Page 33 of Corrupted Bride

The Uber drops me outside of Hector’s apartment. I ring his buzzer and bang on his door, texting and calling, and I don’t give up. I let out all my rage, screaming up at him, calling him a coward, begging him to open the door. I bang and bang because I have nothing left, nowhere to go, no future at all unless Hector gives me the keys. I can get behind the wheel and drive until my eyes bleed, drive until I’m in a new world. Cruz will be sad, and Uncle might send men after me, but maybe, if I’m lucky, just maybe⁠—

“Okay, okay, fuck, enough.” The door opens a crack but the chain remains in place. Hector’s scared, pale face stares out at me. “Fucking shit, flaca, you’re a goddamn psycho, okay?”

“You have to help me,” I hiss at him, breathing hard, tears streaming down my face. “Please, Hector, I need the keys now. Right fucking now.”

He rubs a hand over his face. “Listen to me, Mari. I’m really sorry, okay? I tried to come through for you, I really did. Shit, I had the biggest crush⁠—”

“I don’t give a shit about your crush, Hector! They’re going to marry me off to some stranger! I need that car, right now⁠—”

“I can’t do it.” The door inches shut. “They threatened me, bro. Said they’d cut my fucking throat and I think they meant it.”

“No, they wouldn’t⁠—”

The door slams shut in my face.

I stand in the silence that follows, hollow, out of options.

A voice makes me start.

“Actually, I definitely would.”

I turn slowly, swallowing back a gag, to find Ruben waiting down the hall. He’s in baggy jeans and a dark jacket, his hand tucked under his waistband like he’s holding onto something. His face is hard. There’s no cocky smirk. He seems annoyed.

“You did this,” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “No, Mari, you did. My father’s waiting down in the car. You gonna come easy or you gonna make this difficult? I don’t care either way, just asking.”

My shoulders slump. Don Nardo’s here. Ruben’s not going to let me escape, not anymore.

All my planning, all my hard work.

All I wanted was my own life.

Ever since I was a little girl, my world’s been about the Escalante. What they want, what they need, what’s expected of me and my brothers. Javi ate it up and loved it, but me? It never made any sense.

Maybe I’m too much like my father.

I found ways to rebel. I was punished, but never too bad. I didn’t dress like the other girls, like my cousin Inez, or the cartel women down south. I went to public school, refused to speak Spanish, met a guy named Danny who was nothing like the men I’d always known. He was kind and gentle. He believed me when I said I wanted to run away.

Now look how far that got me.

I slink after Ruben. I can barely feel my toes. I’ve never felt so small in all my life. Ruben doesn’t rub it in, only leads me to a black town car and opens the door. “Inside,” he says.

I climb into the darkness of the back seat.

My uncle is sitting near the window. The old lion, his gray-and-black hair slicked back, wearing sweats and a hoodie, clearly dragged out of bed. He looks unhappy.

My duffel is in his lap, zipped open.

The door slams shut. Don Nardo says nothing for a moment. He sifts through the contents of my go-bag, making small, approving noises. “This is well done, Marisol,” he says, nodding to himself.

I don’t let the praise penetrate my heart. I know he can turn deadly faster than a viper.

Don Nardo’s always been a shadow in my life. Papá made the rules, but Don Nardo was the real source of truth. This man’s word is fact and to argue with him or to disobey his command is tantamount to suicide.

“Why are you doing this?”

He seems surprised by the question. “I have a business arrangement with Bastiano and you are a useful negotiating piece. Why else?”