Chapter 72: Alejandro's Pov

I haven't known her-Mariana for a long time, but I know she's not one to care about a lot of things or people the way she cares for her brother.

Another day passes and she still refuses to leave his side. He's been spiraling so much so he had to be sedated. And through every step, Mariana has been there, holding his hand, talking him through it even if she knows he cannot hear her.

A part of me wishes her affection for me would some day grow to that extent.

To an extent where she'd move mountains to keep me safe, to protect me just the way she's done for her brother. Which poses the question: to what extent did she have to go for her brother to be here? What sacrifices did she make for him to walk in through that door unscathed.

Well, not completely unscathed. His pain is more internal than external.

Five months. We wrecked Mexico over and over and over again for five months, yet, no results were achieved. And then Mariana comes in and her brother suddenly appears.

She struck a deal, one that doesn't involve violence, a strategic deal.

And something tells me I know who she struck that deal with.

Another day passes and Mariano remains unconscious. And then another day passes. And another day.

It's on the fourth day, the early hours of noon that his eyes suddenly open. And this time, he's not screaming for the woman he loves, not crying that name-Leah-that has been etched to his tongue.

He's simply silent, his eyes distant.

Mariana interlaces their fingers, a sad smile stretching her lips the slightest as ropes of tears drag down her face. "Hi," she whispers, drawing herself closer to her brother.

Mariano's hollow gaze shifts to her, but he stays silent.

She disregards the silence and continues speaking. "I. . . I'm so sorry. . ." he lips quiver, mirroring her brother's. "I'm sorry I put you and Leah in that mess, Mariano. I'm sorry for always stirring up trouble."

Tears roll down Mariano's face and his face scrunches up, a whimper leaving him. And then he says his first coherent words since he returned. "You know I hate when you blame yourself for things that are beyond your control, Maria."

A loud sob shatters through Mariana and I step away to the far corner of the room, shielding my presence from them, giving them the space they need.

"I'll make it right. . . I promise, I'll make them pay." She stutters.

"It's not your fight," Mariano hiccups.

"She was my friend, and you are my brother. Your fight is mine." Mariana argues. "You'll see what I'll do to them. Just give me a few months. They will pay. He will pay."

The room erupts in sniffles and sobs and curses. And I don't know when I start to cry with them. Fuck me for loving that woman so much.

"Think about her all you want, Mariano. Hold on to the memories you shared with that amazing woman, huh? Keep her in your heart, but please. . . don't let it break you. Get well soon, okay? For me. . . If I know you're well, this will be easier for me. Promise me. . ."

If she knows?

What will be easier for her?

"What will be easier for you?" Mariano asks.

Instead of providing an answer to her brother's question, Mariana's hand falls from his and she's on her feet. She approaches the door but stalls a moment to steal a glimpse at her brother. "Just a few months, fratello."

Mariano screams for his sister, struggling against his restaurants. But she's out of the ward, approaching her father's manor with hastened steps as fleet of cars flood the estate.

"What is going on, Mariana," I ask behind her, but she filters out my voice, her staggering footsteps leading her to where she's intent on.

When we're closer, my eyes move to the plate number on one of the cars. I stop. Radimr. What is he doing here? What is he. . .

"Mariana!" I yell out, my voice a grunt. My fingers curl around her wrist, locking her in a vice. Only then did she stop, her gaze meeting mine. "What is this?" I ask.

"What is what?"

Her voice shakes as she speaks.

"Don't play me for a fool anymore and just tell me. I know. . . but I need to hear you say it."

This is the first time she's seeing me like this-enraged, out of my mind, out of control. My eyes are red all of a sudden, my jaw in a hard lock. Yet, this vile woman holds no expression. She simply stares up into my eyes with indifference.

"I love my husband," she says. Her voice for a moment holds a ping of tremble, but she quickly masks it.

My head shakes, a sharp breath whooshing through me. "What does that even mean?"

"It means that he has come to take me back. . . to my home, to the place where I belong." she answers.

