Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Vinnie rises slowly. “We’ll find her,” he says.
It’s not a platitude. It’s a sentence delivered like a verdict.
“We will,” Raven echoes.
I leave the family room and walk to the kitchen, open the back door to the dark night. The air is humid and filled with the chirping of cicadas.
I clench the doorframe until my knuckles ache.
Behind me, Raven says my name softly. I turn.
“You okay?” she asks.
I huff out a humorless laugh. “Absolutely not.”
“Good,” she says, coming closer. “If you tell me you are, I’ll know you’re about to do something reckless.”
“Define reckless.”
“Going alone,” she says. “Going silent. Going right to the edge because you think you belong there more than you belong in a house with people who love you.”
That sounds like what her brother has been doing. Maybe he’s rubbing off on me. With Belinda’s life on the line, I’m ready to do just about anything. Vinnie feels the same. And Hawk clearly felt that way about me.
I tip my head. “When did you get so good at reading me?”
She smiles without showing teeth. “I’ve been practicing on Vinnie.”
“That sounds exhausting,” I say.
“It is,” she says. “We’ll call parents. We’ll scan plates. We’ll tear the city apart. But we’ll do it together. You hear me?”
I nod and follow her back inside.
Vinnie’s phone dings. He glances down. “Private investigator in San Antonio owes me a favor,” he says. “He can pull neighborhood cams around Chef’s block. May catch a face, a plate, a timing hit.”
“Do it,” Raven says.
I open my mouth to say we should call the hospitals again—just in case—and for no reason at all, my mind pulls a ripcord I didn’t touch. Images blur, and time hurtles backward.
“Mr. Agudelo,” the doctor begins, “Daniela has been diagnosed with chlamydia. It’s a sexually transmitted infection but treatable with antibiotics, which I’m going to prescribe now.”
His face hardens, but he nods, giving nothing away. “Thank you, Doctor, for your prompt attention to my daughter’s health.” He turns to me. “Are you okay, querida?”
Right. Like he cares. He’s never called me querida in my life.
“I’m uncomfortable but otherwise I feel fine,” I say without emotion.
“Good, good.” He smiles.
What a fake.
The doctor clears her throat. “I’ve prescribed a week-long course for Daniela. She’ll need to come back in a month’s time for a follow-up.”
My father nods, his expression unreadable. “All right,” he says, maintaining his calm façade. “Will that be all, Doctor?”
The doctor looks at me and then back at my father. “Yes, that will be all. Please ensure she takes the medication consistently and completes the course.”
The car ride home is silent. The tension is palpable, like a storm cloud ready to burst, except my father is the storm cloud. I sit in the back seat and watch the passing buildings outside. I’m terrified. Terrified of my father’s reaction. Terrified of the punishment that will surely come.
As we pull into our driveway, my father finally speaks. “Go to your room.”
His voice is cold, devoid of any emotion. I nod, clambering out of the car and rushing inside the house. I rush past the kitchen, ignoring the curious glances of our housekeeper.
I retreat to the safety of my room, closing the door softly behind me. I collapse onto my bed, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. I want to cry, to scream, to let out all the anger and sadness.
But I don’t.
My father will come to me.
He will punish me for this, even though it’s the fault of one of his business associates.
My father will come.
It’s only a matter of when.
The minutes tick by, each one agonizingly slow, each one intensifying the dread coiling in my stomach. I feel like a lamb waiting for slaughter, as if I’m suspended on the precipice of a cliff, awaiting the push that will send me spiraling into the abyss below.
A knock on the door makes me jump, my heart pounding. I don’t respond. Maybe if I stay silent, he’ll go away.
“Daniela.” His voice is cold and emotionless, a stark contrast to his usual fiery temper. “Open the door.”
I don’t want to. I want to barricade it, to hide from him, to pretend that none of this is happening. But that’s not an option. Not when it’s his house, his rules.
I rise from my bed, my legs shaking as I approach the door. Taking a deep breath, I open it, flinching at the sight of my father standing there, his presence overpowering. His eyes are hard, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“A week,” he says through gritted teeth. “A week of antibiotics, Daniela, and then re-test in a month.”
“This wasn’t my fault, Papa.”
His rage takes over his demeanor.
I’m right. It’s not my fault.
But that’s not how he sees it.
“You will pay the price for this,” he says. “A month. After a month of punishment, you’ll be begging to go back to entertaining my associates.”