⊰ 21 ⊱ Love That Endures

The days following the devastating news of Marcel’s parents’ murder blur together, a haze of sorrow, worry and helplessness. I watch as Marcel tries to carry on, to maintain a semblance of normalcy, but I can see the cracks in his facade, the dark shadows that linger in his eyes.

He’s trying to hide it, to bury his pain beneath a veneer of cold detachment, but I know him too well. I see the way his jaw clenches when he thinks no one is looking, the way his hands tremble slightly before he curls them into fists. He’s hurting, deeply and profoundly, and my heart aches with the need to comfort him.

But he won’t let me.

Every time I try to approach him, to offer a gentle word or a comforting touch, he pulls away, his gaze shuttering, his body stiffening. He’s distant, closed off in a way I’ve never seen before, and it scares me.

I know he’s not ready to be vulnerable again. He’s not ready to let himself *fully* feel the weight of his loss. And I understand. I do. He’s always been the strong one, the protector, the rock upon which our family stands. To crumble now, to give in to the overwhelming tide of emotions… it goes against every instinct he has.

But I also know that bottling it up, pushing it down and pretending it doesn’t exist, will only make it worse in the long run. The pain, the anger, the thirst for revenge… it will consume him from the inside out, hollowing him out until there’s nothing left but a shell of the man I love.

*Please, my love.*

I silently beg, watching him from the doorway of his open-door office as he pores over documents, his face set in hard lines.

*Let me in. Let me help you.*

But he doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge my presence, and after a moment, I slip away, my heart heavy and my mind uneasy.

*I can’t help him if he doesn’t want me.*

Needing a distraction, a sense of purpose, I make my way to the lab, hoping to lose myself in the comforting world of numbers and equations. But as I step inside, I’m immediately struck by the tension that hangs thick in the air.

Ben and Pablo’s gaze snap to me, a glint of surprise and concern in their eyes. They’re hunched over a workbench, tools and components scattered before them, but their postures are rigid, their jaws clenched. On one side, Pablo stands on his feet, and on the other, Ben sits with a knee brace on his injured leg.

“Mercy,” Pablo greets, his voice carefully neutral. “We weren’t expecting you today.”

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant despite the churning in my stomach. “I needed a break from the house,” I say, my gaze flickering between them. “Thought I’d come check on you guys, see how the project is going.”

Ben exchanges a glance with Pablo, a silent conversation passing between them. “It’s going well,” he says carefully, his eyes meeting mine. “There’s just a couple of tweaks to make, but we can handle it. Marcel told us we’d only have you for a week, so we made sure we got what we needed from you before…” his voice trails off, stopping himself from mentioning the day we all almost died.

But it’s not the reminder of the day we were shot at that bothers me. It’s the mention of the deadline Marcel gave them that makes my breath hitch in my lungs.

*One week.*

The finality of it, the realization that my time here, my connection to this project, to these men who I’ve come to consider friends again, has come to an end…it feels like I’ve lost yet another thing.

Nevertheless, I force a smile, pushing down the sadness, the sense of demoralization. “I’m not here as a mathematician or a physicist,” I say softly, my voice wavering just a bit. “I’m here as a friend.”

They both blink, taken aback. I can see the weariness in their eyes, the uncertainty. They know the risk they’re taking, being here, working with us. And now, with the added threat of the cartel and Marcel’s distrust of them, the danger has only increased.

“Don’t worry,” I assure them, my voice soft but firm. “I won’t tell Marcel. And there’s no one here to report back to him, so…”

I trail off, a knot forming at the edge of my throat as I think of Frank, of his once steady presence and unwavering loyalty. He’s gone now, another casualty in this never-ending war, and the loss hits me anew, a fresh wave of grief washing over me.

*I really liked him, despite the horrible start we had.*

I suspect that Ben notices the sadness on my face, the way my eyes have gone distant, because he suddenly stands from his chair, his brow furrowed in concern. “How are you holding up?” he asks gently, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I watch him carefully shift his weight to his healthy leg, using the table as a steady support. “I’m fine,” I say, my voice catching. “Thanks to you…both of you.”

I mean it.

Without them, without their quick thinking and bravery during the ambush, I might not be standing here now. They risked their lives for me, put themselves in harm’s way to keep me safe, and that’s a debt I can never fully repay.

Pablo nods, his gaze flickering to me, but there’s a hesitation in his eyes. “And Marcel’s parents?” he asks carefully, as if he’s afraid of overstepping. “How is the family dealing with it?”

I feel my throat tighten, my chest constricting with a pain that has become all too familiar these past few days. The truth is, I don’t know. I haven’t seen or heard from Alessandra since I tried calling her to see if she wanted to talk—she didn’t answer or return my call. And Marcel… he isn’t talking to me. Not since the night it happened, almost two weeks ago. He’s shutting me out, retreating into himself, and I feel helpless, lost.

“I…I don’t really know,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Marcel isn't really talking to me about it. He’s just… he’s throwing himself into work, into finding Luciano.”

Ben nods, a look of understanding passing over his face. “Men are like that sometimes,” he says gently. “Especially men like Marcel, who carry so much responsibility. He won’t let himself cope until he’s ready. There’s too much going on for him to let his guard down.”

