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 El Rey
LA FAMILIA AGUIRRE MAFIA

CRIMSON SYN
 Contents
Dear Readers
Glossary Of Spanish Terms

Prologue
1. Sol
2. Gabriel
3. Sol
4. Jeronimo
5. Gabriel
6. Sol
7. Gabriel
8. Jeronimo
9. Gabriel
10. Sol
11. Gabriel
12. Sol
13. Gabriel
14. Jeronimo
15. Gabriel
16. Sol
17. Hunter
18. Sol
19. Sol
Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Crimson Syn
 Dear Readers

Hello, my Sinful Readers,

I am currently on the path of serious vengeance with El Rey, but he’s far from being done. If you
recall, La Sombra caught up to Gabriel on that beach a few months ago. After putting several bullets
in him not only did he steal away the woman he loves, but his dog, Lexi, also got trapped by him.

This story picks up eight months after Sol gets taken. She's suffered in silence becoming the perfect
Stepford wife to La Sombra. That is, until Gabriel finds out she's alive. Thinking she's betrayed him;
he goes in search of her. Here ensues a story of pain and anguish that pulls at the heartstrings. His
sorrow runs deep and so does his love for Sol.

I wonder if love will ever be enough for these two…

Please heed my warnings as this book does have forced NC scenes, including unaliving, beatings, and
rape memories that may cause triggers.

Naughty Reading,
 Glossary Of Spanish Terms

Comportate - Behave yourself.

Porfavor - Please
Contesta! - Answer!
Responde! - Respond!
Señor - Sir
Porfavor, aquí no. - Please, not here.
La proxima vez que me desobedescas... - Next time you disobey me...
Esposa - Wife
Esta mojada - She's wet.
Cuidado con eso - Be careful with that.
"Callate la jeta, putative loca!" - Shut the fuck up you crazy bitch!
Fass - German command to attack or kill.
Puta perra - bitch dog
Donde esta mi esposa? - Where is my wife?
Chupame - Suck me.
Mi nombre es - My name is
El Rey - The King
Mi Rey - My King
La Sombra - The Shadow
Afortunado - fortunate
Estupido - stupid
Querida prima - dear cousin
Regresa, o te lo mato. - Return, or I'll kill him.
Cobarde - coward
Que haces despierta, Sol? - What are you doing awake, Sol?
Recuerdate de eso. - Remember that.
Fue un milagro que Roberto contesto. - It was a miracle that Roberto answered.
Contesta la pregunta - Answer the question.
Hijueputa - Son of a bitch
Vamonos - Let's go.
La policia esta aqui - The police are here.
Cambio de plan - Change of plan
 Prologue
JERONIMO

4 Years Ago…

She emerged like an angel from that cloud of gun smoke and cocaine powder. Her rich brown hair
matted to her forehead, her drugged up body thin and frail, thrown on the concrete like some disease.
Taking her home wasn’t an option. She was mine to care for. Sold off as payment for what her
father took from me. A debt paid and a treasure found. She was so precious, quiet, innocent, but tough
deep inside. God clearly had sent her from the heavens so I could defile her.
The flames in her eyes burned bright when she was forced to obey an order and it ignited my own
need to control, to take. Biting back a retort, she’d scurry away to do my bidding. She was at the
perfect rebellious age where she fought me at every turn. There was only one problem. I relished in
her fight. In those squirms when I first took her. The whimpers of defeat that filled the air as she
realized I’d claimed her. The cream that soaked my shaft as I slid out of her, proved she was mine in
every way. I made sure of that.
We made a deal when I saved her. My protection in exchange for her love. She was reluctant at
first. Not sure of what she truly wanted from me, but in the end, she succumbed to it. To my desires, to
my particularly corrupt needs.
For two years she was groomed and molded so that she’d fit my indications of a perfect wife in
every way. She was taught the essence of servitude. A true slave to her master. And when she was
true and ready, I placed a diamond on her finger. Tears ran down her cheek and her voice quivered as
she promised to be mine forever.
I had everything I wanted. Wealth, power, and although my freedom was limited, there was
nothing and no one who would dare to get in my way and keep me from what I wanted. But Sol Rojas
was beyond every expectation. A docile inferno only I controlled. Because deep down inside she
knew, that if she ever betrayed me, I’d torture her until the day I died.
I looked up as the horns blasted overhead and the organ began to play. She was bathed in sunlight,
her dress pure and white, her face shielded from me beneath the white delicate lace of her veil.
This was it. This was the moment I’d been waiting for since she first came to me. She’d be mine
body and soul. Chained by God to my side. There was nothing more powerful than this.
As she took those two steps up to the altar, I leaned in and gently lifted the veil off her face. She
had this surreal look in her eyes, as if she couldn’t believe this would be happening to her. I had to
admit, neither could I. Leaning forward, I brushed my lips across her cheek. A swift kiss with
promises of more.
“Are you ready?”
She shook where she stood, trembling with excitement. I grabbed her hand and she tugged at it
slightly. Outside, I beamed. Inside, I struggled with how my body reacted to that slight rejection. I
yanked at her arm, pulling her forward and by my side.
“Comportate.” I issued a warning beneath my breath.
This was supposed to be our beautiful day, and she wasn’t going to ruin it for me. I signaled to the
priest, and he immediately began the sermon.
“We are gathered here today to in the sight of God, to join this man and this woman in holy
matrimony…”
She shook by my side, and I clasped her hand in mine. She looked up at me, tears shimmering in
her pretty eyes.
“Please don’t make me do this.”
I ignored her plea, the rage inside me was battered by another feeling that I did not welcome. That
of pain and hurt.
“Do you Sol Rojas, take this man to be your- “
“No,” she whispered the word.
I looked down at her and she began to retreat slowly. “No. Porfavor, no.”
I shut my eyes and sighed as I slowly reached back for the gun that was tucked beneath the jacket.
I knew she’d make it difficult, but I never thought it would come to this. Cocking the hammer, I fired
three shots into the sky. The patrons screamed and the doors to the church were yanked open. A
scream echoed in the church as I aimed my gun at the bride’s head.
“Everybody out!”
From the corner of my eye, the priest made a move, and I turned my eyes toward him.
“Except for you. You will finish this ceremony.”
Sol stood before me, frozen on the spot, mascara falling down her face in a dark river of tears.
“You will do as I say.”
“No,” her voice shook as she responded.
“Please, I don’t want to do this. You can’t force me to do something so sacred. I don’t love you!”
She cried, falling to her knees, her head bowing as her hands gripped my my shoes.
“Porfavor,” she sobbed uncontrollably and her crying only made me feel disgusted by her.
“Get up.”
She looked up at me and I gripped her arm. “You are an embarrassment to me. Get the fuck up!”
She teetered and slipped on the tail of her white dress, but she slowly did as I demanded.
I aimed the gun at the priest, my voice low as I dragged her up by her arm. “Continue.”
“Do you, Sol Rojas, take Jeronimo Dominguez as your husband?”
I stood at her side, pointed the gun to her head, and seethed. “Contesta!”
I could tell it took everything inside her to hold back and I cracked my neck muscles as I pressed
the gun to her head. She was throwing a tantrum and I was going to teach her that there are
consequences for creating this circus. Releasing the safety on the pistol issued a familiar click that
echoed through the now empty church.
“Responde!” I screamed at her, shaking as I pressed the gun to her temple.
She flinched and suddenly nodded. “Y-yes. Yes, I’ll take him.”
“By the power invested in me and the Church of La Imaculada, you are husband and wife. You
may kiss your bride.”
 I issued the priest a hard stare, one which was automatically obeyed as he ran off toward the
entrance.
I swept the gun under her rich brown curls, slowly brushing them off her shoulder. “You want to
defy me?”
“No, Señor!”
“You want to make me a fool!”
“N-no, Señor!”
I yanked her veil off and threw her against the altar. “You want to escape me?”
“No. Porfavor, aquí no.”
“La proxima vez que me desobedescas…” I lifted her skirt, ripping at whatever cloth was in my
way until I found what I wanted.
“I will kill you.”
“No!” She screamed as I slid my dick into her.
I fucked her hard against that altar. Roughly pulling at her hair as I cursed the day she was born.
“This is what you get for ruining my day!” I roared as I continued to take her. Reminding her that
she was mine to use when I wanted.
When I was done, she fell into a pile of white shredded silk. I yanked her head back, forcing her
to look at me.
“I expect you to be ready for dinner within the hour. And your pussy cleaned up for me to use
tonight when and where I please. And if you are not where you are supposed to be, with a bright
smile on your face, I will take the most precious thing you have and destroy it.”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Please. I beg you. Don’t hurt him.”
I had given her a black pony when she’d first arrived at the house. It had brought back a smile to
her face that had been lost a long time before. She loved the freedom he gave her when she rode, and I
was proud that I could make her that happy. That wild demon became the most precious thing she
owned, but he also quickly became leverage. The instant she disobeyed; he was whipped. The
moment she’d try to leave, I’d feed him to the dogs.
“Don’t ever hurt me, Sol. Remember that and your precious, Demonio, stays alive.”
“Si, Señor.”
“Don’t temp me, Sol. I’ve had enough of your nonsense. Act like a woman or be treated like a
child!”
I pushed her head back down, annoyed by her presence and her tears. “You have an hour!”
I left the church, being met by my security out back. “Get her another dress and have her ready for
the party.”
“Si, Señor.”
Rage ran through my blood. Sol Dominguez was not going to get the best of me. The little bitch
would learn her lesson. I didn’t want to love her, but at some point, I had grown to do so. She wasn’t
like all the other women that lay in my bed. She was different. She felt alive and she made me feel the
same way.
There was nothing I would do for her, but there came a limit. And with that limit there was a
consequence. No woman was going to get the best of me. I looked at my hand, slowly closing it into a
fist. By my hand, she was going to learn every painful lesson that life had in store for her. Because
after her clear display of disobedience today, Sol Dominguez had finally reached her limit with me.
 CHAPTER 1
Sol

