La Carnicera Page 3

  This is my fault.

  Another hand roughly pulls up the back of my dress, and I grunt, gritting my teeth, when two fingers are shoved into my cunt.

  I don’t scream.

  I don’t fight back.

  I won’t ruin my father’s gathering by my inability to defend myself, and I won’t lose his respect by being a simpering little girl.

  The fingers begin to assault me violently as the feeling of someone’s hot breath prickles my skin. I close my eyes tightly and try to go to a place where this isn’t happening to me, but if I do that, I know that it will only make this so much worse.

  So, I stay in the moment because I choose to be stronger than the bastard doing this to me.

  As a knee roughly shoves my legs apart, I close my eyes even tighter, my body becoming rigid with fear and anger when I hear the sound of a belt buckle being unclipped.

  It seems that violating my core with his fingers isn’t enough to satisfy this fucking dog.

  This shouldn’t be happening.

  No one is allowed to touch me unless I give them permission, but I wasn’t paying close enough attention.

  But if this happens to me now, it means that Papa is still safe. It means it wasn’t him who someone was after and I can accept this easier knowing that.

  Angry tears threaten to spill down my cheeks as my body is turned violently, and my face is slammed into the bathroom door.

  Don’t cry.

  Not over this.

  I bite down on my lower lip as the knee shoves my legs as wide as they will go, then grunt again when a cock is crudely shoved into me.

  The trickle of blood that soon begins to warm the inside of my thigh makes me furious as the feeling of brute flesh being thrust in and out of me tears my walls, causing me to grunt in pain.

  But rage won’t help me now.

  I have to allow this to happen if I want to see tomorrow. At least, that’s my hope of how this will end. If I die, then there’s no chance of revenge, and if I live, then I’ll only be a shade of my former self.

  Either way, it’s a blow to my father and to me.

  Another vicious thrust into me, more hot breaths on my neck, and I do my best not to beg for a reprieve. I never thought I would find myself in this position and knowing that I’m so close to asking “why me?” or begging to be let go, is something I won’t be able to live with.

  That’s not what a daughter of El Señor should do. We were taught to be strong, and that’s what I’m trying my damnedest to be right now.

  My body thumps repeatedly against the bathroom door until I’m sure I’ve bitten a hole through my lip in an attempt to keep this assault as silent as I can.

  And just when I think I can’t take anymore, it’s over as quickly as it started. My hair is balled into a fist, my head is pulled back, and my face is smashed purposely into the door to mask any sound I might make.

  Before the darkness takes me, I have enough time to see the beaten down, black shoes of the man as he walks out of the door.

  Dear God, let me die from this shame, and if you see fit to spare me, give me the strength I’ll need to take my revenge one day.

  * * *

  The pain is blinding when I try to open my eyes. I blink rapidly a few times before lying the back of my hand against my forehead.

  I can hear voices now, but I’m not sure who they are and almost instantly am mentally preparing to take another assault.

  Until I hear him.

  My father’s voice is thick with worry as it cracks, and I’m ashamed that he has to see me like this.

  I reach down blindly to cover myself, to present as decently as I can, but I don’t feel my dress. I feel the warmth of my favorite blanket draped across the lower part of my body, and it dawns on me slowly that I’m on my bed, in my own room, safe and surrounded by the people who love me.

  Or at least, that’s my hope.

  I don’t want to open my eyes and find myself in a hospital because I feel that would be more of an embarrassment to my father than anything else. Even though I know he wouldn’t see it that way, I would.

  “Sofi, open your eyes, mija.”

  It comes across as more of a plea than anything else. It’s as if he thinks I’ll never open them again and that I’m not going to survive this attack, but he raised me to be strong and that’s what I have every intention on being.

  I close my eyes tightly before I force them open and almost sigh in relief.

  I see him now and that brings me so much comfort.

  He’s sitting on my bed next to me in my own room, a hand on my arm. His face is red, and he looks like he’s doing his best not to cry, but I know my father, and he’s much too reserved to let that happen.

  “I’m fine,” I assure him in a thick tone. Smacking my lips together a couple of times, I cringe at the sharp stinging sensation the motion produces.

  “Who did this? Do you know?”

  Tati, I think with a smile as I slowly turn my head toward the other side of my bed. She’s sitting opposite Papa and looks so worried that I would be amused if the situation were different.

  “No.”

  “Did you see what I got for you?” I ask my father, turning my face back toward him. He shakes his head as he takes one of my hands in his, and I nod as best as I can toward the dresser.

  “I’ve seen your brush before, mija,” he says softly with a kind smile, not wanting to turn his gaze away from me.

  “No, not that,” I respond as I struggle to sit up, but he reaches forward and gently pushes me back down onto the bed. “Mateo,” I say with a sigh as I close my eyes again.

  “What about him?” he asks.

  “On the dresser.”

  “There’s nothing there, Sofi.”

  Fuck.

  “Señor? Everyone is gone now,” Anabella’s announces nervously as she enters the room. I smile at the sound of her voice. It always has such a soothing effect on me.

