CHAPTER 30: THE ASHES OF LA CALANDRIA

Xitllali

The air was freezing against my skin. The cold was sharp and hard to bear.

Once we were inside the truck, Valdo kept the headlights off as we slowly drove down the mountain road. He relied on the faint gray light of the coming dawn and his knowledge of the road to guide us.

Thick white mist covered the trees around us, making everything feel quiet, lonely, and dangerous.

I sat in the back seat, staring straight ahead through the windshield. Guillermo sat right beside me.

Even though he was still recovering from losing a lot of blood and injuring his shoulder, he sat upright, his dark eyes watching the trees outside.

His right hand rested on his thigh, close enough that our knuckles almost touched.

No one spoke. The only sound was the steady hum of the engine and the tires sliding slightly over the wet road.

My heart felt heavy. We were heading straight back into danger. Severo's men had searched San Cristóbal for us, and although Guillermo believed they wouldn't expect us to return to the shop, the thought of what could happen still made my stomach twist.

"Almost there," Valdo said quietly from the front seat. Guillermo had been giving him directions along the way, while Valdo kept his eyes on the road and occasionally checked the rearview mirror.

About thirty-five minutes later, the dark shapes of buildings began to appear through the mist.

San Cristóbal was still asleep. The town's cobblestone streets were completely empty. There was no one in sight, only closed windows and gray stone walls beneath the cloudy sky.

Valdo turned the truck onto a narrow side street and switched off the engine a block away from my shop.

We got out without saying a word. The cold wind hit my face, and I pulled my jacket tighter around myself. Mateo stayed by the truck to make sure we had a clear way out, while Valdo walked a few steps ahead, keeping one hand inside his jacket near his gun.

Guillermo walked beside me, taking steady steps despite the pain he must have been feeling in his shoulder.

When I could finally see my shop clearly, I stopped breathing for a moment.

There it was. La Calandria.

In the pale morning light, my little flower shop looked like a ghost. The large front window was completely shattered, leaving a dark, empty space surrounded by broken glass.

Pieces of glass covered the cobblestone sidewalk, and the wooden door hung crookedly from its bottom hinges.

I stopped where I stood. My feet felt stuck to the cold pavement.

All the warmth left my body. For two years, this shop had been my safe place. It was where I hid from my past, grew my flowers, and built a quiet, honest life after everything that had happened in Guadalajara.

Now, it looked like a place I could barely recognize.

"Xitllali," Guillermo said softly beside me.

He didn't try to pull me away. He simply stopped beside me in the middle of the street and let me look at the damage.

I took a slow, shaky step forward, my boots crunching over the broken glass on the sidewalk. I reached out and touched the broken wood around the door. My fingers brushed against a deep mark left by a crowbar.

My eyes began to sting. I had been so worried about Guillermo when he was bleeding and lying in the mud, but seeing my shop like this, broken and almost burned to the ground, hurt in a different way. It felt as if someone had opened my chest and ripped out a piece of my heart.

"They destroyed it completely," I whispered, my voice breaking. A tear rolled down my cheek. "Everything I built... everything I planted... it's gone."

Guillermo stepped through the broken doorway into the dark shop. Valdo followed him, using his flashlight to check the room for traps or anyone who might still be hiding inside.

I followed them in.

The smell inside was almost too much to bear. The sweet smell of fresh roses and damp soil that usually welcomed me was gone. In its place was the strong smell of smoke, soot, and old beer.

The wooden display tables I had painted myself were overturned and broken into pieces. Ceramic pots lay shattered across the floor, their soil mixed with broken glass and scattered petals. At the back of the shop, near the doorway to my small storage room, the walls were black from fire. The shelves had burned down to their frames, and my ribbon boxes had melted into lumps of plastic.

They had tried to burn the shop to the ground.

I covered my mouth with both hands as the tears finally came. My shoulders shook as I stood in the middle of the ruined shop, struggling to take in everything I had lost.

Suddenly, I heard heavy footsteps behind me.

Guillermo walked out of the burnt room at the back. His face was cold and hard, and he looked terrifying.

His eyes were filled with so much anger that it was hard to look at him. But when he saw me standing there crying, his expression changed. The anger gave way to deep sadness.

He crossed the room in two long strides and pulled me against his chest.

I no longer cared about his injured shoulder. I buried my face in his coat, wrapped my arms tightly around his waist, and let out all the fear, anger, and sadness I had been holding inside for days.

He held me with his right arm and gently placed his large hand behind my head. He pressed his lips against my hair and held me close, as if he could protect me from all the pain around us.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his rough voice shaking against me.

"It's all gone, Guillermo," I cried softly into his jacket. "It's all ruined."

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. He gently wiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs, his gaze steady and serious.

"Listen to me, mi vida," he said firmly. "They destroyed your shop. I promise I'm going to make them pay for this. They'll regret ever making you cry."

He looked around the dark, ruined shop, taking in the broken wood and burnt walls.

"I'm going to rebuild this shop," he promised, his eyes filled with determination. "I'll bring the finest wood from Guadalajara. I'll find every rare flower you want. When I'm finished, this place will be ten times more beautiful than it was before."

I stared up at him, surprised by how much he cared. The fearsome cartel king, a man used to violence and having things his way, was standing in the remains of a flower shop, promising to help me rebuild it.

"You don't have to do that," I whispered.

"I do," he replied softly, resting his forehead against mine. "Everything they destroyed here, I'm going to replace. And anyone who thinks they can hurt you or touch this place again will answer to me."