Chapter four

Chapter 4

Kate stayed beside Steve in the hospital. Sitting on the grey couch, beside his bed, she prayed to God every minute that he pulled through. The doctor had given her a bit of hope that he might pull through. Though a thousand questions ran through her mind, her top priority remained Steve and Henry.

She glanced at her phone, hoping to see a message from Mia. An explanation or a clue of what was going on but there was nothing. Just friends and family asking the same questions.

Kate… Kate,  Steve called out, his voice weak as his eyes fluttered open.

She jerked up from the couch, where she had dozed off.

Steve, you're awake… thank God,” she said, rising quickly, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I need to get the doctor.”

Kate, wait… Where’s Mia?” he asked, his voice raspy.

I’ll just go get the doctor, she replied quickly, avoiding the question. Mia had left her in a terrible situation, and Kate didn’t even have the answers herself. How could she explain what she didn’t understand?

After the doctor examined Steve, he reassured her that everything would be fine.

He needs rest. Try to keep him calm and avoid any stress,” the doctor said before leaving the room.

As soon as the door closed, Steve turned to her again.

“Where’s Mia?”

She’s… she’s at home with Henry,  Kate answered, heart racing. She hated lying to him. She had never lied to Steve before, and now here she was, covering up everything with half-truths. If only Mia had given her something solid she could tell him.

Call her. I want to talk to her, he insisted, sensing something was wrong.

Uhm… my phone died. I didn’t bring a charger to the hospital,” Kate stammered, each word feeling heavier than the last.

Kate, I know you’re lying to me,  Steve said, his voice trembling. Was she shot too? Please, answer me. I’m losing it,  he said, tears forming in his eyes.

She’s fine. I promise you, she’s fine… Kate paused, her voice cracking. Her heart beating fast. “She… left.”

Steve stared at her, devastated.

I couldn’t keep lying. I don’t even know why she left, Steve. The doctor said you need rest, not more stress. I want to give you answers, but the truth is…..I don’t have them. But I need you. I need you to stay strong. We’ll figure this out… together,” Kate said, reaching for his hand.

What about Henry?” Steve asked quietly.

He’s okay. He’s with Aunt Mary.

Steve laid back on the bed, not because he got the answers he wanted, but because he could see the exhaustion and fear on Kate’s face. He didn't want to bother her more and he didn’t have the strength to press further. But inside, he was already burning in curiosity and confusion. He had to figure out what happened. The “Mia” he had fallen in love with, would never leave him.

___________

Mia woke up to noise coming from downstairs.

It had been a week since she’d returned to this nightmare, not much had changed in this goddamn house. The smell of liquor and the yelling. The yelling always came when one of their shady deals went sideways.

She crept toward the door and pressed her ear against it.

“How did the police get the drop location?” Josè barked at Tommy, one of his thugs.

I don’t know, boss. I was careful. I stayed quiet in the car until the Russians arrived—next thing I knew, we were surrounded.

And you just left the goods and ran?

I’m sorry, boss. It was a tight spot. I’ve done this before—I just don’t know what went wrong. It happened so fast.

Jose slumped on the chair. He lit the marijuana that was laying on the table and took a long puff.

I want that detective off my back, he said as he poured himself a glass of wine. Try to get him in. If he refuses… pop him off.

Mia’s eyes widened. This was new. Someone was daring to go up against the Santiago family? She had to know who it was. She had to meet this person who wasn't on the Santiago's payroll. Maybe… maybe this was her chance. Maybe she could work with them and finally burn this place to the ground.

She lay back on the bed as soon as she heard Josè’s heavy footsteps climbing the stairs. Him being gone most of the time for his dirty work gave her room to breathe. To think, to plan.

The door flung open. He stood there watching her in silence. Holding his glass of wine.

Eileen closed her eyes, pretending to be sleeping.

Josè dropped his glass on the table behind the door, walked to the bed and yanked the blanket off her body. He climbed on top of her, lifting her nightgown. She sat up, letting him take it off.