  The bed creaks once, then a second time as both Papa and Tati stand up. He leans down and kisses me on the forehead, his bushy beard tickling my skin, then Tati does the same. I’m sure that her lipstick has left a mark on my skin, but today, I don’t mind.

  Feeling means that I survived what was done to me, and for now, that’s good enough.

  “Rest, Sofi. I’m going to leave Santiago and Hector in the room with you, but you won’t notice they’re here.”

  The way he says it is stern. It’s more of a warning to them to stay out of my way but also to make sure that I lie here until I’m feeling as close to one hundred percent as I can be.

  I nod.

  I know there’s no point in arguing with him, so I won’t waste my breath. Instead, I’ll go back to sleep and hope that when I wake up, this was nothing more than a very vivid dream and I’m still downstairs at the party, being my father’s perfect little daughter, instead of lying in this bed having reaped the rewards of being his dangerous little killer.

  * * *

  When I open my eyes next, it’s nighttime again. The window is open, the breeze that slowly drifts in caresses my arms, and I shudder.

  The bed creaks softly as I push myself up to my elbows, and Hector wakes with a gasps. When our eyes meet, I put a finger to my lips and nod toward Santiago, who’s still asleep.

  I don’t fault either of them for being tired because I can only imagine the excitement that rippled through Papa’s home when I was found.

  Adrenaline can either be a man’s best friend or his worst enemy, something I’ve learned a time or two myself.

  He stands up, and I shake my head slightly as I sit up and rearrange the pillows behind my back. Resting my head against the headboard, I close my eyes again for a moment, allowing the breeze to try and bring me some calm.

  “Sofi?” Hector asks quietly as he walks to stand at the edge of the bed.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him quietly with a smile as I raise my finger to my lips again. “Go back to sleep. I won’t tell Papa that
my guards took a well-deserved nap.”

  He rubs the back of his neck, uneasily. He’s one of my favorite friends. When we’re sent to retrieve whomever Papa wants interrogated—or worse, I know that after Mateo, there will be no better person to stand by my side than Hector.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says softly, his shoulders drooping. The way he looks right now breaks my fucking heart, but I’ve had enough of that tonight to last me a lifetime.

  I reach for one of my pillows and hurl it at him playfully. It bounces off his chest and lands at his feet. Hector looks at me curiously, and my smile becomes a smirk.

  “I’m fine, hermano. You can’t always be there like I can’t be if something happens to you. Everything will be okay,” I promise him as I turn my face back toward the window.

  I have no choice but to be since I can’t be a feared killer and a damaged girl at the same time.

  He slowly lets out a breath before I hear the sound of his carpeted footsteps retreating back to his chair to guard by the door. I turn my head just enough to be able to watch him out of the corner of my eye. While I know he would never do me harm, someone in this house has, so I trust no one that isn’t my blood.

  Adopted or real.

  He slumps in his chair and clasps his hands over his chest. A moment later, a small snore escapes him, and I know that even in a room with two other men, I’m alone again.

  I sit up, an idea tearing through my mind as I painfully crawl toward the edge of the bed.

  My eyes fall on Santiago’s shoes, but those aren’t the ones that betrayed me earlier. Taking a deep breath, I turn my head and crane my neck to look at Hector’s. I squint in the darkness, but a quick illumination of moonlight shows me what I want to know.

  It wasn’t him either.

  I feel relieved and worried all at the same time.

  I had hoped that it would be a quick retribution to find the man who did this to me, but apparently, he was able to slip away.

  For now, I think grimly as I lean back against the headboard and clasp my hands behind my back.

  Because when I’m better, I fully intend on seeking reparation for what was done to me.

  With or without my father’s blessing.

  Chapter Five

  Almost three months have passed. I’m finally comfortable enough to leave my room, my killers having left six weeks before. They didn’t want to, but I insisted, and it left them with little choice or say in the matter.

  I watch the feet of every person I pass, hoping I’ll’ find the shoes I saw that night, but so far, no one around me seems to have struck that blow.

  Breakfast is quiet when I join Tati and my father for the first time in a long while. He made sure I had my meals in my room and rotated Santiago and Hector out after the first month and a half when I begged him for some privacy.

  My father is a smart man and knows that the only way I would shake what was done to me would be to leave me where I felt safest.

  Alone with my thoughts I’d regain the strength that matters most—the one of the mind.

  When the body fails in strength as mine did, the mind is the last thing to break, and I refuse to let that happen.

  Papa is somber, but in his silence, I can see the rage surging in his mind. That someone would dare to attack a daughter of his in his home is bad enough. To not have them delivered in pieces the very next day makes it even worse.

  I sit in my chair to the left of my father, directly across from Tati. He smiles at me when he sees me through the haze of his anger, and I reach over to lay a hand on his.

  “Good morning,” I greet him softly, and he nods.

  “Morning, Tati,” I say to my sister, who looks up at me and begins to chew the inside of her mouth.

  “How do you feel, Sofi?” she asks timidly, her eyes darting toward our father briefly.

