Page 25 of The Twins

“Por favor, deje que la lleve a un lugar seguro. Usted tiene que irse. Hay hombres abajo y no dudarán en lastimarla.” Please, let me take you to safety. You have to leave. There are men downstairs, and they won’t hesitate to hurt you.

She doesn’t move. I turn to see what she sees in Martí, and I’m mesmerized by his frozen eyes. He’s not with us anymore. His blood contrasts the cold marble floor, a perfect river of justice.

There’s no time to lose.

Toxic air sneaks up the stairs, warning me. The fools downstairs have set a fucking fire. I grab Amira as gently as I can, and I lead us away from the fire. Martí’s property is enormous, and there are multiple exits.

I hold Amira close to me, but I don’t memorize her touch against the cheap fabric of my clothes.

She doesn’t know who I am, and I haven’t been formally introduced to her either.

Before the smoke can get to us, I speed down another set of stairs. Amira sticks to me, but she’s not responding to my soft pleas. I need her to say something. She’s in shock, but she’s…

She’s not mine.

I haven’t earned the title.

If something goes wrong from now on, it’ll all be my fault.

I take off my robber mask, and I cover Amira’s mouth with it before she can suffocate on the smoke that’s almost caught up to us.

My steps grow lighter as we distance ourselves from the main property. This is the tricky part, and although I’ve practiced this route in my head a million times, I can’t help but be nervous.

There’s nobody around, but if there were any encounters, I’d shove my machine gun down their throat.

I hurry out of Martí’s property, navigating through the woods with a numb woman that I don’t want to push any more than I must.

I’m out of breath, but I fight through it. My so-called friends have started a fire, and fuck, I should feel guilty.

I don’t.

Fuck the world. Heroes save the world. I’m not a hero. I want this woman, and I’ll have it burn down to get her to safety.

My burner phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take that as a sign. The distance between civilization and me is closing in. I check my location the GPS coordinates. I don’t think. There’s no time to breathe. I move at a fast pace, and I head for the location that I’ve agreed to meet my other so-called friends.

Mentally, I prepare myself.

“Lo siento, tiene que comprender que lo que voy a decir frente a estos hombres es mentira. No lo digo en serio. Por favor, perdóneme. No la lastimaré nunca más.” I apologize. You have to understand that what I’ll say in front of these men is a lie. I don’t mean it. Please forgive me. I’ll never hurt you ever again.

It’s a promise that’s hard to keep, and I doubt that she’s awake enough to understand what I’m saying to her, although I speak her language or a version of it.

After an exhausting on-foot excursion out of Martí’s estate, I end up in a nearby small town on the outskirts of the woods. That’s my meeting point. Amira’s confused, but she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t move, forcing me to keep carrying her.

I don’t mind.

I would carry her anywhere she wished, but today, I must give her away.

While our goodbye is a mixture of violence and misogyny, I play my part to make my friends believe I want this woman that I’ve just rescued from her abuser to be abused some more once she’s on my side of the border.

I stuff my friends’ mouths with the first portion of their promised cash, and I let them go on their way. There’s a tracker embedded in the bag of money. I’ve got a drone on them, too.

If they fuck me over, I won’t hesitate to burn their houses down—with them inside.

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