The address led far from the estates, away from Don Diego’s influence and the noble hos clustered around the packhouse.
The roads beca uneven, the buildings smaller and more worn down. Clotheslines stretched across alleys, swaying with faded garnts, and the scent of grilled at was in the air.
Santa Leticia. That’s what they called this part of the pack. A place for those who worked but never prospered, where the cobblestone paths crumbled into dirt roads, and the wolves who lived here had long accepted their place at the bottom of the hierarchy.
I clutched my small bag tighter and glanced around, trying to find the right house number. The street nas had long faded from the cracked walls, and I was starting to regret not asking more questions when I left Giulia and Letizia behind. I sighed, glancing up at the sky, hoping divine intervention would guide ...
And that’s when I spotted them.
Luis Miguel and his group.
Wasn’t it laughable how I felt irritation at first, then exhaustion, and finally, relief at the sight of them? I an, they’d redeed themselves but I couldn’t bla myself for not totally forgetting what they did.
They stood at the corner, leaning against a graffiti-covered wall and looking as up to no good as ever. Luis Miguel, the ringleader, was in the middle, all smug confidence and stupidly good looks. Gonzalo, who was taller and leaner, was laughing at sothing Pedro had said, while Ruben, the shortest but the loudest, gestured wildly with his hands.
I could still rember the last ti we t... how they had, miraculously, decided to redeem themselves, turning from my torntors into my personal choir, serenading with apologies and ridiculous ballads. It had been absurd. Unbelievable.
And now, here they were again, completely unaware that I was standing right there.
For the first ti in a long while, relief settled on . Finally, soone I know.
I hurried toward them, calling out, "¡Hola, chicos!"
They turned, eyeing with the kind of disinterest they reserved for things beneath their notice. Luis Miguel lazily took in my worn dress, my uncovered face, and said, "We don’t talk to ugly girls."
"..."
"..."
There was silence. A long and painful silence.
I blinked. My soul briefly left my body.
¿Perdón?
I had never been called ugly and never in my life had I thought I’d ever be called one. I used to be so tired of having so much beauty that it beca a burden.
Ugly was a word that even my greatest hater wouldn’t dare to use on . However, I had just been called one. An ugly girl.
I had no idea how I felt. I was just... stunned.
Gonzalo humd in agreent, crossing his arms. "Yeah, sorry. We have a reputation to uphold."
Pedro wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, we don’t..."
"WHAT?" I literally shrieked, making them all jump.
Luis Miguel furrowed his brows, looking at properly this ti. His expression went from boredom to mild curiosity, then to... confusion.
"Wait," he said slowly. "Do we know you?"
I clutched my head, exhaling. "You sang for last ti. To apologize for treating like trash. And for kissing , Luis Miguel. It’s , dummies!"
All four of them went rigid.
Pedro was the first to react. He took a step back, pointed an accusing finger at , and gasped, "No."
Gonzalo grabbed Luis Miguel’s arm. "Tell she’s lying."
Ruben spun around dramatically. "Dios mío. This can’t be happening."
Luis Miguel, still staring at , looked like he had just been slapped with a brick. His mouth opened and closed, eyes scanning my face as if trying to piece together a puzzle with missing parts.
And then, he stumbled back as if he had been physically hit. "María José?"
"¡Sí, idiotas!" I threw my hands in the air. "It’s !"
The reaction was instantaneous.
Ruben scread. Scread. Pedro bent over like he had been punched in the gut. Gonzalo clutched his chest as if he was experiencing heart failure.
And Luis Miguel... Luis Miguel just stood there, staring nonstop.
His brown eyes darkened, and I could first see shock on his face until it blossod into sothing heavier. He swallowed hard, looking like he wanted to say sothing but couldn’t find the words.
Gonzalo was the first to break the chaos. "What happened to you?" He almost wailed.
Pedro was shaking his head. "No, no, no. This is a nightmare. Who did this to you?! This can’t be the pack’s gracious pretty flower everyone knows."
"Rosa," I answered, and that was a mistake.
Because suddenly, Luis Miguel did sothing unexpected.
His entire body tensed and his hands clenched into fists, and in the next second, he bolted.
"¡Voy a matarla!" he roared, charging straight toward the packhouse. "She’ll pay for this!"
What?!
Luis Miguel wanted to make Rosa pay? I knew he was trying to fight for , but it was almost laughable. Rosa would crush him like he was a pesky little fly.
She was the strongest Luna wolf in the pack. Was he kidding right now?
"¡No, no, no!" I jumped forward, barely managing to grab his arm before he could take off. The others rushed in too, grabbing onto him like he was a wild animal about to break loose.
"Let go," he growled, straining against their hold. His jaw was clenched, his entire body trembling with anger. "I’ll kill her. I swear to God, I’ll..."
"Luis Miguel, cálmate!" I tugged harder. "It’s fine!"
"Fine?!" Pedro’s voice blurted out in wonder. "She ruined your face!"
"She was jealous!" Ruben spat, his outrage fueling Luis Miguel’s rage. "She couldn’t stand that María José was the most beautiful girl in the pack!"
Luis Miguel’s breathing was harsh, his fury radiating like a storm. But after a mont, his muscles relaxed...just a little. His gaze t mine, searching, as if waiting for permission to continue his rampage.
I exhaled, steadying myself. "I can take care of myself. What I do need, however, is directions."
Luis Miguel stared at , still tense. "Directions?"
I pulled out the address. "To here."
Pedro snatched the paper, his eyes scanning it. "Oh, we know this place."
Gonzalo nodded. "Yeah, it’s like five blocks from here."
I sighed in relief. "Perfect."
I just couldn’t help but feel like living under Mateo’s roof would be an unraveling for .
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