‘Look who’s here,’ Thomas whistles. ‘Didn’t think I’d see you anytime soon, mate.’
He’s sitting at his desk, feet propped in the air, newspaper in hand.
‘Panchito. Where is he?’ I ask, looking around.
I know Carlos isn’t here yet, since he’d promised me he would look into the rental place on the downlow.
‘He should be in the back with Anita. Why?’
I ignore his question.
After we’d started suspecting Panchito of being the mole, both Carlos and I had started surveying his movements very closely. We hadn’t told anyone else in the crew in case our suspicions ended up being unfounded.
Since he was our friend, we didn’t want to jump the gun and accuse him of something so foul as betrayal.
But that was before, and this is now.
I don’t care who I have to go through to get some information, and if Panchito knows something about Michele…he better talk.
I crane my neck, releasing some of the tension in my tendons before stalking to the back of the warehouse.
Panchito and Anita are lounging on a couch, playing video games and laughing.
Laughing while my heart is missing.
My mind goes blank as my hand shoots out, wrapping itself around Panchito’s throat. His eyes go wide when he sees himself off the ground, my fingers locked tightly against his airways.
Looking him straight in the eye, I utter only one thing.
‘Michele.’
He blinks at me, but his face turns a deep shade of red—a sign of his guilt.
At this point, I don’t care about excuses. I don’t care about anything but the truth and any information that might help me find Noelle.
Flinging him to the side, he hits the ground, his right shoulder bearing the brunt of it as he moans in pain.
‘Raf, what the hell is wrong with you?’ Anita shouts, going to his side.
‘Stay out of this. It doesn’t concern you,’ I tell her as I stride to Panchito’s side, grabbing him again and dragging him towards the fighting area.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers repeatedly.
I wince, the confirmation jarring to my ears.
‘Talk,’ I order as I shove him on the mattress.
When he doesn’t make any effort to open his mouth, I simply uncuff my shirt, rolling my sleeves up before stepping forward.
He’s prepared for the first punch, and he manages to duck. But he isn’t for the second. Or the third. He’s definitely not prepared for me to pummel away at his face.
Vaguely, I hear Anita calling out my name before yelling for Thomas. But that doesn’t stop me from going even harder at him, all the while asking him about my brother.
‘I can’t…’
‘You can,’ I say resolutely.
‘Raf, what the fuck,’ Thomas jumps in the ring as he grabs me from behind, pulling me off Panchito.
Bloody and beaten to a pulp, he just lays there. His guilt is written all over his face, and that makes me even madder as I stare at him.
‘You betrayed us,’ I yell. ‘You fucking sold us out.’
He tips his chin down, avoiding my stare.
‘Pancho, what’s this about?’ Thomas asks, looking between the two.
Anita dashes to Panchito’s side with a wet towel in her hands as she tries to clean the blood off him.
‘Tell them it’s not true,’ she whispers, her tone full of disappointment.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers.
My blood boiling, I start struggling in Thomas’ hold.
‘You…’ I see red, suddenly realizing that everything until now had been because of him. ‘Get the fuck off me, I’m going to kill him,’ I keep kicking until Thomas has a hard time holding me.
Just in time, though, Carlos arrives at the scene.
Instead of helping me out though, he helps Thomas to restrain me further.
‘Not you too,’ I spit, looking between all of them. ‘He knows something. He must know something…’
‘And he will tell us. But he can’t do that if he’s dead, Raf,’ Carlos shakes his head at me. ‘Look, I get you’re suffering. I get that,’ his hands on my shoulders, he positions himself in front of me, a buffer between me and Pancho. ‘But if you kill him, you’re not going to get any answers.’
‘He won’t talk,’ I grit out.
‘Did you even let him?’ He rolls his eyes at me.
‘Try,’ I tip my chin at him. ‘Try and see if he talks.’
‘Hold him,’ Carlos barks the order to Thomas, who secures his grip on me, taking a step back and putting more distance between me and my object of destruction.
Carlos walks to where Anita is tending to Pancho, kneeling down and looking at him.
His expression is severe—entirely unlike the Carlos we all know. Most of the times he’s like the bigger brother we’ve all never had. But now… Now he looks like a disappointed father.
‘We know it was you who messed with the computers, Panchito. You can stop lying.’
He blinks, his eyes swollen as he flinches at Carlos’ words.
‘Why now then? Why didn’t you say anything before?’ he whispers, his words barely audible.