His fingers slid into her panties. She let out a soft moan. If sex was all it took to make a marriage work, maybe she and Josè would’ve lasted.

If she were being honest, Josè was good in bed. She hated him, but her body sometimes betrayed her. She moaned again, softly, as he stroked her clit.

Josè liked control. She knew that. So she stayed still—submissive.

He grabbed her breast, fondling it hard, then pushed his middle finger inside her, still playing with her nipple. He watched her moan as he finger-fucked her. She moaned louder, her body reacting against her will.

He took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. She bit her lower lip as waves of pleasure pulsed through her.

He took a moment to unzip his trousers while the other hand fondled and teased her nipples.

He moved to her mouth, kissing her with desperation. His tongue claimed every inch. Then, without warning, he thrust into her, hard. She gasped, arching her back. He fucked her aggressively, his fingers still teasing her clit. She bit her lip, letting him take what he wanted, letting herself disappear into the pain and twisted pleasure. Letting him take her to his world. He fucked her hard, sending electric shivers in her body.

By the time it was over, her entire body ached—especially between her legs.

She lay in the bathtub, filling it with warm water to ease the soreness. Josè’s idea of intimacy was a mix of possession and punishment. Whenever he was angry, he took it out on her body. That was his pattern.

Sometimes she enjoyed it. Sometimes he went to extreme that all she could feel was pain. Sometimes it wasn't sex, it was torture.

She wondered about the detective he wanted dead.

If he found him, there would be no mercy. If he refuses to be their pawn he would be dead.

But for the first time in a long while, Mia felt a flicker of something new. Something she needed. 

A chance, an ally.

_________

Eileen sat quietly beside Josh as he lay on the bed, fast asleep. His chest rose and fell gently, and for a moment, he looked just like the baby she once cradled in her arms. She stroked his hair softly, careful not to wake him. Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in the drawings plastered on the walls—his little world of imagination and color.

A box sat by the foot of the bed, slightly open. She reached for it and began flipping through the stack of old drawings inside. Some were messy, some half-finished, but they all made her smile. Her fingers stopped on one—a sketchy drawing of a woman with curly hair and a big smile. It was labeled “Mom.” Her breath caught in her throat. She clutched the paper gently, her lips trembling. She looked back at her son, tears welling up in her eyes and slowly rolling down her cheeks. There, in his scribbled lines, she saw love. A love she had lost.

What are you doing here?! Josh’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.

Eileen flinched as he shot up from the bed, his face twisted with anger.

I’m sorry, Josh, she said softly, quickly trying to put the drawings back in the box. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just looking through these and saw this one…. She held up the drawing with a watery smile. “You drew me.

But Josh marched over and snatched the drawing from her hands. Without hesitation, he tore it into pieces, the sound of ripping paper slicing into her chest.

You don’t get to come in here, he snapped. Get out!”

“Josh…” she tried to speak, but he wasn’t listening.

I was stupid and young when I made that drawing,” he spat. “Now I know better. You’re a selfish woman! You only care about yourself. You left me. You left Dad.

His voice grew louder, shakier, but full of fury.

GET OUT OF MY ROOM! he shouted, pushing her back toward the door. “I wish you never came back. I wish you had died!”

The door slammed behind her with a deafening thud.

Eileen stood frozen in the hallway, her shoulders shaking. Then the tears came—hot, endless, merciless. She collapsed slowly to the floor, burying her face in her hands. Her sobs echoed softly through the walls.

Her own son had wished her dead.

That pain cut deeper than any wound Jose had ever left on her skin. But she didn’t let it consume her. As she sat on the cold floor of her room, her crying grew quieter, but her resolve hardened.

This was what Jose had done. He had poisoned her son’s heart against her. He had taken everything from her—her past, her peace, her child’s love.

But no more.

He would pay for every stolen moment, every tear, every scar. She would not stop—not until José Santiago was buried six feet under. And when that day came, she’d finally be free.