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Chapter 48

                     CARLOS POV.

The last few days had felt like a nightmare, pressing the air out of my lungs. Cora Tyson’s poison still lingered in my body, turning even the simplest breath into a fight. The pain never really stopped, but worse than the ache in my veins was the heaviness in my chest — the failure I couldn’t shake.

I hadn’t protected her. I had let Morgan slip from my hands into Cora’s grip. And with her, it felt like I’d lost a part of myself.

Recovery was slow. Too slow. I spent the days shut away in a quiet room, haunted by every memory of where I’d fallen short. Every heartbeat carried the echo of who I hadn’t saved.

When Hermann Rodriguez finally returned home, I almost couldn’t bring myself to face him. He carried so much on his shoulders already — the weight of all of us — and I had nothing to offer but failure. I braced for anger, for blame. But when his eyes met mine, they weren’t furious. They were steady, clear, like he understood more than I could explain. Somehow that made my shame sharper.

It wasn’t until later I noticed we weren’t alone. Footsteps in the hallway, soft voices. Three women appeared, led by Genevieve, who guided them gently toward their rooms.

I leaned closer to Hermann. “Who are they?”

“Ivy’s friends,” he answered simply. “People she trusts. People we need to protect now. See that they’re comfortable.”

I nodded, though the weight in my chest grew heavier. Another responsibility I wasn’t sure I could carry. Hermann must have seen it in my face because he stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“You know, Carlos… we can’t afford to fall apart. Not now. What happened to you, to Morgan — it hurts all of us. But we keep going.”

I looked down, jaw tight. “It feels like I failed her again. Like Cora’s already won.”

Hermann’s reply was calm but firm. “You don’t get to decide when we’ve lost. Either you fight with what you have left, or you don’t fight at all. Ivy isn’t gone. Neither are you. We’ve all made mistakes, but those scars — they’re what push us forward.”

His words didn’t erase the guilt, but they settled something in me. They planted resolve where there had only been shame.

“Then I’m not just fighting for Ivy,” I said quietly. “I’m fighting for everyone who’s still here.”

A rare smile tugged at Hermann’s mouth. “Good. Then let’s get to work.”

The weight of duty pressed against me again, but this time it felt more like armor than chains.

The next morning, the balcony stretched quiet and wide, the stone railing cool beneath my hands. Miguel and I leaned side by side, looking out at the garden bathed in sunlight. Our conversation drifted between the plans Hermann had laid out and the mess still waiting for us outside these walls.

“They won’t wait forever,” Miguel said, his tone edged with impatience. “Wilmert’s men are reckless, but even they know when the risk isn’t worth it.”

I nodded, only half listening, thoughts already running through possible moves on the map in my head. Then movement in the garden below caught my eye.

She walked among the trees with her friends, sunlight falling over her like it belonged there. Graceful, unhurried, unaware of the way the air shifted around her. For a moment, the chaos in my mind stilled.

I froze,
watching her until Miguel noticed.

“You good?” he asked, a small grin tugging at his lips. “You just… stopped.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Yeah. I’m… I’ve never been this good, actually.”

Miguel chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s how it works. Even in the middle of all this mess, something decent still finds you.”

I didn’t answer, just kept watching until she disappeared beneath the canopy. But for the first time in what felt like forever, I was dazzled.

Later, on the stairs, Sonia and I accidentally bumped into each other.
I watched her, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to shrink. She was graceful even in the smallest movement, a quiet presence that drew me in before I even realized it. The way she looked up at me, startled yet trusting, tugged at something I hadn’t known I could feel.

"I'm sorry" she said quietly.

“No harm done, are you alright?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

She nodded, eyes bright, and I could see the tension in her shoulders ease just slightly. “I am now, thank you.” even her reply was quite.

Her words were simple, but they hit me harder than anything I’d expected. There was a warmth there, a fragile hope that felt like it was meant to be shared. I wanted to say more, offer comfort without overstepping, and somehow, my usual words seemed inadequate.

“If you ever need someone to talk to… I’m here,” I said, unsure if I was stepping too far, yet knowing I couldn’t stay silent.

"Maybe I'll" she said, a moderate grin grow on her lips.
Something in me loosened, a thread of connection I hadn’t anticipated.

I walked away afterwards, my head still spinning on the moment.
I followed Hermann into his office where Richard, Miguel and a few others were already gathered.
The room smelled faintly of whiskey and paper, maps lay spread across the table, pins and notes marking routes. Hermann moved to the head of the table and spoke with the kind of calm that makes people stop talking.

“We strike at sundown tomorrow,” he said.
“Wilmert’s hold on Ivy is tight, but it's not impossible to break.”

Richard tapped a pen against his jaw. “Wilmert’s not reckless — he has people in places you don’t expect.”

Miguel didn’t bother with cautions. “Then we make sure he never sees us coming.”

They traded the kinds of details that cut through nerves: entry points, timing, who covers which exits. I listened more than I spoke, taking it all in like a map stitching itself back together. Every order, every contingency rewired something in me — a small and  steadying.

This wasn’t just another strike. It felt like the only thing that could make sense of what had happened, the only chance to set some things right. Standing there, shoulder to shoulder with men who had seen too much to be surprised, I felt my shame shrink into something useful. Not gone, but focused.

When the plan was clear, Hermann looked at each of us in turn. “Rest what you can. And, be ready.”

We left the office quieter than we’d come in, the gravity of it settling into muscle memory.

We would bring her back. Not because it would erase what went wrong, but because it was the thing left to do. And for the first time since waking, that felt enough.

Thanks for reading this chapter my darling readers.