Harmony.

Life has an odd way of connecting the pieces together in the most time of need. Oblivion leads a path into peacefulness, but there's only so much time before it becomes undone. While I would've preferred to discuss and put everything on the table with Isabela, I can't complain about making love to my girl.

Nothing about Isabela is complainable.

Tossing my body to the other side, my hand searches the mattress, roaming around to wake her up with morning snuggles. I know she has a thing about morning breath, but I want to make up for the last time—that day, which is one of my biggest regrets. With closed eyes and a smile, my palm scrapes against the mattress — finding nothing.

The bright light intruding between the open curtains causes my eyes to squint as they flutter open, discovering the spot beside me empty. Where did she go? One thing about Isabela-- she's not a morning worm. Maybe she came to a realization that we fucked up last night and ignored the obvious elephant in the room.

My stomach knots up.

I'll lay everything out in the open, even if I'm shitting bricks thinking about it.

After I stretch my limbs, I rise from the mattress, the blanket slipping to the floor and exposing my nude body. Where are my clothes? Isabela's light pink carpet barely peeks through the layers of clothing. My suit has to be at the foot of the bed, yet I find nothing.

Somehow this room screams Isabela--the real Isabela, probably because it was her room before everything turned for the worst. The bedrooms in Damien's house served as a sham, but other than her teddy bears, they never expressed the true her. Her fuzzy, light pink rug tickles my toes. The bed sheets are classic ivory-white color with pink trims to match her walls. Other than the lamp and chandelier, there's a candle holder built into her walls as light sources.

A ballerina twirls in the center of her jewelry box with trains of bands and necklaces weave on their body like a braid. My sister's necklace nowhere insight. A glimmer of hope pumps through my veins. If she's still wearing the necklace, there's a possibility she's willing to talk about it. A lukewarm mug of tea and a half-eaten cookie is left on the platter like a deserted place where everyone vanishes. I smile. A beautiful photo of a long-black hair woman, holding the bump on her belly with five sons nestling into her touch-- there's no doubt it's Isabela's mother.

That's who she got her smile from.

For being constantly neglected by her family, you would assume the opposite from the dozen family portraits framed in her room-- one for every holiday. The only member missing is her father. If you look close enough, the light in Isabela's irises dimmers like a light running out of electricity. She always deserved better than she got.

I hope one day I can make up for the time she lost together. Start a family, and sever the chain of abuse we both have faced with our children. I never thought I would have children, but Isabela makes the answer easy. We could face everything together and come out the other end.

My eyes fall on the crumbly piece of paper with Julian on it.

'Unlike you, I have enough respect for you to leave you a note. If it wasn't already obvious, I dumped your sorry ass and erased you from my life months ago, so do us both a favor and return to where you came from, because I never want to see you again.

Sincerely, Isabela.'

My stomach drops and twists.

What the fuck?

Without thinking, I storm out of the bedroom and shout her name into the void of her empty house. I didn't expect her to welcome me with open arms, but at least hear me out. Not like I deserve it, but I hoped for it.

"Isabela!"

"She's not home!" A feminine voice shouts back. She comes into the frame, her gray hair in a ponytail, and she sports a flowy dress. "Why are you walking around naked in my house?"

My cheeks flame tenfold as I cover my junk-- thank god this isn't our first interaction. "Do you know if she will be returning, or where I could find her? We have... business things to discuss."

Her eyebrows arch in a questionable manner. "Negocios, ¿eh?" Suddenly, her brown eyes widen in alert. "Oh, I forgot. She mentioned you before leaving. Something about a random boy she found in the club and wants to be escorted out the second he wakes up. Tito!"

(Business, huh?)

An older bodyguard dressed in black slips into the room, his hand resting on the pistol in his holster.

I clear my throat. "There has to be a misunderstanding. Isabela and I used to be... in a relationship. Is there any way I can contact her?"

She shrugs. "Sorry, my hands are tied. Save yourself the trouble and leave-- my Chiquita will only bring you pain."

Tito grips my arm, and I don't fight him, letting him escort me out of the house in my birthday suit. I won't disrespect Isabela's home by spilling blood on her floors for this mix-up. We will both have a laugh about it later. The draft of the wind causes my balls to cling to my body temperature. At least Isabela doesn't have neighbors anywhere near the house because it's embarrassing enough to display my ass to the whole working crew. One perk is I'm proud of my ass.

Just rather have kept my private area for Isabela's eyes only.

"Is there any way I could use your phone?" I ask, as Tito pushes me into the black convertible. "I need a way to contact my family. Just for a second."

Tito sighs, settling in the driver's seat, and rearranges the rearview mirror. He must feel a hint of shame for me since he hands me his antique flip phone, but it's better than pen and paper. Curiosity bites me as I click on the contact icon and scroll through his list, finding one person who might be willing to speak to me-- Lorenzo.

