Violent Triumphs

by Jessica Hawkins

I made the sign of the cross, part of me hoping Diego found peace in the afterlife while I also damned him to Hell.

  He was dead, and to make sure of it, I would cut his throat.

  And then I’d have to prepare for the possibility of defeating a troop of armed men.

  I went to the desk, grabbed the computer mouse, and clicked on the CCTV program. A minimized window opened with a grid view of surveillance from different cameras. This time, it didn’t broadcast to the overhead monitors. I squinted and quickly re-counted the guards. The two in the warehouse were the greatest threat, but I only spotted one now as he leaned against a metal shelving unit, scrolling through his phone. I leaned forward, searching each display. Where was the other one? And where in relation to the office were—

  My forehead slammed against the computer screen, blurring my vision. Something pinched my upper arm. A fist in the back of my hair yanked me to the ground.

  On my back, the room spun so fast, I gagged. Diego stood over me, skull bashed in, blood dripping into his eyes, onto my dress.

  My head pounded, my eyes crossing as vomit rose up my throat. I forced it back down. Don’t lose consciousness. Stay here.

  He was half-dead. I needed to get up and finish the job, but my limbs suddenly felt as if they weighed hundreds of kilos.

  Diego’s wobbling legs gave out. He sank to his knees and fell on the ground next to me. My attention drew to pain in my upper arm where I’d felt the pinch just now. It smarted as if I’d been stabbed with a small blade.

  I struggled to lift my head. A syringe stuck out of my biceps. And Diego had his thumb on the plunger, pushing down on it, grimacing as if it took all of his effort to empty it into me . . .

  Moving in slow motion, I reached over. He was losing consciousness, and I managed to wrestle the syringe from him and yank it out. “Wh-what is that?” I asked, my voice sounding far away.

  His eyes drifted to the ceiling. As sweat trickled down his temple, he wheezed in such a painful sounding way that I felt it in my own chest and throat. “You’re . . . coming . . . with me,” he said and started to convulse.

  My lips tingled so strongly that I had to suck in a breath. A strange but not unpleasant prickling sensation moved down my jaw. Arms. Fingers.

  Numbing me.

  “What . . . what’s happening?” My lethargy glued me to the ground. I couldn’t even turn my head away, and I was forced to look at him. “What have you done?

  Diego stilled. His chest sank. His gaze went distant—as my mother’s had in her final moments. Life drained from his eyes as he said, “Escalera al Cielo.”

  And then he was gone.

  Stairway to Heaven. The memory came back in pieces. Diego humming Led Zeppelin. His casual reference over Coca Light that Juan Pablo Perez, the chemist from Nogales, was developing a new drug. Puffer fish toxins . . . sedative . . . a slowed heart rate . . .

  A round-trip ticket to Heaven. The most elusive and euphoric high.

  But with the wrong dosage, the stairway home vanished. Heaven became the final destination.

  Mustering all my energy, I lifted the syringe in front of my face and tried to focus my blurring vision. Almost . . . empty? No. God, no. If he’d overdosed me, I’d die right here on this floor. Tears filled my eyes as fear tremored through me, then fizzled with the onset of such intense happiness, I had the urge to smile.

  I needed to turn over. Get up. Crawl if I had to. But my body betrayed me. Exhilaration and satisfaction mingled in my stomach like a groundswell, rolling through each of my limbs, warming my face.

  Hide, Cristiano had told me. I couldn’t lift a limb. I slid on my back toward the desk. My arms and legs became noodles, loose and droopy, fatiguing with the effort.

  My nerves vibrated. A pleasant hum took over.

  I had to keep going. Escape. Hide. Fight.

  But I could only sink into the ground, as the sky pulled me up, up, up—and away.

  26

  Cristiano

  Max took the forest’s rough terrain as rapidly as he could, but every minute that passed felt like an hour, and we might as well have been moving in slow motion. As dusk began to fall, we crawled up an embankment of boulders. I braced myself against the roof of the Humvee to keep from smacking my head.

  Alejandro had a map spread out over the center console between the front seats as Gabriel directed us over speakerphone. Alejo removed the flashlight between his teeth and yelled over the scrape of the truck’s skid plates against rocks. “Repeat that.”

