The Foiled Plan (War of Sins Book 2)

My breathing intensifies as dry sobs rack my body. I keep on gasping for an air that won’t come. Just like before, I feel like I’m slowly suffocating, my throat closing up as shudders go down my spine.

From unnatural stillness, I go to an aggression that’s uncharacteristic of me as I push and push against him, needing to get as far away from here as possible—as far away from him.

How could he…

He falls on his back, a small groan escaping him. Yet he’s barely aware of what’s happening—of the fact that he just ripped my heart out of my chest and trampled on it.

Pulling myself together, I stare at his form, shock slowly washing through me. Tears are streaming down my cheeks and I can’t stop the way my body is seemingly breaking down. Stumbling out of the bed, I fall to the ground, my knees making contact with the hard floor. Pain radiates from the injured area, but I can’t register it. I can’t register any outside stimuli when my insides are crumbling.

My sight foggy, my throat clogged up, I push myself up, somehow making it out of the room and down the stairs. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I need to be away. Taking a few steps at a time, I start running, tripping on my feet and falling at the base of the stairs.

More injuries. More physical pain. Yet I no longer feel it.

I breathe and breathe, my mouth wide open, but air just won’t fill my lungs. Even as I fall, and even as I get up, the pain is but an echo in my body, my own feelings the harrowing source of my physical pain.

Hearing her name… Hearing her name on his lips when he’d been inside me. Telling her he loved her…

I barely make it in time to the bathroom as I empty the contents of my stomach. Slumped over the toilet, I replay everything in my mind, hoping—needing—to believe I heard him wrong.

But it wasn’t wrong.

He’d called me luz. Light. Lucero.

Bringing my fist over my heart, I keep hitting my ribcage in an effort to alleviate the hurt inside.

He’d called me luz…

Why?

On shaky legs, I barely get up, washing my mouth with some water as I stare at the mirror. I take in my disheveled appearance, the redness of my eyes and the crusted tears on my cheeks.

Bringing one hand to my puffy lips, I can only ask myself how I got here. I’ve been through more things than a normal person has, yet until this moment I didn’t know how it felt to die inside.

Te amo, mi luz.

All this time and he…

My voice cracks with the power of my sobs.

Is this the first time, or has it happened before but I just never realized? In my bid to have someone to love me, have I overlooked the obvious signs?

Was I that oblivious?

I purse my lips as I continue to stare at myself—at the stranger in the mirror.

Was I so desperate for any crumb of affection that I created an alternate scenario in my head? Did I distort reality?

One after another, the questions flood my brain.

All this time, did he imagine it was her instead of me? When he was fucking me, was he fucking her? When he was kissing me, was he remembering the way her lips tasted?

The what-ifs are killing me, my hands going to my ears in an effort to stop the errant thoughts from making me go even more insane than I already am.

He never gave me the words, yet he whispered them to her so easily…

I’ve fallen for a lie.

And the truth is staring me right in the face. I’ve been her replacement all along. Spurred by his guilt towards me, he decided I would do. Sure, he’s attracted to me. But other than that… He can’t have her, but he can have me, isn’t that right?

I hate her. I hate her with everything I have in me.

‘I hate her,’ I yell, my throat hurting as the rough sound comes out.

From the beginning, I should have seen this coming. I should have fucking paid attention to the signs.

Because how does one go from hating someone so much for allegedly killing the love of his life to this? He was willing to do whatever it took to ensure that Lucero’s tormentor got her due. He was willing to do everything for her. How could I have been so dumb as to think he could suddenly change his affections so easily?

He’s loved her for years. He’s only known me for months.

In his mind, she’s his unfulfilled love. She’s an ideal—a wasted potential.

How could I ever compete with that?

He put her on a pedestal. Compared to her, I’m just…human. I have faults where she has none.

There’s no comparison.

I blink, the realization startling.

I’ve been lying to myself from the beginning, haven’t I?

