Page 79 of When Sinners Dare

He spits some phlegm out, purposely aiming it towards us, then starts muttering and ranting in Spanish about something. Mariana starts going back at him. I growl at her fucking attitude in this and keep my stare fixed on him as he keeps pacing. “I will fucking end this if you don’t back the fuck off or get out. Don’t make me.”

Eventually, he stops in the middle of the room. Still glaring. Still pissed as hell. Time passes, and I don’t know which way it's gonna go until he lights a smoke. “You’re a sick, twisted little bitch, Mariana.” She’s crying hard now, but it doesn’t stop her muttering in Spanish at him, all of it seeming hate-filled and venomous. “Enjoy your freedom, ‘cause I don’t give a damn about protecting you no more. You’re dead to me. You hear me? Dead. We’re done.”

He’s gone from the room immediately.

CHAPTER TWENTY - FIVE

MARIANA

Istand and watch Dante leave.

The pain in his words sting, but my temper is dampened by the fact that I know what I did.

“Mariana?” Kai questions, and I don’t know what he wants me to answer first. He lowers the gun and closes what’s left of the door, but a wave of panic hits the moment it shuts.

“I need to get to him. I need him to understand.”

“Woah. You can’t go anywhere near him when he’s like that. He’s a fucking psycho.” Strong arms wrap around me – arms that will protect me and keep me safe.

He’s probably right. Dante’s known for his unpredictability. I let him keep me close as I digest what’s just happened, but the guilt seeps through me.

“Imagine being a good person – a kind, honest, sweet person who’d never had more than a speeding ticket. Now imagine that person falling for my brother. I’m not talking about a crush or infatuation. I’m talking all in love.” My voice breaks as I push the words out. “Now, picture being told about the real Cortez life – the stuff you witnessed with my brothers and Chance – how would you feel?”

Kai’s arms shift around me, and I feel him tense. I know what I’m saying is only a matter of degrees in difference from the similarities between us, but he knew my brother, he has a record, and he told me he didn’t want trouble. There are differences, but the end is the same. This is what we are – what I am.

There will be little I can say or do to Dante or Wren to show I’m sorry.

But I need to try.

The drive for approval and acceptance still eats me up after everything I’ve done. It’s the force and the why behind so many of my decisions – why I’ve taken actions into my own hands and done what Abel should have months ago.

But still, it’s not enough.

There are two parts of me warring inside. One that wants to damn Dante to hell and hope he suffers for what Wren now knows. The other can’t see him as anything other than my favourite brother – the one that’s always looked out for me. That’s why it hurts so much.

“I have to go,” I mutter, breaking free of his hold on me.

“Mariana, so fucking help me!”

“I need to!” My scream cuts through the tension and shuts him up. “It’s all me. Dante, Wren, you. It’s my fault, and I need to do something.” I pace, shaking my head. “Cortezes never…”

“Never what? I don’t know what’s at the end of that, Mariana, because from what I’ve seen, there’s nothing you won’t do.” I can hear the vicious edge of his voice. That’s me. I put it there.

I stare at him. “Let me go after Dante.”

He tosses down the gun on the side and turns, running his hands through his hair.

So, I leave.

I pick up my phone and dial Dante, but it goes straight to voicemail. Next, I try Abel, but it’s the same, straight to voicemail.

Taking a detour home to change out of this fucking rag of a dress into jeans, boots, and a top, I leave as quickly as I arrived. Not the usual look for me, but then, lately, what is?

I head out in the direction of Dante’s apartment. My gut tells me he won’t be there, but I need to try. As I retrace my steps from last night, I also walk through the memory of being in that cell with Chance and how Dante rescued me from the men holding me when I was a kid. The images jumble in my head as I ride up the elevator and bang my fist on the door. Only this time, it doesn’t open.

“Shit, shit, shit …”

I hit call on my phone to Abel again, as I head back to the car, but he doesn’t pick up. So, I head to the Cortez warehouse.I’m not interested in what we do today or what we’ve done with Naja. I need to speak to Abel, and sure enough, he’s sitting behind his desk when I barge into the office.

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