Valeria's POV

The door isn't locked. I push it open slowly, stepping inside without making a sound.

Carlos is sitting at his desk, legs kicked up, a cigarette hanging lazily from his lips.

The moment he sees me, he freezes. Then, his lips curl into an amused smirk.

"Well, well, well," he drawls, setting the cigarette down. "Look who finally decided to come crawling back."

I say nothing. Instead, I step forward. Slowly with controlled steps.

His smirk falters just slightly. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I take the pocketknife from my pocket and flick it open. Carlos barely has time to react before I lunge.

The blade slices across his arm—just a scratch. A warning.

Carlos stumbles back, cursing. He stares down at his bleeding arm, then looks at me with something between disbelief and fury.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" he growls.

He grabs me by the wrist, twisting it painfully, but I use the momentum to slam my knee into his gut. He grunts, stumbling back, and I strike again.

A punch. A kick. Anything to hurt him. Anything to make him feel even a fraction of what Emilia felt.

But he recovers quickly. Too quickly. I barely see the movement before it happens.

Glass shatters—then pain.

I stagger back, gasping as a sharp sting cuts across my side. My hand flies to my waist, and when I pull it away, my fingers are wet and warm with blood.

Carlos watches me, breathing hard, his hand wrapped around a jagged piece of glass.

He smirks. "You really thought you could take me, huh?"

My vision blurs for a second, but I don't let it stop me. I lunge again, but this time, he's ready.

He catches me, slamming me against the desk. My head snaps back from the impact, and for a moment, the room spins.

Carlos leans in, breath hot against my ear.

"I should kill you for this," he murmurs, his grip tightening. "But I think I'll have some fun first."

No.

The rage that had been simmering inside me erupts. With a sharp breath, I twist in his grip, using every ounce of strength left in my body.

He stumbles. Just for a second, but that's all I need. I grip the pocketknife in my bloody hand and drive it straight into his chest.

I watch as Carlos chokes and his body stiffens. For a second, neither of us move. Then—I push the blade in deeper, listening to it slice through his flesh.

"This," I whisper, voice shaking with fury, "is for Emilia." I rip the knife out, and Carlos stumbles back, clutching his chest.

He tries to speak. A curse. A plea. But no words come and he collapses.

Blood pools around him. His breaths turn ragged. Then, they stop altogether.

He's dead. I watch him for a long moment, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

The rage is still there. The anger. But underneath it... something else lingers. Something hollow.

I don't have time to think about it. My side burns, the pain catching up to me all at once. I stagger, pressing a hand against my wound.

My side burns.

The pain isn't sharp anymore—it's deep, radiating through my ribs with every breath I take. The wound is bleeding badly. Too much.

I press my hand against it harder, teeth gritted as I push forward through the dark streets, my vision blurring at the edges. The metallic scent of blood fills my nose, mixing with sweat, dirt, and the humid city air.

Carlos is dead.

His blood is still warm on my hands, soaking into my clothes, staining the pocketknife I'm gripping like my life depends on it. I can't stay here.

The neighborhood is quiet, but that won't last. People will find him. They'll start asking questions. If anyone sees me like this—injured, bleeding—they'll put the pieces together.

I have to move. But I can't go home—not yet. Not like this. The only place I can go—the only place that makes sense—is Emilia.

I force myself down the back alleys, keeping to the shadows. My head is swimming, but I know these streets. I've memorized every corner, every shortcut.

It's muscle memory now.

My breathing is heavy, labored, but I keep my pace steady. I can't collapse here. Not in the open.

With every step, the pain spreads—ripping through my body like fire. My hand presses harder against my wound, but the blood keeps seeping through my fingers, warm and sticky.

Keep moving, I say to myself. I almost slip when I turn onto a familiar side street, my boots skidding against the pavement.

But then—I see it. My car, it's right where I left it. A rusty old thing, hidden between dumpsters in the back alley. A piece of shit, but it gets the job done.

I stagger toward it, feeling lightheaded as I fumble with the door handle. My fingers are wet with blood, making it hard to grip.

Come on. I manage to yank it open, throwing myself inside. My body slumps against the seat, dizzy, shaking.

I let my head fall back against the rest for a second. Just one second. No. No time for that - I tell myself.

With trembling hands, I jam the key into the ignition and turn. The engine roars to life, loud and unsteady. I clutch the steering wheel, trying to steady myself. My vision is hazy, but I force my foot onto the gas, pulling out of the alley.

I know the way by heart. The road is empty this time of night, streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. The city blurs past me, headlights from distant cars flickering in the darkness.

I grip the wheel tighter, using the pain to keep me alert. Just a little longer. By the time I pull up to the estate, I'm fading.

The gates loom ahead, familiar but distant, like something out of a dream. My hands are so slick with blood that they slip on the wheel.