8 Months Ago…

I clung to the cage as Jeronimo issued his punishment. He’d clearly wanted to show his power over
me. Make me an example for his enemies and for those who ever even thought of becoming a traitor.
“I’ll never do what you want!” I screamed out as another lashing struck my right thigh.
I shivered against the chains I’d been hung from since they took me. I could no longer feel my
arms and my body had gone into shock at some point.
A week, close to two had gone by, and I’d been sequestered into solitude and hung in a cage like
an animal. I was naked, cold, hungry, and full of the deepest kind of sadness. With my arms bound, I
couldn’t even end it. This was what my life had become. Some insignificant thing that this man, this
monster could use. Getting his kicks off by inflicting this torment.
“You will learn what it means to be La Sombra’s property!”
The whip he used on me had nine tails. On each tail was a sharp pointed edge, one that would dig
and scrape at my flesh with each lashing. Tearing away skin that had already been battered and
beaten. I cried out, falling limp against the chains, as his nails dug into my skin, scratching down the
length of the tender skin that ran down my spine before he issued another brutal lashing.
“You disgust me!” He spat on me, cursing at me as he continued his incessant punishment.
“Please. Just kill me.”
He gripped my hair, yanking it back until I thought he’d rip it from my skull.
“Eres mi esposa. And you will act as such!”
The slap came hard and swift, breaking the flesh of my bottom lip and filling my mouth with the
bitter taste of copper.
I bit my tongue, because I knew that if I said anything further, it would only ensue another series of
lashings or canings.
I was never treated as his wife after my wedding. I was his toy, his doll that he could move
around and dress and fuck when he wanted to. Place her on his arm so everybody could admire him. It
was all about him and his elusive reputation. I had been miserable at his side. For years I took his
abuse. It was both physical and psychological as I was convinced that there was nothing more out
there for me. And when I found that there existed an escape, that one small window of opportunity
was a lie.
Hierba mala nunca muere. Rotten weeds truly never die.
 And Jeronimo Dominguez was one of the worst weeds. The types that dig into your roots and
destroy everything in their path.
I did my best not to respond when he yanked my hair back. “I knew you would betray me. I knew
you’d let another man fill you. Did you enjoy it, Sol?” He lashed at my body.
“Did you enjoy being his whore!” The tails curled around my side, ripping at the soft flesh along
my breast and ribcage.
“Please!”
He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “That’s exactly what I asked you. Please. Please
be loyal. Please love me. Please. Such a vile lie!”
I cried out as he slapped me across the cheek, blood now spilling from my mouth.
“Whore!”
I barely flinched as he issued three more lashings. He seethed in exertion and hatred.
“Fucking slut!”
He poured all his anger into me, not caring if he left scars which I knew he would. A reminder of
how horrid my life was now becoming.
“You swore upon that altar –“
“You put a gun to my head!” I screamed, finally fed up with his delusions of love.
“You cried that day for me!”
My laughter was filled with blood as I turned to him, spiting at his shoes. “Tears of pain and
anger. I had finally made you happy, which meant I would be imprisoned for life.”
“You fucking, bitch!”
The beating continued for God knows how long. I was slowly growing numb, barely jerking as my
flesh was torn from me. Finally, I began to whimper as tears slid down my cheeks.
He walked up to me and grabbing a fistful of my hair, he yanked my head back until I looked up at
him. He was seething, he had lost that prestigious composure of his and the monster that was La
Sombra stood in his place.
“Your precious Rey is now gone. Left to die on that beach like the dog he is. You have nothing and
no one. Remember that.”
He released me, my head dropping as the door to the cage slammed shut. After a few minutes, the
main door opened, and a deep growl echoed around us.
“This fucking thing!”
I couldn’t see what was in the cage, and fear ran through me once again. I began to quiver as I
watched intently as the man was trying to open the cage door where an animal was growling.
“Grab it!”
I nearly screamed as I witnessed the struggle between the man and the animal.
“Fuck!” He screamed as the animal gnarled at his arm. Another man came in and hit the animal
with a bat.
The animal whined and retreated quickly. It was then I realized that it was a dog. A very familiar
dog.
“Lexi,” I whispered. My voice hoarse and dry.
The man came at her with a long black baton, at the edge of it seemed to spout electricity.
“No!” I screamed as he made contact with her body.
Lexi yelped and convulsed as the fucker continued to slam the electricity into her tiny body.
“Motherfucker!” I screamed, fighting against the chains.
He looked back at me and licked his lips as his sordid gaze traveled over me. “Well, well, still
awake?”
I struggled against the chains, but there was no escaping these men. The other man laughed.
“Guess the boss didn’t do a good enough job.”
“Maybe we should teach her that a good slave doesn’t curse.”
I shivered as they came at me, the baton still in his hand. The current popped as he ran it across
the cage bars.
“Open it,” he ordered the other man.
They both entered the small cage, barely large enough to hold me as I dangled from the top of the
bars.
I jerked as his hand traced the wounds left by the lashings. “Boss really filled his need with you,
didn’t he?”
“Fuck you.”
He clucked his tongue, running his tongue along the top of his teeth. The lewd look he gave me
served as a warning to keep my mouth shut.
The other man came up and slid a hand down the curve of my ass, and I whimpered as I tried to
get away.
“Oh, esta mojada.” He gave me a seedy smile as his hand found its way between my legs, his
fingers digging into my bare core.
“Get the fuck off me!” I still fight left in me. I couldn’t Jeronimo had left me in their hands.
“Jeroni…!” I screamed for the monster, because he was all I had at the moment.
His name was caught off as one man wrapped his hand over my mouth and the other pressed the
baton to my abdomen. My breath got caught in my throat and my body convulsed as the electricity ran
through me.
“Fuck, man! Cuidado con eso!” The other man released me as the current hit his hand.
The other man dropped the baton, and he pulled down his zipper. “I’m gonna teach you another
type of lesson, whore.”
“No,” I whispered.
He grabbed me by the hair. “You’re gonna shut the fuck up and take a real man’s dick.”
“No,” I cried out as the other man slapped my breasts and face.
“Cállate la jeta, puta loca!”
I didn’t think it could get any worst. I should be used to rape by now, since every man I ever came
across did exactly that. Raped not only my body, but they raped me of my innocence, my dignity, my
soul. All but one.
I closed my eyes and pictured the only man who ever showed an ounce of care for me. The only
one who could make me soar with his touch.
“La puta’s getting horny,” one of the men snickered and I clamped my eyes shut, remembering
Gabriel. Remembering his voice.
I could feel the other man sliding my cheeks apart, and his dirty dick sliding between them.
Gabriel’s eyes looking at me came into my memory and I screamed as the fucker behind me tore
through me.
“Yeah!” The other man celebrated as his fingers roughly dug into my clit.
Tears of defeat fell onto the concrete as I swayed against the chains. The man behind me grunted,
not giving a care in the world that drops of blood were now dripping onto the floor.
I thought this was it. They’d kill me and say I couldn’t take the beating Jeronimo had issued. He
was right, I had no one to protect me.
 Suddenly, a growl came from the doorway. And I remembered something that Gabriel had taught
me.
“Fass, Lexi. Fass.”
The command was in German, and I knew it was deadly. The men didn’t have a chance as she
leapt first onto the one with his hand in me. She brought him down and, in an instant, she had torn
through his jugular. He lay there, squirming as blood spurted out onto the floor.
The man behind me cursed as his member finally receded. “Fucking, puta perra!”
Lexi looked rabid as she snarled at the man, her snout was full of blood, and she was in an
attacking stance.
“Fass, Lexi,” I whispered.
“Shut the fuck up!”
He barely got a chance as Lexi leapt on him. I turned away as I heard him whale, the sound of
gurgling and sputtering filled the silence. The smell of copper filled my nostrils and I heaved,
vomiting all over myself.
I wasn’t sure how long I was in there with both of them, but I awoke in the same cell. My body
was bandaged, and Lexi was seated on top of my legs. The floor was stained in fresh blood and
Jeronimo stood outside the cage, watching me intently.
“You won’t win, Sol.”
I placed my hand over Lexi’s head, and she gently placed it on my chest. “Good girl,” I whispered
to her as I kept my eyes on Jeronimo.
“Don’t think that dog will protect you forever. First attack on me and I’ll put a bullet in her.”
Lexi growled at him, looking vicious with the blood still on her snout. She was all I had left of
Gabriel, and I swore I’d protect her for as long as I could.
Jeronimo looked at the woman beside him. “Clean her up and bring her up to the room.”
Ducking his head, he turned to leave and then paused. “I may be a monster, but I know when to be
grateful when another being protects what’s mine. She’ll live for now.”
I closed my eyes, letting out a pained breath. This was only the beginning of my battle with him.
As I lay there, stroking Lexi’s soft head, I devised my plan to gain Jeronimo’s trust again. The first
making sure to show him how grateful I was that he left Lexi alive. The second, involved the safety of
his power in the form of an heir. One who I’d delay for as long as possible.
 CHAPTER 2
Gabriel

P resent Day…
I looked up at the revered statue of the Virgin Mary. Making the sign of the cross, I slowly stood up
and made my way to the back of the church, which was to remain open until midnight for my exclusive
use.
Great care was taken to keep me hidden, where not even the priests were to be trusted. Instead,
Hunter, my head of security, acquired a key. And I would sneak in after midnight when all was quiet.
I had plenty to be grateful for. My life, my wealth, the power I now held in my hands. When you
are buried six feet underground, and your mouth begins to taste of the soil that consumes your casket,
your perspective of life tends to change drastically. My coffin was made of the richest mahogany,
outlined with gold filigree, the name Aguirre carved on a gold plaque. Only the best for the King of
La Familia Aguirre. Gabriel Aguirre was dead but that was only the beginning of his tragic tale.
After the incident at the beach house, nobody knew what had happened to me. They didn’t find me
until hours later. I was face down in the sand, the water lapping at my unmovable corpse. Because I
wasn’t just faking all this, I truly had died that night. But somehow, in some dark twisted way, my soul
returned to my body. It seemed I still had some unfinished business, and I wasn’t going to end this life
until I had carried it out. One insignificant life at a time, ending with Sol Dominguez’s.
When my father died, I swore to myself that I would never submit to his coercions. That I would
never be a part of this Mafia he’d built, but I had been wrong. You don’t get to choose this life, it
chooses you. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to accept my role within the family before it was forced
upon me.
But my downfall wasn’t that of taking on the role I had inherited. My downfall came in the form of
a woman. A sexy, black panther with bright innocent eyes that hid sharp claws. Claws which had been
deeply inserted into my heart until she made sure it bled out for her. Physical pain was something one
could get over. It would eventually heal. But the pain of a love’s betrayal…that crept into your bones
and settled there until you either killed them or it killed you. Shooting myself in the head had been an
option for a while, until I realized that what I wanted was revenge. And it wasn’t a simple revenge,
although putting a bullet in her head was an option.
No.
This revenge would last years because Sol Dominguez owed me that. She owed me her life, for
mine went with her that night, and she took it again months later, followed by a deep understanding of
her treachery. I was blinded by her beauty and her faked innocence. Now I saw that all she ever
brought me was devastation along with a bloodshed that stained my hands.
My obsession with Sol Dominguez was becoming a burden. It plagued me, haunted my
nightmares, and fueled my taste for blood. Her disappearance had gradually made me into a
psychopath, with no sympathy for anyone who crosses my path. I’d become bloodthirsty and
vengeance driven.
This was not the life I wanted to lead. Nowhere near what I had imagined. I wanted a family,
children of my own, wealth and power that had nothing to do with my father.
Instead, in that one night, everything was taken from me. I succumbed to this life and realized that
she had been right. I was weak. Weakened by my love for her.
Such a pretentious notion, thinking a woman like that could possibly love me. I narrowed my eyes
down at the images that Hunter had brought in. Sol laughing as Jeronimo whispered something in her
ear. Those bright eyes staring back at me as she entered an event on his arm. The shadow of them
fucking in a hotel room. Her head thrown back as she gyrated on his lap.
I slammed my knife down onto that image, rage building up inside me.
“Where is she?”
“Seville, Sir. In a town called Triana.”
“Do they know I’m alive.”
“We thought, maybe. But it seems they’re going about their lives as if nothing perturbs them.”
“Is she well?”
“Yes, Sir. From what we can tell she seems happy.” His words hit like sharp daggers.
“Good,” I seethed, knowing full well that I would be ruining that sadness in a matter of hours.
I turned my chair away from him, hiding my reaction to the news. “You’ve done a good job,
Hunter. You can leave now.”
“Sir, did you want to discuss our next steps.”
“Not right now. I’d rather be alone.”
“Understood, Sir.”
I waited until the door slammed shut and I stared down at the glass of tequila in my hand. The
calm I felt quickly turned dangerous, and I lifted the glass in rage and threw it against the wall. The
sharp edges of broken glass slid across the room, some hitting my shoes. I lifted one and wrapped my
hand around it. I needed to feel anything other than this pain and deep betrayal.
These past months had been torture as I searched for her, thinking she was being harmed. Fearing
the worst at La Sombra’s mercy. Instead, what I had found was a woman who didn’t even care that I
was gone. A woman who was playing her cards out in the open for anyone to see. A true slap in the
face.
I had planned my revenge against Jeronimo, but now I see that it wasn’t him that I had to put the
full blame on. He was merely a pawn in her game. A game I couldn’t wait to play. But it was best I
keep my plans to myself. If not, my cousin and Hunter would want to interfere and I couldn’t have
that, because when I did get my hands on her, I was going to make her hurt just like I hurt. I was going
to indulge in her pain, and I was steadfast in that she would never be able to escape again.
 CHAPTER 3
Sol