His words are reassuring, offering an ounce of relief to know that what I’m experiencing is normal, expected even. But it doesn’t stop the ache in my chest, the longing to be there for my husband, to help him carry the burden.

“And you?” Pablo asks softly, his gaze fixed on me, studying me. “How do you feel about it all?”

I swallow hard, my fingers twisting in the hem of my pink sweater. “I liked Valentina,” I say quietly, a sad smile tugging at my lips. “I wasn’t very close to her but I really liked her. And Guillermo…” I shrug, a humorless laugh escaping me. “We were always hot and cold.”

Pablo raises an eyebrow, surprise and curiosity mingling on his face. “I’m amazed you were able to co-exist with him at all, considering your history and how he behaved towards you.”

I don’t respond, my gaze dropping to the floor, memories of Guillermo’s cruelty, his disdain, his barely concealed hatred flashing through my head. It wasn’t easy, learning to be around the man who killed my parents, who saw me as nothing more than a liability, a weakness to be exploited.

But I did it for Marcel. I did it for the love we shared and the life we were trying to build together. And now, with Guillermo gone, with both of Marcel’s parents ripped away from him in the most brutal, horrific possible way…I can’t help but feel like that life is slipping through our fingers like sand.

“How did you end up marrying into the Saldívar family, anyway?” Ben asks, his tone free of judgment, merely curious. My gaze snaps up, meeting his as he adds, “I mean, you don’t really seem like the time to be drawn to…this.”

A wry smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “I didn’t meet Marcel as a criminal,” I say softly, my mind drifting back to that fateful night at the gas station 7 years ago, to the moment that changed everything. “I met him as the stranger who saved my life.”

I can see the surprise on their faces, the way their eyes widen slightly at my words. “I was 18 and oblivious,” I continue, lost in the memory. “I was standing in the back aisle of the gas station down the street from my childhood home. I wasn’t even paying attention when these two guys walked in with guns pointed at the poor man working the register that night.”

A huffed laugh parts my lips as I shake my head and avert my gaze to the ground. “Marcel pulled me away, hid me in the hallway of the bathroom and the back room until they were gone. Then, he drove me home.”

“He was so kind and gentle. He even tried to warn me that he was dangerous and that I’d be better off never seeing him again, but I didn’t listen,” I admit, my gaze flickering up as I shrug. “I mean, Levi’s my brother, for crying out loud. I wasn’t afraid. And by the time I learned the truth about who he was…” my voice trails off.

As I speak, I feel a warmth blooming in my chest, a flicker of light. Even now, even with everything that’s happened, everything we’ve been through…I still love him. I still know that he is the other half of my soul.

“6 years is a long time to wait to get married,” Pablo ventures carefully, but I know what he’s doing. I know what he *really* wants to know.

I draw my lip between my teeth, hesitating.

*Is he asking me as a friend? Or as an agent? Does it matter?*

Swallowing my uncertainty, I breathe out, “He let me go. I wanted to go to college, so he let me go. And for almost 5 and a half years, I didn’t hear from him. I didn’t hear from him until…”

“Until he needed a bomb.”

My eyes snap up to meet Ben’s, and for a moment, I’m conflicted. I’m conflicted because is it merely a coincidence that he found me when Levi supposedly stole from him? Or did *he* plant the money in my apartment to give himself a reason to come back?

*He wouldn’t need to give himself a reason. If he wanted me, he would’ve taken me, ‘justified’ or not.*

“No,” I finally say. “Someone tried to frame Levi by planting stolen money in my apartment. And until my brother could find the man responsible, I was here.”

Ben and Pablo nod, a knowing look playing on their faces though there’s a glint of something else in their eyes.

After a moment, Ben clears his throat, a sad smile on his face. “Well, he’s lucky to have you, Mercy. I hope he knows that.”

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks at his words, a flutter of something warm and unfamiliar in my chest. “He does,” I whisper, my voice choked. “And I’m lucky to have him. He’s been my rock, my safe place, through everything. I just… I wish I could do the same for him now, when he needs me the most.”

Because it’s true. For all the pain, all the heartache, all the darkness that comes with loving Marcello Saldívar…I wouldn’t trade a single moment of it. I wouldn’t give up a single piece of my heart.

He is mine, and I am his, and together…we can survive anything.

*Even this.*

“You are,” Ben assures me, his voice unwavering and firm. “Just by being here, by choosing to love him through all of this. That’s everything, Mercy.”

I nod, blinking back the tears that blur my vision. He’s right. I know he is. I can’t give up on Marcel. He never gave up on me. It’s my turn to be strong for the both of us.

I let silence fall for a moment longer before I take a deep breath and square my shoulder, lifting my chin as I push down the flooding thoughts. “So,” I say, forcing a note of brightness into my voice. “What are you working on today? I’d like to help, if you’ll have me.”

Ben and Pablo exchange a glance, and after a brief pause, they nod and Pablo motions me over. “Come double-check my math for me, will yeah? My brain’s starting to hurt.”

I chuckle softly, moving toward the lab table with purpose.