Chapter 45

Shay-Lee

The morgue was as cold as you would imagine, draining the last bit of heat from your body and leaving you paralyzed in the shadow of death.

Standing next to the door, I watched as Camilo stepped closer to the metal table in the middle of the room. Dressed all in black, he stood out in the too-white space. Nodding once, the mortician took off the shroud from the body only to reveal the head.

Brief recognition crossed Camilo's face as he pressed his lips together and swallowed hard. The mortician was about to lift the white cloth back when Camilo stopped him.

"No," he said, his voice hoarse, as he moved closer and rested the back of his palm against his brother's cheek. "Not yet." He pushed his hand over Iván's short hair and leaned close, pressing their foreheads together.

The first turmoil went through his body as his shoulders began to quiver. I couldn't stand watching him break apart, so I stepped out into the hall.

Leaning my back against the wall, I closed my eyes and tried to erase the image of Iván's pale face from my mind, but as Camilo's cry breached through the walls, I broke down in tears with him, unable to stop. A sound I had never heard before came out of that room—a sound of grief so deep that it made you lose faith. Like an animal in pain, Camilo's cry pierced its way straight into my soul, making his agony mine.

I didn't know how long I was in that hall, pressing my fist to my mouth to hush my sobs, or how long Camilo was inside that room grieving over his older brother, but by the time he stepped out, he wasn't the same.

His eyes looked haunted, his face was pale, and when I tried to give him back the jacket he'd lent me before we got here, he refused, walking away. He left the hospital, bypassing the car, and kept on walking. To where? I didn't know, and I doubted he did either, but I didn't dare to ask. Instead, I followed him in silence until the first ray of sun painted the sky in multiple shades of beautiful hues. That was another thing about death. No matter how unfair it was, the sun would always rise the next day as if nothing had ever happened.

We walked until we ended up at the beach, and only then did Camilo stop and sit down. With his elbows on his knees, he gazed at the ocean before us. Slowly, I moved to sit beside him. The sand was still cold and wet with moisture from the night, but I doubted he cared as he stared into the unknown.

Another hour passed before he finally spoke.

"He was so excited about getting out," he said, his eyes never leaving the far horizon. "He kept telling me about all the things he wanted to do." His lips twisted. "None of that's going to happen now."

Shifting closer to him, I put my hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, Camilo. So sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about." Putting his hand on mine, he shifted aside. "He's dead because of me."

My brows angled down in a deep frown. "That's not true."

The muscle in his jaw twitched. "But it is. Yesterday, I punched Dion. A few hours later, Iván was stabbed fifteen times."

"No." Grabbing his hand, I forced him to look at me. "It was just a coincidence. They said he got into a fight in the yard."

A grimace twisted his face after he attempted to smile. "You know better than I do that there's no coincidence in life. Only circumstances."

I shrank with the coldness of his words.

"You can't put that on yourself."

"I can, and I am." He rejected my words and got up. "I keep thinking about his last moments. What he thought. How I'd failed him so close to the finish line."

"Camilo—"

"I'm going to kill Dion." His expression closed up. "I'll put a bullet between that motherfucker's eyes, but only after I make him beg for it."

I quickly rose to my feet and moved to stand before him. "The fuck are you talking about?"

He stared at me with cold eyes before looking away. "You heard me."

"You think I'm going to let you kill him?" An insane amount of rage took over me, and I snapped. "Are you nuts?"

"I'm not asking for your permission."

Gritting my teeth, I shoved him. "You're an idiot."

"Hey!" he shouted as I hit him again, harder this time.

"You think I'm about to let you toss your life in the fucking garbage?" I pushed him hard enough that we both crashed down into the sand and began wrestling until we ended up with me on top.

"Get off of me!" Camilo growled, trying to push me off him, but I used every bit of strength I had to fight him back.

"No." I pinned him harder to the sand, my hands on his rising chest. "Let's say you do manage to kill Dion and get out of it alive, which is unlikely, considering he's a fucking mobster surrounded by a shitload of armed guards, do you think I'm gonna let you go to prison?"

"Get. Off," he hissed through gritted teeth, but I stood my ground even stronger.

"Answer my question," I shouted, spittle hitting his face. "Are you willing to throw your life away? To leave me behind?"

"Fuck no! But what am I supposed to do?" he shouted back, dropping his hands around me and moving them to cover his face. "What the fuck am I supposed to do? He killed him. He fucking killed him—shit." His voice broke, turning his words into a cry of pain.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned down and hugged him close. "I'm not saying Dion shouldn't pay for what he did. He should. The son of a bitch needs to get what he deserves, but not on your account. You promised never to leave me, so keep that promise."

"So what do I do?"

I placed my hands on his and brought them down so he could face me.

"You let me fix things for you."

His body tensed, and he narrowed his bloodshot eyes at me. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I'm going to be the devil that I am and make sure he pays for what he did." God be my witness, did I know how to be one. A devil. Camilo often thought he was the monster between us, but he couldn't be more wrong. While his soul was pure and gentle, mine was dark and vengeful.

My father had taught me many things, and one of them was how to never get my own hands dirty. It was why, throughout all my years in high school, I let others do the dirty work and carry out my depravity for me. Only this time, my wrath wouldn't be unleashed for nothing, but on devils who deserved it.

"I already have a plan," I said, caressing his beautiful face. "But it can wait a while longer." There would always be time for vengeance. I knew that better than anyone. What I didn't know was solace, and it was about damn time I learned that, too.

"Tell me about him," I said, then leaned in to kiss Camilo's cheek. "Tell me about Iván."

For the first time since he got that call, his eyes softened as he looked at me with—

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely. "Thank you for being here."

Gratitude. That was the look in his eyes, and it gave me the courage I needed to rescue him.

No.

To rescue us.