Emilia's POV

A sharp, deafening crack that drowned out everything else. I gasped, my body frozen, waiting for the pain-

But it never came. Instead, I watched Victor slump forward, a hole in the middle of his head.

I stared, my breath catching in my throat.

Then my eyes flicked up.

To her.

To Valeria.

Her arms were still raised, her gun still pointed, her body rigid.

But her eyes-God, her eyes.

She wasn't looking at Victor.

She was looking at me.

Like she had just come back from the dead. Like she had been holding her breath this whole time. Like she hadn't known if she would ever see me again.

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak.

I could only feel the weight of the moment crushing down on me.

She saved me. Again.

Valeria stood there, her face splattered with blood, her grip still tight on the gun, unwavering.

She didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Didn't even breathe.

She looked like she would pull the trigger again without hesitation-like she was telling me, without a single word, that she would protect me at all costs. That there was no limit, no second thoughts, no regrets.

The room erupted around me-gasps, shouts, Lucia's scream ripping through the heavy air.

But I couldn't move. I couldn't take my eyes off her.

Victor's body lay at my feet, still, lifeless, pooling in his own blood. And I felt nothing.

I should have been horrified. Should have screamed, should have stepped back, should have seen Valeria for the monster she kept telling me she was.

But all I saw was the woman who saved me. She stood there, drenched in blood, and it did not scare me. What did scare me was the way she was looking at me.

Like she was proving something. Like she was showing me, this is what I am. This is what I do.

Like she was waiting for me to finally believe she was the monster she had always told me she was.

The woman next to Valeria moved first. She reached out, her fingers wrapping around Valeria's wrist, and gently pushed the gun down.

"Damn, Cariña," the woman drawled, shaking her head. "We could have used him for information first."

Cariña?

My stomach twisted. Who the hell was she? And why was she calling my Valeria that?

My Valeria.

She took Valeria's hands, wiped them clean of blood, and Valeria let her. She let her. She didn't pull away. Didn't shove her off. Didn't flinch when someone else touched her.

The woman smirked, nudging Victor's body lightly with her foot. "Well, the trash took itself out."

That was when Valeria finally tore her gaze from mine. She turned to my father, her expression flat, voice steady, as if she hadn't just killed someone in front of all of us.

"We'll leave you to take care of this. I don't think it'll be too hard. And with him gone, you guys are safe... for now."

Then, just for a second, her eyes flickered to me. Briefly. Like I was nothing more than a passing glance.

"Claudia, ¡Vamos!"

She turned, walking away, her steps calm, unbothered, like nothing had just happened. The woman followed without a care, without looking back.

And then Valeria walked right past me.

Right by me. Without even looking at me again. Like I wasn't there.

Like I didn't matter. And for the first time in days, I felt something other than regret.

I felt like I was losing her.

Valeria's POV

The blood was still warm on my hands.

I could feel it-thick, sticky, seeping into my skin even after Claudia wiped it away. But that wasn't what unsettled me.

It was the way she looked at me.

The same loving look-she wasn't afraid.

I had killed a man in front of her. Without hesitation. Without flinching. Without remorse.

And she had just stood there. Not screaming. Not running. Not breaking down.

She had looked at me like she was trying to understand something, trying to grasp a truth she hadn't been ready to accept.

I walked past her, feeling her presence in the air, thick and suffocating.

I didn't look at her. I couldn't. Because if I did, I might have stopped.

I might have reached for her, might have tried to explain something that didn't have an explanation. And she would have looked at me with those eyes-like she still saw something good in me.

I didn't need that. I needed her to let me go.

I kept walking, my body tense, my mind racing. Claudia walked beside me, calm as ever, wiping her own hands on her jeans like we had just finished a job, like this wasn't anything new.

She didn't speak until we were past the gates, out into the open streets, away from the heavy weight of that house.

Then she glanced at me. "So," she said casually, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. "That was her."

I didn't answer. She smirked. "The infamous Emilia Hayes."

I kept my pace steady, my heartbeat betraying me. Claudia scoffed. "Damn, Cariña, you looked like you wanted to take a bullet for her back there."

I clenched my jaw, forcing my voice steady. "Drop it."

She raised her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. But I gotta say," she tilted her head, watching me. "You're running, but I don't think she's gonna let you get far."

I didn't reply. Because deep down, I was afraid she might be right.

Emilia's POV

I stood there, frozen in the aftermath, my breath ragged, my pulse roaring in my ears. She just walked away.

My feet moved before my mind caught up. I ran. Out of the office, past the stunned faces, past Lucia calling my name-I ran after her.

I didn't care about anything else. I didn't care about the blood still splattered across the marble floors. I just needed to find her.

But when I reached the gates-she was gone. Vanished into the night. I stood there, my heart pounding, staring into the empty street.

No. No, this wasn't how this ended. I turned sharply, heading back inside, my jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

Salvador and my father were still in the study, the tension thick in the air. My father was pacing, his hands in his hair, muttering about what to do with the body.

I ignored him. I only looked at Salvador.

"Where is she?" My voice came out sharper than I expected, but I didn't care. "Do you know where she went?"

Salvador studied me for a moment, his face unreadable. Then, without a word, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper.

He handed it to me. I took it hesitantly, my fingers shaking as I unfolded it.

An address. I exhaled sharply, relief and panic crashing together inside me.

"She left that before we came here," Salvador said. "In case things didn't go as planned."

My chest ached, my grip on the paper tightening. She was planning to disappear. She had always been planning to disappear.

And I had let her. I turned on my heel, already heading toward the door. But before I could leave, my father's voice rang out.

"Emilia!"

