “Then let us help you.”
I wanted to argue.
Wanted to tell her that this was my battle.
But I couldn’t.
Because deep down, I knew she was right.
Evelyn arrived later that evening, her face unreadable as she stood at the foot of my bed.
“You look like shit,” she muttered.
I smirked. “You should see the other guy.”
Evelyn didn’t laugh.
She crossed her arms, her expression turning serious. “We lost her.”
I stiffened. “What?”
“Helena,” she said. “She’s off the grid. No phone signals, no credit card usage, nothing. It’s like she disappeared.”
My blood ran cold.
Helena was too smart to leave a trail.
Which meant she was planning something.
Marcelo entered next, his face grim. He didn’t say anything at first, just studied me, as if making sure I was actually alive. Then, finally—
“I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”
I sighed. “Not your fault.”
“It is my fault,” he said, his voice edged with guilt. “I should’ve seen this coming.”
Evelyn cut in. “What matters is what we do next.”
Clara tensed beside me. “You mean when Helena resurfaces.”
Evelyn’s eyes darkened. “She will resurface. And when she does.”
“We finish this,” I said.
Silence followed.
Clara’s fingers brushed against mine again, a silent reminder that I wasn’t alone.
And for the first time since I woke up.
I believed it.
Later that night, long after everyone had left, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
I replayed Helena’s words over and over again, trying to make sense of them.
"You were always the real threat."
What did she mean?
A soft buzz filled the quiet room.
I frowned, reaching for my phone on the bedside table.
A blocked number.
My pulse quickened.
I answered.
Silence.
Then...
A slow, measured breath.
And a voice I knew all too well.
"Did you really think it would be that easy?"
Helena.
My blood turned to ice.
She chuckled.
"You should’ve stayed dead, sobrinha."
The line went dead.
And just like that.
I knew.
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.