His Territory

29

My eyes shot open as the sound of the door yanked me from my sleep. I sat up, blinking away the haze, and saw Adrián standing at the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing?" I rasped, reaching for the lamp. I turned it on, and the yellow light washed over him, revealing cuts and dried blood streaking his arms, chest, and face.

I scrambled out of bed, walking toward him, my gaze locked onto his injuries. His eyes tracked my movements as I got closer. When I was finally face-to-face with him, he reached out, gently taking my hand and leading me into the bathroom. He sank onto the closed toilet seat with a small grunt.

I flicked on the bathroom light, which intensified the sight of his injuries. Most of the blood had dried, except for the cuts on his cheeks. I grabbed a hand towel, wetting it as I glanced at him. He watched me, his face stony.

"Are you going to say anything?" I asked, pressing the cloth to his face. He winced but gave no other reaction.

After a moment of silence, I knelt down, checking under the sink. "Is there a first aid kit here?" I asked, but he simply shook his head. He extended his hand, and I assumed he wanted the towel, so I placed it in his palm.

With an irritated scowl, he threw the towel against the wall, then took my hand, pulling me up from the floor and guiding me onto his lap. I tried to stand, but he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, locking me in place. His face nuzzled into my neck, a low hum of satisfaction escaping his lips.

I sat frozen as he pulled back to look at me, a single tear glistening in his eye. He ran his hand down my hair, resting it on my cheek. "You know you're the only good thing I have left, right?" he murmured, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

I stared back at him, refusing to reveal any emotion. He blinked, and the tear slipped down his cheek, passing over a fresh cut. In that moment, I was reminded that the man before me, despite this brief vulnerability, was dangerously unpredictable.

He cupped my face, lifting my chin. "I'm serious," he continued, tightening his grip. "Without you, I have nothing. I can't trust anyone out there. Not my boys—not anyone. All it takes is a little cash, and they'd turn on me in a heartbeat."

He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply. "They'd sell me out for a payday if they could." His eyes met mine again, and I felt a chill crawl down my spine as he leaned closer, his lips hovering just above mine.

In one swift motion, he lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me out of the bathroom. To my relief, he didn't head for the bed, but instead walked into the kitchen, setting me down by the island where a collection of new appliances and kitchen gadgets awaited.

"I ordered all this yesterday," he said, nodding at the countertop. The early morning light filtered in through the window above the sink, casting a soft glow over the room.

"Is it morning?" I asked, still groggy.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I came home so late." He opened the fridge and pulled out a yogurt, sliding it across the counter to me with a plastic spoon. "Eat. We need to get groceries." I nodded, eating quickly, not wanting to linger longer than I had to.

As I threw away the yogurt container, he tossed me a box. I opened it to find a pair of gold designer flip-flops inside.

"Also ordered those yesterday," he said. "You didn't have anything to wear."

I slipped them on, following him out the door and into the driveway, where a black G-wagon sat with the engine already running.

How can he afford all this? I thought, eyeing the vehicle. We used to live in a run-down apartment, and now he had a house by the water and a luxury car. I climbed into the passenger seat, trying to hide my surprise as he pulled out of the driveway.

A flash of silver numbers caught my eye—1104 was etched on the mailbox. My heart skipped a beat as I realized I had a crucial detail. I leaned back, keeping my gaze on the road, pretending to be relaxed while I tried to memorize every turn. Finally, after a few minutes, we reached a crossroad. I glanced at the signs: Crescent Drive and Bay Boulevard.

I repeated the address over and over in my head. 1104 Bay Boulevard. 1104 Bay Boulevard.

After a twenty-minute drive, we arrived at a Target. He turned off the car, rushing around to open my door and offering his hand to help me down.

"We're going to get groceries, some clothes, and stuff you need for school. Sound good?" he asked, his tone almost casual.

I nodded, forcing a small smile as we walked inside. I reached for a cart, but he swatted my hand away, grabbing it himself. He nodded for me to lead the way, and I made my way to the women's section, browsing the racks without much interest.

Adrián picked up a deep mauve sundress, holding it up with a small grin. "I'm getting this for you," he said, selecting a size that was too big.

I shook my head. "I don't need you buying me clothes, Adrián. I can take care of myself."

His smile faded as he rounded the cart, stepping close. His hand slid around my waist, pulling me against him. "I'm buying you this dress because I want you in it. Don't give me that independent woman crap right now, mujer. Let me take care of you."

I clenched my jaw, knowing it was pointless to argue in the middle of the store. "Claro, mía?" he asked, and I nodded reluctantly, his fingers pressing into my hip. He placed the dress in the cart, satisfied.

"Grab whatever else you need," he said, walking off toward the coffee counter. The moment he was gone, I began repeating the address in my head. 1104 Bay Boulevard.

I picked out a few basic items—jeans, shirts, leggings, underwear, and a jacket. I passed by a rack of swimsuits and hesitated before grabbing a one-piece with cutouts, then spotted a black bikini that I threw into the cart, too.

Out of nowhere, arms wrapped around me, and Adrián's voice rumbled in my ear. "Good choice. I like the black one." He placed a quick kiss on the top of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

As we moved through the store, he piled the cart with groceries, supplies, and a few other things he thought I'd need. At the checkout, the young cashier adjusted her shirt, clearly angling for his attention as she scanned our items. She glanced at me before smiling up at him.

"Wow, I can't believe how lucky your... wife is?" she asked, her tone curious.

"Actually—" I began, but Adrián cut me off.

"I'm the lucky one," he said, locking eyes with me for a moment too long before turning back to her. "My wife is amazing."

The cashier's expression faltered as she totaled the items. "That'll be 943.28. How are you paying?"

"Cash," he said, pulling out a thick stack of bills, and my eyes widened. This wasn't his old funny money; the bills were crisp, authentic. The cashier marked each one carefully, then nodded, putting them in the drawer.

He loaded the bags into the car and opened my door, helping me in. I looked up at him, curiosity slipping through my guarded expression. "Since when do you carry that kind of money?"

He chuckled, closing my door. "Don't worry about me, mía. I told you, I'm going to do everything right this time."

As he walked around to his side, I closed my eyes, silently chanting the mantra that held my last hope. 1104 Bay Boulevard.