My night consists of dribbling this handball at the wall and back. Twirling around in my swirly chair as my mind drifts to Mika as always. I don't think I've gone a day since I met her without thinking of her. Mika wanted to face Diablo on her own terms by herself, with no interruptions. At first, I insisted on going, wanting to protect her in case of anything.

But truthfully, Mika is safer on her own than with me bringing her down. I'm a liability. But I'll make it my life mission to conquer my fears and protect Mika from anything. My familia has an infinite list of rivals and I wouldn't want to lose Mika to any of them. Is it dangerous to admit I miss her after only being apart for a day?

To pass time, I looked over my brother's journals of the final year of his life. If anything, it's more like a day planner instead of a journal. Every day is detailed to the exact hour, pinpointing all his appointments, clients, and vacation days. There's no mention of anything unrelated to work. His determination fuel his every action, but even leaders take breaks. I'm afraid this day planner is a cover-up for his real journal.

The black leather reptile designer diary that I've seen him write in over a dozen times. Maybe I should ask Spencer to take a look and investigate the journal for any hidden clues. An actual detective might have a better shot than I would. The bright red ball thumps against the wall and flings back into my palm.

How could Ander intertwine himself with something so complicatedly detrimental that a foreseen legend has a reason to come after him? Who would benefit from eliminating my brother? The Velazquezs? They could hold resentment for my father, annihilating theirs. It wouldn't be as far-fetched as it sounded since Luka's attempt at murdering me.

From the corner of my eye, a twinkling, beaming light illuminates the area like a siren in the ocean. It captures my attention in a millisecond. My heart races like a speeding car as the ball tumbles from my fingertips. Leaping from my chair in full disbelief, gawking at the shining lantern.

Mika really touched it?

She needs me?

My heart pounds like a motherfucker swelling with bliss. Realization of how much Mika lowered her guard, inviting me in to console her. Honestly, I never thought she would call for me. Not because I think she's the strongest person I know, but because exhibiting her vulnerabilities is like asking for a death sentence.

My body moves at the speed of light, grabbing my keys and pounding down the staircase of my house. Like I swore, if Mika ever touched the lantern, I would drop everything to be there. The only way to stop me is by shooting me in the skull. My cell phone vibrates against my leg as I unlock my car and get in.

Roaring the ignition to life, I pull my phone from my thigh pocket and glimpse at the messages from Spencer. Over five messages in the span of two minutes, something involving my brother. He wants to meet up tonight to discuss of few notable occurrences with the urban legend he's been tailing. Another message dings explaining tonight is the last night he is available before going away for his bachelor's party.

Fuck.

My head hits the steering wheel in frustration, accidentally setting off the -beep-. What the fuck! Why couldn't he message me an hour ago when I was bored out of my mind? My grip clenches against the steering wheel as my brain turns inside out.

Where should I go?

Solving Ander's case is the reason I kept going, taking his spot and accepting my reality. But Mika makes me want to keep going, building a fearless empire with her, and spending whatever time I have with her. It could be tonight, the singular piece that constructs everything together like a toy train.

My brother or Mika?

Funny.

Never did I expect to be faced with this decision.

Would Ander be offended if I chose my girlfriend over him?

If I go meet with Spencer, I'll seal my fate with Mika. She wouldn't dare expose the scariest, concealed parts of herself to a man unwilling to keep his promises. Mika has been burned before, and I couldn't add my name to that list. She needs to know there is a person out here, in the city of New York, who understands her.

Whichever direction I go, guilt will plague my veins like an unwanted disease, waiting for the consequences. But I think I made my choice the second I got that message. Mika is alive. Ander is dead. It's an idiotic, understandable mistake, but I need to live in the present, in my future. Ander is gone, buried six feet under.

Mika is my future.

Something I'll die for before losing the chance.

Turning my phone off, I push on the pedal; the tires roasting against the asphalt ground. The ripples of the pebbles struck the sidewalk as I drive off, hustling to Mika's house. I wouldn't be surprised if she gave up. I wasted too much time pondering. It's my weakness. Maybe sometimes I should jump off the edge without a vest.

I'll live on the edge as long as I have Mika.

Before I know it, I'm pulling up to Mika's apartment and skipping two steps to get there faster. My knuckles politely bang against the timber door, my heart mimicking the way I'm pounding on the door, but twenty times worse.

"Come in," Mika announces, barely audible from the distance.

With tightly pulled eyebrows, I twist the knob with a scrape and slip through the crack, locking it behind me. Mika's aquamarine irises darken like a swallowing ocean as a smug smile extends over her lips. There's nothing in those eyes. They're cold, distant, emotionless, severed from her body as if she disconnected her soul.

