Chapter 4: Not My Home

Lola’s tummy was churning from the winding roads, and she was exhausted. ‘Yes, I know I was giving off tough girl vibes,’ she thought, ‘but how can I relax with El Halcón sitting so close to me? ’

Beside her, Ramón remained focused on his laptop. Although a sliver of his attention followed her every shift and sigh, noting her attempts at staying composed.

Finally, they arrived. He’d ignored her throughout the trip, engrossed in work. A deliberate tactic which had worked, keeping her unsettled throughout. His lips curled up. 

His door was opened by a silent guard, and Ramón exited without a glance at her. By the time Lola climbed out, he’d disappeared into the imposing villa. She checked out her surroundings.

Her family was wealthy, yet this “fortified estate” was another level. It looked like a medieval castle meets maximum-security prison, nestled in Tijuana’s high-brow mountains.

Stone walls looked impenetrable, and armed guards had faces that could snap bones. They watched her arrival without interest, another piece of property for El Halcón.

‘Luisa would adore the full surveillance,’ Lola thought wryly. ‘Reality show gold.’

And then there was… the jaguar? A massive, sleek creature prowled a large enclosure near the entrance. Its eyes glowed with a killing intensity that made Lola shiver inside.

‘Why would any sane person have such a feral creature in his home?’ she wondered. For Ramón, Moira was more than a pet; she was a symbol of the controlled lethality he cultivated.

“Isn’t this just charming?” Lola muttered under her breath as two guards took her arms and led her towards the main villa. “Now, how am I supposed to escape with such a wild killing machine just chilling here?”

Her guards remained stone-faced, too busy with their glares for witty remarks, just following orders.

Lola was escorted to a lavish room of silk and antiques furnitures. But barred windows and outside guards made it a luxurious cage. She resisted the urge to throw a tantrum, choosing instead to act cool and detached. ‘After all,’ she told herself, ‘if I am going to be a prisoner, I am going to be a regal one.’

The door creaked open, and an older woman peeped through, smiling kindly. Her eyes were almost the same startling shade as Ramón’s, and even for her age, she still looked beautiful.

This was Eliza, Ramón’s lifelong nanny and housekeeper, the closest thing he had to a mother. She felt a pang of sympathy for the girl, thrust into this dangerous world.

Her flower-embroidered dress rustled as she set down two soup plates. She just smiled, staring at Lola with open curiosity and warmth.

The silence felt awkward. “Is that atole? They smell divine,” Lola said, trying to ease the tension, remembering her manners.

“Yes, fresh corn and cinnamon.” Eliza’s smile widened. “Thick or runny? I made both.” She kept smiling, and Lola couldn’t help but reciprocate, a flicker of comfort surprising her.

“Thanks, cinnamon is key.” Lola picked the thinner one, drinking greedily, realizing her hunger.

“Ay, my beautiful niña…” Eliza’s voice held warmth. She looks like Carlos’s picture, Eliza thought sadly. “Carlos described you perfectly – innocent azure eyes. I’m so sorry for your loss, mija.”

Lola stiffened at the mention of her father. “You knew my father?”

Eliza didn’t answer the question directly, instead she moved closer, lovingly unbraiding Lola’s tangled hair. The gesture felt natural as if she had known the girl forever. Lola found herself submitting to the touch, confused but craving the simple kindness.

“Ramón was 17 when he drew your portrait,” Eliza said softly, recalling the young man sketching from a faded photo. “‘A princess with thorns,’ he called you.” Her fingers gently detangled a knot. “You’ll need those thorns tonight.”

She patted Lola’s shoulder. “Go have your bathe, mija.” Lola didn’t know why, but hearing Eliza call her mija, just like her father used to, made her feel strangely at home, yet more lost than ever.

As the shower cascaded, questions flooded Lola’s mind. ‘Why the hate? Why the nana’s love? How many secrets, Papa?’

Afterward, Eliza held up a simple black silk gown. “Ramón’s mother’s,” Eliza explained gently. “She wore it the night…” Her thumb brushed a faint rust-red stain near the hem. “…the night the Volcans and Calis became more than partners.” She hoped Lola understood the history, unfortunately Lola was lost.

