Finding Forgiveness

After only about half an hour, we were leaving the airport into the thick Venezuelan heat.

I was beginning to feel a little weak from hunger and the humidity certainly didn’t help. The city was loud too. Andrea dragged me through it at breakneck speed until we reached a black truck parked down an alleyway.

“In,” he ordered opening the door.

I slowly stepped into the cool, air-conditioned back seat before Andrea slammed the door and walked around to the passenger’s seat.

The driver eyed me through the rear mirror but didn’t say a word and instead began driving out of the city.

I silently watched the view, the glimmering blue sea, busy street vendors, kids playing. Under other circumstances, I would have thought Caracas would be a wonderful place to visit. I’m sure we can all understand why I couldn’t really appreciate it alongside the devil himself.

After we had left the city and had been driving down a jungly track for some hours, Andrea’s phone began to ring.

The voice of a man, sounding vaguely familiar, came through talking in fast-paced Spanish. It was the same voice from earlier, the one Andrea had been on the phone to in the Mexican airport and he looked even more displeased than he did then.

He eventually hung up, after growling deep, angry Spanish incantations down the phone line.

“Stop the car,” he ordered and the driver brought the vehicle to a lurching halt.

Andrea got out and marched round to my door. He opened the door and I shuffled away from his furious grasp.

“My patience is hanging on by a thread. Don’t make me fucking lose it with you and your fucking Alpha,” he growled grabbing my leg and forcing me out of the car.

“Your fucking Alpha,” he repeated pinning me against the hot, black paint of the car.

He then struck me across the face once again, this time on the cheek.

“I want him dead. I want to slowly squeeze the life out of him after forcing him to watch me make love to his Luna and kill every one of his stupid fucking kids with their big blue eyes and yellow fucking hair,” he continued as my eyes watered from the pain.

My stomach lurched at the thought of my eight children even within a hundred-mile radius of Andrea.

“Why are you so angry?” I asked. “What has he done?”

“Let’s see,” Andrea began clasping my hair. “His men have killed Juan, taken your son, killed five of my men in Mexico and somehow learnt that you are in Venezuela.”

I looked up at Andrea and smiled as a flood of relief swept over me. Cato was safe.

“You’ve messed with his family, what did you expect?” I asked before the gripped his hands around my neck tightly.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t end you right here and now?” he demanded. “Cut the bother.”

“It’s too late. He’ll come for you whether I’m dead or alive,” I replied struggling for air. “And I’m worth more to you with a beating heart, right?”

He knew I was right. But although his grip loosened around my neck, his eyes and face hardened.

He struck me again, this time around the eye and with his fist. I whimpered and my vision blurred for a moment or two.

“Don’t make me think you aren’t worth it,” he hissed before lifting me up and throwing me back into the car.

We drove for some hours more. Every now and then I brought my fingers to my tender eye to investigate the swelling.

Spoiler: it was bad.

On the plus side, my eye had caught the metallic shimmer of a blade in the pocket of the driver. Andrea was busy brooding at the time and I was able to discretely reach for it and slip it from his pocket and into my own. I took no joy in hurting people but if I had the opportunity with Andrea, I would hesitate for a second.

Eventually, the car came to a grinding stop at the edge of a muddy, fast-flowing river.

“This looks like the sort of place you bring someone to discretely murder them,” I mumbled as Andrea hauled me out of the car by my my arm and dragging me onto an overgrown jetty where a singular boat bobbed on the brown water.

“Don’t tempt me, Blanca,” he replied before reaching into his pocket and handing the silent driver a wad of cash.

The car was soon speeding back down the track, kicking up dust as it went and leaving us alone on the derelict jetty that was so rotten we could fall through at any moment.

Taking my arm once again, he began leading me to the tiny motorboat.

I heard the high pitched buzz of a mosquito in the air. It landed on his tanned skin and he lifted his other hand to slap it off.

I flinched and closed my eyes for a brief second.

Of course, Andrea noticed and he looked down at me and his eyes fluttered across his face before he smirked and looked away.

“You’re scared of me, Blanca,” he stated.

I didn’t respond.

“Tell me why,” he said.Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“You know why,” I replied quietly.

“I want to hear you say it.”

I hesitated for a few moments and took a deep breath, “You’re terrifying.”

He gave me a sarcastic smile.

“Thank you,” he said in a light tone before his face hardened. “Now get in the boat.”

I looked down at the old wooden thing and the relatively fast flowing river. I then thought about where it was going to take me and felt a sudden urge to do anything in my power to not end up in it.

I backed away shaking my head.

“No,” I refused.

“Now that your son is safe you think it’s okay to be difficult?” he said grabbing my wrist. “Get in the fucking boat and don’t make me say it again.”

“Fuck you,” I hissed withdrawing the stolen knife and surging it towards him.

His grip loosened on my wrist and I cowered away. He brought his fingers slowly up to his cheek and dapped the scratch I had left on him. Blood oozed onto his fingertips and a slight trickle dripped down his cheek to his jaw. He stared as the blood on his hands for a few seconds before lifting his eyes up to me.

“You better run, Blanca,” he growled as his face twitched with anger. “Before I fucking kill you.”

I heeded his advice and bolted into the jungle. It was dense and the vines whipped and lashed as I fought through leaves and branches and roots.

His footsteps thundered towards me. Every stride of his covering twice the distance of mine.

In my panic, I lost my step and caught my foot on a protruding root which sent me onto the floor.

I rolled onto my back to see Andrea above me, still with murder in his eyes. He leant down and grabbed my ankles, pulling me underneath me and seizing my face in his hand.