Her feet are bare as the only clothing on her body is a simple fluffy white robe. My eyes float to her palm, taking notice of the fabric knitted over it as the blood oozes out. An eerie chill skids down my back like claws as Mika steps into her bathroom. It shatters the continuous design of pink embroidery textile with a bland, meek white color.

Gulping, I follow her as if she's manually controlling my movements. Like a puppet on strings, bending to her fingertips with every right and left swing. Mika unties the hair tie, holding her hair in a bun, causing the spirals of curls to cascade down her back like water from a stream. Her hands move again, slowly dragging the robe down her shoulders, waist, ass, legs until it's a pool at her feet.

Two diamond piercings illuminate in the light right above her ass in the indents, dimples on her back. She dips her toe in the water, studying the temperature before plunging into it. Her toes sprawl to the edge of the tub as her head lies on the side, above the water. A moan of relief escapes her mouth as she rolls her neck, stretching the tension.

The silence is eerie, clawing at the surface like an animal breaking through cloth drapes. Taking the spot on the stool beside the bath, I treasure her beauty with the way wet strands stick to her forehead. Slowly, Mika's grip loosens on the marble bath, swallowed up by the crystal-blue water. Her hair scatters like paint in water, creating an opaque shadow in the bathtub.

The goosebumps on my skin spring to life as the seconds ticked by as Mika lays calmly in the water. Her body barely budges as panic swells in my chest like a water balloon. My stomach contorts, spreading the alarm through my body like a rackety horn. Noticing a minute has passed, I bolt from the stool to the bathtub, gripping onto her forearm and yank her out.

Mika gasps, coughing up a stream of water, and suds shield her body. Her eyes widen a fraction as the coughing frenzy attacks her lungs, her hands gripping onto my shoulders like a koala on tree bark. Any sign of dismay disappears in a flash as her hands leave my shoulders, dragging her fingertips across my cheeks.

"What the hell are you doing, Mika?" I ask, my voice as cool as a cucumber.

"Why do you like me?"

My eyebrows slant into a look of confusion. "Huh? Why are you asking this after almost drowning in a bathtub?"

Her fingers dance over the seam of my lips, warmth seeping from her touch. "What happens if I was trying to drown myself in another dimension? Where the light shined the brightest, and everyone was happy?"

"I would say it's a fucking waste. We can make our dimension match every other one."

Mika's tongue snakes over her lips. "Doesn't it get tiring? Always being optimistic about everything? Life is divided by paths. One decision is all it takes to change the course of life forever. Do you really want to follow down the Mika trail? Nothing good happens to the people who follow through."

My brain spirals into a network of diverging landlines to pry the meaning behind her sentences. Mika doesn't always mean what she says. If anything, she hides her true feelings in tiny hints to give her an excuse to say she left signals. It's like searching for a pin in a haystack, trying to detect where she is coming from.

My hands latch onto her cheeks, clutching them in my palms as my thumb strokes circles on them. "Mika, I don't care about the bad things that happened to the others that pursued you. This is about you and me if we really want this... Nothing will stop us from our happy ending. A relationship always has hurdles."

A glob of suds falls into Mika's eyes, and I chuckle, wiping it away. "Stop comparing things to the past. Fuck everything before us. The only important thing is our dedication to each other. What can I do to prove it to you?"

Her fingers play with the bubbles hiding her nude body. "There's a long list for us to do. Bleach the world of its tainted souls-- starting with me."

Before she could sink into the collection of water, I grasp her shoulders to keep her face from following in. "Stop it. What happened with Diablo? Did he say some shit to cause a reaction?" My eyes drift to the blood swirling in the water from her hand. "Did he hurt you?"

She scoffs, clicking her tongue. "He wishes. The company is mine, and I took it with a flick of his pen. I knew he wanted to hit me. Maul me. Probably fuck me too. But Diablo doesn't purposely attack women, but men are free reign."

I gulp. "Explain the blood coming from your palm."

Mika's eyebrows arch with confusion until she glances at her bleeding palm. "Oh. That? I dug a piece of glass into my skin until I felt it. Then I shoved the piece in Diablo's thigh, twisting the shard in his muscles."

My stomach recoils, but I try to keep my face as reserved as possible. "D-Did you kill him?"

She laughs, yanking my hands from her body, and drops in the water. With moist skin, she massages the shampoo into her scalp, cleansing her skin with expensive brands. Her legs stick out from the water, droplets dripping from them as she rubs body wash on them. The conditioner follows afterward, seeping into the ends of her hair for ten minutes as the silence emerges like an abrupt rainstorm.