S unlight filtered into the plaza. Sunday in Seville was packed with people out having a stroll or
drinking coffee while reading the newspaper. Seville was a beautiful city. A place we could get lost
in among the tourists. We lived in the southern district of Triana, a small neighborhood in the outskirts
of the city. It was where artists dwelled, and hermits hid away.
Although the damages done to my soul were irreparable, I managed to find some peace here.
Eventually, Jeronimo had given me some freedom, even allowing me to have these moments when he
was not around. Of course, I was always being watched. Always tracked as tabs were being kept on
me. Where I went, who I saw, whom I spoke to. I couldn’t move without letting Jeronimo know, and I
mastered a façade of happiness that I did not feel. I was trapped in every sense of the word.
I sipped my coffee, spotting a man standing against the building to my right, only a few feet away.
Another sat in a chair in the bistro across from where I sat. And yet another strolled casually near the
small fountain that decorated the plaza. They couldn’t be more obvious.
I did my best to ignore them as my breakfast was brought to my table. An appetizing array of
fruits, breads, and eggs.
I carefully took my first bite, closing my eyes to savor it. When I opened then, a man had slid into
the seat across from me. His voice shook me to the very core and the food I was swallowing got
caught in my throat, the savory taste growing bland. I stared at him in disbelief as he propped a leg
over his thigh and leaned back in the chair.
“I’m not sure you could finish all that.”
He took his glasses off and set them on the table before him. When his eyes met mine, my blood
pressure dropped, and I could feel myself grow pale. The fork fell from my hand, clattering off the
table and onto the floor. The ghost from my past quickly got down to one knee to recover it. He
looked up at me, fork in hand, and I stared down at his handsome face.
My hand shook as I brought it to his cheek, tracing his face gently. He instantly jerked away as if
I’d seared him. He left the fork on the table and took his seat across from me once again.
“You- you’re real.?”
He nodded, leaning forward to pick at a grape. He popped into his mouth as he searched the
plaza. “I hope so.”
“You’re really here? Y-you’re really alive?” My shock made me repeat the words, stumbling
through them like some dense idiot.
“I am.”
“But I saw you die. I was there!” My voice rose and then quickly lowered to a whisper. “I was
there.”
“So was I.” He plucked another grape from the stem and popped it into his mouth.
“Does it bother you?”
“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered.
I didn’t even know how to feel. I was just sitting there in disbelief.
“It seems your plan didn’t work.”
“My plan?”
“Yes. Your plan. The plan you concocted with your husband to have me killed.”
I blinked, trying to assimilate what he was saying to me. “There was no plan, Gabriel?”
“Do not…” His voice rose menacingly, and he quickly remembered where he was seated. “Call
me that,” he whispered, regaining his composure.
I swallowed nervously, unable to read him or tell what he was thinking. His gaze was edged, yet
his demeanor was relaxed. I wasn’t sure what his next move was going to be, and I didn’t like that
fear that he was inciting in me. A quiet anger vibrated from him and that made him someone
dangerous. Someone I didn’t recognize.
“Gabriel, I don’t know what…”
“I said don’t call me that!” He yelled it this time, uncomfortably tugging at his jacket as he
searched the premises. Gratefully the plaza was slowly emptying, and we were isolated from the
masses.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath before responding. “And what would you like me to call
you?”
“El Rey.”
My eyes widened and my mouth went dry. “You took the title?”
“It was always mine to begin with. Although you and your Sombra wanted to take it from me.”
“That’s not true.”
“You’re right,” he slowly nodded, leaning in. “Everything you are, is a lie.”
“I don’t understand. Please, Gab-” His look stopped me. “Please, Rey.”
“Begging doesn’t suit you.”
I straightened my back, holding my head up, determined not to show any weakness. “You loved it
before when you forced me on my knees.”
He narrowed his eyes on me. “You enjoyed it. All whores enjoy it.”
His words struck me, and I swallowed down the sob that threatened to break through.
“You know his people are here…watching me.”
He smiled as he tugged at the cuffs of his shirt beneath the white linen suit he wore. He looked
just as delicious as I remembered him. Tanned skin, taut muscles, chiseled jawline coated in that
sinful five o’clock shadow, whose feel of it was so clear between my legs. But there was also a
menacing edge to him, one that caused me to shiver.
“You think I wouldn’t know that coming here?”
“I’m only telling you that because the news has probably already gotten to him.”
“Look around you, Mariposa. He’s no longer here to save you.”
My brow furrowed and I slowly took a glance around the plaza. There was no longer anybody
watching. The men that had been there seconds ago, were all gone.
“You killed them?”
He widened his hands in a brief shrug letting me know that there was no other option.
“It’s the rules of the game, isn’t it? I mean, tell me Sol, are you satisfied with what you’ve
accomplished?”
I smirked, turning my head away briefly before my eyes landed on his. I watched him, carefully
trying to assess him. Slowly, I slid one leg over the other, his eyes on me as the dress I wore parted
revealing my thighs. I lifted the coffee cup up to my lips, taking a sip while watching him over the
rim. That tick in his jaw was his tell that I’d gotten to him.
The old Sol would have knelt before him, kissed him and begged him to love her. The new Sol
simply stared back at him, growing cold as she prepared to play this new game with him.
"Are you having fun playing the part of the perfect little housewife for your husband?"
"You were dead."
"Wrong answer." His gaze was stoic and eerily calm.
“What exactly do you want from me, Gabri-, Rey?”
He gave me that smug smile again, lifting a brow as he straightened his suit jacket.
“I want you.”
“You can’t have me. I’m not property.”
“Lies. Again. Sol. You have to get better with your lies.”
I shook my head, watching him as he spoke.
“You are his property, correct?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.
“And since you are his property, and he stole mine, it’s only fair I get back what’s owed.”
“And what is owed?”
“A life for a life, Sol. My life for yours.”
“You can’t possibly think…”
“I don’t need to think, I need to take. And you are going to help me take it all back.”
A movement to my left made me search the grounds, noticing now more men had appeared. Men I
didn’t recognize. Men that were brought here by him.
“You take me, and you issue a war.”
“Does that matter to you?”
“Of course, it does.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to witness more bullets pierce your body again.”
He gave out a sardonic laugh that brought chills down my spine.
“So little you think of me.”
“On the contrary. I don’t want to go to another funeral.”
“You never even went to mine.”
“I couldn’t!” My voice cracked. “I couldn’t,” I whispered.
“Couldn’t or didn’t want to.”
I looked up at him but stayed quiet. Nothing I would say would change what he was feeling at this
moment.
“I already died, Sol. And then I died again when I realized you weren’t by my side. You are
speaking with a ghost in the shell of a man.”
“I didn’t…”
“Didn’t, what? Think I’d notice. You’re right, Sol. You didn’t think. Not of me, anyway. I should
have seen how selfish you were from the start. It wasn’t your innocence I fell for, was it? You were
only an illusion.”
“I wasn’t…”
 “I have to admit, you played it off well.” He interrupted any type of response I had to give him.
He wasn’t going to listen to me. My explanations were futile, and he made it inadvertently known
that it was in my best interest to keep quiet.
“Nothing to say?”
“Why did you come here?” I whispered the question as fear traced my spine.
“What was that?” He leaned in, the scent of his cologne filling my senses.
How could a scent I longed for, one I couldn’t resist, become so ominous now.
“Why are you here?” I spoke slightly louder.
“Isn’t it obvious, mi Sol.”
I stared blankly at him as he responded.
“I came here for you.”
“This won’t go unnoticed. What will you do then?”
“I’ll deal with the repercussion as they come. For now, I unfinished business with you.”
“And what could I possibly offer you?”
His smile was dark, and his eyes intensified as he leaned toward me. “Everything,” he snarled.
I shook my head as he stood up and reached a hand toward me. “I think we’re done here, don’t
you?”
He waited patiently while I stared blankly at his hand. A series of outcomes ran through my head
as I decided whether to run from him or slide my hand into his, taking what was being offered.
That had always been the feeling I got when I was with Gabriel. A sense of fear mixed with a
thrill that was undeniably attractive.
Run or stay with him.
The idea of returning to him shouldn’t have even been something I should have thought about, but
having experienced the consequences with Jeronimo, I hesitated.
“You can either stand up and walk out with me, or I’ll carry you out at gunpoint. Don’t ruin these
peoples Sunday, Sol. Just do as you are told, and no one gets hurt.”
I glanced around the plaza, and slowly, setting the napkin on the table, I slid my hand into his. His
energy was always impactful, and it hit me like an iron fist to the chest as he slid me against his tall
frame. My body reacted instantly to his magnetism, allowing him to take his pull on it.
“If you cooperate, all of this will go a lot smoother.”
“All of what?”
“Payback,” he uttered as he ushered me out of the cafe.
His words triggered me, and fear trickled through me. I instinctively tried to leave his grasp, but
he tightened his hold on me as his pace quickened.
“Easy, mi Sol. It’s only going to hurt a little.” He whispered against my temple, as he ushered us
toward the side of the café.
A black unmarked vehicle pulled up beside us and two men leaped out. It was a desolate street,
where once again no one and nothing would be there to save me In one swift move, they covered my
head with a black cloth bag, tied my arms back, and I suddenly felt something sharp pierce my neck. I
knew instantly what it was as it sunk into my flesh. I tried to kick and fight but slowly my body began
to feel heavy and then limp.
“Sleep now, beautiful. There will be time to talk more later.” His lulling voice was the last thing I
heard as darkness swept over me.
 CHAPTER 4
Jeronimo

“D onde esta mi esposa?”

The man removed his hat and stood in the doorway, fear clearly apparent in the stuttering of his
words.
“We cannot find her anywhere, Señor.”
“So, you’re telling me you lost her?” My patience was waning.
“No, Señor…”
“Then where is she?”
“There is no response from the security we put on her.”
“So not only did you lose my wife, but you also lost contact with an entire team?”
The incompetent man quivered before me as he responded. “We believe they were killed, Señor.”
I closed my eyes, reigning in my anger. Sol was supposed to be home earlier this afternoon, but
there had been no sign of her for hours. My response was to scour all of Spain for her in any attempt
to find her.
How could she have just gone missing?
“You know what I hate?” I looked up at the man they had been sent in to give me details on the
disappearance of my wife.
“No, Señor.”
“Incompetent liars.” I shot up from my chair angrily, grabbing my pistol. I aimed and fired two
shots. The peasant fell to his knees, his dead eyes still in shock as his corpse slid forward onto the
Spanish tile floors.
A young maid appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide, her hands covering her mouth in shock.
“Clean this shit up, now!”
I smirked, watching her visibly shake as she came in and grabbed the man’s arms. He was larger
than her, and it was a struggle for her to drag him out. She was back with a bucket of water and a mop
within minutes. A young little thing, much like my Sol was when I married her.
Roberto, my right hand, ran into the office as soon as he heard the shots. He swung back against
the doorframe stepping over the dead man and taking in the blood on the floor.
“Was it necessary to kill him?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re letting a woman control your emotions.”
My glare would have petrified even the toughest of men, yet it annoyed me that he didn’t even
flinch. “Watch your tongue.”
 “Jeronimo, I’ve been through a lot with you. But this woman has taken over your life.”
I closed my eyes turning away from him. He had told me this repeatedly, but I had ignored him at
every turn.
“Sol Dominguez is my wife.”
“Whom you forgave rather easily.”
“She was willing to have my children.”
“Was she? The deal was that she was supposed to have a baby within the year. It’s been eight
months and nothing. Unless you’re shooting blanks?”
I sent him a deadly glare. “You’re crossing a line.”
He smirked. “I’m just pointing out the obvious, Señor.”
He sighed and entered the room. “I just want you to open your eyes. You can’t be so stupid to
think she won’t betray you again.”
I turned to face him, glancing over at the girl who was sneaking in to clean. “My eyes are open. I
know what I’m doing. Now fucking mind your business and get the fuck out before the next bullet goes
through your head.”
He nodded. “You know where to find me when you’re ready to plan this shit out.”
“Shut the door on your way out,” I ordered, still staring at the girl.
He glanced at me then smirked as he saw what I intended to do. “At least your dick hasn’t been
whipped.”
“Get out!”
Shaking his head, he made sure the door was locked as he closed it.
The girl was young and naive. She was down on her knees, scrubbing the crevices of the tiles, her
plump ass jiggled as she moved, hidden in a floral skirt. The more I watched her, the more the painful
memories of my wife flooded through my thoughts.
I rounded my desk, standing before her. I wanted to take away that innocence. Yank it away while
she screamed for mercy. A mercy that would never be delivered. I pulled my zipper down, and
startled, she stopped what she was doing. Fear clearly penetrated her eyes.
“What is your name?” I spoke, stroking my cock before her.
“Rosa,” her voice quivered as she replied.
I tipped her chin back, my cock at her lips. “Chupame.”
She hesitated and angry, I gripped her hair yanking her head back. She issued a scream and I
snarled out the warning.
"Scream again and I'll cut out your tongue. Chupame!"
Through her tears, she did as I ordered. Slowly opening her mouth as I stuffed my cock into it.
"Suck it!" She was inexperienced, virginal, and that only fueled my lust.
She was sucking the seed out of me for all her life's worth. I stared down at the blood-stained
tiles, her hands tinted red as they shook around my dick.
Gripping her by the arm, I turned her around and slammed her up against the chair.
"No! Señor, no! Porfa…".
Her voice broke as I tore through her barrier. Her body went limp, and her sobs echoed around
me. I smiled at the sight of the blood that covered my dick. This was something I could never enjoy
with Sol. She'd already been used when I got to her.
I fucked all my rage into this young girl. Taking it out on the first thing I could get my hands on.
She gripped the edge of the seat as I buried myself into her. It was a brutal ravaging and like a
good woman, she'd never forget her first.
 Wrapping my arm around her, I found her clit. I knew, when her moans began, that she was mine.
They always changed their minds. Soon I'd have her gobbling my dick up at every corner. They all
wanted to tie me down, but I only belonged to her. The one woman who had managed to consume my
entire existence.
The young girl cried out, cumming all over me, her shame forgotten.
"Oh, you're going to be a good little fucktoy for me."
I grunted, planting my seed in her womb. Another woman I'd get pregnant. Another child I would
have to get rid of. In the end, I'd throw her away just like the rest.
Roberto was right. Every single one of these women were willing to have my baby. Each one of
them would come to me months later, begging for me to father their babies. Each one would be
condemned to the Butcher. I couldn't have bastards running around wanting my money or baby’s
mamas requesting alimony for them.
No.
Each one was executed because the only woman whom I wanted to have my legitimate child, was
Sol Dominguez. And my wife had already taken too long to complete the deal.
I pulled out of the girl, and she started to sob. I yanked her by the hair, pulling it back until her
eyes met mine.
"Wear nothing tonight and wait for me in my room."
"Si, Señor." Her lips quivered as she spoke.
I spanked her ass and like the good girl I needed, she got down on her knees and finished her job.
I tucked myself back into my pants and walked to the window. Thoughts of Sol filled my mind.
Where are you hiding, wife? And what made you think you could leave me?
 CHAPTER 5
Gabriel

