Chapter 18: Key of Mourning

DANTE

Two days.

No sign.

No calls.

Just silence.

The house moved like a machine that couldn’t stop. Bodyguards paced, their footsteps echoing through rooms I didn’t want to enter. Voices stayed low, controlled, urgent. Dad barely left his study.

He was obsessed. Consumed. Screens glowed with maps and logs. His desk had vanished beneath photos, lists, dead-end leads. Every hour scraped more hope from the walls.

He didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. He prowled the halls like a ghost with teeth, snapping orders no one questioned. And I stayed out of his way. Wide-eyed. Useless.

How do you even exist when the one thing that made you feel safe just disappears?

Then the phone rang. Too sharp, too loud. My heart jolted, slamming into my ribs. Dad grabbed it.

"Did you find her?"

A pause. Too long.

"What do you mean she’s here?"

His voice cracked. Just once. But it cracked. Another silence. Then his face folded in on itself, like it couldn’t hold the weight anymore.

"They... they left her at the gate."

Panic didn’t ripple. It detonated. Dad staggered, his breath short and jagged. My brain refused to catch up. Refused to connect the dots.

"She’s dead! They killed her!"

His voice cracked wide open, raw and shaking, like he could scream the truth into not being real. The phone hit the floor with a sudden crash. But I didn’t register it.

All I heard were those words. Over and over. A heartbeat that wouldn’t stop. I should’ve picked it up. Should’ve done something.

But my arms hung useless at my sides, heavy, unresponsive. The world kept moving, but I didn’t. I just stood there, numb, waiting for the sound to mean something else.

Dad stormed out, muttering under his breath, denial clinging to him like smoke. Color drained from his face. His footsteps struck like hammers.

My chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. This isn’t real. It can’t be.

Each step felt wrong. Like the ground tilted sideways beneath me. I should’ve said something. Anything.

Right before she left, she bent down and kissed my cheek, light, quick, familiar. I barely glanced away from the TV. Some stupid movie I’d already seen. I mumbled a half-hearted goodbye, never turning my head.

She lingered a second longer, like she wanted more. Like she knew something I didn’t. It was the last time I ever touched her. That kiss. That breath. That one moment.

I traded it for a screen. For background noise and comfort. Now it felt like a kiss goodbye. But forever.

If I’d looked up, just looked, I might’ve caught the smile she always gave me. The one that meant everything was okay. I might’ve told her I loved her. I might’ve hugged her and made her stay.

But I didn’t. I let her walk out. Every step punished me. Like the universe was dragging me toward a truth I’d give anything to rewrite.

Maria whispered my name, pleaded that I stay inside, but it didn’t land. Didn’t matter. I passed one of the guards. His eyes were locked on her. Hands shaking. No one moved to cover her. No one dared.

I wanted to run. Wanted to fall. Instead, I walked straight into it, like pain had a gravity all its own. Still, my legs moved. Some raw instinct dragged me after him. Outside.

The dusk air sliced across my skin, cold and sharp, but I barely felt it. Men stood frozen near the gate. Still. Pale. Silent. This place, once safe, felt gutted. Hollow.

Then she came into view. Lying in the grass, like trash someone had tossed aside. Mom.

No. No, no, no.

The woman who kissed me goodnight. Who sang along with the radio, even when she forgot the words. Who always smelled like peppermint tea and coconut lotion. Now naked. Bruised. Torn open.

Blood soaked her skin. Deep cuts slashed her arms, her legs, her chest. The woman who made this house feel like more than stone and rules was gone. Reduced to something unrecognizable.

Exposed. Vulnerable. Discarded. Her eyes, once fierce with fire, stared past me. Glassy. Fixed on nothing. She was gone. She was really gone.

I stared so hard my vision fractured. My mind refused to accept it. She looked like her, but she couldn’t be. Not my mother. Not the woman who made even silence feel warm.

I wanted her to blink. To breathe. I waited. Nothing.

A strange sound echoed in my ears, high, thin, like wind in a bottle. Or maybe it was me. Maybe I was breaking.

She must’ve been scared. Was she calling for help? For me? Did she wonder why no one came?

My knees locked. My throat burned. I wanted to fall into the grass and scream until something shattered. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

Not even when Dad dropped beside her, his sobs cutting through the quiet like broken glass. All I could do was stand there and watch her lie still on the ground like she meant nothing.

They wanted us to see. Wanted this to hurt. It did.

My legs buckled. I grabbed the gate for support, a strangled breath ripping from my chest. Everything blurred, but I couldn’t look away.

No... this can’t be happening.

My heart pounded, my ribcage shaking from the force, the world narrowing until all I saw was her. The woman who’d been my anchor. My center. Now just a body. Empty. Lifeless.

Dad collapsed at her side. The strongest man I knew, reduced to ruin. A sound tore from his throat. Raw. Animalistic. A cry that shredded the night and took something vital with it.

I’d never heard that sound. Never imagined he was capable of it. I stood frozen. Breath stuck in my chest.

The word mutilated burned through my mind, searing itself into memory, into the part of me that still thought she might open her eyes. My body felt hollow. Not numb. Just gone. Like I was watching someone else’s life fall apart.

I should’ve gone with her. I chose comfort. Chose my couch over her. If I’d been there... would they have taken her?

Guilt twisted inside me, sharp and unrelenting. A knife that wouldn’t stop turning. I didn’t deserve the things I used to take for granted. Not anymore.

Not the glow of a movie lighting up a dark room.

And music...

Music belonged to her.

Mom would sing along like no one was listening, her voice off-key and too loud. I used to roll my eyes, smile under it. Now, the thought of hearing her favorite songs made my chest cave in.

Those were my escapes. My comforts. The things that kept me home. I traded her for a screen.

So I swore I’d never listen to music again. Not to a single note. Not to a single lyric. And I’d never watch another movie. Not one.

None of it mattered anymore.

Because this wasn’t just guilt. This was because of Dad. Because of who he was. Because of his enemies.

Monsters.

They took her. Killed her. Made her suffer.

The thought slammed into me, then spread like fire. Dark. Consuming. I stood there, bones locked, rage crawling beneath my skin like it wanted out.

Every second made it worse. Every breath cut deeper. My vision sharpened until I saw it all. Every cut, every bruise, every piece of her they’d destroyed.

Dad’s sobs echoed, faint and far away. They had taken everything.

I swore I’d make them pay. My chest ached, breath shallow and broken. The memory clawed up again, refusing to stay buried. My fists curled, nails biting into my palms.

I can’t lose control. Not now. Not ever.

But Mom’s body haunted me. Still. I pressed a hand to my chest, grounding myself with the pressure. My walls had to hold.

No one gets in. Not even Marisol. But she was already cracking me open. Her smile. Her defiance. Pulling at something I thought I'd buried, something warm.

And warmth? That was a weakness. Weakness had killed my mother.

It would kill Marisol, too, if I let it. I wouldn’t. I’d protect her.

But love? That was a weakness I couldn’t afford. Never again.