I stopped, sighing harshly before turning back. "What?"

He motioned to the mess around us-the blood, the lifeless body on his floor, the absolute disaster left in Valeria's wake. His face was lined with frustration, his usual composure slipping.

"Do you see this? Do you understand what you've done?" he demanded. "There is a dead man in my study, Emilia!"

I stared at him, my expression blank, my patience shattered. And then I laughed.

Cold. Bitter. Exhausted.

I stepped toward him, the weight of everything finally hitting me, and shook my head.

"No, father," I said, my voice low and sharp. "There is a dead man in your study because of you."

He tensed.

"All of this," I gestured around, at the blood, the secrets, the lies, the gun that had almost been pointed at me. "All of this is because of whatever business you're involved in."

His face hardened. "That's not-"

"I don't care," I cut him off, my voice dangerously even. "I don't care about your mess. I don't care what you do, who you deal with, or how you plan to fix this."

I took a slow, steady breath. "All I care about is finding her."

And without waiting for another word, I turned and walked out. Because I wasn't losing Valeria again.

---

It took me at least two hours to reach that address, I knocked on the door with nervous hands.

The door swung open. And there she was.

Fresh out of the shower, her dark hair damp, curling slightly at the ends, water droplets still clinging to her skin.

She wore nothing but a loose shirt, the fabric hanging off her frame, casual, intimate, effortless.

I had never seen her like this. Unarmed. Unmasked.

My body tensed, heat rushing to my face as my gaze flickered down before I could stop myself.

The tattoos.

They weren't just on her arms. They covered her legs, her hips, disappearing beneath the hem of the shirt. Every inch of her was painted in ink, a story I had never been allowed to read.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. She looked at me like she didn't know whether to pull me inside or slam the door in my face.

I didn't know which one I wanted either. Before either of us could speak, a voice drifted from inside.

"Who is it, Cariña?" My stomach twisted violently.

My eyes snapped past her, toward the sound.

A woman's voice. The same woman from earlier.

Claudia.

I felt something sharp, cold, ugly cut through me. Valeria stood there, still frozen. Her silence said too much.

I took a breath, steadying myself. "Are you going to let me in, or should I leave?"

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something-but nothing came out.

I clenched my jaw, my pulse pounding.

I had chased her here. I had gone through hell to get to this moment, and now she was looking at me like she didn't know what to do with me. Like I was the one intruding.

I took a step forward, closing the space between us, forcing her to meet my gaze.

She exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening, but she didn't say anything.

I could see the conflict in her eyes-the hesitation, the walls trying to slam back into place.

But I wasn't going to let her shut me out. Not this time.

I tilted my head slightly, my voice dipping into something cooler, sharper.

"Are you going to let me in... or am I interrupting, Cariña?" Her breath hitched-barely noticeable, but I caught it.

Her grip on the doorframe tightened. She knew what I was asking. What I was accusing her of.

I had no right to feel this way.

But it didn't stop the ugly feeling clawing at my chest, didn't stop the heat rising under my skin at the thought of her in here with someone else.

Valeria's face gave nothing away, but her body was rigid, tense.

And still-she said nothing.

The silence dragged between us, thick, suffocating. Then she finally moved.

Stepped aside. And I walked in.

The second I stepped inside, the air felt thick-heavy with something unspoken. My eyes moved across the room, taking in the whiskey bottle on the counter, Valeria's leather jacket draped over a chair, her boots near the door.

This wasn't just a temporary stop. She had settled here. Without me. The realization made something in my chest tighten, twist.

And then there was Valeria-standing in front of me, her damp hair curling slightly at the ends, droplets of water still clinging to her skin. She looked so casual, so comfortable.

So utterly unbothered by the fact that she had just left me behind.

I forced down the lump in my throat, my voice sharper than I intended.

"So, that's it?" I stepped forward, my pulse pounding. "You save my life again, kill for me again, then walk away like it meant nothing? And what-settle here with someone else who isn't me?"

She stiffened. Her grip on the towel in her hands tightened, but she didn't say anything. Didn't deny it. Before she could, another voice cut through the silence.

"Cariña?"

I froze. The words were casual-too casual. Spoken in a way that made my stomach churn, my skin heat with something sharp, something ugly. And then she walked in..

Wearing loose sweatpants and a thin tank top, completely at ease in Valeria's space. She leaned against the doorframe, looking between us with an amused smirk.

"So, are we gonna pretend this isn't incredibly awkward?" she mused, eyes flicking between me and Valeria. "Or should I step outside so you two can have whatever dramatic reunion this is supposed to be?"

Something inside me snapped. The familiarity. The ease. The way Valeria didn't correct her. Didn't push her away. Didn't say she's not staying. I clenched my fists, my body rigid. I had no right to be jealous. No right to hate this woman I barely knew. But it didn't stop the way my stomach twisted violently.

I turned to Valeria, my voice cutting through the room.

"Do you even care?" I demanded. "Or did walking away mean nothing to you?"

Her jaw tightened, but she didn't speak.

Claudia let out a low whistle. "Damn. I think that's my cue to leave." She patted Valeria's shoulder as she passed. "Have fun, Cariña."

I hated the way she said that. I hated that Valeria didn't react. Didn't stop her. And when the door closed behind Claudia, leaving just the two of us, the silence was thick, suffocating.

Valeria exhaled, running a hand over her face like she was exhausted. "You should go home, Emilia."

I laughed. A quiet, bitter sound.

"No." I stepped closer, forcing her to look at me, really look at me. "Not this time. You don't get to decide when I walk away."

"You decided for us." She finally spoke.

Us.