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No Walls High Enough
Last Updated:
2025-07-12 21:19:09
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TO HATE, TO TOUCH, TO RUIN Reminder
“Found.”The word clings to the back of my teeth as my brow tightens. The little sea glass is cold against my fingers, but my head feels smoked out.Found.Not I love you. Not I miss you. Not even something I could twist into sweetness if I were desperate enough to justify being an idiot again.Found.If Zach just wanted revenge, he didn’t need to get poetic with a shard of ocean glass.I lift my gaze to Jared. “So…” my voice comes out rough, and I clear my throat, “what does he actually want from me?”The café noise keeps moving like nothing is happening. Spoons clink. A barista calls out someone’s name. Laughter cracks from a corner table. Life goes on. Ordinary. Unfortunately, mine never is.Jared doesn’t answer right away. He tilts his head a little, eyes tracing my face, drifting to the first box still closed, then to the sea glass pendant in my hand.“If he just wanted revenge,” I go on, twirling the necklace between my fingers, “Matteo should’ve been the one getting a surprise
TO HATE, TO TOUCH, TO RUIN Don’t Turn Around
This afternoon, Medellín feels like a city fresh out of the shower: streets still damp, sunlight cutting through low buildings, the air laced with coffee and sweet dust.I walk alone along the sidewalk without a hint of fear. This city is my home, my blood, and Papa built half the blocks in this district. No one is stupid enough to mess with me in Medellín.Very different from Bogotá, where Matteo would send a small squad every time I said “I’m going to buy bread.”I pull my new phone from my bag. Isabella has called three times since morning. I finally answer.“KRYSTAL SERRANO, ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!” Her scream nearly drills through my skull.I hold the phone slightly away. “Honey, if I were dead, who would remind you that your new eyebrows aren’t symmetrical?”“DON’T JOKE ABOUT MY EYEBROW!” she shrieks again. “I was about to book your funeral mass!”I roll my eyes as I step into the centro comercial, the biggest mall near my house. Cold AC hits my skin, the smell of popcorn mixes wi
TO HATE, TO TOUCH, TO RUIN You Hold Me, He Haunts Me
We lay on the bed with the lights off, the only glow coming from the balcony, slipping across the pale linen sheets.Matteo pressed in behind me, one arm locked around my waist. No space. His breath landed steady on my neck, but his grip never fully eased. There was always a hint of pressure, like if he let go, I’d disappear again.I didn’t protest. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t shift. I was just too drained to push anyone out of my bed tonight, and Matteo… he is my husband, even if the word felt more like a business contract than a sacred vow. At least he is familiar. Safe, in the loosest sense of the word.We didn’t talk. No questions from him about what I’d done, where I’d been, or what happened while I was in Zach Romano’s hands. He didn’t ask, and I didn’t offer anything.Because if I opened my mouth, I was afraid my voice would betray what was happening in my head.The way Zach’s stare could stop me faster than a weapon. The way my body reacted before my brain could say no. The w
TO HATE, TO TOUCH, TO RUIN Scarred by His Shadow
Dinner at the Serrano house never stayed quiet. Unless you were dead or had just shot someone. I hadn’t done either today, so the clatter of silverware mixed with laughter, muttering, and dramatic stories like always.I scooped arroz con pollo onto my plate for the third time. There were empanadas, arepas, pastelitos, even papaya that Mama swore was good for “spiritual purification.” Me? I’m just hungry. The after-being-kidnapped kind of hungry.“My sweet sister,” Bretta watched me from the far end of the table, her face dipped in telenovela-level concern. “You’re sure you don’t want beet juice? It helps with post-war trauma.”“I prefer post-chili trauma. Thanks.”Mama shot me a look, then piled more empanadas onto my plate like they could rinse my sins away. “If you can still be snarky, you’re not eating enough,” she said. “And you need cleansing. I already called Pastor Rodrigo. He’s coming in the morning.”“Pastor?” I muttered, chewing. “I thought all we needed was a hitman and a t
TO HATE, TO TOUCH, TO RUIN A Staircase Worth Running For
A few hours after that conversation, I woke again as the plane’s wheels kissed the runway with a gentle thud. Through the window, Medellín greeted me with a pale pre-dawn sky and the silhouette of mountains framing the city like an old painting.Jevan didn’t say a word as we disembarked. He simply steered me toward the black car already waiting, and before I could ask where we were going, the door shut, the engine roared, and we were gliding out of the airport.The drive to the Serrano mansion always made me feel like a character in a high-end mafia film. A private road cutting through the hillside, lush trees blocking out the rest of the world, and mountain air carrying the scent of wet earth.Once we passed the massive iron gates with the family crest welded into the center, I could see the house from a distance: sprawling, layered with stone balconies, and lined with tall windows catching the first gold of morning light.And in front of it… a crowd.Not strangers. Family. All of th
TO HATE, TO TOUCH, TO RUIN No More Stone Walls
The helicopter touched down in a town that felt like it belonged in a fairytale, faded old buildings, cobblestone streets, and salty air laced with the scent of toasted bread from cafés that either opened too early or stayed open too late.But that wasn’t what made the place different.What made it special was the fact that no one outside my family dared set foot here without permission.This was Serrano territory. And in Serrano territory, the word “no” was only ever spoken by people who wanted to disappear.The rotor blades slowed, then stopped. Jevan stepped out first and offered his hand. I took it too tightly, but he didn’t let go.My steps felt heavy, but I didn’t say a word. Somehow, any sentence would’ve sounded stupid next to the pounding in my ears.We walked down a narrow path lit by dim yellow streetlights, flanked by two armed men whose faces I vaguely remembered from family meetings years ago. They didn’t look at us, but I knew they were scanning every shadow.Jevan stay
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