P aola sat to my right, legs and arms crossed as she watched me. She wore a tight black business
suit, black patent Louis Vuitton heels with red soles, and a scowl. Her hair was pinned up, Gucci
glasses perched on her nose, and she wore the most expensive of perfumes. She adorned her neck,
ears and wrists with delicate gold, and she liked to wear red lipstick with matching nail polish. A
power move, according to her. She was the perfect centerfold representing the ideal powerful
businesswoman.
Always pristine.
Always playing the part.
But if you knew her well, you also knew she was a fighter. She had a collection of guns that
would surprise even the most apt of gun traffickers. And the worst part, she knew how to use each one
of them.
To my left stood Hunter. Still and vigilant as a hawk. He was also watching me with the same
disappointing scowl that was etched into my cousin's face.
“What did you want me to do?” I blustered.
“There were other ways to deal with this, cousin. Ways that don’t require us to get blood stains on
our clothes.”
“What’s done is done.”
“You don’t make decisions alone anymore. Or did you forget that I also hold half of the rights to
these lands and our properties.”
“Only because I gave you those rights. I put you on that high horse you ride.”
“And believe me, I will never have enough to repay you. But that doesn’t excuse you from not
playing by the rules.”
“Now we have rules.”
“There’s always been rules.” Hunter uttered quietly.
“You too?”
He only looked at me, a clear reprimand settling in his gaze. “Rules allow us to live in peace.
Rules keep us safe.”
“Fuck the rules! Sometimes you have to break them to get where you want.”
“Are you satisfied, cousin? For putting us in jeopardy, are you satisfied?”
“I never…” I hung my head in defeat.
“Did you get what you wanted, cousin? At the cost of our lives.”
“Enough,” I uttered.
 “You didn’t even consider telling me.” Hunter stated.
“I didn’t hire you to be my watchdog.”
“No. You didn’t. You hired me to be your head of security. How am I supposed to keep your ass
safe when you decide to go AWOL?”
I blinked while Paola gave a small smile. “You want to repeat that?”
“I can say it in five different languages if you like.”
“Listen…”
“No, Sir. You listen. You hired me to do a job. If you are going to go haywire and do what you
want, when you want, then I will issue my resignation effective immediately.”
Paola’s eyes raised to his and then she glanced at me. “Enough of the bullshit.” She slammed the
palm of her hand against the desk in a warning.
“No one is quitting here. And even if you did, I’m not accepting it.” She stared hard at Hunter who
clenched his jaw and like a loyal dog, backed down.
“You’re right.” She looked up at me. “The damage is already done and there’s absolutely no going
back this time. Now is the time to put our heads together and plan for what’s coming.”
“If he wants war, we’ll give it to him.” I said.
“And, what? Cause unnecessary bloodshed?”
“Him and his men deserve justice. Our men deserve payback.”
Jeronimo had attacked our properties, stolen millions, and jeopardized hundreds of lives. One
thing is to fuck with me, the other is to ruin livelihoods. He hadn’t been able to reach Aguirre Harvest
because it was in the United States, and we had men surrounding it. It became a fort, built for defense.
He’d tried infiltrating it once, but we had won that fight, even though there was blood that had been
shed on the property that put our name on the FBI radar. They couldn’t find us at fault. but the case
remained open as the investigation continued.
“Where is she?” Paola asked quietly.
“Back at the house.”
The only thing I was able to save was my mother’s home. Although they had tried destroying it,
Hunter had gone in and taken it back from under siege. No man was left alive as far as he was
concerned, and he came through for me. Security was tight both on the premises and out in the water
where the house had been the most vulnerable. It was the safest place I had.
“What are you planning on doing with her?”
I rubbed my head, not having an answer for her. “I’ll figure it out as I go.”
“I’ve seen a lot coming from the magnanimous Rey, but this is a low point even for you.”
“You don’t get to judge me.”
Our eyes met, mine menacing, hers ready for a fight. “Fuck yes, I do. When it involves my name
and this company, I get to judge whoever the fuck I want.”
“One day, Paola, you’ll realize just how much I’ve given you. And you’ll bite your tongue and
lower your head when you talk to me.”
She looked over at me and her eyes changed to that of a motherly look. “I only want you to find
peace, Gabriel.”
“This is my peace. Let me relish in it while I can.”
“I’ll tighten up security at the house and see where I can hire more men to watch over the
company.”
I walked to the window. “This is merely a game of chess. A cold war where he will wait as long
as he can to move his piece. I’ve already made mine. The Queen has been captured.”
 Paola shook her head. “Well then let’s hope his next move doesn’t involve the King being killed.”
I turned away from them both, my thoughts on the woman who had tormented my dreams ever
since I met her. I had once believed in her and in what had grown between us. Now it was all a dream
that had gone to shit. I had nothing to prove to her anymore, but she…she had plenty I wanted.
I wanted her cries, her screams, her pleas. I wanted to make her crawl on her knees begging me
for forgiveness. But what I wanted to hear most, was her genuine apology. One that would be torn
from her as I took what was mine.
That poisonous jealousy filled my blood at the thought of Jeronimo putting his hands on her. I
didn’t give a fuck if they had vows between them, it was inconsequential obstacle. She had given
herself freely while she was here.
I shook my head, grabbing my jacket and heading out the door. “I won’t be joining you for dinner.”
“What are you going to do?”
I looked up at Paola and shrugged. “I’m gonna go see my new concubine.”
“Gabriel. Gabriel!” I ignored her screaming my name as I stormed down the empty corridors of
the offices.
I needed to see her. Needed to feel her once again. My obsession with her knew no bounds and it
scared me knowing that no matter how much I wanted to hate her, there was something in me that told
me to hold back.
Don’t hurt her.
Wait.
Wait until she tells you the truth.
But there was only one way that truth would come out and that would be at my merciless hands. I
wouldn’t have pity on her no matter how she tried to manipulate me. I needed to always remember
that she was just a pretty mask hiding a venomous heart.
 CHAPTER 6
Sol

M y head began to pound as I forced myself out of the drugged induced sleep. I blinked, my vision
blurred, and my body ached. I tried to move but my wrists were bound against a leather board. My
ankles were tied back in leather cuffs that were hooked to a chain. I looked up to find a floor to
ceiling mirror, and tears filled my eyes as I realized where he had placed me. A leather cross, one
used for torture…or pleasure.
I wished for the ladder, but I knew that Gabriel had specific tastes. Tastes I still hadn’t endured.
He’d been sweet with me once, but that now seemed like such a long time ago. It was obvious his
feelings for me had changed. He believed the worst of me, and how could I blame him. I was playing
my part to perfection. The flawless Stepford wife to one of the most powerful heads of the Mexican
cartels.
I had to be perfect in his eyes. Because if I failed, I would suffer the greatest of tortures. I’d
endured all kinds of pains and hunger at his hands. But as I told him that I’d willingly be his, that I’d
submit to whatever he wanted, he slowly began to back off.
I made sure to please him, satisfy him as best I knew how. And being his immaculate little wife
was the only way.
It took months, but in the end, he began to give me back a little bit of his trust. It wasn’t until I was
fully allowed to roam the Ranch and grounds that I overheard a conversation between a few of the
housemaids and kitchen staff They had been talking about La Familia Aguirre and how Gabriel
Aguirre was so handsome to have died so young.
That’s when it hit me. The realization that Jeronimo had not been lying. Gabriel had truly died that
night. My heart had shattered in that moment, and I finally began to mourn him. Lexi was the only
other being who shared my pain. I spent those months hiding my depression from Jeronimo and his
man, Roberto, not that they noticed.
I locked myself up in my room when he was away, and I’d cry myself to sleep every night. The
only man whom I ever cared for, dare I say loved, was gone. The thought of it devastated me. There
was no hope. There was nothing left for me. I was left at the mercy of a cold-hearted sadist, and I had
nowhere left to go. It was a sad resignation to what little hope I had left in me.
I was still in mourning when Gabriel had slid into that seat before me. He looked different. The
charming businessman with a moral background I had once encountered was gone. And in his place
stood someone new. Someone I had inadvertently turned into a monster.
A beast.
El Rey had been born, and I’d missed it. And from what I could tell he was brutal, and ruthless,
and he had set his eyes on me. His beautiful eyes, which looked dark with grief. I wondered what he
had thought when he woke up and didn’t find me there.
What had he gone through?
Was he hurt?
What was he truly feeling?
I couldn’t blame him for changing. Grief and love would do that to anyone. I, myself, lost a part of
me when he died.
Love?
I’m still not sure if what he felt for me was love. I wanted it to be, and I believe he did too. If only
he knew how much I’d missed him. He had quickly become the idea of having a real loving family.
We both didn’t have one so the least we could do was build one. But I too had grown cold during this
time. I too had to create an armor to protect my heart and my being. My mental health waned the first
few months. I was going in and out of reality. The starvation only added to my hallucinations.
Jeronimo had been callous during that time. He hadn’t cared about my well-being, he only cared
about my suffering. I would never forgive him for what he put me through, it didn’t matter what he
thought or what perception I gave.
I hated Jeronimo Dominguez.
I hated him from deep within me. And my hatred ran cold and deep. He deserved whatever karma
he got, and I wanted to be the first one to issue it.
Gabriel, on the other hand, to him I had become an object that was to be owned. I needed to open
my eyes and realize that I was alone. The dream of that knight and shining armor was long gone and
there would never be someone to offer any sort of protection.
My father was a weak man, my grandfather a cruel one. I couldn’t rely on either one to even
remember my existence. Jeronimo was a ruthless bastard who only cared about his own selfish needs
and Gabriel…
My mind and heart both wanted to believe there was still good in him. That this life hadn’t
blemished him, and that I could still bring him back. But in truth, I didn’t think I had it in me. This was
my fight or flight moment. This was my chance to escape them both. But first, I needed to get into
Gabriel’s head and see what it is he wanted from me.
I tugged at the cuffs, my head pounding, my bones hurting. God how I wished I had a place that I
could call home. How I wished I had a safe haven that I’d want to crawl too, but that safe place was
gone and in its stead was a cold desolate chain.
I felt my throat close up every time I swallowed. My mouth was filled with a metallic taste and in
this moment, I just wanted to die. I was just a worthless object to them all and I felt so very sorry for
myself.
My pain echoed around me and I gave out a wail, followed by a broken sob as I hung on that
cross. I screamed and pulled on the chains, nearly breaking skin. It seemed like hours had gone by
until eventually I ran out of breath and energy.
I fell limp against the leather boards, my knees shaking as I fell. Gratefully the chains on the cuffs
had been long enough that they allowed me to fall. With my arms dangling above my head, I looked up
at myself in the mirror.
Someone had changed my clothes. I wore a black silk slip with a lace hem. My feet were bare, the
soles held a coating of dirt on them, my makeup distorted my features, smudging my eyes in a dark
shadow, and my lips in a pink streak. My hair no longer held its curls, it now fell limp along my bare
shoulders and arms. There were fresh scratch marks on my legs and forearms, most likely from the
struggle I gave as they tried to subdue me. My wrists and ankles were red and sore, the throbbing a
clear reminder that this was only the beginning.
“Why?” I spoke to the mirror.
“Why did you do this to me?”
Tears began to run down my cheeks as I spoke to the woman who stared back at me. A woman
who looked so lost and so defeated.
“Why can’t you just be strong enough to run?” I sobbed.
“Why are you so weak!”
“I hate you!” My sobs wracked my body as I cursed at myself. “I hate you so very much.”
called out to him. “Gabriel! Gabriel, I know you’re watching me! Let me go. Let me go and I
promise I’ll do whatever you want.”
A deep silence only echoed around me, and that stillness filled with the heaviness of loneliness
filled the room. Yet I could still feel as if something or someone was watching me. I lifted my eyes to
the mirror and stared at it. Something was off with the reflection of the light on it. I wondered for a
second if he could have possibly hung this here with a purpose.
In my hazy existence I grew angry. I wanted to lash out at anything and anyone.
How could he invade my privacy like this?
How could he treat me like nothing?
“Let me out, Gabriel.” I said quietly, staring at the mirror.
“Let me out.” I repeated once again, staring at myself in the mirror.
“Let me the fuck out!” I screamed, pulling at my chains.
That’s when the mirror started to shift, and it became a sliding door that opened into another
room. Sitting in that room, perched comfortably on a chair, facing me, was Gabriel Aguirre. Tonight,
he wore black slacks with black shiny shoes, expensive, I was sure. His satin black shirt was in
disarray, sleeves rolled up showing off new tattoos that now adorned his muscular forearms. The top
few buttons were undone, giving me glimpses of his chest and the dark hair that covered it. My
fingertips tingled, remembering the hard feel of his chest beneath them. He had one leg propped over
the other, the satin fabric clung to his thick thighs. A hand covered his mouth, the other held a half
empty bottle liquor.
He didn’t say a word, he simply took his time looking me over. His dark encumbered gaze slid
along my body like a hot rod, burning my flesh. He slowly removed his hand from his mouth, licking
his lips leisurely as I waited for his judgment. When he didn’t say a word, I spoke.
“Is this what you wanted? To watch me crumble down into nothing because of you. To watch me
suffer!” I screamed, knowing that yes, this was exactly what he’d planned.
“I know I mean nothing to you. I know I’m just a worthless object in your eyes. I always was.”
Once again, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he slid the bottle to his lips and took a long drink from
it before setting it down beside the chair. He leaned forward then, still not saying a word. Still
watching me.
I tried appealing to him next. “I didn’t do anything to warrant this, Gabriel. I wasn’t the one who
hurt you.”
His eyes changed as I said those last words. They grew menacing and angry, and I instantly
regretted them. He stood up and moved toward me, and I shivered against the chains. Because I knew
that was coming would be far worse than what I had ever experienced. Not physically but
emotionally. Because Gabriel Aguirre was and will always be my ruin.
 CHAPTER 7
Gabriel