Tito departs from Isabela's estate, and the phone rings for what feels like hours. Please answer. Please answer.

The ring seizes, and faint breathing comes from the other line. "Tito? You better be on your fucking deathbed! You know how busy we're today."

My eyebrows pinch together. "Lorenzo, it's Julian. Do you have any idea where Isabela is?"

He breaks into laughter, hacking his lungs out. "Fucking hell! She wasn't kidding. Are you naked too?"

I clear my throat, lowering my voice. "Can you just answer the question?"

Lorenzo clicks his tongue. "I love a wonderful lovers' quarrel, but out of respect for Isabela, I'm going to stay out of this one. You fucked her. I say that's an equal exchange. Just be happy she didn't silt your throat in your sleep."

My fingers brush through my hair, gripping at the locks. "Can you at least give me a hint?" His line stays quiet. "Regardless of your help, I'm going to find her. Please, just let me try to fix this."

Lorenzo sighs. "Julian, do yourself a favor and quit. Save yourself the pain. She won't last past tonight."

The call ends. My mind fills with so many different emotions; pain, confusion, betrayal, anger, and finally, sadness. What does he mean she won't last past tonight? Does he plan on killing her? Are they fucking with me? Is she in on this? Trying to make me lose my mind at the thought of losing her?

I can't fucking do this.

"Where should I take you?" Tito asks, staring through the rearview mirror.

I sigh, pinching my nose. "Diablo's Paraiso."

That's where I left my Bugatti. Maybe if I'm lucky, there's an extra pair of clothing in the truck. It seems far-fetch, but I can use the Bugatti to search around town. Ask for answers like a fucking detective. She must really hate me. I thought I saw a glimmer of hope in her irises to fix what I fucked up, but I'm starting to think I hallucinated the entire thing.

Diablo Paraiso is empty when Tito arrives, as if the crowd had been wiped out by a disease. People have returned to the national broadcast program of their lives. I tell Tito to drive to the back of the place as close as to the blue Bugatti he could get. Luckily, no other cars are in the parking lot, and he parks beside it.

The universe seems to be turning tides since the car door opens, and I unlock the truck. It pops open, and with one hand over my junk, I scan beneath the torn cloths for my suitcase. Clifford must've ordered Thomas to load up all the belongings I arrived with. Quickly, I pull out boxers and a pair of gray sweats.

"Julian!" My attention drifts to the feminine voice coming from the entrance of Diablo's Paraiso. Mari shields her eyes with her palm as she rushes over to me. "My shift just ended."

"That's great," I nonchalantly say.

Mari's smile grows as she leans on the truck, propping up herself with her elbows. "Can you be any more fake? Listen... I'm glad I ran into you because I'm in a pickle."

I shrug, searching for a thick sweater to combat against the late winter weather. "Mari, sorry, I'm not trying to be a dick, but I'm busy."

Once I throw a pullover sweater on my body, I stroll to the driver's seat and rip the wires out to hotwire them. To be honest, I've never hot-wired a car, but I've watched others do it. It couldn't be too difficult.

Mari's eyes glaze over as a lazy smile slides across her face, leaving on the driver's door. "I think we can come to an agreement that benefits the both of us." She twirls the keys to her car on her finger. "You obviously need a car, and I need someone to drive me somewhere."

I narrow my eyes. "Where do you need to go?"

She squeals, pulls out a folded paper, and hands it to me. "It sounds stupid, but the guy I've been messing with is competing in this survival game-- the Eliminador. He wants me to be there and cheer for him, but it's in less than an hour, and I'm exhausted. I want to take a quick nap on the drive over there. Once we arrive, you can take the car."

"What is it? A fist-fight match?"

Her stare softens. "I wish." She gnaws on her bottom lip. "They're fighting to the death. I debated going because I care about him a lot, and I don't want to watch him die, but he said if I'm there-- I would be his thing worth fighting for." Mari sniffles, a streak of tears falling down her cheeks. "S-Sorry, I just don't want to have any regrets if he dies today."

Even though I hate hugging most people, I fear it's the only thing I can offer at this rough time. I wrap my arms around her head and pull her into a hug, stroking her back. Her sobs grow harsh as she drapes her arms over my neck.

"Deep breaths," I soothe her. "Even if it seems impossible, he needs to think you believe he can do it. If he sees an inkling of hesitation in you-- it will affect his performance."

She bobs her head, wiping her snot with her sleeves. "You're right. Thank you. C-Can we get going? The drive is an hour, and the match starts in." She glances at her Apple watch. "Fifty-two minutes."

"Yeah." I slam my car door and follow Mari to her car.

It's a white Toyota Camry in the back of the parking lot with very little leg space. She starts the ignition by plugging in the keys, and the tires grind against the asphalt road as I drive full speed onto the busy street. Mari connects her iPhone to the cord in the car and types the directions. If I pass a few red lights, I could cut the time by a couple of minutes.