‘We wanted to do a thorough investigation. We didn’t want to accuse you without all the proof. We also wanted to give you a chance to come to us of your own volition. Why did you think I mentioned the incident so many times?’
Panchito shakes his head, wrenching his gaze away.
‘Will you kill me?’
‘Yes,’ I grit out at the same time Carlos says, ‘No.’
‘What?’ my eyes widen, and I give Thomas a hard shove. The big guy has me well and truly caught, though and it’s all in vain.
‘Tell us what we need to know and we won’t do anything.’
Panchito dares to look at me. Upon seeing the anger in my gaze, though, he addresses Carlos.
‘I didn’t want to do it,’ he starts, telling us how Michele had monopolized the supply of medicine Anita needs for her genetic condition.
‘You know it’s the only thing that keeps her alive and living,‘ he pleads.
‘Go on,’ Carlos mentions, sparing me a glance.
‘Initially he only asked me to give Raf false info about his whereabouts.’
‘So the reports were all fake?’ I narrow my eyes at him.
‘Semi,’ he sighs. ‘He didn’t go out much, that was true. But the few instances he did, I kept from you. That and…’ he promptly shuts his mouth.
‘That and what?’ I demand, coldness seeping through me at his declarations.
‘He was seeing someone and he didn’t want anyone to know.’
I frown, remembering some texts we’d read—texts Panchito had supplied, so I ask him exactly that.
‘Yes. He wanted it to be found out eventually, but not in the beginning,’ he explains.
‘Who was she?’
Panchito purses his lips.
‘Venezia Lastra.’
I blink, wholly taken aback.
‘You mean…’
He gives a brisk nod.
‘Since when?’ I ask on a groan, already feeling a headache forming.
‘A year? Around a year,’ he says in a dejected tone.
‘A year?’ The disbelief is written all over my face, mainly because Venezia just recently turned eighteen. But that’s not even the worst, because if Michele is Nicolo’s biological son, that means…
‘Fuck,’ I curse out loud.
Now everything makes sense. The revenge porn. Marcello’s sudden stint in prison. Everything makes fucking sense because there’s only one person who would be fucked up enough to do that—and also have the resources and motivation to do it.
‘All this time we’ve been trying to work out the situation with Lastra and you fucking knew?’ I spit out, my rage mounting by the moment.
He has the decency to look ashamed. Still, I’m not appeased.
‘You were my friend, Panchito. You fucking sold me out.’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ he briefly protests before Carlos gives him a stern look.
‘You could have come to us about the medicine problem. You could have reached out,’ Carlos shakes his head.
Meanwhile, Anita is staring at Panchito open mouthed. It’s clear she had no idea what he’d been up to, and her expression is one of absolute desolation.
‘How could you,’ she whispers, her voice breaking.
‘I’m sorry,’ he takes a deep breath.
‘What about Noelle then?’ I ask, since that is the only thing I need to know.
‘I had no idea. I didn’t even know he was going to strike so soon.’
He gives us a short account of what he’d gathered about his plan at the piano concert, and how he hadn’t ended up dead.
The more I hear, the more I can’t believe this is the same Michele I knew growing up.
In our teenage years, he was the absolute prodigal son—drinking, whoring and engaging in every vice possible. If there was a party in the city, he was there.
He never struck me as the cunning, or wildly intelligent type.
I was wrong.
Because if what Panchito is saying is true, then Michele isn’t just intelligent. He’s a fucking genius.
And he’s been one step ahead of me this whole time.
‘He wants to make you suffer,’ Panchito suddenly says. ‘But it’s not the physical type of pain he’s interested in.’
‘Emotional warfare,’ I grunt.
‘He’s only using Noelle against you because he saw how much you care about her. But if there’s anything we’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s not who we think he is. And because of that, it’s almost impossible to predict how he’s going to behave.’ Carlos adds thoughtfully. ‘We need to approach this carefully. Panchito,’ he turns to him, studying him from head to toe. ‘Are you willing to help us out?’
‘You’re going to trust him?’ I glare at Carlos, the idea preposterous.
‘Do you have another alternative, Raf?’
I curse under my breath. He’s right. As much as I don’t want to count on Panchito right now, he’s the only one who could point us in the right direction.
Right at that moment, my phone rings in my pocket. Still holding me back, it’s Carlos who comes to my side, taking it out.
‘You have a text message,’ he frowns. ‘Number unknown.’ He pauses as he looks at me. ‘If Thomas releases you, are you going to behave?’ He raises a brow at me.
‘Fine,’ I mumble, and the moment my hands are free, I snatch the phone from his hand.