I sat on the other side of that two-way mirror watching as she demeaned herself. The liquor was
already taking its toll on my mind, making it hard to think clearly, but easier to act. She screamed into
the mirror for what seemed like forever, and then collapsed. She looked like a broken porcelain doll.
One wrong move, and she’d shatter. But it was too soon for that. She would learn that she was only
allowed to do so in my hands.
Her eyes met mine in the mirror and I felt that onerous urgency to protect her. Taking a swig of the
brandy, I swallowed that need. Burying the weakness deep down inside.
When she began to beg, that was when my patience waned, and I slid the door open revealing
myself. I could clearly make out the anger in her eyes. Anger mixed with that glimpse of uncertainty.
And there was something else there. Something soft. But I refused to believe this woman had any type
of compassion or sympathy in her. Hell, I don’t even think she knew what the word love entailed.
I couldn’t blame her. Everyone around her had taught her complete disregard for feelings. Her
heart had at some point hardened and playing this game of survival had become her life.
“I wasn’t the one who hurt you…”
My whole demeanor changed with those words. She truly was cruel if she believed that she was
not to blame for all of this. This was solely her fault. She was Helen of Troy in all this and there were
consequences to pay for that.
I took another swig of the brandy and set the bottle down, carefully standing up and heading
toward her. She looked like a scared rabbit, trembling in its cage. As I approached her, she carefully
slid up the leatherbound cross. Her hair was wild, her eyes wide, knowing full well that I was the
predator here.
She was even more beautiful than I remembered her. Her hair was longer, her eyes full of fire, her
cheeks rosy and she had filled out nicely. Her curves fucked with my head, and I hated feeling this all-
consuming lust for her.
"You can't just keep me in these chains forever, Gabriel."
I came up to her, wrapping a finger around a thread of brown hair. “I told you not to call me that.”
“I will call you that because it is the name your mother gave you.”
I yanked at the hair, pulling her face closer to mine. “Keep any mention of my mother off your
lying lips if you don’t want me to damage them.”
“All you men do is live by your threats. That just makes you weak, Gabriel. I’m not afraid of
you.”
I smirked and turned my head to the side. The tick in my jaw clicked and jerked back toward her,
gripping her by the back of the neck and yanking her toward me. I pressed my forehead to hers as I
squeezed. The small whimper she gave was a small satisfaction of the pain I wanted to inflict.
“You’re lucky you’re not a man, or I would have broken your jaw already.”
“Do it,” she stuck her chin toward me. “I won’t fight back. Smash it until shards of bone stem out
of my chin. Do it. I still won’t give you the satisfaction of fearing you.”
“You fucking wench!” I gripped her hair, pulling her closer until our foreheads hurt from the
pressure.
"You're just as cruel as he is."
"Do not compare me to him."
"No, you're worse."
"Shut your mouth." I seethed.
"Because you know that what we had between us meant more and yet you're willing to destroy it."
"I said suit your fucking lying mouth!"
I slid a hand around her throat, and she actually let out a laugh. "You're pathetic, Gabriel. Just like
him."
"Don't push me, Sol."
"Because you take from the weak to fulfill your perverted kinks. You're selfish and self-
absorbed…"
"Enough!"
My instinct was to protect myself from the pain. I told her not to push me, but she didn’t listen.
She never listens. And in doing so, I responded.
The smack cracked along her cheek and through my heart. I had never laid a hand on a woman,
and I was sure that if my mother was watching, or Paola ever found out, she'd kill me. But a man
could only take so much. Every word she sputtered was full of venom and daggers. Each one tearing
through whatever was left of my dark heart.
Her cold laughter was soft and filled with hate. The sound grated on my senses forming chills
down my spine.
"I knew it. Deep down I knew you had it in you." She spit blood on my shoes and then raised her
head.
"Like I said. You're just like him." Tears penetrated her eyes but never fell.
She was strong, I'd give her that, and she was finally showing her true colors.
"I never thought I'd say this, but I hate you, Gabriel.
I staggered back, her words like sharp shards of glass tearing away at me.
I grabbed the back of her neck, running my fingers over the smeared lipstick.
"Not as much as I hate you," I whispered harshly against her mouth.
"You can't keep me in these chains forever."
"Why not?"
"Because he won't allow it."
"Do you think I fucking give a shit?" I raised my shaking hand, closing it into a fist as I spoke. "I'll
crush him like the fucking cockroach he is."
"He will destroy you, Gabriel."
“I’m sure you’d love that.”
“You’re wrong. I’d rather die at your hands than his. I promise you that.”
She was manipulating me again and I fought to clear my head.
“Didn’t you know, Sol. This is exactly how you treat a backstabber."
 "That is not what I am?"
"Not anymore. Now you're my prisoner and I show no mercy to traitors."
"I am not a traitor!"
I lurched forward, grabbing her by the throat. I squeezed and when she gasped for air and
sputtered, I forced myself to release her.
"I saw his mouth on yours!"
Her eyes simply watched me before replying.
"That's not how it looked."
I squeezed her tightly again, seething the words against her ear.
"What the fuck do you call it then?"
"Surviving," she spat out.
I smirked. "Enough with the lies, Sol. Tell the truth. You're one of those women who likes to play
games?"
"No."
"Who thinks their power is in between their legs."
"No," she shook her head.
I ran my hands down her body and she hissed as I played with her plush tits. The silk of the
nightgown allowed me to create the friction I wanted as I tugged and pressed down on her nipples.
"You're the type that likes to fuck men to get what she needs."
She whimpered as I slid my hands around to her ass, pulling her toward me and pressing myself
against her. She felt so fucking good and I hated myself for wanting a taste of her.
Just one taste.
The alcohol swam in my bloodstream, and I fell to my knees before her.
"Gabriel, what are you doing?"
I looked up at her as I gripped the lace of the slip and pulled it apart. The sound of it tearing filled
the air. She didn't say a word as I tore at her panties. I was blinded by the scent of her. One that made
me hungry for what was kept from me for so long.
I just need one taste.
I caressed her thighs and pressed my mouth to her pussy.
God, I love you.
That thought penetrated my heart as I breathed her in, unable to deny myself the feeling. But I
swore I would never be stupid enough to be that vulnerable with her again.
"You used me." I uttered instead.
"No."
"You took what you wanted and left me for dead."
"That's not true," she cried, the tears finally falling.
I tightened my hold on her thighs. My fingers dug into her flesh until she whimpered in pain.
"Now I'm going to take what I want from you."
"Gabriel."
I looked up at her as I spread her pussy lips, exposing her clit.
"I'm called El Rey now. Don't fucking forget that."
I bit down on her clit, and she cried out, the chains rattling as she writhed against them.
Her juices coated my tongue and I grunted, hungry to devour every inch of her.
"Mi Rey," she moaned incoherently as I inserted two fingers into her, stroking her deeply as I
sucked on that pretty clit of hers. I rolled my tongue around the tight bundle of nerves until her thighs
began to shake.
She writhed above me. Her body recognizing its owner. She was born for me. My fingers drove in
faster, curling as I pulled back.
"Gabriel," she said my name in a sultry whisper and it triggered me.
I slid my fingers out of her, taking one last long lick of her. She moaned as I tore myself away.
Standing before her, I watched her glazed eyes blink and stare at me. She looked so damn perfect
hanging from those chains in the ripped, black silk. She was ready for me to take her, but I wouldn't.
I only wanted a taste of her.
I only wanted to deny her that need for me. A need that I had to purge time and time again. A
torture all on its own.
"Gabriel," she whispered as I grabbed her chin.
"Mi nombre es El Rey. Learn it."
I turned my back to her, listening to her plead with me as I slammed the door shut behind me. I had
limits. And in that moment, I needed to get as far away from her as possible before I made a grave
mistake.
 CHAPTER 8
Jeronimo

W e stopped at the height of the mountain watching down over the cattle. The sun was setting over
the hilltop and we’d gone out to ride. The ranch hands were ready to settle in and watch over the
herd.
Images of Sol had been imprinted in my mind since the day she went missing. Her scent was still
on the pillows, the essence of her presence assaulted me at every turn. I needed to get out of the ranch
as fast as possible. The property was located in Tijuana, Baja California, not far from the San Diego
border. Here we were able to have access to the ports as well as live in some sort of peace. The
house was under Sol’s name, everything here was hers. My name was nowhere to be found which
meant that this was the only place in the world that was untouched by the Sinaloa Cartels.
Afortunado whinnied, the horse was my first purchase as a cartel member. He’d been with me
ever since. An Andalusian bloodline that reigned from the Spanish. His name meant fortunate because
that’s how I felt when I handed over the money to purchase him.
My money.
My possession.
It was the first time I gained any knowledge of what money could buy and of the type of power I
held in my grasp. Money may not be able to buy happiness but it sure as hell made it easy to gain it.
Roberto rode his rose out, stopping at my side. “I’ve been looking for you.”
I turned my head towards the now purple and orange sky. “I needed to get out of the house for a
while.”
“We got the video footage from the cameras.”
The news had my full attention. “Did you find anything of importance?”
He nodded. “Something I think you want to have a look at.”
I had known Roberto long enough to know that if he brought any news like this, it meant he had
gotten something concrete and life changing. I pressed the heels of my boots against the sides of
Afortunado, and the stallion shot out, galloping toward the property.
Ranch hands were outside, ready to take the reins as I jumped off the saddle and followed
Roberto to the studio.
As soon as we entered, he shut the door and walked over to the desk. “I sent it to you in a private
link.”
I didn’t say a word as he brought it up on the screen. The images were in black in white but clear
enough for me to see that there was a man seated with his back to the camera in the cafe. This was the
last place anyone had seen my wife.
 “Who is that?”
“Just. Wait.” Roberto said, pointing back at the screen.
It took a few minutes more before the man stood up. He was reaching out his hand to her and it
took her a moment's pause before she took it. Searching the plaza, they both walked around to the
back of the café.
"That's it?"
Roberto raised his hand and clicked a second link. My mouth went dry, my heart dropped, and my
blood pressure began to rise.
The man on the camera looked extremely familiar. The man on the camera was a dead man
walking.
"Is that…?”
Roberto nodded. "It's the only explanation."
"How?"
"I have no idea."
"He was dead. The motherfucker was dead! I witnessed his burial. Fuck! I threw fucking dirt on
that casket!"
"I don't doubt it."
"This has to be a mistake. The camera is playing tricks."
"If it's not Gabriel Aguirre, then it's a look alike who wants to play games."
"You mean for ransom."
"It's the only explanation."
Mexico was known for men who would take their own children as hostage until money was paid.
It was a deceitful negotiation and one that I preferred to the ladder.
Gabriel Aguirre being alive.
He turned his chair around to look up at me. "I opened his casket seconds before it went down.
Make no doubt about it. Aguirre was inside."
“That makes no sense. There’s been no ransom calls, no threats made, nothing.”
“Maybe he’s waiting for the right time to make his move.”
Roberto looked back at the paused screen. All we could see was a profile, but it was identical to
Gabriel Aguirre’s. There was no mistaking it was him.
“Find out who he is. I don’t know how you do it but I want that information on my desk as soon as
possible. If this maldito is El Rey, I will personally cut off his head.”
 CHAPTER 9
Gabriel

H unter texted me to meet him in the boardroom. When I walked in, he was pacing the room, a look
of concern seemed to be permanently attached to his brow lately. The lights were low, and the screens
were turned on.
As soon as I entered, he ushered me in and shut the door. Dimming the floor to ceiling windows
he started the video footage. I sat back and just watched as I appeared on the screen along with Sol.
The feed entailed our entire encounter from start to finish, and gratefully my face remained
hidden. That is…until we switched angles. The profile of my face glared at us both as Hunter paused
the footage.
“We have a serious problem.”
Perching my elbows on the chair, I folded my hands in front of me, my fingertips meeting as I
pressed them to my mouth and leaned back slightly. My demeanor looked pensive and calm but inside
I knew I was screwed.
“It’s impossible to tell it's me. Even with the glasses.”
“Anyone who has seen you can recognize you. And if they can’t they’ll definitely question it.”
“So request that the video only be given to you.”
“Too late. Another party came in and took a copy a few days ago. I’m pretty sure it was
Dominguez’s people.”
“Fuck,” I uttered.
Hunter threw the remote onto the table. It created a loud clatter, perturbing the silence.
“This! This is why you can’t make moves without me!”
“We’ll just have to move things up then.”
"We weren't planning on that for months. And even so we're not prepared for that type of press."
"Paola will worry about that. You just worry about keeping her safe and Sol out of sight."
"We'll need to move her to a safehouse. Far away from here."
"She isn't going anywhere." I gave him a steely response.
"You're pretty much a sitting target."
"Where I go, she goes. That's my final order."
Hunter sighed, propping his hands on his waist. "Then we move you both."
"I don't think you understand, Hunter. I'm not running away."
He leaned forward, propping his hands on the edge of a chair. "It's not about running away, Sir.
It's about biding time."
"Let them come for me. I'm prepared for the worse."
 "No. You're prepared for an execution. You think those men will stop and think before they put a
bullet in your head. They'll storm in with the sole intent to kill anyone in sight."
I shook my head. "Jeronimo Dominguez has a personal debt to me, and he knows it. As well as a
vendetta that eats at him just as mine eats at me. And if I know my enemy, he’s waiting for me to knock
at his door.”
I stood up and headed to the door, pausing at Hunter’s words.
“You’re a dead man walking, Gabriel.”
I hung my head for a brief moment before looking back at him. “You were referred to me by a
deep and loyal friend, Hunter. And in these last few months you have proved yourself more than
worthy of that title you hold at my side. But I’m paying you to not just watch over me, but to watch
over my family.”
“I’m trying, Sir, but you don’t heed any advice.”
“I already died once, Hunter. I want you to know that I’m not afraid of death. And I’m willing to
die again for those I love.”
“No, you’re willing to die to get revenge at a woman who destroyed you.”
I paused, lowering my head as I smiled. “That’s true. But I never said I didn’t love her.”
I raised my eyes to look at him. “Promise me one thing, Hunter.”
“Anything, Sir.”
“I know how you feel for Paola.”
His eyes went wide, and he practically stumbled through his words. “I-I don’t…I don’t know
what you mean, Sir.”
“Fools, we are. We can never say what we truly feel. That’s our true downfall.”
He simply stood there, a faked perplexed look on his face even though he knew exactly what I
meant.
“Just promise me that when I’m gone, your sole purpose will be to protect my cousin. She’s all
I’ve got left in this world.”
He nodded. “With my life, Sir.”
I smiled and gave him a quick nod as I opened the door and headed down the hallway. This part
of the building was only mine to roam. Anyone who saw me had been sworn to secrecy. Most of them
were loyal to my father, some even to me. The place was humming, the employees busy answering
calls and making sales. Aguirre Harvest had surged under Paola’s management and my investment
skills. We had become a power business duo, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that all the
acclaims were given to Paola.
Everything I’d worked so hard for was now being recognized by another. I loved my cousin, and I
wished nothing but the best for her, but I was done sharing our accomplishments. I wanted people to
know that I was my father’s son. That I had actually done something other than play dead. And I
wanted Sol by my side when I did it.
The realization of that truth hit me like a bucket of cold water. The lines between vengeance and
love crossed and they were blinding me to the truth.
And the truth was what?
That she left me for dead and went back to her husband.
How stupid was I to think I could convince my enemy’s wife to choose me. To love me.
I quickened my pace, wanting to get home. I needed to see her again. I needed…
More.
I want more of her.
 More than just a taste. More than a touch.
I want to hear her scream for me.
I was slowly driving myself mad. The mere presence of her made me bow down and want to give
her the world.
Why?
That was the question that circling around my mind along with others that surged as the days went
by.
Why couldn’t I just give her up?
Why did God have to put her in my path?
Why couldn’t I just end her and end myself in the process?
“You’re just like him.”
Her words echoed in my mind, and they tore at my soul. I hated myself when she said them. I
hated who I had become because of her. She saw me as that beast that she feared so long ago. And
although her fear was what I sought after; it wasn’t enough. In the end, my love for her was getting in
the way. I needed to remember why I had brought her back. She needed to meet the beast she’d
created.
 CHAPTER 10
Sol

