Chapter 6 The Tangled Web

(Marisol's POV)

"What the fuck are you hiding from me?" My

voice cracked as I slammed my fists against the wall, the cold stone biting

into my skin.

The scarred man smirked, his face a twisted

mask of amusement. "You think you're ready for the truth, little girl?"

"I deserve to know!" I screamed, stepping

closer. "You owe me that much."

His laugh was bitter, hollow. "Owe you? I owe

you nothing. Your family brought this on themselves. They were no saints,

Marisol. Your father"

"Don't you dare speak about him!" I cut him

off, my voice trembling with rage.

But he didn't stop. "Your father made enemies

in every corner of this city. Rafael was just the beginning."

I froze, the weight of his words sinking in.

My father wasn't the victim I'd painted him to be. He was a player in this

deadly game, and I was caught in the crossfire.

"What did he do?" I whispered, my voice barely

audible.

The scarred man leaned in, his breath hot

against my ear. "Ask Rafael. He knows everything."

Whispers from the corner only for me to turn

it was,

"Elena?" My heart stopped when I saw her

standing in the shadows of my apartment.

She looked like a ghost, her eyes hollow, her

body trembling. "Marisol..."

I rushed to her, pulling her into my arms. "I

thought you were dead. Where have you been?"

"They took me," she whispered, her voice

shaking. "They wanted information about you. About your father."

My stomach twisted. "Who? Who took you?"

"Delgado's men," she said, her eyes filling

with tears. "They're still out there, Marisol. And they're coming for you."

The room spun, the weight of her words

pressing down on me. I wasn't safe. Not here, not anywhere.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I demanded, pulling

back to look at her.

"Because Rafael won't protect you forever,"

she said, her voice laced with fear. "He's dangerous, Marisol. You can't trust

him."

The nightclub was alive with music and chaos,

but my mind was focused on the task at hand. Rafael's orders had been clear:

retrieve the package, no questions asked.

"Why me?" I'd asked him earlier that night, my

voice sharp with defiance.

"Because I trust you," he'd replied, his gaze

piercing.

Trust. The word felt like a noose tightening

around my neck.

The alley behind the club was dark, the air

thick with tension. I spotted the man waiting for me, his face obscured by

shadows.

"You have the package?" I asked, my voice

steady despite the fear coursing through me.

He handed me a small, unmarked box. "Deliver

this to Rafael. And don't open it."

But as I turned to leave, the scarred man

stepped out of the darkness, his presence sending a chill down my spine.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Marisol," he

said, his voice low and threatening.

"What the hell do you want?" I snapped, clutching

the box tightly.

He smirked, his eyes gleaming with malice. "To

see how far you'll go for him."

The box sat on my kitchen counter, its

contents a mystery that gnawed at me.

"Don't open it," Rafael's voice echoed in my

mind, but curiosity burned like a fire in my chest.

I reached for it, my hands trembling, and

lifted the lid. Inside was a single photograph, faded with time.

My father. Standing next to Rafael.

"What the fuck?" I whispered, my heart racing.

The image was a puzzle piece, a glimpse into

the secret life my father had hidden from me. But what did it mean? And why was

Rafael keeping it from me?

The first blow came out of nowhere, knocking

the wind out of me.

I hit the ground hard, my vision blurring as

the scarred man loomed over me. "You should've stayed out of this, Marisol."

"Fuck you," I spat, scrambling to my feet.

He swung again, but this time I was ready. I

ducked, my instincts kicking in as I grabbed a broken bottle from the ground.

"You're not going to kill me," I said, my

voice steady despite the fear coursing through me.

He laughed, a cruel, hollow sound. "You're

right. But I can make you wish you were dead."

Before he could strike again, a gunshot rang

out, the sound echoing through the alley.

The scarred man froze, his eyes widening as he

crumpled to the ground.

I turned to see Rafael, his gun still smoking,

his expression cold and unyielding.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer

than I expected.

I nodded, my knees threatening to give out.

"Why did you save me?"

