The Ruthless Heir

Erica's [POV]

Blood.

Every time I close my eyes, I see it. That pungent metallic odor still burns my nostrils, and it's seeped so deep into my flesh, that I can't wash it away. I know because I've been trying for well over thirty minutes. My skin burns as the spray from the shower pelts the areas I've rubbed raw, but I can't feel sorry for myself. This is the least of what I deserve.

My eyes are swollen, and it hurts to shed more tears, but I let them fall because this is the only time I have. I can't allow the world to see me vulnerable. Santiago can't witness me crumbling any more than he already has. The De La Rosa blood runs through my veins, and we are not weak. So I try again to burn the image of the corpse from my mind. I blink through my tears, hoping to wash away the memory of her battered and bloodied face.

It doesn't work.

She's everywhere. The entire car ride here, she haunted me. As Santiago's tires crunched over the gravel, all I could hear were the shards of broken glass beneath my blood-streaked heels. Every muscle in my body aches even though I made it out with little more than a gash on my cheek and some bruises that will inevitably fade. Time has a way of dealing with wounds, at least physically. But there is no cure for a broken spirit.

I can't forget the look in my brother's eyes when he saw me tonight. When he came to my rescue, the way he always has. I tried to explain it away, the way I always have. It was never intentional. I just needed to make things right. I was going to take that woman back to him so he could punish her for the things she'd done. But it didn't work out that way. My flimsily constructed plan blew up in my face, and by the end of the night, it was my hands stained with her blood. There was no pride in what I'd done. Santiago certainly wasn't proud.

He looked at me like I was a monster, and the worst part was, that I couldn't deny it. That's what I've become, isn't it? It's why he brought me here, to the IVI compound instead of the safety of the manor. He doesn't want me tainting the halls of our family home with the misery that seems to follow me everywhere. Now, there's a voice in the back of my mind, whispering the fate I don't want to accept.

He's going to send me away.

As I step out of the shower, I try to muster up some denial, pacifying myself with paper-thin assurances. Santiago is the only family I've got left. He wouldn't hurt me. Not like this. Not when he knows the pain of losing everyone we've ever loved. Our grief tethers us together for life. Our blood is the same.