Carlos’ voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed the weight of his words. “The plan is simple. Tomorrow you and Star will leave. I’ve already arranged everything—new names, new papers, a new life. No one will trace you back to me. Not a soul.” Maya’s throat tightened. She stepped closer, her voice trembling. “So… does this mean I will never see you again?” Carlos looked at her then, his jaw hard but his gaze tender. “That is a promise I cannot make. I am determined to see this fight through to the very end. And the truth is...I don’t know how or when it ends. It could be a month. Six months. A year. Maybe longer. But hear me, Maya… if I come out alive, I will find you. Wherever you are. That, I swear.” Her eyes blurred with more tears. She shook her head, wiping them angrily. “I understand, Carlos. I do. But tell me… how am I supposed to go on without you? You tell me to start over, to be safe. But my life—my heart—is here now, with you. Why don’t you let me be part of your
Maya sat across from Carlos, her fingers twisting together in her lap, afraid of what he might say next. “I didn’t stop at Nico,” Carlos continued. “After that night… after the children… I had to know more. I asked them questions. Where they had been taken. Who had hurt them. And they told me. There were so many children who had been caught and imprisoned by Don Vargas.” Maya’s breath caught. “How many were there?” Carlos’ jaw tightened. “More than a thousand, Maya. From different countries. Kept like animals. Trained, broken, used as toys or tests for new recruits. That’s what my father built his empire on. That’s what Nico gloried in.” His voice cracked once again. “Do you know how many lives had already been lost before I even set foot in that place? Too many to count.” Maya covered her mouth, tears burning her eyes. “Oh God…” “I couldn’t kill my father.” Carlos’ voice hardened again, though there was pain beneath it. “Not then. But I couldn’t let him walk free either. So
Don Vargas didn’t flinch at the gun aimed at his chest. Instead, he let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head slowly. “So this is who you are,” he said. His voice echoed in the chamber, calm but laced with venom. “You speak of mercy, yet your hands are stained with blood. Do you think you’re better than me? Better than Nico? No, Carlos. You carry the Vargas blood. That makes you the same.” Carlos’ grip on the pistol tightened, his voice a growl. “No. That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve killed men who deserved it. Traitors. Monsters. Not children. Not innocents. I won’t become like you.” His father leaned forward in his chair, eyes narrowing. “Don’t pretend you’re some savior. You killed your cousin. You killed my brother. And now you point a gun at your own father. What makes you different from me, from every Vargas before you?” Carlos’ jaw clenched. His words came out like fire through clenched teeth. “Because I know the difference between power and cruelty. You don’t.”
Maya sat very still, Carlos’s words washing over her like waves too heavy to stand against. She once again felt the ache in her chest, the sharp sting of guilt for doubting him. Star’s cries, the picture of Carlos holding her lifeless body by the sea—it was almost too much. Her lips parted, but no words came. She wanted to tell him thank you again, she wanted to tell him she loved him, but all that escaped was a trembling whisper: “You carried me back from death…” He looked at her then, and in his eyes she saw everything he wasn’t saying—the sleepless nights, the endless burden, the choices he had made not just for himself, but for her and Star. Maya swallowed hard, tears brimming again, but she forced herself to nod. “Go on,” she said softly. “Tell me everything.” Carlos exhaled, bracing himself, and then his voice dropped lower, edged with steel. “After you were safe in the hospital, with Manuel and Star by your side… I knew my time was running out. Nico’s death wasn’t g
Carlos gently pulled Maya’s arms from around his neck and guided her down onto the chair. His hands lingered for a moment, brushing over hers, before he lifted his thumb to wipe away the tears streaking her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough, as though the words had been clawing at his throat for too long. He sat beside her, his head bowed slightly. “I never meant for you to misunderstand me. I never meant to hurt you. Everything I’ve done was to protect you.” Maya shook her head stubbornly, fresh tears falling. “No… I don’t want an apology. I don’t want words. I only want you to stay. Don’t send me away, Carlos. Don’t push me out of your life.” He closed his eyes briefly, the ache in her voice cutting deeper than any wound he’d ever taken. “Maya, I thought I was doing what was best. For you. For Star. I thought...” But before he could finish, Maya rose suddenly, her movements driven by desperation. She slid onto his lap, straddling him, her arms locked tight a
Maya’s heart skipped. She and Carlos both froze, staring at each other as if Star's question had been a gunshot. Then Maya forced a small smile, turning toward her sister. “Don Vargas was a villain, Star,” she said softly, her hand brushing through the girl’s hair. “A bad man, the kind you shouldn’t even talk about.” Star frowned, confused, but nodded slowly, accepting the answer. Maya’s eyes flicked back to Carlos. For a beat, their gazes held, silent words passing between them. Then she looked away, her chest tightening with an unease she tried to ignore. The drive back to Carlos’s house was quiet afterward, between Maya and Carlos. Star hummed softly in the backseat, kicking her legs, while Maya sat rigid in the passenger seat. She kept glancing sideways at Carlos...at his set jaw, at the faint shadow of exhaustion beneath his eyes, and most of all, at the ring glinting on his finger when it caught the light. She told herself not to jump to conclusions, not after everyt