"Because you're mine," he said, his gaze

locking onto mine. "And I don't share.

That night, as I lay in bed, Rafael's words

echoed in my mind.

You're mine.

The way he said it, with that possessive

growl, made my stomach tighten in ways I hated to admit. Was I just another

pawn in his twisted game, a shiny new toy for him to manipulate? Or did he mean

it in a way that hinted at something deeper?

I hated myself for even entertaining the idea.

My fingers traced the edges of the photograph

I'd hidden beneath my pillow the one of my father and Rafael, standing together

like old friends. What the hell had my father been hiding?

The scarred man's words haunted me too. Your

family brought this on themselves.

I couldn't shake the feeling that the truth

was lurking just beyond my grasp, a shadow I couldn't quite catch. What had my

father done? And why was Rafael so invested in me?

My chest felt heavy with questions I wasn't

ready to answer. Or maybe I was just too afraid of what I'd find.

The night was suffocating, the silence

pressing down on me like a weight. I tossed and turned, the heat of my thoughts

mingling with the lingering memory of Rafael's touch. The way his hands had

gripped me earlier, firm and unyielding, as if he could control me with a

single touch.

"Fuck," I whispered into the darkness,

throwing the blanket off me. My skin was slick with sweat, my body restless and

buzzing.

I wanted answers, but more than that, I wanted

clarity. I needed to understand why Rafael had stepped into my life like a

storm, upending everything and leaving me desperate for footing.

But how could I demand the truth when I

couldn't even trust myself?

The faint sound of footsteps outside my door

made me freeze. My breath caught in my throat as the knob turned, the door

creaking open.

"Can't sleep?" Rafael's voice was low, almost

a purr, as he stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.

I sat up, pulling the sheet around me. "What

are you doing here?"

He leaned against the doorframe, his dark eyes

scanning me in a way that made my pulse race. "I wanted to check on you.

Tonight wasn't easy."

I scoffed, my defenses snapping into place.

"You mean the part where you killed a man for me? Or the part where you called

me yours like I'm some kind of property?"

Rafael's smirk was maddening, but his eyes

betrayed something deeper-something darker. "I don't take what's mine lightly,

Marisol. You should know that by now."

My fists clenched the sheet as I glared at

him. "I'm not yours. I'm not anyone's."

He crossed the room in three swift strides,

his presence overwhelming as he stood over me. "Then why haven't you run? Why

are you still here, in my world, playing my game?"

His words hit like a slap, and I hated that I

didn't have an answer.

"Get out," I said, my voice trembling.

But Rafael didn't move. Instead, he reached

out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. The touch was electric, sending a

jolt through my entire body.

"Tell me to leave," he whispered, his voice a

low growl, "and mean it."

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words

wouldn't come. My breath hitched as his hand slid to the back of my neck,

pulling me closer.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I managed to

choke out, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Something I've been thinking about since the

moment I saw you," he said, his lips hovering just above mine.

The air between us was charged, a dangerous

mix of anger and desire that left me dizzy. I hated him for what he was doing

to me, but I hated myself more for wanting it.

"Stop," I whispered, though my voice lacked

conviction.

Rafael's eyes darkened, his grip tightening

ever so slightly. "Stop lying to yourself, Marisol. You want this as much as I

do."

Before I could protest, his lips crashed

against mine, claiming me with a ferocity that left me breathless.

For a moment, I let myself drown in it, in

him. His kiss was a battle, a challenge, and I met it with equal fire. But as

quickly as it started, I pushed him away, my hands trembling.

"This doesn't change anything," I said, my

voice shaking.

Rafael smirked, his thumb brushing against my

swollen lips. "You keep telling yourself that."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me

alone with my racing heart and a million unanswered questions.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

The photograph burned beneath my pillow, a

silent reminder that Rafael's world was built on secrets and I was now a part

of it.

The

photograph of my father? The secrets that seemed to multiply with every step I

took?

The answers felt just out of reach, but one

thing was clear:

In Rafael's world, survival came at a cost.

And I wasn't sure if I was willing to pay for it.