Once washed, she lifts from the warm bath, her skin coating with goosebumps as the wind comes in. Her perfect tits lie straight, jiggling as she shakes the water from her hair. Squeezing her locks as she bends over, tilting her impeccable ass in an angle. My cock reacts almost instantly, chafing against the zipper of my jeans. Her irises linger on herself in the mirror as she twists a towel into her hair.

Mika blinks, tugging at the piercing on her boobs. "Shall I go on like this? My body on full display for you to dissect? Or cover myself with a towel?"

My hands reach for the fresh towel hanging on the railing and stride to Mika, extending the towel over her frame. "Your body isn't what interests me, Mika. I want your mind, your voice, your truths. W-." I lick my lips, my nerves flaring. "Why did you touch the lantern?"

She takes a step from the bathtub, drenching the floor with water as she walks into the towel. Tonight is like a fucking out-of-body experience. Her beauty radiates off the mirror like light does from a diamond. The irises in her eyes flash a ball of light as the emotions blur into nothingness.

She keeps hopping from two different spectrums, and my chest swells with concern. Why is she actively de-attaching her soul from the body as if it keeps everything away?

Mika arches her frame, her lips inches away from the shell of my ears as she mutters, "I wanted to see if someone could stop the demons from clinging on to me."

A gasp departs from my chest as I grasp onto her wrist when she tries to leave. "D-Did I get the job done?"

She spins on the heel of her foot, walking her fingertips up my chest as her minty breath branches onto my face. "Treat me like..." My heart pounds to a drum set as her nose brushes over mine, our lips a kiss away. "A whore. Like how I deserved to be treated. A useless, worthless object. Use me, fuck me the way you spend nights dreaming about, then you will help me. I'll even give you a kiss for being a good boy."

My stomach flutters with the idea of a kiss, but I shut the idea down. "I-I can't."

Mika releases a deep sigh of disappointment. "Because of God?"

I shake my head. "No. Because, I can't do any of that. I want our first time to be special. A recreation of those cringy, sweet scenes in those rom-coms. I want to treat you like a Princesa. Show you how sex can be more than a fuck, way fucking more."

To my surprise, the tip of Mika's ears turn pink, and she shakes her head, dropping the towel to hide the evidence. "Why do you want to do any of that with me? You don't know anything about me, my past. Nothing."

"I told you it doesn't matter."

"Really?" Her eyes go round. "So, you don't want to know about my family? My childhood? How I was before I became an Angele?"

My muscles tense. "Of course I do! But I'm not going to force the words out of you. You have to want to share. Or is that what you want? For me to fuck the answers out of that filthy mouth of yours?"

She glares at me, her jaw clenching. "That's exactly what I want! For you to shove that thick cock in my mouth until I'm begging for you to stop, and trust me, it takes the world to stop spinning for me to beg."

A strained chuckle leaves my body like a tremor rippling from my chest. "Your demons can only control you if you let them. Shut them out. Think of the happiest moment in your life, and they will vanish into the grey sky."

A hint of sincerity lingers in her aquamarine irises. "What happens if I don't have a moment I truly felt happy? What do I do then?"

My heart clenches with remorse. "Clear the air. Speak the truth into the universe, and demons will have no choice but to leave. I won't judge, Princesa. Let me be your support system."

She clutches onto her towel, creating a knot. "You won't ever look at me the same."

"Yes, I will. Nothing can stop this heart from being yours. It wants to fall into your hands, but I need you to do the same."

Facing away, she shuffles to her bedroom, her hair falling over her facial expressions as she sits on the bed. Mika taps the empty spot, straining her injured hand by abusing her towel. Taking the place, I clutch onto her hands to reassure her, to soothe her, to express to her, to let go. Open herself to the idea of love, and I promise, I won't disappoint.

I'll do anything for this girl.

But I think that's the fucking problem.

My voice comes out in a faint murmur, "I won't ever, ever judge you."

Mika tilts her body to mine, snuggling her head into my neck as strawberry shampoo radiates from her scalp. "My father... he was a president of a tech company, and my mother was a stay home mom."

My arm drifts over her shoulders, caressing long compassionate circles.

Her voice comes out rather steadily. "You can say we lived the dream life. Exclusive vacations, parties, and organizations. Enough money to throw at people and not care. But I guess all good things come to an end. My father became a gambler and addicted to drugs and alcohol. All of that came with a side effect-- he became abusive."

