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⊰ 21 ⊱ Fragments of Us
The familiar scent of Marcel’s cologne fills my senses as my eyes flutter open, mingling with the sharp tang of alcohol lingering in the air. Despite its disruptive presence, it’s a smell I’ve gotten used to, a smell that’s oddly comforting.
Blinking against the soft light filtering through the curtains, I turn my head to find him sitting on the sofa across the room, a glass of scotch in his hand and a dark look on his face. His gun rests on the coffee table beside the half-empty decanter, a silent reminder of the violence that’s become our new normal. The sleeves of his button-up shirt are rolled up, exposing the taut muscles and tattoos of his forearms.
He hasn’t slept.
…
He’s been out all night again, doing God knows what.
It’s been two days since the incident, two days since my world shattered into a million jagged pieces. Marcel’s hardly left my side, only stepping out to deal with the fallout of L
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Sam’s expression doesn’t waver, his gaze steady as he leans back in his chair. “I told you, Mrs. Saldívar. Your husband sent me.” I shake my head, my heart racing. “No. No, that doesn’t make any sense. Why would you want me to tell them everything? Isn’t that theoppositeof what you’re supposed to do?” A small smirk plays at the corner of Sam’s mouth. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. With a few taps, he slides it across the table to me. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” I stare at the phone for a moment, hesitating. Then, with a shaky hand, I pick it up, bringing it to my ear. “H-hello?” “Mercy.” Marcel’s deep and familiar voice resonates through the small speaker, washing over me. “Are you okay?” At the sound of his voice, something inside me breaks. “No!” I cry, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spilling over. “No, I’m not okay! Marcel, they have Levi. They’re saying they’ll put him away. And they
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