Page 135 of The Ripper

The gates that opened onto the property were destroyed, and some of the fence had crumbled down from the explosion. Gunshots sounded loudly, dozens from the guards that defended the perimeter, only two from behind the opened doors of an armored Hummer that was stopped a few feet away from the gates.

When I saw him raise his head from behind the car door, pulling the trigger twice, my heart seemed to fall back into place, at peace that he came for her.

I walked outside without thinking, barefoot and wearing nothing but my panties and the black robe, but before I could run down the stairs and sprint towards him, two arms wrapped tightly around me, the same ones that stopped me from getting to my mother all those years ago.

“Don’t even think about it,mija,” he pulled me back forcefully, trying to push me back into the house.

But I wasn’t the same weak child from back then, I wasn’t the same woman he could effortlessly maneuver. I was stronger, more determined to return to where I belonged.

“Stop,por Dios!”

“No, let go of me.”

I struggled in his hold and scratched his face, same as before, but this time it had a different impact, and it made him grit his teeth, weakening his hold enough for me to raise my foot and knee him between his legs.

I ripped myself out of his hand and started running for Grimm, passing through the guards who kept shooting.

The stones in the walkway dug into my soles, making me remember those that had grazed my knees when mom died, but right now, the pain subsided with every step I took towards him, almost as if his presence was my morphine.

Hope burned inside me like the flames of hell, and all I wanted was to touch him, feel his scent seep through my pores, piercing me down to my soul, and feel his arms envelop me in the quiet his chaos offered every time.

Two names were called out simultaneously, by two men who were more similar than they would ever admit.

Reina, the girl who shunned her father and left her whole life behind, running from her past as if she ran from the plague, andArella, the woman who raised out of Reina’s ashes, who wished to heal everyone’s pain, hoping that by soothing others, she could fix herself.

The woman who, no matter how long she searched for harmony in work and volunteering, finally found her peace and her entire future in the arms of a criminal.

When I realized why they were calling me, it was too late, because the bullet dug into my shoulder blade from behind, and the impact made me collapse to my knees with a whimper on my lips, the sharp stones carving into my skin until they drew blood.

All I could hear were my ragged breaths and Grimm’s agony ridden howl.

“Ceasefire!” My father’s voice thundered, and I turned my head towards him enough to see him running toward me.

Before the gunshots stopped completely, Grimm was shot in the leg, but he still limped towards me, as if no bullet could stop him.

They were face to face now, gripping their guns in their hands, pointing them at each other, and in the middle of them, was me.

Caught between the man that gave me life, who raised me and kissed my forehead every night, promising that the monsters in my closet could never take me away from him, and the man who brought me back to life after years of lying to myself that I was alright, that I was healed of my mother’s death and that it didn’t impact me anymore.

Caught between my past, and the only future I wished for.

Caught between blood and love.

I winced as I struggled to raise my head towards the source of every ruin inside me, who was also the only one who held the power to rebuild me.

Had he always been this beautiful?

Grimm’s eyes boiled with rage, the black of his pupils swallowing the globe thistle blue in his irises, but his face read relief, and I was convinced that he contemplated his end happily, only because he saw me once more, even if he wouldn’t die as long as I was still breathing.

I would never allow anyone to take him away from me, not even my own father.

He looked rugged, as if he’d barely closed an eye during the last few days. His hair was longer, and his beard had grown, a sign that taking care of himself was the last thing on his mind.

I winced as I struggled to rise to my feet, and panted when I finally stood up, but he wasn’t looking at me, since he was paying attention to my father and the weapon in his hand.

He knew.

He knew the stranger in front of him was my father, otherwise he would have killed him by now, especially since there were no more shots being fired, even if every barrel was pointed at him, and I was sure he didn’t care about the bullets that would have gone through him the second he pulled his trigger.

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