My chest tightened just thinking of her na. That image still clawed at my skull—the sight of her sleeping beside him like it ant nothing. Like it ant everything.
But now... now I needed the truth from her lips. Not assumptions. Not pain-stained mories. I needed her.
She had to give sothing. Anything. A reason not to lose my damn mind.
The gravel crunched under my boots as the small houses of Santa Leticia ca into view. Most were quiet—humble wooden structures with gardens overgrown and lines of laundry fluttering like soft flags in the dusk breeze.
It didn’t take long to find the one I rembered.
The one I’d left her at.
My heart thundered in my chest, adrenaline burning a bitter trail in my veins. I raised a fist to knock—then froze.
What if she didn’t want to see ?
What if he was inside again?
I swallowed hard, jaw clenched so tight I could feel the tendons stretching.
No. I was done waiting. Done wondering.
I knocked.
I knocked twice... it was firm, but not loud. The kind of knock that says I’m here, please open, not get your ass to the door. My heart was already galloping in my chest like it knew sothing I didn’t.
The door creaked open a few seconds later.
And there she was—María José. Beautiful. Pale. Shaking. Her face was blotchy like she’d been scrubbing away her sorrow but couldn’t quite erase it. There were tears in her eyes, unshed but screaming at , and in that mont, I forgot everything. The bitterness, the jealousy, even the damn witch who’d been hovering too close for my liking.
"Mi vida," I breathed, stepping forward instinctively.
The urge to hold her was overwhelming. "What’s wrong?"
She didn’t answer right away.
She just... lted into . She threw her arms around my waist like she was anchoring herself from floating away. Her head tucked under my chin, warm tears soaking through my shirt.
I held her. I held her like a man possessed, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other wrapped tightly around her waist. She sobbed, and I felt her body shuddering against mine in quiet and suffocating sobs that stabbed straight into my chest.
I couldn’t handle seeing her like this. Her pain was lancing through my brain in painful waves.
"María..." I whispered. "Talk to . Did he do sothing to you? That bloody witch?"
I hoped to hell it wasn’t what I was thinking.
Her fingers dug into my sides, and she shook her head.
"No. As a matter of fact... he helped ." She provided, sniffing like a little child.
I stiffened. He Helped.
That damn crazy imposter, the one who assud my form to sleep with Rosa, the one who claid to love her but dared to hurt her by using the form of the man she loved to sleep with her sister?
I didn’t trust him, not for a second. Also, the fact that María José spoke of him without venom made my stomach twist. She was supposed to hate him.
Was that it? Had she grown soft for him after...
"You think well of him?" I asked, trying not to sound like I was about to burst a blood vessel. "You trust him?"
She looked up at , and her eyes were full of sothing worse than pain—disappointnt. "Axel, if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have found it."
"Found what?" I asked, jaw tight.
"The truth," she whispered.
And then she reached behind her, into her satchel. When she pulled out the weathered book, I saw her hands trembling again. It was so kind of journal. The leather was cracked, old, like it had secrets soaked into every page.
"This is Rosa’s journal. You need to read it." She announces:
I stared at the book, then at her.
But she was crying again. "Please... I just want this whole thing revealed. I just want it to grow and be done. I just want to be free."
I guess this was the help she claid the witch rendered. Did he sleep with Rosa to steal her journal? What sort of crazy man steals a woman’s journal?
If there was sothing incriminating in there or even a shred of truth about who the father of Rosa’s baby is, I guess it could turn out to be useful and a ga-changer for María and .
However, I just couldn’t bring myself to give the bastard any accolade whatsoever. Yeah, I was that PETTY.
For her, I could go lower. I didn’t fucking want any other man around her. But then again, she was crying, so I can’t be selfish and question her.
I held her face between my palms. "María, listen to . I will always be here with you. You’re not alone in this. You hear ? I’ve got you. We’ll do this together. But first... stop crying. Just breathe. Please."
She nodded slowly, sniffled, and wiped her nose with the back of her hand like a child. I kissed her forehead, then took the journal from her hands.
And then I read.
I read the first few pages, and my stomach dropped. I read on, and my vision blurred with disbelief.
I flipped faster. Faster. My hands shook. My breathing beca uneven.
Rosa used her. Her own mother. María’s mother.
She wrote it out like a confession but wrapped it in flowery prose. Like so kind of psychotic poetry. She and that warlock freak had been playing puppet master with the entire damn pack for years. Cozy with the elders. Scheming. Manipulating. A ga of bloodlines and betrayal.
And she didn’t have a wolf?! She stole her own mother’s wolf? She claid it was the price her mother had to pay for birthing her without a wolf, but I really think she was just crazy.
Sick.
I looked up at María and saw it—why she couldn’t breathe, why her bones looked like they wanted to collapse.
Her sister killed their mother.
"I’m so sorry," I whispered, my voice hoarse.
She didn’t say anything. She just stared at , as if silently begging to make it all stop.
I stepped forward and pulled her into again, tighter this ti. Her lips t mine before I could even process it. It was desperate, ssy, and real.
I kissed her back with everything I had, like I could suck the pain right out of her and swallow it down myself. Her fingers tangled in my hair, and I lifted her by the thighs without even thinking, pressing her against the door behind us.
She gasped, her legs wrapping around like it was the most natural thing in the world. I could taste the salt of her tears on her lips, feel the tension lt from her body as I kissed down her neck, letting her breathe in my presence. Her hands tugged at my shirt like she needed skin to skin, sothing real to hold onto.
I would have loved to halt her there because I didn’t trust my own flesh around her. But I could at least, give this to her, right?
Fuck my desires and let her have as much access to as she needed. Just hang in there, Axel.
"You’re safe," I whispered against her ear. "I’ve got you, cariño. I swear to you—I’ve got you."
She nodded, whispering my na like a prayer, and I carried her inside. We didn’t make it to the bedroom.
The couch groaned under our weight as I lay her down gently, kissing every inch of her face, her jaw, her collarbone as though I was trying to morize every one of her shivers and every gasp. I was.
We weren’t just making out—we were clinging to each other like we were the last two people left on earth. And maybe, in that mont, we were.
I kissed her with so much need until my hands began to drift to her breast, palming them and feeling their tenderness bless my skin.
"Ah..." A soft moan escaped her, jolting my senses back to .
Argh, what the fuck are you doing, Axel?
Just one more day. One more day, and she is all yours.
In order to keep myself from breaking my own promise, I had to pull apart. Our breaths were heavy, and our skin flushed, I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"There’s enough evidence here. This... this is going to bring Rosa down. Tomorrow. At the wedding." I assured her, hoping to hell that it indeed was.
María José reached for my hand and squeezed it. "Axel, with all the corruption in there, do you really think a single journal will be enough to bring Rosa down and expose all the corrupted elders working with her?"
Hm... maybe not. Really. But we had to try, right?
"We wouldn’t know unless we try, Amor." I sighed.
She then lifted her head to et my gaze. "What if I tell you there’s more, Axel? Ignacio, he knows way more than we thought. Apparently, Rosa and her lover have a hidden cottage near the border. Guess what? There’s a mountain of evidence in there, mi Amor. A whole lot."
Ignacio? Who the fuck is Ignacio?
And did María José just call her love? That was the very first ti I’d heard her use an endearnt on . It felt so good, I got all giddy inside.
However, it was such a bad timing because did she just say a hidden cottage?!
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