  “If my”—Gabriel’s voice cut in and out—“are correct, you . . . close.” The bouts of static over the line had gotten worse the farther we strayed from civilization. The kid had been directing us along the red-marker line he’d drawn on the map to indicate Belmonte-Ruiz’s network of tunnels, but it seemed we were about to lose contact. “Three clicks.”

  Three kilometers? “Until what?” I demanded.

  No answer.

  Max straightened up. “Are those tire tracks in the mud?”

  Could’ve been that, or nothing at all. “It’s getting dark.”

  “Look for . . .” Gabriel said. “Trees—”

  “A spot where trees have been cleared.” I pointed through the forest toward a muddy path just big enough for a car to pass through.

  Max ramped up his speed, barreling down the makeshift road. I rolled down my window and gestured ahead for Eduardo and the men in the vehicle behind us.

  I mashed my teeth together for the thousandth time since we’d left the Badlands. I had to believe there was an explanation for why Natalia had never called from Diego’s phone liked I’d instructed her to. Dead battery. Broken phone. No service.

  Any moment now, I’d have her back in my arms. She’d survive this. I knew it in my gut.

  When I’d returned earlier in the year, I’d watched Diego overlook and manipulate the best thing in his life. And so, I’d taken her from him. And nurtured her, watched her grow and change, from a girl to a woman, from my captive to my wife, and now, the mother of my child. Diego had underestimated Natalia for the last time, and today, she’d prevailed.

  She’d finish this. I’d trained her well. I trusted no one more than my men, and together, we’d taught her how to stay alive. She’d hang on until we got there. And then we’d torch the motherfucking place to the ground.

  “You have to be close.” Gabriel’s voice came through clearly. Alejo and I exchanged a look. The static was gone. We were near a cell tower. “This area is super isolated,” Gabe said, “and could serve as an entrance or exit to an underground passage.”

  Max looked over his shoulder. “If you’re leading us into a trap, you should know that you wouldn’t be the first. You wouldn’t be the last, either.”

  I didn’t condemn Max’s skepticism. Of all the crazy shit that’d crossed my mind in the past several hours, wondering if Gabe could be setting us up was a mild thought. Gabe had done everything asked of him, though. He enjoyed both being behind the computer and his lessons with Solomon. But Diego’s patience for revenge had been never-ending, and he’d fooled just about everyone, even me for longer than I cared to admit.

  Gabriel was deep enough inside our systems to do serious damage, but Natalia trusted him, and now, he was my only hope. I nodded Max on down the route laid out for us toward a destination none of us were even sure existed.

  From the backseat, Alejandro passed Max and me our artillery and loaded himself up next. Maksim accelerated toward a chain-link gate surrounding a brick structure.

  “Take it down,” I ordered.

  The hand of the speedometer flew higher as we rushed the gate and crashed right through.

  I waited for gunfire. Warning shots. Bullets to pepper the side panels or shatter the windshield’s exterior glass.

  Nothing.

  Silence.

  Max didn’t screech to a stop until we were meters from the door to what looked like a warehouse.

  I opened the door, using it as a shield as
I surveyed the area.

  “Maybe the tire tracks in the mud were going, not coming,” Max said when nothing happened.

  Or maybe we were in the wrong place.

  Fuck. I had to get inside.

  Alejandro opened his door. “We’ve got your back,” he said. “Go.”

  With an assault rifle strapped over my bulletproof vest, I pulled out my .45 and sprinted the short distance to the entrance. I shot the lock. Kicked open the door. Ducked inside.

  The expansive, well-lit space stood deathly still. Utterly silent.

  Just me. And the pounding of my heart.

  What if Natalia wasn’t here? What if she’d never been?

  No. She was here—hiding, like I’d told her. She had to be.

  I strode past a conveyor belt toward rows of metal shelving, glancing down each aisle as I called out her name. When I’d made a partial circuit of the perimeter, I started through the stacks. Kicked aside random bins. Concealed the panic in my voice as I said her name so she wouldn’t hear my fear.

  “Natalia.”

