Page 96 of Corrupted Bride

It takes a lot of courage to start walking to the front door. Every inch of my body wants to turn and bolt. It’s very early and quiet, and I’m wondering if it’s rude to ring the bell this early.

God, am I seriously worried about being impolite right now?

All my life I’ve wanted to run away. That’s been my defense mechanism since I was little, and I’ve grown into my adulthood thinking I’d escape one day.

But now I’m walking straight into the fire instead of trying to run.

Part of that’s because of Bass.

I’m not sure I would’ve had the strength of conviction to show up here like this without him.

Before, I tried to help Cruz, but I was too selfish to really see that he needed me around. I kept thinking he’d be better off with me gone.

Or not, if I’m being brutally honest, I wasn’t thinking about him at all.

I was only thinking of myself.

But that’s not how Bass operates. Everything he does, he takes his family into consideration first. His life has been about protecting them ever since he lost Dario, to the point that he neglected himself.

I’m probably the first real relationship he’s ever had, and I’d bet that’s because he’s been too busy obsessing about his family to put himself in a vulnerable position.

He sacrifices, while I’ve always been running away.

Now I’m here and I’m scared, but I’m better for it.

I raise my chin. I try to imagine how Bass would handle this.

With dignity, maybe.

Or more likely he’d go in guns blazing.

I lift my fist to knock, ready to give everything for my brother⁠—

When the door opens.

“Niña tonta!” Tía Graciela sweeps out onto the porch, her fingers digging into my arm. “What are you doing here, you idiot girl?”

“Tía, I mean, I’m here⁠—”

She shushes me, dragging me back from the door, head darting to look around. She’s in all black, a dark dress draped from her skinny frame. Her eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot.

“Come with me. Don’t talk. Idiota, vas a hacer que nos maten a los dos, niña tonta.”

“Perdón, Tía, no sabía.” I stumble along after her, not sure what the heck is going on, but too polite and too used to obeying my elders to do much more than apologize.

Even though I have no clue what I’m sorry for.

Graciela continues to murmur angrily in Spanish as she takes me through the side gate, around the edge of the back yard, and into the lush garden. We’re far from the house hidden behind a series of tall, thick bushes, before she releases me and steps back, brushing her hands together like she’s trying to clean them off.

“You shouldn’t be here.” She stares at me, some of her urgency bleeding away. “For God’s sake, girl, what were you thinking?”

“I wanted—I mean, I was hoping—” I stop and feel like a fool. What was I thinking? That Ruben would take me and actually release Cruz? There’s no way that was going to happen. Ruben was always going to keep me for his toy and get to torture Cruz just as much. I can see it clear as day, standing here with my aunt.

But this begs the question: why didn’t she turn me in?

“You weren’t thinking at all, were you? Dios mío, you nearly gave me a heart attack, showing up on my doorstep. You’re lucky Ruben sleeps late, otherwise he might’ve seen you.”

“I’m here for Cruz.” The words sound small and childish on my tongue. “Please, Tía, tell me he’s safe.”