I sat on the edge of Rafael's bed long after he had fallen asleep again, the flash drive heavy in his drawer, locked away with a tiny silver key he carried everywhere. His chest rose and fell beside me, steady and untroubled, as if the storm of the night hadn't shaken him at all.
But me? My mind was fire. My body still ached from the way he had taken me over that desk, his possession rough and undeniable. The bruises on my thighs would bloom purple by morning, and each mark was a reminder of his words—You'll earn the truth, piece by piece.
He had given me one piece. My father had used my name as a shield, believing tying me to him would keep him safe. I hated him for it. I loved him too. And most of all, I wanted to know everything.
When Rafael stirred, I lay down quickly, pretending sleep. His arm draped across me with practiced ease, and for a while, I let myself sink into the warmth of his body. But sleep never came.
⸻