"Where you belong?" I chuckle, the sound humorless. "Strapped to chains, locked in dark rooms, locked in a cage, forced to fight men, starved, are those where you belong? Is torture something you've grown to love?"

"I love my husband," she repeats.

"I can see that clearly. With the way you share a bed with me and moan my name every night, sometimes in the day, it tells me just how much love you have for this husband of yours."

The moment her lips part for more robotic words to flood out, a thick voice calls out to her. "Mariana! There you are!" We all know who it is. Heaving out a breath, she spins on her heels with a practiced to perfection smile and runs towards him.

Radimr.

Her husband.

The man who tortured her for months.

How can she let him hold her, hug her, kiss her?

My heart sinks into my stomach and tears escape my eyes as I watch them disappear into the manor.

Fuck, I hate her.

I hate her, and yet I find myself walking behind them, following them like a fool as they walk into the Manor. Don Matteo and his wife are not here so nobody makes a move to stop them.

Mariana lead him into her room and they slam the door shut in my face. My back collapses against the wall and I slide down to the ground, knees to my chest, like a fool-a miserable fool.

The doors are soundproof, so it makes it almost impossible for me to hear them. But I know they take a really long time in there. Maybe they're talking, maybe he's apologizing to her.

She wouldn't let him touch her, would she?

Hurried footsteps rushing up the stairs jerk me back from the daze and I look up to find Mariana's mother heaving quick breaths, staring down at me in pity while I sprawl myself on the ground.

"Where are they?" She asks, her tone harsher than I've known. I don't answer verbally, I only tip my head to the side and she storms to the door. And then her fist is banging against the door relentlessly.

Why's it taking them so long to open?

What are they doing in there?

What is going on?

I don't know how long Mariana's mother bangs on the door, but when the door finally pulls open, the sight that graces my eyes, shatters my heart into tiny, irredeemable pieces.

It's Radimr, a barely clothed Radimr, his chest heaving quick breaths like he's just run a marathon. My ears pick up on the running shower and I know what I've feared the most is unfolding before my eyes.

Mirabella's fist collides against Radimr's nose, drawing both a pained scream and blood. She slams into him again and he stumbles back. "How dare you!" She roars, "How dare you step a foot into my home after everything you did to my children?!"

I jerk up to my feet and rush behind her, holding her back. Mariana rushes out of the shower in a tiny dress, hair wet. "What is going on?"

The words barely make it out before her mother's palm thunders a slap against her face. Mariana stumbles. Then her mother raises her arm, intending to strike again. I rush between them and the slap thunders against my cheek instead.

Silence follow. It's loud, suffocating, unbearable.

"Get out of my house," Mirabella voice breezes through the air, "get your shit and get the fuck out before the Don meets you here and you both start an unneeded war."

For a moment, Radimr refuses to move. But when Mariana nods at him once, he picks up his scattered pieces of clothing and exits the room, jamming the door shut behind him.

"Pack your things, Alejandro, we're returning to Russia." Mariana orders with a tone of finality.

"Do you not see the state of your brother? Do you not see what he did to him?"

"And have you stopped to think that maybe he's the reason I'm doing this? You want to judge me? Go ahead, but don't act like you're oblivious to the sacrifice I'm making. Pack your things, Aleajndro."

Mariana quickly brushes off the tears in her eyes as she turns and makes her way to the closet. She slams her suitcase down on the island, violently throwing her belongings in it, uncaring for her mother who's breaking apart.

"I'm not going with you," I declare.

She stops, a shaky breath tumbling through her. Then she turns to me, slowly, eyes dark. "Yes, you are, soldier. It is an order, I'm asking but telling you to put your things together and serve me."

"Fuck you. . ." I whisper.

"No, fuck you, Alejandro. And this will be the last time you disrespect your Pakhan's wife, do you understand?" She grits.

"I'm not serving you, Mariana, not in that house, not in that country." I argue.

"Are you refusing your duty, soldier?" she asks, "because that means you're breaking your oath. And if that be the case, then you have no use staying alive."

"Fuck you! I fucking hate you!"

"Good," she nods in agreement, " now, pack your things."