Page 211 of Embriagado

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“You’re prettier without it.”

He scowled. “You’re a child. And as moving as your confession is, I’m struggling to follow⁠—”

“Hear me out, okay?”

Pressing his lips together, he nodded.

“You see, ever since I got in the ring for you, I stopped doing it for the blood. I know, it should be the other way around, but you saw me, and it had been a long fucking time since anyone did.” My stomach coiled remembering those times I waited for Dad to show up to my fights, but one glance at Ari made it all go away. “You said you were a big fan of second chances, and fighting for you was exactly that. A second chance. That was why, whenever I got into the cage, I did it with a whole heart.” I thought of yesterday’s mess, about Gabriel and that girl, but truly, it all came down to him. “That’s why I got so angry yesterday. Because when you look me in the eyes and lie to me so easily… it scares me. It scares me that this was all just an illusion.”

And there was my answer. No, I wasn’t angry, just scared. Terrified of him, of what he meant to me.

“That girl… I didn’t kill her,” he confessed, his words spoken as a prayer said in the dead of night.

“Ari—”

He sighed. “I didn’t kill her, but I killed others.”

It was then that the first firework was shot, exploding like thunder through the sky before another one burst, painting the night in bright colors, followed by a few more. But I didn’t bother looking up, and I kept staring at him the whole time, waiting for the noises to die out so there would be a place for words.

“I don’t care that you’re a killer.”

“But you should,” he cut in, finally looking me in the eyes. “You should because a lot of those people I killed—” He sighed. “A lot of them didn’t deserve to die.”

I leaned closer to him in fear that the fireworks would swallow my next words.

“You did what you needed to do to survive.”

“That’s just an excuse.”

“Who gives a shit?” I hissed, feeling angry. “I used to beat people up and rob them of their money.”

“Oh, please.” He tilted his head back with a fake laugh. “The things that I have done… Mr. Rivas, you don’t even know the beginning of it.”

“Santiago,” I said, placing my hand on top of his.

His eyes darted to our joined hands, then to me.

Moving, I held my other hand against his cheek. “Whatever secrets you have, I’m not scared of them.” I brushed my fingers over his scar, trying to be as gentle as I could. “And before you jump and say anything, I’m not a fool trying to sugarcoat reality. I’m looking at you with my eyes wide open.”

“But you don’t. You see what you want to see.”

“No.” My stare hardened. “I’m seeing you, Ari, and as broken as you are, that’s okay. I’m the same⁠—”

“That’s your mistake.” Pain crossed his face before he pulled away from me, once again retreating into himself. “I’m not broken. I’m empty.”

His words cut deep, because what the hell did that even mean? And yet⁠—

“Whatever you are, I’m fine with it.”

It didn’t escape me that he just shook his head and scoffed, as if laughing at my naivety. But the thing was, he underestimated himself. In the year we spent together, there were moments that proved how wrong he was, now being one of them.

“Were you close with your parents?” he asked, out of nowhere, changing the subject.

“It’s complicated.”

He gave me a half smile. “Try me.”