Page 93 of Deception & Desire

It’s sprawling, like an ant colony, with corridors branching off into who-knows-where. I count every door, every intersection, every detail I can store away for later—if later ever comes.

But there are too many of them. Everywhere I look, eyes follow me, sizing me up. Waiting for me to step out of line.

The interrogation room is stark and cold; its single metal chair bolted to the floor before a table. The guards waste no time tying me up, my restraints biting into my skin as I sink into the unforgiving seat.

The fluorescent light overhead buzzes faintly, a persistent hum that drills into my skull. The room feels smaller today, or maybe it’s just me shrinking under the weight of exhaustion and hunger.

Just like every other day, Carmen enters a bit later.

Her posture is perfect, hands folded neatly on the table. Her beautiful curls are tied back from her blank face, making her usually soft features seem so much more severe. Or perhaps that’s just the lighting.

“Tell me where they’re moving next, Mia.” Her voice is a razor slicing through the silence.

Perhaps it’s just the lighting, but there’s torment in her expression, in the darkness of her eyes, the bags beneath them, the tightness of her lips, the bob of her throat. A slight tremor in her hand.

Oh Carmen, what did they do to you?

“You already know the answer to that.” I hold her gaze, my throat dry, my voice scratchy from disuse.

“Tell me where Teo Vitale is hiding.”

“I don’t know,” I bite out.

Round and round in circles, all over again.

“You’re aware of what my father is capable of?” her cold tone betrays a hint of irritation. “You’re aware of what happens to you if you don’t cooperate?”

I stick out my chin stubbornly. “I’d rather die.”

Her eyes narrow, furious flames cracking through the ice. “When did you learn to be so loyal?”

And there it is. The crux of it all.

Beneath the months of grief and isolation and torment lies the huge emotion that started it all: guilt.

I betrayed Carmen Rubio, and I would do it again if it kept my family safe. But there’s not one second that I don’t regret throwing her back into that world without so much as a tether to reality.

I saw firsthand how they treated her and knew they intended so much worse for the debutant, and yet I walked away with the belief that I never once cared for her.

The truth is that I did, more so than I had ever intended. I still do.

“You don’t need to do this, Carmen,” I whisper.

Her gaze hardens, and she leans back in her chair. “What I need is for you to answer these damn questions so he doesn’t kill you.”

“Why are you doing this? You don’t have to follow him—be like him. You’re better than this.”

For the first time, her composure completely cracks.

“Better?” she spits, her voice trembling with barely contained anger. “I trusted you, Mia. I thought you cared about me. But the whole time, you were lying. Spying. Using me.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Carmen?—”

“Don’t!” she cuts me off, her voice rising. Her eyes glisten, but she blinks rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. “You’re smarter than this, Mia. Make yourself invaluable, please. Give me something. Please.”

My heart begins to break. “You shouldn’t care about that.”

“You think I don’t know that? When you turned out exactly like everyone else? Playing me. Manipulating me.”

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