  Nothing.

  “Natalia.”

  Silence.

  “Natalia! Goddamn it!”

  A windowed security room sat ahead in one corner, lit by computer screens. Gun drawn, I strode toward the open door. I was greeted by the gentle hum of equipment.

  And a dead body.

  Diego.

  Even with his face smashed in and blood smeared everywhere, I recognized my brother. Was I supposed to feel something? I couldn’t muster anything except relief to find we were in the right place.

  But where was Natalia?

  Hiding? Taken?

  My throat began to close, and I struggled for air.

  I turned to resume searching the warehouse when my eyes snagged on a pair of bare feet sticking out from behind the desk.

  Toenails the color of the polish Natalia had waved in front of my face two days ago, begging for a pedicure. I hadn’t been able to say no. I’d do anything for those toes.

  I took a step forward.

  Anything for the slender calves I ran my mouth along any chance I got.

  For the hips that swayed against me when we danced. That kept my gaze whenever she left a room. That would bear my child.

  A buzz started in my ears. My boots grew heavier with each step. Pressure weighed on my chest. No breath entered or left my body as I rounded the corner.

  Arteries of black hair over the concrete ground reached from her pale, heart-shaped face. Eyes shut in peaceful rest. Slightly parted lips—pink and smiling that morning, now an alarming, icy blue.

  My handgun clattered to the ground. I dropped to my knees and shook her by the shoulders. “Natalia. Wake up, mi amor.” I’d just held her in my arms as we’d celebrated Bianca’s life. She’d been warm. Glowing and beautiful. Growing with life, I now knew.

  “We have to go. Get up!” I gripped her hand in mine. Cold. Limp. I held it to my collapsing chest and pressed my other fingers to the pulse under her jawbone.

  No heartbeat.

  That wasn’t possible.

  It couldn’t be right. I was just too panicked to find her carotid artery.

  I forced myself to exhale. Slid a hand under her head. Pulled her delicate frame into my lap, put my ear to her chest. Listened.

  But she’d fought. She’d won. I’d seen it with my own eyes.

  Natalia would not lose this battle. She was too strong, too good, had too much left to offer.

  I waited with my cheek against her chest. And waited. Her body vibrated under me. Her heart or mine? My own beat so strongly, I couldn’t hear anything else. Just silence.

  Dead silence.

  I couldn’t breathe. Air became water, thick and slow, drowning me. “Wake up, Natalia.”

  But her body didn’t lie. Her chest was a cavern. Mine hollowed out. My ribs caved in as my heart struggled, pounding hard and full of rage. “No,” I begged her. “No, no, no.”

  How? I ripped off my guns and bulletproof vest, kneeled back, and drew her body against me. There was a new gash on her head, but it’d barely even bled. No strangulation marks. No other wounds.

  I choked back an angry sob and yanked up her dress but only found smooth, untouched skin everywhere. No gunshot, injury—nothing had killed her. Why wasn’t she breathing? Why didn’t her heart beat?

  The useless muscles I’d built to protect, defend, and support held her up but could do nothing else. Hope drained from my body.

  Clenching my aching jaw, I placed her on the ground, put the heels of my hands between her breasts, and pushed on her chest once, twice, three times—over and over, then stopped to check for a pulse. Cupping the top of her head, I tilted back her chin and put my mouth to hers, breathing into her, willing her to life, calling her back from death’s doorstep.

  I should’ve never let her leave the float. I’d let my guard down. I’d turned my back, thinking Diego was dead. That Belmonte-Ruiz had moved on. I hadn’t trained her how to fight in case she ever got pregnant—why hadn’t I thought of it? Why hadn’t I gotten here faster? What had happened between our call and now?

  “Come on, Natalia.” I returned to chest compressions. “You promised to come home to me—”

  Nothing. No soul left in her. I didn’t want to admit it, but I’d known it the moment I’d seen her.

  She was gone.

  My unborn child gone.

  My life . . . gone.

  Boots pounded the pavement of the warehouse, drawing closer until they stopped behind me.

  “Cristiano,” Max said, his voice breaking as his footsteps resumed. “Come on. We can’t stay.”