But as I open the text message, it’s to feel my entire world come crashing down on me.
It’s Noelle. Naked.
I take a deep breath, a wave of nausea rolling through me.
On her chest, someone had painted one word in a white, viscous substance—semen. And it spells used.
‘I’m going to fucking kill you,’ I burst out, dropping my phone and jumping on Panchito once more, not caring about anyone else around me or the fact that I’m completely out of control.
‘Restrain him,’ Carlos yells.
Before I know it, I find myself cuffed to the bars of the fighting ring, everyone staring at me with odd expressions.
‘What the fuck, Raf. What’s wrong with you?’ Thomas’ wide eyes meet mine as he shakes his head in disbelief.
‘What’s wrong with me?’ I get the urge to laugh. ‘What’s wrong is that my fucking lunatic of a brother probably…’ I trail off, barely able to say the words. ‘He probably raped her,’ I hiss brokenly, ‘and I wasn’t there to protect her.’
Tears sting my eyes at the thought of Michele anywhere near Noelle. But to have laid a hand on her. To have…
It makes me ill just thinking about it.
Fucking hell, how is my pretty girl doing? How…
‘Let me go,’ I tell him, my voice unyielding. ‘I need to see the photo again.’
They are skeptical about my quick change of attitude, but a little coaxing, and Carlos releases me again. Grabbing my phone, I zoom in on the picture, wanting to study every inch of it in search of a clue.
But just as I think it’s useless, just as I think grief is about to overwhelm me, I see it.
Above the d on her chest there is a small, curved line under which lies a barely discernible dot.
All at once, my shoulders sag in relief.
She’s fine.
‘She’s good,’ I say the words out loud, explaining she’d placed a strategic fermata over the word—the musical sign for stop, or pause.
This means that she’d been the one to write the words on her own chest and that means she might not have been harmed. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. Because to picture otherwise… I don’t know how I would make it.
‘You want to help?’ I take a step towards Panchito. Everyone tenses, ready to move to hold me back in case I jump on him again. ‘Get me the coordinates from where this picture was taken.’ I tell him.
He nods effusively, immediately getting to work.
An hour or so later, though, he has grim news.
‘He altered the metadata. I can’t trace it. I’m sorry.’
‘Damn,’ I swear, and Thomas is immediately at my side to ensure I don’t kill Panchito.
‘Fuck. Fine. Fine. I’ll behave. But you,’ I point at him, ‘are going to tell me everything from the beginning. Every single interaction you’ve ever had with my brother. And don’t you dare leave one thing out.’
Panchito ends up telling me everything, including how Michele had approached him and threatened him with Anita’s safety. It’s been an open secret for a while now that he’s had feelings for her, so it doesn’t surprise me he would jump at the opportunity to save her.
After all, wouldn’t I do the same?
I’d fucking move mountains for my pretty girl. Yet now I find myself unable to do anything.
‘He’s going to contact you again,’ he suddenly says. ‘But not immediately. He wants you to despair, and only then will he contact you with his terms.’
‘You seem to know him pretty well,’ I lift a brow.
‘He’s trying to wear you out emotionally,’ he shrugs. ‘He’s very manipulative. You have to be careful of that.’
I grunt.
‘That doesn’t mean I forgive you.’
‘I know,’ he gives me a sad smile. ‘And I’m sorry for what I did. But I know if you were in my shoes you’d have done the same.’
‘And that’s the only reason why there isn’t a bullet in your skull right now, Pancho,’ I tell him grimly. ‘I know far too well the pain of losing someone, so I will spare you this time. But that doesn’t mean…’
‘That doesn’t mean we’re back to what we were,’ he interjects and I nod.
‘The trust is broken. And if there’s no trust, there’s nothing.’
His shoulders sag in disappointment but he nods at my statement, taking his laptop and limping away. Looking at his shape, it seems I got him pretty bad—not that I regret any of it.
A short conversation with Carlos later, and I return home.
Cisco is in his office, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he stares at the night sky.
I give him a brief update about what I’d gathered, but he only nods, barely acknowledging me.
It’s only when I’m about to exit that he speaks.
‘We’ll get her back. And we’ll get her back alive,’ he says, his voice distant.
‘We will.’
I’m about to head to the piano room, knowing I would not be able to sit still anywhere else, when the sound of a sweet melody beckons me to the living room.
Yuyu is comforting her son, rocking him softly in her arms as she increases the volume on the television.
