CHAPTER 266
~María José Point Of View~
I'd always thought fear had a voice.
Turns out, it sounded a lot like a lazy chuckle from a man pretending to be someone else, standing in your bedroom doorway like he owned your life and the dim air you breathed.
When Mateo, who I was now sure was a fake and probably some devil's errand boy with eyes too dark to hold sunlight, first walked in, I thought I was going to die. No. Scratch that. I knew I was going to die. You don't grow up under Don Diego without recognizing the scent of death when it walks into your room wearing someone else's skin.
But I didn't die. Not that night.
Instead, I remembered what Axel had whispered to me that afternoon: "This is our shot, María. One chance. Keep him close."
And so, I kept him close. Not because I trusted him—hell no, but because I wanted out. Out of this unsure life. Out of the invisible bruises that lived beneath my skin. Out of the status of the victim.