O ne of the girls who worked in the house prior to my leaving was sent in to tend to me. She was
horrified when she found me still strapped to the damn cross. My own personal crucifix. And as much
as I begged her to take me down, she told me she would, but they'd kill her. I was shocked that
Gabriel had managed to instill that fear in those of his employ.
I understood loyalty and respect when it came to him, but not fearing for your life. These were
glimpses of El Rey whom I still was yet to discover. She assisted with cleaning my wounds and
gently removed the straps of cloth that still clung to me.
Her eyes went to the side of my hip and to the scars that curled around my lower back.
"Just make sure he doesn't see those." I whispered, and she nodded, quickly turning away to find
something to cover me with. She returned with a strapless silk blue night gown which she helped me
into.
"I'll go get you some food." She was kind enough to get me a pillow that I could sit on before she
left me.
About an hour later there was a knock at the door.
"You can come in," I called out expecting the maid. Instead, a woman, dressed in a bright red
pantsuit, wearing gold Louis Vuitton heels, and a tight bun perched at the top of her head, wandered
in. She held a tray full of fruits and meats and cheeses. My stomach growled at the sight of them.
"Oh my God." The woman rushed in, setting down the tray.
"Jesus. What the hell is he doing?" She murmured as she grabbed one of the chains.
She looked even prettier up close, and I wondered who she was and why she was here in
Gabriel’s home. Jealousy rendered its ugly head, and I closed my eyes, looking down, knowing I had
no right to feel it.
"Um…I'm sorry, who are you?"
She gave me a small smile. "Paola."
"Oh." I still didn’t know who she was, and she wasn’t offering any more details.
Instead, she told me to wait and left me once again alone, staring at the tray a food that seemed so
far away. My stomach and I thought that this would probably be an ideal way to torture someone.
A few minutes later she was back, and she was wielding what looked like a long sword.
"Wait…" I help up my hands.
"Move." She came at me with it.
"No. Wait!"
"Move!" I shifted and turned away just as the axe hit the chain.
 Nothing happened. I was still cuffed and chained to the wall.
"Fuck," she uttered, raising the axe again.
I clenched my eyes shut and recoiled as the axe hit the chain once again. The brunt force folding
the metal in.
"One more time," she grunted, elevating the machete over her head, and come down on the metal.
I flinched as part of the edge of the blade flicked my forearm and blood began to seep through the
wound.
"Shit," she placed her hand over it and we both just stared at each other.
"Didn't mean to do that," she said.
All I could do was blink. I had no words for what she had just done.
I watched her run to the bed, tear off a piece of the sheet with the machete and then she came over
and quietly bandaged the wound. When she was done, she patted my hand and then pulled me to the
other side.
"Wait!"
She stopped and finally looked at me. The machete still in midair.
"He'll kill you if you let me go."
"I never said I was letting you go. And trust me, when he finds out I found you like this, there will
be more shame than fear in him.
I yelled and jerked my face away as the edge of the blade came down. My arm dropped and I
stared down at the broken chain.
"You're pretty good at that."
"I'm good at a lot of things," she smiled, throwing the blade on the bed. "Just takes practice!" She
raised her arms and dropped them, giving a sigh of exhaustion.
I sobered up quickly as she shuffled through the room straightening items. She seemed anxious and
worried.
"Why are you helping me?"
She turned to me then, giving me her full attention. "Because I won't allow for my cousin to lose
his sense of self. No matter how hard he tries."
"Won't you get in trouble for this?"
"Honey, I've kept that man from killing himself twice and I buried him once, I'll do it again if it
keeps him from doing something he'll regret for the rest of his life. But he hasn't died yet, so my bet
has always been on him. Unfortunately, with you here, it's a gamble that I'm not willing to risk."
"You're his cousin?"
"Twice removed, yes."
"He never mentioned you."
"He wouldn't have. I'm not favored by the family. Honestly, if it wasn't for him, I'd be lying in my
own tomb somewhere up on a hilltop."
My stomach growled and she smiled. "Now, come. Eat. I'll have Alicia set up a new set of clothes
and draw you a bath."
"What about these?" I lifted my hands, my wrists still in the leather cuffs.
She grabbed them and shook her head. "I don't have the key. He'll have to provide that."
"He's going to be so angry."
She slid her fingers under my chin and tipped my head up.
"Someone I cared for deeply once taught me to be strong. To not let anyone push me around, least
of all a man. Gabriel's angry and he's hurt. I don't know you, Sol Dominguez. I only know what he
sees in you, and I know he loved you. Cherish that. Because if you don't, it's not him you'll be
answering to."
She walked away and right before she pulled open the door, I stopped her.
"How do you know that?"
She turned to me, crossing her arms over her chest. "Which part?"
"The part where he loved me."
She walked forward, leaning her hands against the edge of a chair. She spoke low, as if in secret.
"There's one thing he won't tell you. One thing he won't even admit to himself. And that is that he’s
in an immense amount of pain. He won't acknowledge it and it's eating him up inside.
But right before he felt that, when he was searching for you, one could see his desperation, his
anguish to learn if you were alive or dead, and then his suffering when he learned you betrayed him."
"But I didn't," I responded in an urgent whisper. Allowing her to know that I never would betray
him.
"He doesn't see it that way. But I do suggest you show him. It's your only way out of this. That is,
if you want an out."
As she pulled open the door she stopped and looked over her shoulder at me. "But I will give you
a piece of advice. Gabriel doesn't like weak women. So, hold your head up high and don't let him
win."
She didn't say another word, just walked out, leaving me once again to fend for myself. If what
Paola told me was any indication of Gabriel's feelings for me then it meant I still had a chance.
But how?
I looked down at the grime under my fingernails and feet. Alicia scurried in and smiled at me.
"I'll get things ready for you, Señora."
I suddenly realized I was freed, and I glanced at the machete on the bed before I reached for it and
headed to the door. I gripped the handle and froze. How easy it would be to just leave. But at the
same time, where would I go.
I no longer felt like a woman. I was now a pawn in this maniacal testosterone filled game. Each
man took what he wanted. One tore it from my body, the other from my soul. I’d say I hated them both,
but I didn’t. I didn’t hate them. I hated my father for not caring and giving me up as payment. I hated
my grandfather for having brought me to them. For turning his back on me. For feeding me to the
wolves. I hated myself for not being strong enough to fight them off.
I remembered Paola's words and slowly I let go of the door handle and set the machete back
down on the bed. She was right, I needed to fight. And deep down I knew I'd always stay because
anything was better than being Jeronimo Dominguez’s captive. Gabriel had no idea what I had to do
to get away from him. To make him trust me again.
Whatever lies Gabriel had concocted in his head were poisoning him. I just needed him to see that
I wasn’t the evil he made me out to be.
I went over to the tray and began to eat. I was starving, and that first bite of fruit was heavenly. I
savored every morsel, fearing he would leave me to starve again.
Alicia finally walked out. "It's ready for you. Señora."
I entered the bathroom, the door closed behind me, and I was eager to clean myself up. I quickly
undressed, sliding a foot into the bath water. The heat scalded briefly, and I welcomed it. It brought a
sense of healing and comfort and I settled into the water, sighing in relief.
I bathed slowly, the chains attached to the cuffs on my wrist banged loudly against the porcelain
tub, reminding me that I shouldn't let my guard down. I knew he'd return and that his rage would easily
consume him. The least I could do was feel somewhat human again before I confronted the King.
 CHAPTER 11
Gabriel

I pulled up to the house right behind Paola's Porsche Taycan, red like the fire she liked to light
under our asses.
I sighed, sliding out of my Lincoln, wondering what she was doing here so late at night. As I was
coming up the stairs, she was running down them. Her features turned serious when she saw me, and I
knew something had gone askew while I was gone.
“Leaving?” I asked her as she reached the bottom step into the foyer.
“What are you doing, Gabriel?”
I looked up at the top of the steps. “About what?”
She took a step toward me, lowering her voice. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“It doesn’t concern you,” I answered angrily, pushing past her.
“She’s beautiful.”
Her words stopped me halfway up the stairs. I slowly turned to her. “And how would you know
that?”
“Because I had the pleasure of meeting her.”
She started to walk across the foyer when I ran back down the stairs and grabbed her arm. She
swung around and jerked her arm free of me.
“Don’t you put your hands on me like that. I’m not your toy. I’m your partner. But that doesn’t
mean I won’t chop your hand off. You’re lucky I haven’t cut your balls off with the cruelty with which
I was received upstairs.”
“You had no right to go up there.”
“I’m in every right if it means saving your life!” Her words echoed through the acoustics of the
room.
“I don’t want to be saved!” I screamed into her face.
She shut her eyes and slowly released a shallow, shaky breath. I watched her quickly compose
herself. Straightening out her suit jacket and setting down the patent leather purse on the credenza
beside her. Her hand shook slightly as if she too was holding back her anger. When she finally looked
up at me, the motherly look she gave me made me take a step back.
“I’ve seen a lot of sides of you, Gabriel. I have put up with many of them, tried to control others,
and loved every single one of them. You are my blood, you are my family, and I refuse to stand on the
sidelines and watch as you destroy yourself.”
I placed my hands on my waist and turned away from her. “I do not need a mother, Paola. My
mother died a long time ago.”
 “And I don’t want to be your babysitter. But this brutality is unseeming. This is not what I signed
up for nor is it something I will allow to happen under my own nose.”
“Goddammit!” I yelled, swinging an arm and colliding with a crystal vase. The pieces shattered
everywhere; the roses slid across the floor stopping at her heels.
Paola stood very still, her eyes closed, her fists clenched. “I know you’re hurting…”
“You don’t know shit!” I shouted.
I was angry and when you’re angry you say things you don’t mean, but Paola also knew how to get
you to talk, and she’d do it by using your anger against you. Knowing that if you hit the right chords,
that person would spew their guts out, becoming vulnerable enough so she could stomp on them.
“I know what you want, and you won’t get it,” I whispered.
“What I want is for you to find your happiness. That woman you’ve locked up and starved is
already broken, Gabriel. I saw it in her eyes. She has nothing left to lose, and she has fight in her. She
won’t go down so easily.”
“You know nothing about her!”
“I know she’s a woman, and sometimes women don’t have an explanation for their actions.
Sometimes when you’re trying to survive a situation, you’ll do anything to save yourself.”
“I see you’ve fallen for her lies.”
“Have you given her a chance to even tell her side of the story?”
“I don’t have to!” I lurched toward her, shaking in anger as I pointed at my face. “I saw her
betrayal with my own two eyes!”
“You saw what you wanted to see, Gabriel. You don’t know what actually happened.”
“Why are you defending her!”
“Because I want you to open your eyes!” She yelled back.
I stared up at the top of the stairway, the house silent. “This is what she does, Paola. This is how
she manipulates you.” I looked back at her. “I thought you were smarter than this.”
“I’ve been that woman, Gabriel. I know what being broken looks like. She’s been through hell and
back, and you’re only going to ruin anything that was good between you.”
“Don’t you understand?” I curled my hand into a fist as I tried containing my rage. “There is
nothing between us.”
“Then let her go. Because no one deserves this much pain. Not you and not her.”
I looked away from her, knowing she was right. But I couldn’t let Sol go. “No matter what
happens here, I’ll never let her go.”
“If you don’t, I will.” She stated.
I narrowed my eyes on her and glanced from the stairwell to her. “What did you do?”
She didn’t respond and I snarled in frustration as I ran up the stairs.
“This is not the way, Gabriel!” She called after me.
I was seething by the time I got to my bedroom. Ripping the door open, I did a quick search of the
room. There was an empty tray on the table, a silk nightgown on the floor, but other than that nothing
else had been touched. I lifted the silk and brought it up to my nose, inhaling her scent. My eyes
landed across the room to where the cross stood. I slowly got closer and noticed the chopped wood.
Turning, I found the machete that had been used to cut away at the cross, lying on top of my bed. I
cursed at Paola under my breath as I lifted it.
I paused, wondering why Sol hadn’t taken it with her. She couldn’t have gone far.
I once again searched the room and the sound of running water got my attention. I approached the
bathroom door, listening intently, realizing she was still here.
 Why didn’t she leave?
I closed my eyes, picturing her in the bathtub, her dark hair floating around her in the water. Her
soft curves submerged. My body stirred as I imagined her getting out of the tub and coming toward
me.
The picture distorted as I pictured Jeronimo in my place and the jealousy emerged, sending me
tearing through that door.
 CHAPTER 12
Sol

