I can end it for me, but not for him. Never for him.
I slam on the breaks, the tires squealing as I drift to keep from hitting him and his bike over the edge of the bridge. With only seconds to spare, the tires come to a reluctant halt, and I instantly hang my head as it dies beneath me, the manual engine clunking off.
Sobs wrack my body as fear of what I almost did fills me, for the grief that, once more, I was too much of a cowardto finish what I started.
There’s a viscous smashing against the driver window, and I look up, trying to swipe the tears from my vision with the back of my hand. I’m met with an icy glare that haunts me in both the most terrifying and delicious way, and I cringe.
I’m scared of McCrae Dobbs, but not because I fear what he’ll do to me. I only fear what he thinks of me. And right now, I’ve a pretty good idea it’s nothing good.
I’m drowning, circling the drain as my life fades above me.
“Open the fucking door, Valentina,” he barks, rage pouring off him in waves. I’ve never seen him so mad, but I understand. I almost killed him.
I unlock the door and weakly shove at the handle, barely pushing it open, but I don’t move. My muscles ache, and I’m too fucking tired.
“Are you fucking drunk?” He yanks the door the rest of the way open, hovering over me, his chest heaving in the pale light.
“No,” I finally whisper, his stare cutting me to the bone.
“Get out of the fucking car and talk to me,” he snaps, but I still can’t move.
“Leave me alone.”
I don’t have to look up to know how I’m making him feel. Disgust coats his tongue, the weight of it crushing me further. He’s the only one to ever truly understand me, and if he’s fed up with me… “Were you trying to drive off the bridge, Valentina?”
There’s no point in denying it, so I slowly turn my gaze to his. “Yes. I’m so fucking tired, McCrae. I don’t want to try anymore. I don’t want to be here.”
Horror flickers across his face for only a second before he quickly masks it.Did I make it up?
“Why?” he asks, a little softer this time, and I feel my anger flickering to life. It would be so much easier to end it if he didn’t fucking pity me. Hate me—be disgusted by me—anything but pity me.
“I’ve lost him. And I’m losing you too. There’s nothing for me anymore.”
His eyebrows drop in disbelief, and I roll my eyes, my chest quivering as I try to calm the sobs still racking my body.
“He’s your brother. You’ll never lose him.” But he says nothing about himself, and as I wait, we both know it’s intentional. “Try talking to him, maybe it’ll help.”
“Because it’s helped you?” I snap, sitting up straighter.
“Mateo’s a lot more understanding than Gus. He’ll believe you if you tell him. Don’t protect me. Protect yourself.”
I shove him out of the way as I stand out of the car, needing to get away from him and this conversation.
“What is it, Valentina?” he asks, his hand wrapping around my arm.
I freeze.
“I can’t talk to him. There’s too much. It’s not his fault, but I hate him. He’s giving up everything I could never give up simply because he didn’t have to sacrifice for it. If he had given up what I did, if he’d gone through what I have, he wouldn’t even consider it. But it’s not mine, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s all his—his to succeed or fail with—and yet, I’m the one who’s paid the price? How’s that fair?”
I don’t turn around to look at McCrae, but he waits for me to continue. And for the first time in my life, I want to tell someone. Not because I think he’ll understand, but because if I don’t, I’ll surely drown.
“If he ruins everything, if he chooses her over our family, then I’ve lost every single piece of myself I sold for the scraps I have.”
SEVEN
VALENTINA
September 13th, 2025