I wanted him so much, I was willing to overlook every red flag. I was willing to put aside the past and just look at the future. But the past can never be overlooked, since it dictates the future.

That was my first mistake.

My second was being too desperate for anyone to see me as more than a lunatic. To see me as a human being—a woman. A flesh and blood woman, with wants and desires. A woman worthy of love…

It was all a lie.

My gaze hardens, and before I know what I’m doing, I bring my fist against the mirror.

I’m not strong. I barely have any strength in my limbs.

Yet as my knuckles connect with the mirror, a loud bang erupts in the room before shards of glass shatter everywhere.

Blood pours from my hand and into the sink, and I can only watch as it washes down the drain.

I stare at the red liquid, and all I know is that I hate her. I hate and resent her so much, that if she’d been here, before me, I would have used one of the sharp edges of a shard to cut her throat. Then it would be her blood I would watch dripping down. It would be her suffering that would finally give me some sort of peace.

Just as that thought arises, I reel back, my entire being thrust into the past. And as I open my eyes to look around me, I see my former room at the hacienda.

My entire body is shaking with pain—so much pain that I’m barely able to stand upright. One hand clutches at my midriff, and I feel like my womb is about to fall out.

Though I feel on the brink of death, there’s a steely determination that brings me here, to this spot. I know what I must do, and nothing will stop me.

My fingers feel the outline of a key in my other hand, and with wobbly movements, I bring it to the keyhole, stabbing it inside and twisting until I hear the click of the lock.

Limping away, I see myself head to the stables, grabbing a large canister of gasoline.

My thoughts are too messy to make sense of them. More than anything, I feel like a spectator in my own body as I watch myself act.

Walking around the house, I’m having a hard time carrying the liquid with me as my body is slowly dying of pain. But beneath it all, there’s unwavering conviction.

I’ll do it.

I may die trying, but I’ll do it.

I’m bleeding. From what part of my body, I don’t know. Or maybe, the blood is pouring from everywhere.

Every breath I take feels like my last, but I push on.

Tilting the canister, I let the flammable liquid pour on to the ground. I walk all around the corridors of the house before circling the entire place on the outside.

When there’s barely anything left, I dump the container.

And as I stand in front of the entrance, I know I don’t have much time left to live.

But one thing is for sure. If I’m going to hell, I’m taking everyone with me.

My gaze blank, every cell in my body disintegrating, I bring a shaky hand up.

Once, twice, three times. I bump the match against its case, hoping a flame would flicker to life soon.

And when it does… I simply let it fall.

I jolt back to the present, the enormity of what I just witnessed washing over me.

I killed her. I actually killed her. I killed everyone!

Bringing my bloody hand to my face, I drag it down my face, smearing the red liquid everywhere. Tilting my head to the side, I let my eyes roam over the little reflective shards still in place.

I killed her.

And for the first time since seeing scary flashbacks into my past, I’m not horrified at what I’ve done.

I’d do it again.

My God… Who am I?

My fingers still on my cheek, I tug at the corner of my mouth, forcing it into a smile. Blood touches my lips, streaming down my chin, yet I can only force my mouth into a wider smile—wide and wider. My brows are pinched in a frown, my eyes close to tearing up at the pain. But just as I’m about to give in, bawl my heart out, a light giggle escapes me. Instead, my cries are mingled with laughter, my tears complimenting my strained grin.

I’m sick.

I’m sick because I would do it again. I would kill her all over again.

I don’t even know why I did it in the first place, but right this moment, I would slaughter her.

‘What is wrong with me?’ I ask with a straight face once my fit of laughter subsides. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’

Maybe that’s just the answer—everything.

From the beginning, everything’s been wrong with me.

Everything.

Cisco was right. Everyone was right.

I am mad. I’m fucking insane.

Insane…

My eyes rove around the mess around me, settling on a larger shard of glass. Wrapping my hand around it, I hold tightly, reveling in the sting of the sharp surface.