She releases a deep exhale, closing her eyes for a fraction of a second. "According to my father, my mother's only job was to make sure the house stayed clean, and for there to be a meal on the table when he got home. Alcohol was my mom's form of therapy. She drank every night, and I would watch over her."

Pulling her injured hand to my lips, I press a feather-like kiss in hopes of healing her physical and mental pain.

"That day, she took longer than usual to wake up, so I did it myself. See, my father was coming home any minute, and the den was littered with glasses, cans, and half-eaten food. I tried to help because I didn't want to watch him hurt her." She licks her lips. "But she said I was a child and should be watching tv instead, so I did. My father arrived shortly after."

She shivered against my chest. "He was angry. Fuming. Red-bloodshot eyes. So much screaming. My mom. My father. I-I wanted to drown them out. But I didn't want to be a coward. I didn't want to stand by and watch him hurt her again. So, I."

Her voice is quiet, coated in venomous honey. "So, I showed him this portrait I made of us. Our perfect family. How happy we are. How ironic. He ripped it into pieces, slapped me, then grabbed me like this."

Her fingers tighten around my cheeks, painfully squeezing them together until my jaw aches. "He said, didn't I tell you to leave me and your whore of a mother alone? Along with a slap powerful enough to knock me down into a wall, bleeding."

It took every ounce of energy to keep my body from clenching with resentment, venom, fury. He deserved to roast in a place worse than the hell spoken about in the bible. People who hit women, children don't even deserve the chance of being forgiven, or being alive. My stomach feels queasy, but I couldn't let the story end here.

"What happened next?" I ask.

The emotions drift away to a faraway place, leaving her eyes in a dull, lifeless state. "He killed her. I stood back and watched as he killed her. Blood spat everywhere-- his clothes, face, floor, wall. She reached out to me with fear in her eyes, and I did nothing. Once my father realized what he's done, he seized a knife from our cabinets and marched up to me."

Bitterness shines in her crystal-blue irises, her grip fisting her towel in resound irritation. "He's sobbing, tears leaking down his cheeks, and chanting, what did I do? I was barely grasping what had happened before he shoved a knife in my hands and begged for me to kill him. Obviously, I refused, but he wasn't having it. We fought and fought with the knife in our grips until it accidentally slipped from my hold and pierced his stomach."

The clenching of her fists weakens as her story reaches its resolution. "He died, clinging onto my mother's arm. It's haunting to watch their bodies give their final breaths, knowing it's because of you. I did it. My parents are dead because I couldn't do anything to stop them."

A deep sigh departs from my lips as I press a firm kiss on her head, ruffling up her soggy hair. "Mika, you were a child. How could you know any better? You could've ended up dead if you tried inserting yourself into their argument. You can't blame yourself for your father's decisions."

Her eyes dip to the floor. "Do you mind if we stop talking about it? I don't like thinking about that night."

I bob my head, springing from the bed. "Of course. Do you need anything before I head out? Hot cocoa? Milk? Cookies?"

A flash of amusement lingers in her gaze as she collapses onto the bed, curling into a ball. "Do you think you can stay the night?"

A breath of disbelief almost leaves my chest, but I rush to the opposite side of the bed. The bed creaks as my body sinks into the mattress under the silk sheets with my face meeting my girlfriend. Every new discovery about Mika shines a brand new radiating light on her, giving me another reason to hopelessly fall for her. She's endured God knows what else but keeps this ecstatic, full-filling persona.

She's way more than my dark desire.

Our hands are inches apart as small smiles sneak on both of our lips as we get lost in each other. Especially with the way her aquamarine irises collide with the green specks in her eyes, glimmering like a filter is over them. Everything about her is too perfect to be true. Almost as if she's a fragment of my imagination until I watch her chest rise and fall.

Her pointer finger lays over my thumb. "Is this considered a sin in God's eye? To lie in bed with a naked woman?"

I shrug. "Why are you concerned about what God thinks?"

She shuffles an inch closer, our hands colliding like a foot-hold to each other's heart, body, and soul. "Just because my soul is damned doesn't mean yours has to be, Muñeco."

Okay, but this ending warms my heart! Like Mika asking him to say with her 😭😭like how fucking cute is that! It hits different when Mika is the one asking for things like that!!! Don't you agree? Lol

Damn, what do you guys think Spencer wanted to tell Asiel? Did you guys think he should've went to go hear what he found out about the case?

How do you feel about what Mika went through? My baby girl deserves the world and everything else ❤️❤️💜❤️!!!

Thank you for reading this chapter and I hope you guys enjoyed it! Thank you for every comment and vote and just simply reading it!!

Love ya ❤️