Yara |18+|

43

YARA

I'm going to be in so much trouble when Vico finds out what I did.

Did I care? Absolutely. Did I want to? No.

The next day, at exactly six pm, I couldn't stop glancing over at my cell.

The amount of edge I felt travelled through my entire body while I waited. Could I trust Amir? Or was I being played? I wouldn't know until the time came for Amir's text.

I sat down on the sofa with a huff, trying to control the amount of anxiousness I couldn't hide around Vico. He'd see right through me. I set my phone on the coffee table and turned it face down, sitting back as if I didn't have a care in the world.

I wished that was the case—but no, I was riddled with an unearthly amount of guilt and impatience. What the hell was I thinking? Amir was a kid and I barely knew him. No, I wasn't thinking at all.

I made a grave mistake and Vico could sense it. I could tell he was growing suspicious—with reason. But Vico wasn't wrong when he told Kortez that Amir was barely an adult.

Personally, I still felt as if he didn't deserve to die. Yes, he tried to kill the both of us but with orders and if I had to be killed for the shit I did, I'd die a million deaths.

"What's wrong?" Vico asked, his brows pulled into a look of concern.

It's so hard to lie to him. It was even harder to look at him in the eye and fight the urge to tell him everything on my mind. I wanted to. I wanted to speak to him and tell him I fucked up and I needed him to forgive me because my heart truly couldn't rest.

It couldn't.

"Nothing's wrong," I murmured, laying the side of my face against the backrest of the couch.

"Are you sure, amor? You've been quiet since you woke up this morning," he said, his voice gentle when he ran the back of his fingers over my cheek. He was so worried that I couldn't resist feeling guilty as fuck.

Am I a dumbass?

"I'm good, I answered, sliding my hand over the back of his head when he sat down next to me. He smelled good—a familiar scent I couldn't get enough of. It was cold out and I wanted to cuddle into him, but the guiltiness that gnawed at me didn't allow me to.

I should tell him. I knew that I should've. I needed to. There was no way around it.

"That's good," he said, the corner of his lips pulling into a breath-taking smile.

Fuck it.

There was absolutely no way I could keep it in any longer.

"I spoke to Kortez today," he said, playing with my fingers while he watched our hands.

I almost sat up straight but I didn't. Instead, I pretended that I wasn't too interested to hear what he had to say.

"And?" I murmured, pursing my lips.

"I don't know," he said, sighing. "I don't believe him when he says he made sure Amir didn't have anything on him. But I can't think of a reason why he'd help him. I just—I don't understand."

"You think Kortez helped Amir?" I asked, scowling.

Vico looked at me, his eyes soft. "I'm hoping he didn't, but nothing else makes sense to me. The door. The loose handcuffs. Everything says Kortez played me, but a large part of me knows how loyal he's been since the very beginning."

At that point, my heart was beating erratically. Everything threatened to spill from me. Part of the reason why I knew it was best to tell Vico the truth was the fact that he was questioning Kortez—a man who basically a brother to him. And it seemed as if he was starting to believe it.

Have Vico mad at me, or potentially ruin the relationship between him and Kortez?

There was no doubt that I would have preferred him being mad at me instead. Bur how mad could he get, exactly? I looked away from him, pondering on it until I reached a standstill.

Yes, I should be honest with him. It was stupid. It was unfathomably unnecessary. Vico would go to the ends of the earth for me and by lying to him, I was throwing that in his face. Fuck. I closed my eyes, internally wincing at my lack of thought on the situation.

"Yara?"

"Vico," I mumbled, clasping his hand in mine. "I have to tell you something."

He'd never been angry at me.

He'd never raised his voice or questioned me.

How could I do this?

But immediately, Vico looked like he was expecting the worst. "I'm listening."

"Yesterday—"

I was interrupted and cut off by my phone. It was a text and feeling my entire body flash with heat, I reached over to the coffee table and slowly turned it off its face.

Unknown number. One image attached.

"Hermosa? What's wrong?"

I unlocked my phone, clicking on the text message as if it was a life or death situation. On the screen was Mario. I knew it was him, even with his head slumped down. He was tied to a chair, with one singular bullet wound on the forehead.

There was a message underneath it that read done.

Another text popped up instantly and this time it said thank you, Yara.

It was a horrific image and for a moment, I studied the picture to make sure it was real. It was. Very real. His watch on his wrist was bloodied—probably from a struggle that took place. And the background was a hotel, and I recognised it because it was one of Mario's favourite places.

There were no words to describe the immense amount of relief I felt.

Before my eyes, the message disappeared and I almost wished it hadn't.

"You don't have to say anything," Vico muttered, his voice coming from right behind me.

I turned to him, and I was utterly stunned by the look of disappointment on his face. I quickly realised that he had seen the entire thing. For once, I didn't know what to say. My mouth opened and closed, finding it hard to speak when Vico looked at me like that.

I reached for him, and he pulled away—frowning at me as if I were a stranger. In that moment, I probably was.

"Vico—"

"I knew you were hiding something, but that? Yara, really? You couldn't have just told me?" he said, his face no longer filled with disappointment—no, it was different. He looked at me as if he couldn't believe I did that. He stood up and I did too, my throat suddenly feeling too thick to breathe.

"I was just about to tell you, Vico. I—"

He let out a dark, humourless chuckle. "Right now? Yesterday would have been perfect."

"Where are you going?" I asked, my voice shaky while watched him grab his jacket and keys.

"Out," he deadpanned.

He walked, and I couldn't take my eyes off him when he paused at the door. Vico turned around, his hand on the doorknob.

"I don't give a fuck that you let Amir go, and had him kill Mario. I don't care about that, Yara. What I do give a fuck about is that you don't believe me when I say that I'd do anything for you," Vico said, his eyes locked on mine and for the first time, the warmth in his gaze was gone.

His stare was cold and it sent shivers over my skin. When I parted my lips to speak, the door was already shutting behind him.

What the hell have I done?

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