Chapter Hundred And One

Chapter Hundred And One
Arian
“My father told me you wanted Maricruz Dela Paz,” I said, my voice calm but sharp as I arched a brow. “So, didn’t you ever wonder why they married you off to their daughter—who they conveniently named Arian?”

Rafael’s lips curled into that familiar sneer, the one that used to make my stomach twist in fear but now only stirred disgust. “I didn’t care about the name,” he spat. “I only wanted the girl who caught my fancy—and I had you. You were a frigid bitch, but I made do.”

I smiled then, though there was nothing warm about it. “Yes,” I said, my tone flat, almost detached. “And because of that, you refused to let me orgasm for ten years.”

Lucille’s gasp cut through the tension like a whip. I didn’t bother looking her way. She couldn’t possibly imagine what it felt like—to be denied even your body’s smallest mercy for a decade.

I went on, unfazed. “You knew I didn’t know how to touch myself after you were done with me, so you didn’t even bother tying me up when you wanted sex. You knew I wouldn’t resist.”

“That’s correct,” Rafael said, nodding with perverse pride. “But I presume you know how that feels now—seeing as you’re engaged to this pendejo?”

His words were meant to sting, but they didn’t. If anything, they reminded me of how far I’d come. “Much more than you could ever imagine,” I said softly. “And I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of having sex with him. He’s the best lover in the world.”

The moment the words left my lips, I saw it—the flicker of rage that shattered Rafael’s composure. His jaw ticked, his fingers flexed against the guns, and for the first time since he’d walked in, he looked like he was the one losing control. I’d wiped that smug look off his face, and the sight was delicious. I almost wished I could freeze the moment just to savor it.

His eyes shifted to Gabriel, and his glare could have sliced through steel. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, you son of a bitch,” he hissed. “You dared touch my wife.”

Gabriel finally spoke, his tone steady and infuriatingly confident. “Was I supposed to look and not touch?” he countered. “And for your information, she’s not your wife. She’s your ex-wife.”

Rafael chuckled darkly, a sound that made my skin prickle. “He’s got a big mouth, this one,” he said. “You don’t know who you’re talking to, boy.”

Gabriel didn’t back down. “Don’t hide behind your guns, Navarro. Face me. Let’s have a fistfight. Winner gets her. Loser dies.”

I snapped my head toward him, my stomach dropping. “Gabriel! What the hell are you doing?” I hissed under my breath. “Are you mad?”

He didn’t even glance at me. “Come on, Navarro, what are you waiting for?” he said, making a taunting gesture with his hand as he moved in front of me. “Let’s fight.”

For a moment, I thought Rafael would laugh it off—that he’d just pull the trigger and end this madness. But instead, to my utter shock, he turned on the safety of his guns. Slowly, almost ceremoniously, he set them on the ground and kicked them aside.

“Let’s battle,” he said, rotating his neck until it cracked and squaring his stance. His grin was a wolf’s—hungry and sure of the kill. “Come at me.”

My pulse roared in my ears. I didn’t want to imagine how this would end because deep down, I already knew—it wouldn’t end well. Gabriel wasn’t just risking his life. He was signing our death warrant.

God, why does he always have to be the hero? I thought bitterly.

Fucking great.
\~~~~~~~
Gabriel
Arian probably thought I had lost my damn mind for challenging her ex-husband to a fight. And maybe she was right. Rafael Navarro wasn’t just dangerous—he was a walking executioner with a pulse. The kind of man who could shoot someone in the face and sleep like a baby afterward. But I didn’t care.

That bastard had stolen ten years of her life—ten years of her laughter, her innocence, her peace. Even prison hadn’t been enough to cage his poison; he’d still haunted her dreams like a curse. It had to stop. Tonight.

She was his once, but now she was mine—and I wasn’t letting him take her back, not in this life or the next. I’d win this fight and then take pleasure in blowing his brains out with his own fucking gun.

The second our fists collided, the world narrowed to the sound of bone on bone. I had the upper hand at first. Every punch I threw landed with purpose, fueled by rage I didn’t know I’d been holding inside. I saw blood—his blood—and it felt like justice.

But Rafael wasn’t the kind of man to fall easily. He came back at me with the fury of a cornered animal, and one of his sucker punches caught me square in the jaw. My ears rang. My vision blurred. For a heartbeat, the world tilted sideways.