I cried out as he burst through the door. I was putting on my robe and I’d barely covered up as he
invaded the space. He looked maddening, yet I could never explain my attraction to his
handsomeness. Even when I feared him, I wanted him.
He was all in black tonight, those top buttons of his shirt undone once again, and I hated how my
body responded to his presence.
“Gabri…” I cried out as he grabbed me by the arm. The silk robe opened, and his eyes darkened.
I knew what that look meant. It was a mixture of need and rage, and it was directed at me. I shook
as he dragged me out of the bathroom.
“Gabriel, please!”
He yanked my arm, turning me and slamming me up against the wall. “Did you think my cousin
would save you?”
I shook my head. “N-no. I nev-”
I winced as he tightened his hold on my forearm, the chains still clung to my cuffs. “Your lies have
done enough harm!”
“I wasn’t lying!” I yelled at him.
I hated this feeling of not knowing. At least with Jeronimo I knew what to expect. His punishment
was lethally physical. But with Gabriel it was a mixture of emotions that put me on a never-ending
rollercoaster of doubt. I never knew what he would do next. Would he hit me again, or maybe strangle
me, possibly violate me. I just didn’t know. All I knew was that I could feel him. His pain vibrated
through me and settled deep down in my core, and I wanted to reach out and tear it away, but I didn’t
know how to do that. I could barely handle my own pain, let alone another’s.
“Gabriel, you’re hurting me.”
His sarcastic smirk made me cower. “I‘m hurting you? You have no idea what hurt is.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “No. You have no idea! You don’t know what I’ve gone through,
what I’ve had to endure!”
"You betrayed me!" He screamed, tightening his hold on me.
"You're wrong." My voice broke and shook as I spoke.
Slamming his fist against the wall beside my head, he shook from the rage. It took him a minute to
speak and when he did it, his voice sounded hoarse and beaten.
"How am I wrong?"
"I was merely playing the part. Just how you taught me to."
"Bullshit!" He seethed against my lips, gripping my hair, and yanking my head back. My body
Another random document with
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had polished. Seeing nothing of Glenn, and passing a word with Mrs.
Curtis who was busy in the dining room, she went out to the flower
garden. About her in riotous health and beauty grew flowers that
gave no evidence of care. There was a suggestion of wilfulness
everywhere. The sun had not been up long. It was splashing its rays
in the face of the great, slumbering mountains like spray on the face
of a sluggard. Glenn walked up behind Esther as she bent over a
white rosebush in the heyday of its blooming.
“You did not waste time waiting for me. This is worth seeing.
Don’t you think so?”
As her face raised to his, how pure and radiant it looked. The
purity was heightened by the flush.
“Oh, if I could only do to them as I want to.” She stretched her
arms and brought them together with a sigh. “I’d like to hold them
close and love them as hard as I could; then I’d be satisfied.”
“You’d crush them, break their stems and pay the penalty of
indulgence by pricking those arms of yours by the wretched little
briars hidden under the beauty that you would spoil,” he said,
sharply.
He wanted her to see a lesson in this.
“That’s the way with life,” he said, watching her break off one of
the buds which she put in his coat.
“Come on. You have got enough. I must leave by two o’clock.”
“I’ve been ready longer than you—my violin is on the porch. We
can go by there to get it.”
At the start Glenn saw that Esther looked very radiant, but
suddenly the look of exaltation faded from her face. He did not
understand her mood.
Generally she enjoyed what he recalled to her, visible or invisible,
with the most exquisite feeling. He dearly loved that trait in her. This
was not one of her receptive moods. She did not seem to know
when they got to the spring.
 He indulged in an indolent sprawl upon the grass, and she
dropped down on the roots of a tree by his side. He was an ideal
lounger. That was sufficient contentment for awhile. He was trying to
think it out without asking her.
“What’s the matter?” he said at last. “Have I hurt you—displeased
you?” That passive gentleness of manner was rarely changed.
“Won’t you tell me?” He placed his hand softly over hers that lay on
the ground. Her lashes, delicate in their tinting, beat together,
struggling to catch the tears that tried to overflow. She pulled away
her hand and started to rise. The child’s heart was almost breaking
and the rebellious tears that came, hot and fast, were dashed away
by little, mad hands.
“Oh, Esther, have I hurt you? Don’t, don’t! I’d rather you would
strike me—anything but that.” He sprang to his feet and bent over
her. “Are you disappointed in me. Have you found too many flaws? Is
it because I must go away?” His soft, sad eyes regarded her
uneasily. “If I am the cause, haven’t I a right to know?”
“You oughtn’t to have to be told,” she said, with shamed
frankness, when she could command her voice.
“If I had meant to, I wouldn’t; that is my justification.”
He touched her hair. “Come, this isn’t you—I always liked that
straightforward way of yours. Don’t spoil our last day. Tell me, what’s
the matter?”
“That’s what stings—you not only thought little enough of them to
throw them away; you forgot it.”
There was a complaining note in her voice. It was less anger than
grief she felt. Her head had the plaintive droop of a spoiled child
asking consolation.
“Do you mean the flowers on my boot; is that all?” Slipping one
hand in his pocket and pulling out a few, bruised, draggled morning
glories. An expression of joy flashed over her wet face. A faint,
amused gleam shot into his serious eyes.
 “Tagger used them for a handle, and I thought their condition
decided in favor of pressing rather than wearing. I saved the pieces
you see.”
“They were all the color of my dreams—I couldn’t help but think
that was the way they would go some day.”
“If I can help it, they won’t.”
Taking out a notebook he dropped the flowers between its leaves.
Her girlish illusions were dear to him. He wouldn’t destroy one of
them.
“Here, let me get your violin. Play for me, while I smoke.”
She took it from him, and he began smoking, as she played for
him the piece he had asked her to learn. He could see the
confidence she had gained in herself. Patience was all that she
lacked.
“There is yet another one I want you to learn for me.”
“What’s the use? I may never see you again. I don’t know that I’ll
worry with it.”
The thought of his going away met with resentment in her. She
did not like to picture life with his companionship withdrawn.
“Fiddledee humbug! I expect to see you again lots of times.
Maybe I’ll spend Christmas day with the Curtises. I might come over
awhile at that time if you would ask me. I am not going home just for
a day. New York State is too far.”
“I couldn’t divide you, I want the whole day or nothing.” Esther
leaned her elbow on the violin case.
“I remember the first time I was ever offered a piece of a whole
thing. I was a very little girl. I had a china plate that I always used at
my place at table, and one day a boy broke it in halves and mended
it. It had tiny green dots shaped like a fence row around it, and I
noticed one place where the dots didn’t fit, and then I saw where
they had pasted it together. A little chip of it was gone. It nearly broke
my heart. They all said it was as good as new, but they couldn’t
make me see it in that way. What do you suppose I did?”
“There is no telling.”
“It had been the pride of my life, but I took that plate out, and
broke it in pieces and strewed them down the road to cut his feet
when he came by from school.”
“Suppose the feet of others had got the punishment?”
“I wasn’t old enough to reason that out then.”
“Some people would have been sore enough and revengeful
enough not to care if they had. I have known such instances, but I
can understand that your plate would never be the same to you with
a part of it gone. I don’t like anything incomplete myself.”
“Give me the whole day—I want you all the time.”
“If you will promise me to learn every piece of music that I ask
you to, I will.”
“You haven’t told the Curtises yet that you were coming?”
“No.”
“Well,” her voice was merry, “that’s a bargain.”
Glenn Andrews looked at his watch.
“Great Scott! ten minutes to two. I must go.”
They stood for a moment hand in hand. Not a sound could be
heard save the water lisping in the spring. He touched her hair.
“Beautiful hair!” he half whispered. “If it had been cut off, when you
came so near having the fever, I should have asked you to give me a
curl.”
His veins throbbed with tenderness—between these two there
was a tie nearer than blood—the tie of comradeship. One couldn’t
think of relations more subtle or pure.
“Give me your knife,” she said.
 Glenn raised her face, touching her chin gently with the tips of his
fingers.
“No, no,” he said. “It is much prettier where it is. I wouldn’t let you
cut one off.”
She turned and closed her violin case with a snap.
 CHAPTER XI.
When he had gone, Esther went back to the woods. The thought
of his coming with the Christmas time kept her nature alive and
glowing. Her interest in music became more absorbing than ever.
She practiced for hours at a stretch. This exceptional interest was a
triumph that had given the old grandfather a steadier balance of
mind, when during these years he had tried to fill her mother’s place,
nurturing, encouraging the possibilities that lay in this young soul,
ennobling, inspiring a deeper meaning to life. Glenn Andrews had
helped him. He appreciated that. They saw him occasionally when
they went in to her lessons. Esther seemed to realize that Mr.
Campbell was making a sacrifice for her sake and every week the
professor could see the forward step she had made.
The college monthly came to her regularly now. It always had
poems or stories by Glenn Andrews. All these she preserved. There
was a sort of reverence in her care of them. They were a part of him
—his creations. In the satisfaction derived from them, she became
more impatient as to her own imperfections. The ripe, rich beauty of
autumn trailed by in all its glory without the love it once had from her.
Her walks became less frequent. She felt a relief when the snow first
fell. Snow always suggested Christmas. She kept such close watch
that the calendar was not needed to tell her when it was near. In the
innocence of her heart, she pictured Glenn Andrews watching the
hours go by with the same impetuous eagerness—he who had gone
back to his old solitary life, as though nothing had dropped in for a
moment to change it.
It was Christmas. A light snow lay over the valley.
Esther wrapped a hood close about her head and walked back
and forth on the verandah. A low wind among the white boughs
made a lullaby for her longing.
The nearer the realization, the more impatient she grew.
 At last the sound of wheels, and the brisk stepping of horses
charmed her heart—he was coming. She heard the sound of his
voice as there was a halt at the gate.
“Oh, it’s you, is it, Mr. Glenn?”
“Who else did you expect?” asked Glenn Andrews, stretching out
his hand cordially to greet her, enjoying the dignity she tried to
assume. He had speculated as to how she would meet him.
The fire roaring up the wide chimney was sweeter than music to
him. It had been a cold ride. They were so glad to see him, Glenn
thought it was the next best thing to going home.
“Get up close and warm yourself.” Esther shivered at the thought
of his being cold.
“Let me have your coat, Mr. Glenn.”
“No, it’s too heavy; I’ll lay it over here.” Folding it he threw it
across a divan and drew his chair up to the fire.
Esther leaned on the edge of the mantle, looking at him. The
wind had blown in her hair, it lashed about her face, and with the old
careless gesture she tossed it back, impatiently.
“Have you been pulling that hair out again?” said Glenn, with a
sort of proprietary right.
“No, but I’ve been cutting it off.”
“You haven’t!” These words held the heat of indignation.
“If you don’t believe it, I’ll prove it.”
She stepped over to him as she drew something from her belt
and pressed it in his hand.
“You know Christmas never came to you from me before.” Just at
that minute Mr. Campbell came in. He settled himself in his own
rocking chair with a sigh of relief, as though he were hypnotized by
the warmth of the room. He talked on and on, selecting topics upon
which neither seemed to have an idea. Esther had made her a lot of
pillows out of some old silk dresses of quaint patterns, and as she
sat amongst them, she was almost afraid to breathe lest she split
them. They smelled very strongly of tobacco, having been so long
packed away in its leaves.
Glenn Andrews felt something soft and slim between his fingers,
but it puzzled him to know what the texture was. He was restless
with curiosity.
Esther enjoyed his perplexity with quiet amusement, and was
sorry when after a great while her grandfather thought out for himself
that young folks enjoyed themselves better alone.
Glenn turned slyly to see him close the door after him.
It was very interesting, this expectancy; he felt something as he
did when a child he had lain awake all night waiting for Santa Claus
to come.
His heart would leap with impatience at every sound. The old
chimney, drawing its heated breath to keep his little body warm, had
added to his irritation. It seemed to him that the wind could cut more
antics then than a circus pony cavorting for his feed.
In its sound he constantly fancied he could hear the coming of
that old false ideal that had been the first to fall, but it had not fallen
until many a little prayer had been answered and many a young
dream been realized. Such ideals leave their imprint upon the mind.
The memory of the joy it gave softens and purifies the heart before it
awakens.
Glenn Andrews leaned over and opened his hand to the light; it
was a watch chain, made of Esther’s hair.
“That slide was on a chain my mother wore,” she said.
The sentiment of it made him feel that he stood at the white
sanctity of her soul with its opening and unfathomable depths.
He raised the chain to his lips and kissed it affectionately. He
could not have thanked her in words. He realized that:
“Sentiment that is real is not acquired—it flows into the veins like
the breath of the sea waves, completely freshening every sense with
its presence.”
Glenn took up his overcoat and brought out a music roll with her
name mounted in silver.
“It is full and you are to learn it all. That’s the agreement.” He laid
it open before her.
“The very hardest that you could find.”
“Just what you need.”
Esther hummed a bar here and there as she turned the pages.
She was in an ecstasy of content. A lilting joyousness of Glenn
Andrews’ presence was in everything she did and said.
They lingered over the Christmas dinner. Mr. Campbell told yarns
of the olden times when he was a boy on that holiday. He took his
pleasure in their company at the table, and afterwards left them
alone again.
They made an exceptionably cozy picture, sitting together in front
of the wood fire. It was beautiful to see the snow outside, falling in
tiny siftings, displaced by the snow birds’ restless stirring.
Glenn and Esther were so comfortable. How could it be winter
out there. He smoked and she read him selections from his own
poems—the ones she liked best. He had no idea she could read so
well—it must have been her reading them that made them sound
better than he had ever thought them before. There was a slow
unfolding of her woman nature as he watched her. It was almost
imperceptible, yet so much surer than a sudden burst.
“You’ll keep on with your lessons?” he asked.
“After this year grandpa won’t be able to afford it.”
“But it will never do for you to stop now. I was talking with the
professor the other day about your art. He is interested in it. He
wants to study English; maybe he would exchange—if you could
teach him. Do you think you could?”
“What! I a teacher?” She clasped her hands involuntarily. “But
suppose he’d let me try?”
 “I’ll see if he will.”
“Oh, will you, sure enough?” She was now seated closer by
Glenn, listening with an absorbing interest.
“When will I know?”
“There is a lot of time between now and next September. You’ll
finish out this year, of course.”
“Oh, yes, except when the weather is too bad for grandpa. He’s
getting old, you know.”
Glenn could see how he was failing.
It was about dusk when the buggy drove away from the front
steps. The parting was cordial and yet it seemed to lack something
for both. Perhaps grandpa’s being there complicated the situation.
Whatever it was, in both their hearts there seemed something
lacking.
 CHAPTER XII.
The coming of June brought an end to college life for Glenn
Andrews. He had had a letter a few days before, deciding an
important question—in fact, the question of the greatest importance
to him just then. While he was waiting for Esther he read it over
again:
“New York City.
“My dear Andrews—Of course I hadn’t forgotten my
promise nor my interest in you. It seems a lifetime
since I stood in those priestly looking robes on that old
stage waiting to receive my discharge and hustle or go
hungry. You were at the foot then. I remember you; a
solemn-faced chap, but mightily in earnest. I am glad
that you are at the head, and ready for the fight—the
thick of it. I always knew that was the kind of metal you
were made of, so it does me good to be able to give
you a boost. You are to be associate editor of the
magazine—give up most of your freedom and take an
editor’s chair.
“You may come right on. I wonder what you will be
like after all these years since we cavorted over that
campus. Yours fraternally,
“Richmond Briarley.”
What did Glenn care for slavery? His love for his profession
would even up scores. Going among strangers had no depressing
effect upon him. He was singularly fitted for that kind of thing. He
believed that every soul should be alone a part of its existence, away
from the sight, the touch of affection, and seek deeper self
acquaintance and understanding. This was how he came to cultivate
his passion to know and be something.
Now he was going to try his hand—his life was to be full of
interest and effort, and all the training he had given to his faculties
were to be exercised and tested. Esther joined him presently to go
for their last ramble.
“You are to lead the way anywhere. I am with you to-day,” he
said.
Glenn felt a subtle sadness at leaving her. This human study had
been most interesting to him, nor would it be the least of his regrets
for what must be given up. The others were finished, he had reached
the last page.
During the stroll, Glenn told her that the professor had agreed to
make the exchange he spoke of at Christmas.
“Now you are to promise me that you will keep up your art. Don’t
let circumstances overwhelm you.”
“I couldn’t keep from trying to go on, if I wanted to, but when you
get away you’ll forget about me.”
“I don’t think I shall.”
He was very calm. No matter what he thought or felt, he didn’t
intend to drop a word that might disquiet her mind or disturb their
tranquil sense of comradeship.
“I expect you to do something some day. You’ll not stay buried
down here all your life. You were not born for oblivion.”
“I am afraid you will be disappointed in me. But I’ll do my best.”
She looked down, pulling at the moss on the log.
His going so far away was her first great sorrow.
“I don’t believe I would though if I didn’t have next summer to look
forward to; you said you would try to come back then.”
With her simplicity and daring directness she added. “Take good
care of yourself, Mr. Glenn, for all the world couldn’t fill your place in
my heart.”
“You think that now, Esther. You seem to see something complete
in our friendship. It is all you want. A day will come when you’ll
understand that it is not satisfying. The mist of morning is on the
hills, and hides the outlines of the landscape; you can see but a little
way. After awhile it will gradually lift, and give you a clearer and
broader view.”
She shook her head.
“I know you can’t see it now. The ripening of your nature will
show you the good fruit, and of how little use it was to cry over the
pretty petals when it dropped its bloom.”
She looked at him, her lips parting as she slowly grasped the drift
of his words.
“Patience and faith are what you must have.”
“The patience I would have to borrow, or steal, for I never did
have any of my own.”
It was going to be the hardest lesson for her to learn.
She took the knife he was toying with, and asked suddenly:
“Put your foot up a minute.”
He was wondering what she would do.
“I’m going to leave something for you to remember me by.”
She began carefully to etch a sentence across the upper part of
the leather.
“Bear harder, cut it—that little scratching won’t last—as long as
you are putting it there.”
His eyes rested on her hair, that lay like a crown on her bowed
head.
Slowly she cut each letter. “Don’t look until I get through.”
The fine, sharp blade was doing its work well; there was just one
more word. She made a slip and the keen point plunged through.
“Oh, did that touch you?” Suddenly withdrawing it she saw the blood
leap out and run down his boot leg. Her eyes opened wide; the
despair in them was enough to move him.
“Oh, Mr. Glenn, what have I done to you?”
 “It’s only a pin scratch; don’t think of it.” He tried to console and
reassure her.
She began unwinding the soft mull tie she wore. “I know you’ll
bleed to death if we can’t stop it.”
He had taken his boot off. With tender, trembling fingers she was
binding the cloth to his leg, winding it around again and again, trying
to wrap out the sight of the blood.
It was no use, in a second the red stain would radiate over the
white surface.
“What shall I do! oh, forgive me, forgive me!”
She knelt down and pressed his knee in her arms and bent over
it with tears, the incense of her love mingling with self-reproach. Her
penitence was pathetic.
He regarded her grief with compassionate softness. This came
near disarming his resolve. He wanted to take her in his arms as he
had never done in his life. As she held the wound close, he resisted
the impulse to flinch.
“I’m all right, don’t you worry.”
He read the line on the boot.
“I wouldn’t take anything for that. It will sweeten the absence, and
I hope this scratch will make a scar that I may wear all my life to
remember you by.”
“I’ll never forgive myself for it—never!”
“Don’t say that. It’s a little thing after all. See, I walk all right. Let’s
go home.” Putting one hand on her shoulder they started off, Esther
watching every step he took with fear and alarm.
“Are you telling the truth. Don’t it hurt you to walk?”
Turning his face away, he bit his lips.
“Not much, you know there is always a little soreness, no matter
how slight the cut.”
 He wouldn’t tell that the knee was a very dangerous place to
receive a wound.
All the way the joint was stiffening and getting more painful. His
face beamed in the effort to conceal his suffering. When they
reached the steps he leaned his head against a column; he was
wearied and felt that he could bear no more.
“Come, lie down; I’ll fix the bed for you and find grandpa,” she
urged.
“No, come back; I’ll sit here on the step awhile. I must be going
soon.”
Dear little heart, he would never while he lived forget her.
“How can you go, hurt as you are?”
“Sit down here by me, I have but a few minutes with you. I
ordered my horse for five o’clock.”
Without further resistance she took the seat. She had not
forgotten that his will was the only one she ever met stronger than
her own.
“Forgive me?” looking up to him, she asked.
“Don’t use that word between us.” He gathered her hands in his
own, partly for fear she might touch his knee. Soon his horse came
around.
“Poor cripple,” Esther said with a caressing accent, stretching her
hand toward his knee, as he mounted. Then she pressed her hands
hard against her eyelids as he said good-bye. When she looked up
again he was gone. She stood sighing as if her soul would leave her
body, as he rode on at a gallop, outlined against the far blue of the
hills.
 CHAPTER XIII.
The first shock of Glenn Andrews’ absence was a bitter trial to
Esther, who grieved unreasoningly. His going seemed like the end of
the world. It was over, those rare, dear days of smiles and tears, of
trifling quarrels and sweet reconciliations. She wondered how she
had ever thought the sky was so blue, the grass so green.
Through all of her desolation, however, ran the thought that he
wished nothing so much as for her to advance in her art.
Would she let the first rock block her way? Youth can forget its
grief. She was so unconsciously true to him, that before she scarcely
realized it, she was back at work, harder than ever. She began
teaching the kind old German musician English to pay for her
instructions.
Heart, brain and soul she gave to her art, not all for its sake nor
hers, but for the man that was the world’s best type to her.
The devotion with which she had worshipped him was for the
time transferred to the violin that became the absorbing and
crowning ambition of her life.
Glenn had been gone nearly a year. The summer, instead of
bringing him, brought a disappointment.
He wrote her:
“Fate or Providence has put in its oar to the
exclusion of my own interesting plans. I didn’t dare
really hope that I should see you this summer, even
while I planned the trip. Providence would never be so
kind as that. I am ordered to Athens to do some
special work for our magazine. They have been
unearthing some more wonderful curiosities there. This
is the last note I write before going abroad, for I sail
early to-morrow morning. How much easier it is to
learn things than to unlearn them. I used to think
 differently at college. Very many times, more than I will
admit to myself, I have closed my eyes and tried to
imagine that I should open them upon yours, gazing
disapprovingly at my ‘steenth’ cocktail. Many times I
have been glad when I opened them that it was not so
—at others I have been a little sorry. There is a
deliciousness about your not being with me which is
quite a new sensation. I shall never again pity the old
Flagellants. I know now that there was a certain
ecstasy of pleasure for them which we have taken too
little account of. There is a pleasure in not writing to
you, too; I am writing now because I know if I don’t I
shall not hear again from you, and I confess that I don’t
want my flagellation to take that shape. You were
growing when I left you. Have you stopped? Don’t stop
thinking—don’t stop striving—don’t stop hoping. You
have no lack of imagination, inspiration, but you need
the cold, cruel leaven of fact. Your symphony needs
less harp and more violin. The Jews are clinging to
their old ideals. The Gentiles crucified it, and have a
living gospel. Let them die if they won’t live without
nursing. You don’t want them. (I mean the ideals—not
the Jews this time—metaphors always proved too
much for me.) And finally don’t preach to others as I
am doing to you. It’s a bad habit and never does any
good. But remember that there are a few misguided
and dreamy creatures who think you may do
something one of these days if you ever get your eyes
rubbed open wide enough.
“Glenn Andrews.”
For the next year his habitual haunts would know him no more.
He would combine with his trip a while in Paris. Casting aside all
obligation he entered into the spirit of the life about him. Paris, with
all its dangers, all its charms, the extraordinary influence of that
congenial life, touched him with a glowing heat of inspiration. He
revelled in his hopes—in his dreams. Here he would write something
worthy of him. His nature was rich in the vivid impressions, intense
feelings and fine thoughts which make life full of real meaning and
significance. Here he saw many sides of it—much of it was
meaningless and distasteful, and repelled all of his finer senses, but
“it is in experience that one sees all that is most vile and all that is
most beautiful.” This was an excellent opportunity. All the while he
was maturing—beginning to have a more tolerant knowledge of his
fellow man. His heart was kindlier—the weight of his judgment
lighter.
Half the world away, Esther was sorrowing for him—the memory
of the disappointment he had caused touched deep fibres in her that
ached and ached and ached. Besides this, she could see her old
grandfather growing feebler with the setting of every sun. His small
stock of vitality was slipping away.
He knew that the stalk was withered, and soon must fall, yet he
tried to face the truth in smiling silence. Sometimes—when he
thought of the hands that had so longed to have control of his child—
the anguish in him overflowed. They would soon have her in their
grasp.
 THE GIRL.
————◆————