I can barely feel my fingers anymore and I roll down the window and gesture weakly to the guards. They recognize me immediately, one of them steps closer, his face shifting from confusion to alarm. "Shit—Valeria?"

I don't answer. My head is spinning. I can see the mansion entrance, so close. I just need to make it inside.

I push the car door open, stepping out— My knees buckle and I stumble, barely catching myself against the hood.

"Valeria!" The guard reaches out to steady me, but I shove him off.

No. I have to do this myself.

I force my legs to move, dragging myself toward the entrance. The doors are unlocked. I push through them.

Warmth.

The air inside is warm. The scent of expensive wood and faint perfume wraps around me like a blanket. My legs tremble as I take another step forward. Then—I see her.

She's in the hallway, frozen in place, eyes wide in shock as she takes in the sight of me. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Her face pales. Her lips part in a silent gasp.

My grip tightens around the pocketknife one last time before my vision tilts. The ground rushes up to meet me. I collapse. Straight into Emilia's arms.

The last thing I hear is her panicked voice calling my name. The last thing I feel is her hands gripping me tightly, holding me up, as if she could stop me from falling apart.

I try to smile, but I'm too tired. Instead, I press the pocketknife into her trembling fingers, my blood still fresh on the handle.

And with the last ounce of strength I have left, I whisper:

"You are safe now.. They won't haunt your dreams anymore."

Emilia's POV

I hear the front doors creak open.

At first, I don't think anything of it. The guards let Lucia in earlier, and I assume it's just her coming back from the market.

But then— Something feels off.

There's a shift in the air. A prickle at the back of my neck. And then I see her and my heart stops. She's standing there, barely, covered in blood.

Her shirt is soaked through, dark and wet where she's holding her side. Blood drips from her fingertips, staining the floor. Her face is pale, lips parted slightly like she's struggling to breathe.

But it's her eyes that scare me the most—hazy, unfocused, lost.

She sways where she stands, gripping something tightly in her hand. My breath catches in my throat when I see the pocketknife.

The one she took from me when she left. The blade is stained red.

"Valeria?" My voice barely comes out, a whisper of disbelief.

She doesn't answer. She stumbles forward, and suddenly, my body moves on its own.

I run to her, reaching out just as her knees buckle. She collapses straight into me.

I catch her, barely, her weight knocking the air from my lungs. Her head tilts against my shoulder, and I feel how cold she is. Too cold.

My hands clutch at her, desperate, terrified.

"Valeria! Val—hey, look at me!" I shake her slightly, panicking. "What happened to you?"

She doesn't respond at first, her breathing shallow.

Then she moves with slow, trembling motion she presses something into my palm.

I look down and I see the pocketknife. My breath shudders. The blade is covered in blood—fresh blood.

My stomach drops. I stare at the weapon in my hand, then back at her, my pulse racing with something between horror and realization.

She did something. She did this for me.

Valeria's lips part, but the words barely make it out.

"You're safe now..." Her voice is barely a whisper, fragile and fleeting.

My fingers tighten around her, as if holding her together will keep her here.

Her eyes flutter, heavy with exhaustion.

"They won't haunt your dreams anymore."

Something inside me breaks.

Tears blur my vision as I shake my head, refusing to let her slip away.

"No. No, Valeria, stay with me," I whisper, pressing my forehead against hers. "You have to stay awake, okay? Just—just hold on."

Her breathing is slowing.

No, no, no!

Valeria's body sags against me. Her fingers twitch against my skin before falling still.

I shake her. "Valeria?" My voice breaks. "No—no, no, no! Don't close your eyes!"

She doesn't answer and terror chokes me.

My arms tighten around her, my heart hammering so violently it hurts.

"Please," I whisper, pressing a trembling kiss to her forehead. "Please don't leave me. We didn't have a chance, I just found you."

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare do this to me!" I put my head on her chest, trying to listen to her heartbeats, " Val!!! Val, don't you dare!"

The pocketknife slips from my fingers, falling between us with a soft clatter.

"LUCIA! ADRIAN!" I scream so hard my throat burns.

Footsteps—rushing, frantic. Lucia bursts in first, her face draining of color when she sees us.

"Dios mío—"

Adrian follows a second later, freezing at the doorway, eyes wide in horror.

"Help me!" I sob, my arms tightening around Valeria.

Lucia snaps into action, rushing to check Valeria's wound while Adrian kneels beside me, carefully taking her weight from my arms.

I clutch at Valeria, reluctant to let go.

"Call a doctor! Do something!" I scream, my hands pressing over Valeria's wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"I got her, Miss Emilia," Adrian lifts Valeria with ease, but she barely reacts, her body limp.

I look down at my hands. They're covered in her blood. A sick feeling twists in my stomach. I can't lose her.