Get up, Cruz. Don’t you dare go down now.

I shook my head hard, spat blood, and lunged again. We rolled across the floor, fists and elbows and curses flying, both of us desperate to end it first. I barely noticed the pain in my ribs or the pounding in my skull. All I could think about was Arian—her voice, her eyes, her trembling hands somewhere behind me.

Then everything went to hell.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lucille—her face twisted in madness—bend down and grab one of the guns. She flicked off the safety, her hands shaking, and aimed straight at Arian.

“No—” I started, but the word barely left my lips before a white-hot agony exploded in my side. Rafael had driven a knife into me. The pain was so sharp it stole my breath. I grunted, my body arching as he shoved me off him.

“Gabriel!” Arian’s voice tore through the chaos.

I tried to reach her, but a gunshot cracked through the air. The sound echoed in my skull. Arian screamed, her voice raw, and blood splattered across the wall—and her white dress.

For a split second, time stopped. Then Lucille hit the ground with a heavy thud, a bullet hole in the side of her head.

“Sneaky bitch,” Rafael spat, eyes flicking toward Arian. “I’m the only one allowed to take your life.”

The knife in my side burned like fire. Every breath sent a fresh wave of agony through me. My hand was slick with blood when I reached for the handle. I didn’t care about myself—not when he was standing over her like a vulture.

“No…” I groaned. “Please don’t…”

With a guttural cry, I yanked the knife out. The pain was blinding. I bit down on my lip until I tasted copper, doing everything I could not to scream.

“This is your fault,” Rafael snarled, kicking me in the ribs. The impact made my vision flicker. “Your fucking fault!”

“Please, don’t kill him!” Arian’s voice broke, trembling with tears. “I’m sorry—please!”

“No can do, babe,” Rafael mocked. “No one touches what’s mine and gets away with it.”

Then Arian’s voice rose again, desperate and trembling—but different. There was something strange in it, something that made me look up through the haze.

“I’m not who you think I am!” she cried.

Rafael frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Fernando told you he was giving you his daughter, Maricruz—but he lied,” she said quickly, the words spilling out like water breaking through a dam. “I’m not Maricruz. My real name isn’t even Arian.”

“What?” Rafael’s confusion deepened.

“Maricruz, the woman you actually wanted, is still alive,” she explained. “Fernando lied to you about her death. He told you she had a twin sister—that’s why you accepted me, remember?”

“Yes,” Rafael said slowly. “You were the introverted one—hidden from the public until your sister died.”

“I’m not related to Maricruz Dela Paz, Rafa,” she rasped. “I never even knew Fernando until he adopted me. He came all the way from Mexico to Nigeria looking for an orphan… and he found me. At St. Louis Orphanage Home.”

Her gaze met mine then, steady and haunting, as if she were speaking not to him—but to me.

“I suffered second-degree burns when I was six,” she went on. “My mother died in that fire. My father—Jericho Macavinta—couldn’t bear the loss, so he abandoned me there and never came back.”

My heart clenched as her words sank in.

“I stayed there for two years until Fernando adopted me,” she continued, her voice shaking now. “He gave me their daughter’s face. Changed my name. My real name… is Kareena Macavinta.”

Kareena.

For a moment, the pain in my side vanished, replaced by a rush of disbelief and recognition so strong it made my head spin. My Kareena.

I forced myself to stand, blood soaking my shirt, my vision dimming at the edges. “Kareena?” I gasped.

She nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m Kareena. The girl you waited twenty-one years to meet again.”

“Why… why didn’t you tell me?” My voice cracked, part anguish, part awe.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I was scared.”

Before I could say another word, Rafael growled beside us—a low, animalistic sound that made every instinct in me scream danger. His eyes had gone dark again, murderous. I knew what he was going to do before he did it.

He raised the gun.

And then instinct took over.

Adrenaline surged through me like lightning. I lunged forward, ignoring the pain, the blood, everything. The gun went off the same second I wrapped my arms around Arian—no, Kareena—pulling her tight against me.

Her scream was muffled against my chest. I felt the bullet tear through me—a searing, white-hot pain that made my knees buckle.

I didn’t care.

I held her tighter, shielding her with everything I had left. My heart hammered weakly against hers.

“Kareena,” I rasped in her ear, my voice fading. “Kareena…”

If I had to die, this was how I wanted it—to die holding her. To die knowing I’d finally found her.