CHAPTER I.
Mr. Campbell did not live through the winter.
Esther was left to the care of his nephew, living in a remote part
of the valley.
One morning, when she had rocked one of the children to sleep,
she sat with it in her arms, gazing out on the gloomy day with sad,
set eyes. For the time being she lost all memory of the scene about
her. The laughter of the children, the woman leaning over the bed,
cutting small garments out of coarse cloth. She began to remember
all that her grandfather had meant to her. She recalled his
tenderness, the strong fortress of his great love built between the
world and her. It had crumbled so slowly that she didn’t comprehend
that it could ever wear quite away, until it had crumbled to the
ground. True he was dead, but he had made a defense for her even
beyond the gulf. Though stinted in many things, he had always held
to his life insurance. The farm was worn out—the house old—it
would bring little, but the two together would help her to maintain her
independence until she could master her art. He did not know the
years or the money that it required—he only felt that through the
medium of her art she might hold some of the dignity of position to
which she was entitled by right of birth. Knowing this, Esther yearned
with her heart and soul to go forward. His lofty, beautiful character
shone out before her mind without a flaw. The thought of again
taking up the task alone was sweetened and ennobled by that
memory.
The woman glanced at Esther as she laid aside one pattern, put
the pins in her mouth until she could place another. She was a
saffron-faced, stoop-shouldered woman—one who prided herself on
the drudgery she could do, who welcomed, rather than flinched from
hardships.
“What are you studyin’ about now?”
Esther shuddered as she recalled the present.
“You ain’t thinking about startin’ up that fiddlin’ again, are you?”
the other stopped short to ask. A shadow crossed the girl’s face.
“Jenny told me you had got it into your head to take lessons
again from that old Dutchman at the college.”
“I have been thinking about it,” Esther answered calmly.
“Goodness knows I wouldn’t! I always thought the fiddle warn’t for
anybody but men and niggers.” Her high-pitched voice was piercing.
“Georgy got a juice harp somewhere, and I took it away from him
and burnt the fetched thing up. I have always heard: ‘Let your
children learn music if you want ’em to be no ’count.’” She stopped to
get her breath. “Your cousin John thinks it’s an outrage—the idea of
your taking lessons again. He knows nothing t’all about the man—
but foreigners are a bad lot.”
“Did cousin John tell you that he opposed the idea?” Esther
interrupted her to ask.
“He didn’t seem to take to it, any more than your trapsin’ over the
woods by your lone self.”
“Did he tell you he thought that was wrong?”
“Well, not in so many words, but I can tell when a thing goes
against the grain with him. He don’t like to hurt you. I tell him he
thinks more of your feelings than your character. I just took it upon
myself to tell you for your own good.”
The woman’s speech was harsh and to the point. She continued
abruptly:
“You might do your own washin’ and ironin’ too, instead of hirin’ it
all the time. You couldn’t do up a pocket-handkerchief.”