I freeze as I recognize this as one of Noelle’s pieces—her style unmistakable. And as the camera focuses better on her, she looks younger. Her expression is light, her smile intoxicating as she plays to her heart’s content.
‘She’s got a unique talent, doesn’t she?’ Yuyu suddenly speaks.
Her son seems to have fallen asleep, yet she keeps swaying him in her arms, the gesture soothing for the infant.
‘She does,’ I reply in a low voice, not wanting to wake him up.
‘Don’t lose hope. We’ll get her back, one way or another.’
‘I know we will,’ I give her a strained smile.
Yet the question remains… At what cost?
Either something will have happened to her, or it will happen to me. It’s unavoidable.
At the same time, even knowing I might be going to my own death, I’ll do whatever it takes to get her out alive and well.
‘You know,’ Yuyu starts, her eyes still glued to the television. ‘When she’s with you I get glimpses of the old her. The one before…’ she trails off, swallowing hard.
‘Before Sergio.’
She gives a brisk nod.
‘We were wrong to agree to the match. We were so wrong,’ she shakes her head.
I don’t reply, merely leaning against the door frame as I wait for her to continue.
‘Do you know how it all came about?’
I shake my head, and on a sad note she starts talking.
‘Cisco was supposed to marry Sergio’s sister. Obviously, he didn’t,’ she gives a dry laugh. ‘Sergio was incredibly pissed about it. He kidnapped our son in retribution, and safe to say, Cisco was forced to sign the marriage contract.’
She takes a deep breath.
‘Maybe we should have found another way around it. Maybe I should have killed him. But we had no idea he was such an evil man,’ she shakes her head, bringing a finger to her eyes to remove a tear. ‘No one knew anything until we got that call from the hospital. That they’d found her—the only survivor in that entire goddamn place. We heard the extent of her injuries and that’s when we knew we’d fucked up.’
‘Does she know?’ I ask quietly. ‘Does she know why Cisco agreed to the marriage contract?’
Yuyu shakes her head.
‘He never told her. He’s stubborn like that,’ she chuckles. ‘He wanted her to hate him so she could pull herself together.’
‘He succeeded.’
‘He’s never forgiven himself.’ She half-turns to me, her expression melancholic. ‘He’s never forgiven himself for it. It may not seem so,’ a strange smile pulls at her lips. ‘But my husband is a complicated man. He doesn’t open up to people and is ok with everyone believing the worst of him.’
‘Not you,’ I raise a brow.
She shakes her head, an amused expression on her face.
‘He’s an extension of me, just like I am an extension of him. But I reckon you know the feeling,’ she tilts her head to the side, studying me.
I nod.
‘We’ve wronged her all her life. I’ll leave it to you to make it right, Raf. Make her happy,’ she pauses, her tone sad. ‘I doubt she’s ever been.’
‘I’ll get her back. And I’ll make her the happiest woman alive,’ I tell her sincerely.
‘I’m glad we have an understanding,’ she smiles warmly, lowering her head to press a kiss to her son’s forehead.
I pivot, ready to head upstairs when something stops me in my tracks. Slowly, I turn around to watch the screen.
‘You guys came,’ a young Noelle remarks, a precious smile on her face.
‘We told you we wouldn’t miss the show,’ Yuyu replies, going forward to hug her.
‘You did well, Noelle,’ Cisco praises in his usual nonchalant fashion.
‘It’s my newest composition. I spent months perfecting it,’ she adds, an effusing bliss imbuing her words.
It’s not her intoxicating happiness that strikes a chord in me. It’s not her youthful beauty and her unspoiled innocence. It’s the cadence of her voice.
So light and carefree. So…
My eyes close as I let it wash over me, a soothing taste of vanilla custard settling on my tongue. It speaks of comfort and shelter in the middle of the storm—of inconsolable nights made bearable only by the sweetness of that tone.
The shock that should have overtaken my body is replaced by an unexpected calm as all my senses reel into alignment. A startling tranquility starts at the base of my skull and travels down my body, all the pieces slowly fitting together.
As much as my brain reacts to the new information as it would any shocking revelation, my entire being slowly becomes used to the idea as if I’d known it from the beginning. The signs converge into one single conviction.
Fate.
It was fate.
She was my light all along—mi luz.
Noelle smiles at the camera, waving enthusiastically, and my heart tugs painfully in my chest.
‘I love you, pretty girl,’ I whisper, saying the words out loud for the first time.
Under any name, or identity, it’s her. It’s always been her.
The only woman I’ve ever loved—the only woman I’ll ever love.