  “I’m fine. Just like I’ve told everyone who’s asked me that since that night,” I say with a dismissive laugh. “Don’t worry about me. El Señor is my father, and that alone makes me strong.”

  Papa chuckles as he reaches for his cup of coffee. I know his thoughts like I do my own. He’s thinking that had I not been his daughter, this problem wouldn’t have landed at his feet. Although I’d like to think that he doesn’t see it as a problem, but more of a learning curve. It’s taught me to be more aware of my surroundings.

  “So, what did the mayor want that night?” I ask, desperate to change the subject away from me and keep it off.

  I’m asking things I have no business knowing, but I have a feeling he’ll grant me leniency this just once.

  He shrugs as he sets his cup down and picks up his newspaper. The way he whips it open and begins reading tells me that maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

  “Do you want to do something today?” I ask my sister as I pick up a piece of toast and begin to butter it.

  “Like what?”

  I arch an eyebrow.

  Her voice cracked, and the tone is nothing like I’m used to.

  I hope I’m not going to be treated like fucking glass over this.

  “I don’t know. We can go to the movies, go shopping? Lie in the sun? Anything is fine.”

  She nods her head vigorously, and I roll my eyes as I take a bite of my toast and begin to chew thoughtfully.

  I’m not in as much pain as I thought I would be today, so I take that as the smallest victory of a battle lost. That was one thing that surprised me. How long it took my body to stop hurting and feel normal again. There are still minor aches and pains, but nothing I can’t shake off.

  “Besides,” I continue as I lean back in my chair, “there’s something I want to ask you.”

  Tati looks into my eyes when my tone shifts from carefree to even. She knows damn well what I want to know, and if she’s smart, she’ll find a way to put back what she took from me before I find it in her room.

  “That’s fine, we can go for a walk on the property after breakfast,” she suggests quickly.

  “Right after breakfast.”

  I don’t want to give her the opportunity to put the spoils back in my room before we have a chance to leave, and she knows it. The only way to get her to learn and understand that she just can’t take shit is to force her to admit what she’s done and then watch the walk of shame when she returns my belongings.

  Tati blows out her breath and rolls her eyes as she nods.

  “Have you been in Sofi’s room again?” Papa asks her sharply. I look over at him as I take another small bite of my toast and do my best to suppress a smile.

  It’s not often that he “fathers” us in the traditional sense, but when he does, he takes it as seriously as he does his business.

  “No,” she replies softly, slumping slightly into her chair.

  “No,” I echo her as I lean my elbows on the table and look over at him. I’ll cover for her because if I don’t, it’ll expose her secret and I doubt he’d be able to comprehend it. “I think I lost something at the party that night, and I just wanted to know if she found it.”

  Besides the obvious.

  With a grunt, he goes back to his paper, and we finish our meal in silence. When Anabella appears to take our plates, I smile up at her in thanks and give her arm a squeeze as I get to my feet.

  I can see the tears dangerously welling up in her eyes, but if I was able to not spill tears over what happened to me, then no one else should either.

  * * *

  “Where’s Mateo?” I hiss at her once we’re outside. Tati attempts to wring her arm out of my grip, but I’m not in the mood for the routine innocent girl bullshit.

  I dig my nails into her flesh. I don’t mean to, but I guess I’m still not as over the incident as I thought I was.

  Maybe I need three more months in solitary confinement, I think with an irritable grunt as I let her arm go.

  And before I can stop myself, my eyes lower to the shoes she’s wearing. I know there’s no way it was Tati—she doesn’t have a cock, th
ough she does like to steal things from me sometimes, and who knows what the fuck else she took from Mateo since I didn’t have a chance to get rid of him yet.

  I wrinkle my nose at the thought.

  Wherever the fuck he is, I hope it’s not my shack. It’ll take more than few power scrubs to get the smell out, and I’m not up to that yet.

  Folding my arms over my chest, I turn my face away for a moment.

  Know your enemy, trust no one, and always be prepared to fight for your life.

  Another lesson learned quickly when I was let out of my cage to run the streets of Navolato.

  “Just tell me where he is,” I say in a tired tone as I turn to look at her again.

  Tati shrugs.

  I reach over and slap her in the face, the sound resonating on the back patio. The sound is amplified by the columns and high ceiling, but nothing compares to the look of shock on her face.

  And mine too.

  She puts both of her hands to her cheek and takes a step back. I let out a sigh. I know the princess isn’t used to being smacked, but she has to learn at some point to not take things that don’t belong to her.

  I put my hands on my hips as I square my shoulders and glare at her.

  “You have until tonight to put him back. If you don’t, then I tell Papa.”

  Her face immediately falls into a toddler’s pout that has been admonished, but it won’t work. She doesn’t know how to do upkeep on things like I do. His head has probably rotted to the point that I’ll have to throw him away instead of presenting him as the gift I had originally intended to.

  “Fine,” she finally says.

  I smile slightly, half expecting her to stomp her foot, and chuckle when she turns on her heel and walks away from me.

  That’s fine.

  I liked the time I had alone in my room, and maybe a walk through the town will do me some good.