Chapter 71: Mariana's Pov

When we walk into the silence of my parent's manor and shut the door behind us with a solid thud, Alejandro strides ahead without even sparing me a stare, his steps heavy and loud against the marble floor.

He's angry, aggravated.

He simply doesn't like to be kept in the dark, but for my plan to work, he needs to remain in the dark.

I follow at a leisurely pace, the corner of my lips tugging upward despite the tension radiating off him. "Alejandro. . . you shouldn't go to sleep holding a grudge." I call out, intending to placate him.

"Do you even care?" he hisses, stopping abruptly and turning to face me. His dark eyes are stormy, his jaw tight with frustration.

"About what?" I ask innocently, folding my arms as I meet his glare.

"About what you just did," he says, his voice low but brimming with anger. "You knew Mariano wasn't there. You knew, and yet you dragged us into a warzone."

I tilt my head, feigning surprise. "It wasn't a warzone, Alejandro. It was… strategic chaos."

His brows shoot up. "Strategic chaos?"

I shrug, walking past him toward the sitting room. "I had to make sure they believed I was desperate. And now they do. You'll see. Mariano will be back soon."

"At what cost, Mariana?" he growls, following after me. "What price have you paid to make you so confident that your brother will return soon?"

"You'll know soon, but for now, you need to stop pushing for answers because you'll get none."

"Can you even hear yourself?" He growls, "you can't just gamble with lives to make a point."

I stop in my tracks and turn to him, my eyes narrowing. "And what would you have me do? Sit here twiddling my thumbs while my brother rots in their hands? If you have a better plan, Alejandro, by all means, share it. But until then, stop acting like you know better."

Before he can retort, the sound of footsteps draws both our attention. My parents emerge from the adjoining room, their expressions a mix of relief and reproach.

My father's sharp gaze locks onto mine, his authoritative presence filling the space. My mother stands beside him, her lips pressed into a tight line, her disapproval evident.

My gaze turns to Alejandro, my tone sharp when I grit out, "fucking go upstairs, this has nothing to do with you!"

"Don't fucking speak to me in that tone!" He retorts with a scream.

I chuckle. "I thought you like it when I order you around? Fucking pathetic."

"That's enough!" My father intervenes, his voice causing fear to erupt deep in my soul. In the silence that follow, I hear Alejandro's heavy footsteps as it ascends the stairs.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Why do I keep messing up?

"What is wrong with you, Mariana," my father begins, his voice cold and controlled. "What were you thinking?"

I smile, a small, almost imperceptible curve of my lips. "Good evening to you too, Papa."

"Don't play coy with me," he snaps, taking a step closer. "We've heard about your little stunt. Charging into danger like that without any guarantee of success. Have you lost your mind?"

"On the contrary," I say calmly, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. "Everything went exactly as I planned."

"Planned?" my mother cuts in, her tone sharp. "Risking your life and the lives of your men for nothing is your idea of planning?"

A small laugh escapes in my throat, my throat bobbing. "For nothing. . ." I repeat, finding amusement in the statement. "What I did was set the tone for my brother's return."

"No," my mother seethes, "what you did was wipe out every single person working for us and then took your men, my men and put them in danger! You all walked right into a trap because of you! What were you thinking?!"

"You pushed right into a trap mother, and that cost five months of my freedom. Do you see me complaining and singing your ears off about that?" I reply, my voice steady.

My mother draws her head back, her brows squeezing into a furrow. She heaves a breath and groans. "What I did was give a mission, and I was clear with my instructions when I told you what needed to be done. You killing that man was never part of your mission, you sleeping with your husband's brother under the same roof was never part of your mission. You brought this upon yourself!"

Silence.

I don't speak, don't offer a response. I take a step back and stare at my brother, my brows twitching. Her firm demeanor falters for a moment before she gathers herself together, holding my gaze.

A scoff breezes through me, my head bobbing once in a nod. "I apologize for not wanting to tackle this situation the way you both would prefer me to. But I'm sure that the result will be a positive one. Mariano will come back to us."

"At what cost?" My father demands. "Do you even understand the position you've put us in? The risks you're taking?"

I tilt my head, unbothered by his scolding. "You taught me that taking risks is part of the game, Papa. I'm just playing it the way you would."

My father's face hardens, and for a moment, I think he might actually lose his temper. But he doesn't. He takes a deep breath, his gaze cold and assessing. "This isn't a game, Mariana. You're playing with lives, with the reputation of this family."

"And I'll win," I say simply, my voice unwavering.

"You're unbelievable," my mother mutters, shaking her head. "You could've gotten yourself killed. Is that winning to you?"

I roll my shoulders back, exuding confidence. "I'm here, aren't I? Mariano will be too, soon enough. You'll see."

My father shakes his head, his expression unreadable now. "You've always been headstrong, but this. . . This is reckless."

"Reckless or not, it's working," I say firmly. "And that's all that matters."

They don't have a response to that. My father stares at me for a moment longer before turning on his heel and walking away, my mother following closely behind.

"One day," he says quietly, "your luck's going to run out."

I smirk, my confidence unshaken. "Then I'll just have to make sure it doesn't."

Seconds turn into minutes and minutes into hours. I pace back and forth in the living room, my mind running in circles, wondering if I struck a good deal.

I did.

I definitely did.

He'll be back soon. He has too.

My head spins with fatigue and I almost fall, but I catch myself before I hit the ground. I'm probably tired from all the fighting we did tonight. And I am hungry.

But I won't eat. . . can't eat. Not until I'm certain this has worked out.

More hours pass. And in those hours, I've cursed, pulled my hair, chewed on my fingers, downed several glasses of water, and yet, nothing has changed.

The sun is starting to rise, and I'm starting to feel drowsy.

Fuck.

If he doesn't return, I'll wreck havoc, rain down hell on those fuckers.

It's as though the universe hears me, because guns click but no shots are fired. I hear footsteps both inside and outside the manor. Soon, my parents are running towards me, their guns held firm.

Do they even sleep?

And then Alejandro also appears.

He definitely couldn't sleep.

The footsteps outside the door are soft, tired, dragged. And then the handle twists. It slowly opens and my father points his gun at the space. I place my hand over his, shaking my head at him, silently begging him to put down his gun.

He does.

And when the figure appears, I stumble, a staggered cry leaving my mother and myself simultaneously.

It's my brother. It's Mariano.

He's alive, well, but he looks so dead, so empty.

I look at the space behind him, waiting for Leah to appear. When she doesn't, understanding dawns.

Mariano's eyes are on us, staring at us like we're strangers. I want to move forward, to say something, but I'm suddenly rooted to a spot.

A few long seconds pass and he finally looks away, his gaze shifting to the stairs. Then he starts walking. I run after him.

"Mariano. . ." I whisper his name. He doesn't answer.

He lifts his leg, intending to climb the stairs, but he loses his footing and stumbles. I catch him before he falls. And then I hug him.

He doesn't hug me back at first. His arms are limp at his sides, yet, I hold him tighter.

"Mariano. . ." I cry into his neck, "I've missed you. Did you miss me, huh?"

I feel the flex of his muscles. And then his hands move slowly until they're wrapped around me.

"They killed her, Maria. . . and I watched as they ripped off her head. . ."

Then he collapses against me.