  I sat back, staring at her. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t . . . anything. I’d rushed into this warehouse certain I’d come out with Natalia—not in my arms but by my side.

  “Cristiano.”

  I ignored Max. Someone had to pay for this. Now. Today. “Where are they?”

  “Belmonte-Ruiz isn’t here anymore. They must’ve found the bodies and left. But they could come back any minute—”

  I gritted my teeth. “I want to be here when they do.”

  “Then you’ll leave in a body bag.” Max had my shirt in two fists before I knew it, yanking me to my feet. “Put your vest back on.” He shook me as his eyes burned with—what? Fear? Anger? Grief? “Pick up your wife and take her home. Give her a proper burial. You owe her that and so much more.” He shoved me away. “Do you want them to carry her corpse out of here with yours?”

  Yes. If it meant avenging her, then yes. I shut my eyes, but I still saw her lying on the ground.

  “Look at her, Cristiano,” Max ordered. “Look at your wife.”

  I couldn’t. I couldn’t face it.

  “Will you abandon her here?” he asked.

  Abandon? Never. No. I couldn’t do that to her.

  She needed me—even in death. I had to get it together and take her body home, somewhere safe. I called on strength deep within and forced myself to turn back to Natalia.

  The starkness of her lifeless frame was no less shocking. My pulse vanished; my blood ceased to flow.

  “How’d this happen?” Max said, searching the ground. “She was alive when—”

  “I don’t know.” It didn’t matter. I stared at her. All the lives I’d taken, and I’d never seen anyone so still. So unresponsive. Maybe, since Bianca, I’d never cared enough to look.

  “Pick her up,” he said.

  For once, I had no idea what to do—so I listened to Max.

  I lifted her body to my chest as I stood and walked out the building, into the dark, to the forest.

  I paused at the door to the vehicle as a breeze moved through the leaves of the trees.

  Not leaves. Not a breeze.

  Butterflies.

  Overhead, thousands of monarchs covered the firs, fluttering their wings. Natalia had found comfort whenever one was near, thinking it was the departed soul of her mother returned to check on her.

  B
ut not me.

  I had faith in very few things, and in even less now.

  “Fuck you.” In my arms, Natalia was simultaneously deadweight and light as a sparrow. “Fuck you for taking her from me.”

  Boots sounded behind me. Max and Alejandro appeared at my side. “Oh, God . . .” Alejo said. “No.”

  “Get in,” Max said. “We’re in enemy territory. Get in.”

  I carried Natalia into the backseat, cradling her against me.

  I’d done everything in my power to bring Natalia back into this life. I’d promised her my protection. I had failed her. I should’ve left her alone. Costa’s words about Bianca’s death many months ago rang through my ears.

  “I wouldn’t wish my pain or guilt on any man.”

  I understood now. Bringing Natalia into this world hadn’t just risked her life but mine, too. Maybe Costa was strong enough to live without Bianca, but I wasn’t without Natalia. If that made me a coward, then I was one to my core.

  As we pulled away from the warehouse, I put my face to Natalia’s. I kissed the dried tears on her cheeks, her wet lashes and cold lips. A sigh escaped her, and I swallowed it. Even death’s rattle came soft and gentle from her sweet mouth.

  “Heaven or Hell, I will find you,” I whispered to her. “I will make Belmonte-Ruiz pay, and it will be the last thing I do before I join you.”

  A sense of calm fell over me knowing I would be with her again soon.

  27

  Cristiano

  I stayed at the back of the dark chapel that anchored the Badlands’ town square. Somewhere in the hours between midnight and dawn, Max, Alejandro, and Eduardo lit candles and prayed at the altar where Natalia’s body had been laid. Already, her father, Barto, and Pilar had been to see with their own eyes. Tomorrow would be the velorio before Natalia’s burial, but I could not bring myself to celebrate life as was accustomed at our wakes. I would say my good-byes tonight.

  Max rose first and put his phone to his ear to answer a call. Even God’s house was not exempt from the demands of work. Maksim looked down the aisle at me, nodded, and came in my direction. “Gracias for the update,” he said, hung up, and addressed me. “We need to speak.”