Chapter 12
Twelve
Angela
I dash from the smoldering ruins of the bakery, my lungs burning as I suck in the thick smoke that hangs heavy in the air. Adrenaline propels my aching legs forward, my mind racing as I try to make sense of what just happened.
The abandoned cement factory looms ahead, a crumbling labyrinth of rusted metal and shattered concrete. I weave my way through the debris, the distant crashing of waves against the shore guiding me back towards the docks. Towards the sleek boats and ships anchored in the harbor, gleaming like a beacon.
As I break free from the dilapidated ruins and stumble onto the weathered planks, my heart sinks. I know that yacht. My father had pictures of it sent to me while I was in seminary school. He was so proud Miguel was able to buy it. It didn’t matter that I absolutely hate sailing or that I couldn’t swim, all my father and brother could think of is how rich Miguel was and how much they would get after he and I got married.
It’s disgusting.
A figure emerges from the yacht. Miguel. His eyes lock with mine, a mixture of relief and something unreadable flashing across his face. Beside him stand my father and brother, their expressions grim.
They knew. Somehow, they already knew I was here, that I had escaped the inferno. Questions swirl in my mind but I push them aside, forcing my trembling legs to carry me forward. Towards the yacht, towards the three men waiting for me.
But even as I step onto the polished deck, unease prickles along my skin. Something isn't right. They regard me silently, making no move to embrace me or ask if I'm okay. As if they expected this. As if they orchestrated it all.
I meet Miguel's steely gaze, my heart thudding against my rib cage. "What's going on?" I demand, my voice shaking. "What have you done?"
Miguel's eyes narrow as he steps towards me, his expression hardening. "What have I done?" he repeats, a dangerous edge to his voice. "I've done what needed to be done, Angela. To protect our family, our business. To send a message."
Confusion and dread swirl inside me. "A message? By burning down a bakery? By destroying someone’s home and livelihood?" My voice rises with each word, anger simmering beneath the surface.
Two people walk up on side of me and I groan when I realize who it is. Of course my brother and father would have followed Miguel over here. They’d do anything the man says.
My father places a heavy hand on my shoulder, his grip tightening. "Calm down, Angela," he warns, his tone laced with barely concealed irritation. "Miguel knows what he's doing. It's for the good of the family."
I shrug off his hand, whirling to face him. "The good of the family?" I scoff, disbelief etched onto my features. "How can you say that? How can you just stand there and let this happen?"
My brother steps forward, his eyes cold and calculating. "Because we're not weak like you, Angela. We understand that sometimes sacrifices have to be made. That people need to learn their place."
Bile rises in my throat as the pieces fall into place. They knew about Miguel's plans. They supported them. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless and reeling.
"You're all insane," I whisper, backing away from them. "I won't be a part of this. I won't let you destroy more lives."
Miguel's hand shoots out, gripping my arm in a bruising hold. "You don't have a choice," he snarls, his face inches from mine. "You're my wife, Angela. You'll do as I say."
Panic claws at my chest as I struggle against his grasp, my eyes darting desperately around the yacht. But there's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I'm trapped, at the mercy of the men I once called family.
As Miguel drags me towards the cabin, my father and brother watching impassively, a sickening realization dawns on me. This is my life now. A prisoner in a gilded cage, bound to a monster masquerading as a husband.
And as the door slams shut behind us, cutting off the last sliver of light, I can only pray that somehow, someway, I'll find a way to escape this nightmare.
Miguel shoves me roughly into the cabin, slamming the door behind him. I stumble, nearly losing my footing on the polished wood floor. The small space feels suffocating, the walls closing in around me as Miguel stalks towards me, his eyes blazing with a terrifying mix of anger and possessiveness.
"You've been a bad girl, Angela," he growls, backing me up against the wall. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out? That you could betray me like this and get away with it?"
My heart pounds in my chest as confusion and fear war within me. "What are you talking about, Miguel? I don't understand!"
His hand shoots out, gripping my chin painfully as he forces me to meet his gaze. "Don't play dumb with me. I know you've been fucking someone else. I can see the proof right here on your pretty little neck."