Without even realizing what I’m doing, my feet carry me up the stairs. There’s a disconnect between my brain and my heart—between my brain and my body.

I’m no longer lucid as I step into the room, the sharp object in my grasp.

He’s still on top of the sheets, naked.

With slow but precise movements, I climb on top of him.

‘Why?’ I whisper, staring at his serene face.

He’s so beautiful my heart aches.

‘Why couldn’t you love me?’ I ask, more tears falling down my face.

Bringing the shard over his chest, I trail it down his pecs and to the square of his abdominals.

It would be so easy… So easy…

I nip a bit of skin, blood flooding to the surface. Swiping it with my thumb I bring it to my lips, closing my eyes as I sigh at the taste.

He’s not mine. He’ll never be mine.

And if he’s not mine…

Raising my arms over my head, I position the tip of the shard over his heart, ready to bring it down with full force—end this forever.

I’m in position. I only need to move.

Yet the more I stare at him, the more I realize I can’t.

I can’t kill him.

Killing him would mean killing my own heart. And I’m not brave enough to dig my own heart out of my chest.

Instead, I linger. Weapon raised, I linger.

‘Why…’ I shake my head.

Right at that moment, his eyes snap open, and in the next second I find myself under him, my back hitting the sheets, my breath knocked out of me.

His eyes meet mine, but it’s just as before. He’s not present. It’s him, yet it’s not. And in a way, this is the real him. The version that doesn’t lie, deceive, or disillusion. This is the truthful version.

He peruses me, his gaze settling over my bloody hand still clutching at the shard of mirror. Slowly, he disentangles my fingers from around it, taking it from me.

I don’t know what he means to do, but as the weapon switches owners, I take hold of his wrist, bringing it to my throat and willing him to do it—put me out of my misery.

‘Do it,’ I whisper.

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing at me.

Instead of going through with it, he imitates my previous movements, bringing the sharp edge of the mirror over my naked flesh before cutting just above my breast.

I gasp at the sudden sting. But just as it flares, it’s gone, warm lips surrounding the battered spot.

On my back, I turn my gaze to the ceiling, staring at it.

I couldn’t kill him.

He couldn’t kill me.

Where does that leave us…

But like the sick masochist I am, I need the confirmation. I need to hear it once more for my heart to break for good—forever.

‘I love you,’ I whisper, focused on one spot of mold on the ceiling. ‘I love you, Raf,’ I tell him, waiting for the confirmation of all my fears.

His tongue swirls at the cut before he trails it up my neck, his warm breath fanning on my skin and sending me back to comfortable memories—of being, of belonging.

To the illusion of belonging.

He nibbles at my earlobe, before he whispers in the sweetest voice.

‘I love you, too. So much…’

Closing my eyes, I wait for the pain to hit.

He’s between my legs, pushing himself into my body.

Still, I wait.

‘I love you so much,’ he repeats on a harsh intake of breath, thrusting in and out of me.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I palm the sheet beneath my body, holding on to it for support.

‘You’re my eternal love,’ he rasps. ‘Fuck, te extraño, mi luz. Regresa a mi!’

I bite my lip in pain as I turn my head to the side.

In that moment, my soul truly splinters.

Why? Why did I need to hear it again? As if it didn’t hurt enough the first time. Now…

But I needed it. I needed to hear it again—to know it wasn’t just my erroneous perception at the time.

‘This is goodbye, Raf,’ I tell him gently. There’s no other way around it.

His brows furrow in confusion.

‘No,’ he grits out. ‘You’re not leaving me. Not again,’ he states vehemently as he wraps his arms around my torso, holding me captive to his chest.

A sad smile plays at my lips.

Now that my slight maniac episode wore off, I can see things more clearly—including what I need to do.

But for the moment, I indulge him, closing my eyes and pretending for one last time that it’s me he loves. Because in the morning…