Chapter 17 – Beauty Learns to Bite
Valentina Cruz
There comes a moment in every girl's life when she realizes no one's coming to save her.
For me, it was somewhere between Celia's wink and Rafael's silence.
So I decided to stop waiting.
And start preparing.
⸻
"Tell me how to kill someone," I said to Mateo over breakfast.
He nearly choked on his toast.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
Mateo glanced at Rafael, who looked up from his newspaper like I'd asked for more syrup instead of a murder tutorial.
"She's serious," Rafael muttered.
"Damn right I am." I stood, hands on hips, wearing a pair of jeans so tight they could've been a weapon. "I'm tired of being the girl people threaten. I want to be the girl they fear."
Mateo whistled. "She's finally becoming one of us."
"I'm not one of you," I said. "But I'm done being prey."
⸻
That afternoon, I put on my game face — which in my case was mostly mascara and a little Chapstick because self-respect, okay?
I met Rosa, Rafael's weapons specialist, in the armory.
She looked me up and down like she was deciding whether to train me or toss me in the trash.
"You ever held a butterfly knife?"
"I can barely open scissors."
She smirked. "Perfect. Let's begin."
⸻
By the end of the day, I had:
• Dropped a blade on my foot
• Nearly tasered myself
• Sweated through my sports bra
• And learned that pepper spray has zero chill
But I also learned:
• How to disarm someone three times my size
• The difference between intimidation and aggression
• And how to fake confidence until it feels real
Rosa handed me a curved blade. "Name it."
"What?"
"You want to make it yours? Name it. Every blade is a woman. This one's loyal, quiet, and will gut a man in two seconds flat."
I looked at the knife in my hand.
"Celia," I said.
Rosa cackled. "Now we're talking, chica."
⸻
By nightfall, I stumbled back to my room, sore in places I didn't know existed, smelling like gun oil and girl power.
Rafael was sitting in the armchair, watching me like I was a new animal in his kingdom.
"Tired?"
"Exhausted."
"Regrets?"
"Only that I didn't start sooner."
A pause.
Then, "You've changed."
I tossed the blade on the dresser. "No. I'm just finally becoming who I should've been before the world tried to make me small."
He stood, walked over, and brushed my sweaty hair back from my face.
"I like her," he said softly. "The real you."
His lips touched mine — tender this time, not warlike.
And I let myself lean in.
Because maybe this time, I didn't need saving.
Just someone strong enough to stand beside me.