A guard soon announced “El Halcón” requested her presence at dinner. Lola rolled her eyes. ‘Romantic dinner with my kidnapper? Just what I needed.’

They led her to a palatial dining room. A white marble table with gold trim, gold chairs with white cushions. Golden chandeliers illuminated the luxurious space. The floor mirrored the glittering lights. Fine china and excessive silverware were immaculately arranged.

Ramón sat at the head, radiating power, his expression cold. He watched her enter in his mother’s dress. Eliza was right; it suited her defiant beauty.

He wore a crisp white shirt with a few buttons undone. Lola couldn’t help but glimpse his toned chest and imagine the strong abs likely hidden below. With those arresting eyes and a face chiselled like some Greek god, he looked nothing less than a dark prince.

Lola could hear her heart beat drumming in her ears. ‘Damn it Lola, focus!’ she mentally scolded herself. ‘Since when did I start drooling for a man? Get a hold of yourself, girl!’ She subtly pinched herself.

“Please, have a seat, princesa,” Ramón said, his voice smooth steel, his gaze coolly appreciative. Lola sat reluctantly. “I’d rather be on my farm, but here we are.”

They ate mostly in silence. Ramón asked about her time in Europe, her work as the Exports Manager, gauging her intelligence. ‘Which would have been great in very different circumstances,’ Lola thought bitterly.‘

She answered in short, sarcastic tones, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. ‘Why on earth is he even trying to be friendly when he clearly kidnapped me?’ she wondered, suspicion warring with confusion.

“You have a fire in you princesa,” Ramón observed with admiration in his eyes. “I admire that.”

“Oh, I have far more than fire,” Lola said, anger flaring. “I have a burning desire to make you regret ever having laid eyes on me.”

He chuckled, a dangerous sound. “I’ll enjoy carving that fire into submission.”

“You can keep trying,” Lola scoffed, throwing a heavy wine glass at his head. ‘He didn’t even flinch. Was it obvious I lacked the guts?’ The glass shattered behind him.

Guards tensed, hands moving to weapons. Ramón raised a hand, stopping them. He stared at Lola, fury in his eyes, mixed with something unreadable – fascination? Annoyance? Possessiveness?

His voice low and dangerous, he said, “You’re testing me, princesa.”

“You are damn right, I am,” Lola replied, forcing her voice to remain unshaken. “And I’m just getting started.”

Guards escorted her back to her room. Lola knew she wasn’t going to spend the night sulking. She needed to find a way out of this hellhole, and she needed to do it fast.

She searched the room methodically for weaknesses. Barred windows, locked door, attentive guards. ‘Not giving up,’ Lola vowed silently.

While checking out the walls, she noticed a bulge in one of the 3D wallpapers. Tugging carefully, she revealed a hidden staircase. Tight and dark, but a way around.

Heart pounding, Lola slipped through the opening, sliding down the narrow stairs into a half-lit hallway. Moving silently on the cool stone floor, she reached a disused cloakroom.

Light flickered under a door. She pushed it open gently into what appeared to be an office – Ramón’s? ‘These men have layers of offices.’ Vast, thick-walled, expensive furniture, high-tech equipment, and three keys on the desk.

A mischievous smile touched Lola’s lips. She scanned the keys, recognizing a vehicle key. Pocketing it felt like a small victory. Small victories were all she had.

Voices came from another door. Lola pressed her ear against the heavy wood.

“The Volcan girl is yours… as agreed,” a familiar, unpleasant voice grunted. ‘Matías!’ Lola’s blood ran cold.

‘Sounds like a deal, not debt.’ He had sold her, likely for that million.

“And your money’s wired. Why are you still here?” Ramón’s cold voice replied. He disliked lingering scum.

Lola heard Matías’s greasy laughter. “Aren’t we friends now, El Halcón? Just ensuring she behaves. Spoiled little princess.”

“El Halcón is not your friend,” Héctor Rivera’s flat voice warned. Then Ramón spoke, icy. “She’ll learn her place.”

Inside, Ramón dismissed Matías, already turning his attention back to the monitors displaying compound activity.

Outside, Lola clenched her fists. ‘They thought I was just a spoiled princess? They thought I’d just roll over and play dead?’

They were wrong. She would make them pay. She would burn their world down.

And she was going to enjoy every minute of it starting with the car key in her hands.