Chapter 56 Shot
I couldn’t stop looking around the room. Everything reminded me of the past, one that still felt painfully new.
As I walked around the dining room, my gaze fell on the chair I used to sit on, and I could almost see a smaller version of myself holding Grandpa’s hand, saying grace in the most childlike way. His voice, his laugh, the way he squeezed my fingers—it all felt close enough to touch.
When my eyes moved across the table, I noticed a carving near the edge that read "CV."
My thumb brushed over the rough marks as my gaze settled on them, trying to remember when this happened or who did it. Nothing came. I didn’t remember. It must have been done after the attack, when I wasn’t here.
"What are you doing here?" A voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
It was Carlos.
"I was thinking," I replied.
"Thinking about what?"
"Everything." I pointed at the carving on the table. "Someone carved their name on the table. Any thoughts on who it could be?"
He stepped closer and looked at it. “CV,” he read slowly, as if the letters would rearrange themselves. "I don’t know. It could be anything. It might not even be an initial."
"But what if it is?" I pressed. "I have a feeling the person who carved this might be the same person who attacked my family."
He frowned. "But are you sure this wasn’t here before? Maybe it’s your grandpa that craves it or Susan."
I shook my head. "No, it’s not. I remember the closest details of that night, and this isn’t part of it. I’m telling you."
"Okay, I get it," He said gently, "But don’t stress about this. It’s fine, you know. You also don’t have to worry about anything right now or even think about anything anymore. We’re about to get our hands on the Ore code, and once we do, everything else will fall into place. So maybe you should stop remembering things then."
"That’s the thing, I can’t. It’s not that easy. I can’t stop thinking about it. The moment I close my eyes, more memories come rushing in."
"Oh." He let out a long sigh, his shoulders dropping.
"Yeah, so I guess this is my life now. I can’t stop thinking."
He hesitated, then said, "Come with me."
He took my hand and led me up the stairs. I had no idea where he was taking me, but something in his grip and the quiet between us told me he was trying to help, trying to pull me out of my head for a moment.
We reached a room at the end of the hallway. He opened the door and walked in with me. He pulled off his jacket and laid it on the bed.
"Lie down on the bed," He said.
"What?" I asked, confused.
"You can trust me," He said, his words, calm
I let out a breath and lie down on the bed. Carlos climbed onto the bed and over me, careful with his weight, holding himself up with his hands on either side of me so he wouldn’t crush me.
I waited for him to say something or do something, but he didn’t. He just looked at me, studying my face like he was trying to read every emotion I was trying to hide.
I couldn’t help but ask, "What are we doing?"
"Shh." He placed a finger on my lips, still holding my gaze. Then he leaned closer and pressed his lips to mine.
My body reacted before my mind did. I melted into the softness of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the gentleness I didn’t know I needed.
A small smile tugged at his mouth as he deepened the kiss. I held him closer, my fingers curling into his shirt, nipping at his bottom lip. For a brief moment, I forgot everything—my family, the attack, the carving, the questions. I only felt him.
Then, like a match thrown into gasoline, a memory of my grandpa flared in my mind. His voice echoed, his face blurred but his lips moving around a name.
I jolted up, panic crashing over me, and pushed Carlos off. "He said your name."
Carlos stared at me, breathing a little heavier now. "I don’t understand."
"He said your name," I repeated, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. The image of my grandpa, lying there, calling out Carlos’s surname—“Mendoza”—kept ringing in my head like it was a warning.
Carlos still looked confused. "I don’t understand what you’re saying, Nala. Did you remember something else?"
I nodded quickly. "Yes, and he said Mendoza… your surname."!Tears burned my eyes before spilling down my cheeks.
Carlos exhaled heavily and pulled me into his arms. His chest rose and fell against my cheek as he held me.
"You really need to stop thinking about this," He murmured. "It’s getting unhealthy."
"I can’t help it," I cried. "It just keeps coming."
"It’s okay." He rubbed slow circles on my back, then pulled away just enough to wipe my tears with his thumb. "I’m sure he didn’t call my name for any particular reason. It could be a mix-up. You shouldn’t think about it that much."
I nodded
"But how did he know the name?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He shrugged. "I can’t really tell. My family is popular. He must have heard it somewhere around. Or not. I don’t know. But above all that, it could just be a mix-up."
I hesitated, then gave another small nod, more out of exhaustion than agreement.
"I think we should go outside," He said softly. "You need some fresh air."
I couldn’t agree more. Carlos held my hand and walked us outside. The men were digging almost everywhere, and Carlos was giving them commands while I stood there, watching them with growing unease.
Something was definitely going on. I had to be missing something about this whole thing. I trusted Carlos, but at the same time, I trusted my late grandpa. There had to be something I wasn’t aware of yet.
Lost in my thoughts, I flinched at the sudden crack of a gunshot. Panic shot through me as the sound echoed around the compound. I turned to Carlos for protection, only to see that he was the one who had been shot.
My eyes widened in horror. "Carlos!" I called out, but he didn’t seem to care that he’d been shot in the arm. He grabbed me and pulled me close.
"We need to leave," He said through gritted teeth.
He didn’t wait for my response. He dragged me with him toward the shelter as more shots rang out. His men started firing back at the shooters while we ran to the nearest corner.
He positioned himself in front of me, shielding me with his body, making sure I was safe—even though he was the one bleeding.