But it ultimately prevailed. Because I truly believe that what Alabaster Isle has wanted all along was for good to defeat evil.
And that’s not to say that Jonathan is a hero or anything… He has his own demons.They all do.
But he’s the hero of this tale. He deserves to slay the villain and emerge victorious.
It’s my turn to have my kingdom usurped.
Kneeling before them, I think I took my first real breath in almost twenty years. Like finally being uncovered from rubble,brick by brick, the weight came off my chest. And yet the part that filled me with helium was hearing mi pajarito say that he not only refuses to kill me, but also…lovesme.
He wants a relationship? Conmigo??
It’s as loco as loco gets.
But as almost ridiculous as it sounds for the villain to be swooning like a girl in a damn prom dress, it truly was undeniable. I’ve been smitten for the kid this whole time, and hiding it really poorly, I might add.
If he wants to be stupid and throw his life away on a relationship with el diablo… Well, then, I’ll make sure he gets every bit of love and adoration his foolish heart requires.
From one wicked idiota to another.
Unfortunately, it’s not as simple as sailing off into the sunset.Not on this rock.
Redemption arcs have to beearned, after all.
The moment Angel and I sit up, it’s clear that the bubble has popped. And now I’ll have to answer to a whole slew of furious people, who may not be as forgiving as Angelito, or as tolerant as Jonathan.
Angel and I may be wiping the slate clean, but the people of this island’s resentment doesn’t just go away because I’m in love. These people don’t care.
Surrender or not, they could still kill me, and the thought of dying before I can even attempt being Angelito’s boyfriend stiffens me once more with anxious resistance.
Boyfriend?? Really? I’m forty-five.
Let’s just say partner.
Although, if we’re just spit-balling here…husbandhas a pretty nice ring to it.
Hijo de puta, soy obsesionado.
Sitting back, I clear my throat, gazing around nervously at the many sets of eyes on me. From every angle, reflecting asimilar brand of indignation. Some amusement. Awhole lottadisbelief. But mostly the ravenous hatred you’ll find in peasants who have just stumbled upon the cruel king in the dirt, alone and unguarded.
It’s that storming the gates of Versailles, ready to tear Marie Antoinette limb from limb type display ofeat the richI see in their eyes. All but licking their chops, like when the hyenas swarm Scar at the end ofThe Lion King.
See? I knew I related to him a little too closely.
Angel is already standing, giving me his hand as I face the music and slowly rise to my feet, swiping dirt from my five thousand dollar Armani slacks.Not a good look.
I should probably take Rolex off…
Clearing my throat, I’m not sure what to say, or even where to start. Simply apologizing will, I’msure, come off as extremely disingenuous. I momentarily consider killing one of my own men, who are still lingering nearby, equally unsure of what they’re supposed to do now, as a show of good faith.
But then Angel takes my hand, the contact startling me. I peek down at him, and he cocks his head.
“You’re gonna have to do some serious groveling now, Diablo,” he hums. “Are you ready?”
No.“Sure,” I sigh, reluctantly, allowing him to pull me away from the hungry eyes and gnashing teeth of circling prisoners, yanking me inside the old armory.
The second I step inside, I’m gazing around the cramped space, stuffed to the brim with crates of supplies, aheftygoddamn arsenal of weapons, and even more puzzled faces. Inmates and employees alike, all dirty, and tired, though not so much that they couldn’t easily pounce and each get their shot in.
Gurneys across the room with patients being treated by the psychiatrist. Of course, I can’t tell how they’re doing from over here, but at least one of them doesn’t look so hot.