His fingers dig into the tender flesh where my neck meets my shoulder and I cry out in pain. Realization crashes over me like a tidal wave. The hickey. From Lobo. Stupidly, I smile at the thought of Lobo touching me. It only happened once but I’ll have that one night for as long as I live.
“You fucking bitch!” Miguel roars and grabs my hair hard. Quickly I force my face to look contrite.
"Miguel, please, it's not what you think," I plead, tears stinging my eyes. I lie, "It was a mistake. It didn't mean anything, I swear!"
But my words only seem to enrage him further. With a roar, he slams me hard against the wall, my head cracking against the wood. Stars explode behind my eyes as pain lances through my skull.
"You lying whore!" Miguel bellows, spittle flying from his mouth. "I'll teach you what happens when you betray me. When you soil yourself with another man!"
His meaty fists pummel into me, striking my face, my ribs, my stomach. The coppery taste of blood fills my mouth as my head snaps back again and again from the brutal blows. I try to curl in on myself, to protect my head and vital organs, but there is no escaping his rage.
A particularly vicious punch to my temple sends me crumpling to the floor. Miguel is on me in an instant, straddling my broken body as he wraps his hands around my throat and squeezes. I claw at his arms, gasping for air, but his grip is relentless. Black spots dance across my vision as my lungs scream for oxygen.
Through the haze of pain and creeping darkness, I hear Miguel's voice, low and menacing in my ear.
"You belong to me, Angela. Only me. And I'll make sure you never forget it again. Even if I have to beat it into you every single day for the rest of your miserable life."
His hands tighten and tighten as a wretched gurgling escapes my throat. The last thing I see before the void takes me is the pure, unadulterated hatred in my husband's eyes.
***
I come to slowly, my body aching and throbbing with every shallow breath. Opening my eyes takes a monumental effort, the lids heavy and swollen. When I finally manage to crack them open, I find myself alone in the cabin once more, sprawled on the hard floor where Miguel left me.
Gingerly, I push myself up into a sitting position, biting back a groan as pain lances through my ribs. The room spins sickeningly and I have to close my eyes again, willing the nausea to pass. When I'm relatively certain I won't vomit, I force myself to take stock of my injuries.
My face feels like one giant, pulsating bruise. Probing fingers find split lips, a bloody nose, and what is likely a spectacular black eye blooming. Every inhale sends shards of agony through my chest and I'm pretty sure at least a couple ribs are cracked, if not outright broken.
But I'm alive. Somehow, I survived Miguel's brutal beating. A bitter, humorless laugh bubbles up my raw throat at the thought. As if this half-existence can really be called living.
Voices filter in from outside the door - my father and brother, arguing with Miguel. I strain to make out the words, desperate for any scrap of information.
"...should just cut our losses and leave," my father is saying, his tone placating. "The authorities will be crawling all over the island after that fire. It's not safe to stick around."
"No," Miguel snarls. "Not until I've had my revenge. Those bastards need to pay for touching what's mine. For turning my wife against me."
A chill runs down my spine at the venom in his voice. He's not going to stop, I realize with growing dread. He's going to hunt Lobo down...and kill him. Because of me. Because I was foolish enough to think I could escape this hell.
I can't let that happen. I won't have Lobo's blood on my hands. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I drag myself upright, my eyes landing on the small table across the room. Miguel's laptop sits on the surface, the screen glowing faintly.
A desperate idea takes root. If I can just get a message to Lobo, warn him somehow... Unsteadily, I stagger to the table, collapsing heavily into the chair. My fingers tremble as I flip open the laptop and begin to type, the keys slick with my own blood.
I don't know if this will even work, I don’t even know if the message will even go through. Miguel still had the page open to the dark web forum he was on looking for me. Maybe it’ll work the opposite way. Maybe if I put out a call for help for the Royal Bastards, all those who have any loyalty to them will try and help. I don’t know if anyone will see it in time, but I have to try.
Lobo risked everything to help me, to show me a glimpse of freedom and happiness. The least I can do is attempt to return the favor.
With shaking hands, I hit send, the message disappearing into the digital void. A prayer on electronic wings. Please, please let the people of this small town care for the Royal Bastards as much as I think they do.