Page 37 of In the Dark

I knew that was the truth, I’d said it myself.

Still, the thought that seeking vengeance came secondary to marrying me off tasted sour in my mouth. And when he delivered the contract a few days later for me to sign, I could barely read it.

I sat staring at the pages and pages of legal jargon, knowing I would have to sign either way. So I didn’t bother.

I saw what I needed:

Two years of marriage

A percentage of Fuerte Firearms Corp

Attending shareholder meetings

Attempting to have a child for a trust

I shook my head and signed on the dotted line without looking it over.

Instead, I wanted to enjoy my last moments alone as I sat in my small, sun-drenched space, where the air was always flooded with the scent of way too many candles because they reminded me of my mother.

My uncle came to take the papers away a few days later, and I tried to rest more without thinking about it. Instead, I relished being in my safe haven for the time being. In the corner, a basket overflowed with half-finished crochet projects. My latest one was an intricate blanket in shades of seafoam and cream that were too soft for a woman about to marry a Diamond. My computer keyboard glowed a steady, electric blue, the only light in the room as I worked late into the night.

Romeo, a massive, fluffy ginger cat who didn’t give a damn about family hierarchies, purred against my side. He’d spent the week curled around my ribs, a warm, vibrating weight that comforted me even though my future was grim.

“I did the right thing not telling them, right, Romeo?” I whispered, rolling the SD card between my thumb and forefinger.

The card was locked. I knew that now. And I wasn’t sure where to go to get into the files if I didn’t have the password. Still, I wasn’t ready to hand it over to my aunt and uncle. Not yet. I had passed out for days with that card clutched in my palm like a dumb talisman, waking only when Tía Perla arrived with containers of caldo de pollo.

“He said another week would be fine,” Perla told me every time she visited, and today marked a week and a half passing. She set a bowl on my small kitchen table. She looked around my space and sighed. “You should be staying with us.”

To her, this place was a shack; to me, it was the only place I’d ever been just Jasmina. I’d made this place my home when no place ever felt like mine since my parents died. I’d moved here right when I turned eighteen because I didn’t want to burden my aunt and uncle and knew Paolo would pay me enough. I’d earned every decoration here.

“I’m healing just fine here, Tía,” I muttered, my hand instinctively ghosting over my abdomen. My split lip was a thin pink line now, and the bruising on my cheek had faded to a yellow I covered up. Thankfully they hadn’t hit my face too hard and those bruises could be hidden, but the stitches still felt like hot wires under my skin. That healing was much too slow.

The sudden, sharp chime of the doorbell made my heart jolt against my ribs. Romeo hissed and vanished under the bed. “Tía, who is that?”

Perla moved the delicate lace blinds. They were another one of my personalized touches that I loved to peek down at the driveway through. She tsked, a sound of pure venom. “He lied. He’s a dirty, good-for-nothing liar.”

“Who?” I asked, though my gut already knew.

“Your future husband is here.” Perla turned back to me, her face pale. She looked around my room. For a moment, there was real remorse in her eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.” I stood up, the movement pulling at the stitches in my womb, but I didn’t let my face change.

“I hate this,” she whispered, tears finally welling in her eyes. “You never should have agreed to it. He’s an evil man, Jasmina. And you … you’re not a nice woman either. Please try not to kill each other.” She gripped my shoulders, her voice dropping to a terrified hiss. “And don’t give him a child … Just don’t let him see for two years, huh?”

The doctor’s words flashed through my mind.

“Tía, I won’t let him have his way with me. I just need more time to heal.”

“I know! Look at you!” She began fussing over my face, her fingers hovering near the faint fingerprints still bruising my throat. “I’ll try to deter him, okay?” She muttered a few names under her breath. She hated that man about as much as I did. “He thinks we’re going to run. As if we would.”

“Well, we should have,” I said tiredly. I was like a broken record at this point.

“Bah, running isn’t living. Not when you’re always looking over your shoulder. We face the problems head-on, mi vida, or they come for us behind our backs.” She wagged a bony finger at me. “If they don’t, the worry will, and it will steal the happiness from all things. I wish you would have just let Maribel marry him. Let her live there and bother him at his estate in Paradise Grove. She’s made for that type of—”

“No. She wouldn’t survive.”

The doorbell rang again, and she hurried toward the stairs to go answer it. “Better her than you. She’d find a way to please him. You never will! You’re going to die fighting him.”