"What's the competition for, anyway?" I ask.

She scrunches her nose. "To become Jefe of the Arias familia. Apparently, they still live in the 1800s because this is beyond ridiculous. He tried to overturn the rule when this girl-- his long-lost cousin, appeared out of nowhere and challenged him. I love her confidence, but she has no fucking shot."

My brows pull together. "Wait... what family?"

"The Arias."

My hand clenches against the steering wheel.

A stormy red haze falls over my vision as I halt in the car to a screeching stop, causing Mari to jerk forward into the glove compartment. Blasts of horns ring as a result, but they're muffled by my anger. My eyes focus on nothing, seeing nothing but red as raging fire burns my insides.

"What the fuck!" Mari curses, flipping off the cars, honking their horns at us. "My life almost flashes between my eyes."

Images flash in my mind, of Isabela competing in this competition, laying her life on the table. Is this what Lorenzo was referring to? It explains everything, doesn't it-- her abrupt move here, Lorenzo following her like a lap dog, Damien nowhere to be seen. They're using her connections to her familia to benefit their family.

"D-Do you know who else is in the games?"

Mari's breath hitches as she slowly nods, her hands trembling as she unlocks her cell phone. "Antonio Arias, Carlos Perez-Arias, Octavio Arias, and Isabela Arias. W-Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

A short laugh of disbelief flies from my mouth. "H-How could she not tell me?"

My thoughts are flip-flopping all over the place, but the only thing my body can do is force my foot on the pedal and soar on the street at a hundred miles per hour-- Mari's seatbelt clicks in as she grips the armrest until her knuckles turn pale white.

Her light red eyebrows pinch in confusion. "Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on?"

I wet my lips. "My girlfriend..." I groan, dragging my palm down my chin. "Ex-girlfriend. I don't even know, at this point, but she's competing."

Mari dramatically gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, my god... that's why you were looking for her last night? You're dating Isabela Arias? I thought she was married."

I roll my eyes at that. "It's complicated."

"Wow," she voices in astonishment. "Why wouldn't she tell you? She won't win. Julian, I'm saying this as a friend-- the odds are stacked against her. Four meaty, buff men and a petite girl who's light as a feather."

My jaw clenches, anger for being left out in the dark scorching through my veins. Mari's explanation is logical, but everything about the world isn't. Things that happen don't always make sense. I don't give a fuck what nonsense Mari says; I believe in Isabela, even if she's insane enough to do this-- there's not one ounce of me that doesn't believe in her.

"I have faith in her," I say through gritted teeth. "Sorry to see us both on opposite competing sides, but Isabela will make everyone run for their money. She won't go out like this."

Mari scoffs. "Romeo begs a differ. All the guys have an alliance to go after her first. She can't win with all of them on her."

My temper rises.

That one strikes a nerve, a deep one.

I can't lose her.

This can't be happening. It has to be some type of a joke. Frustration claws at me when I'm forced to bring the car to a shrieking stop at the sudden halt on the highway. I can't even begin to process everything when the only thing on my mind is, will I be able to talk to her again? The highway is moving inches per hour, so I leave the first exit I see to search for a faster way to get to the venue.

From a glance at the GPS, the destination looks to be in the middle of nowhere, on the outskirts of any town life. A place perfect for how deadly the games could become. Twenty minutes left until we reach the location, and there are ten minutes until the first event starts. If I weren't driving like a manic, I would've been gnawing at my fingernails like Mari.

Mari shatters the silence. "If it makes you feel better, she will probably survive the first round. It's based on cracking codes in the pressure of suffocating in water. So, it's all on her. None of the guys can interfere with her."

One thing is for sure-- my girl is wiser than all those motherfuckers.

I breathe deeply. "I don't think anything will make me feel better until I see her."

Mari's nose scrunches. "Yeah... I understand."

After a few sharp turns, causing Mari to fall over the gears, she wraps the seatbelt around her and holds onto the railing on the ceiling. Safety is the last thing on my name as I blast through red lights and swerve between two-foot-long trucks. Our final turn is down a rugged, bumpy dirt road, taking us into the middle of nowhere for about ten miles.

My eyes latch on the glimpse of parked cars, and I push the pedal, going a one-hundred miles per hour, halting the vehicle in front of the building. The car is the last thing on our minds. I toss the keys to Mari and follow her through the smashing crowd in the venue.

People shove and protest about squeezing to the front, but I don't have time to spend on that bullshit. A tightness coils in my chest when I catch sight of her long, majestic black hair in a trail in the glass box. My slow steps and force carry me to the frontlines, observing the waves of dark hair flying back as her heart-shaped face lifts, cluelessly, rubbing her eyelids.

We lock eyes for a moment.

Confusion fills her irises as she tilts her head to the side.

A pistol goes off.

The other four contestants grab the first key from the top of the glass box, surpassing one of their cuffs, while Isabela reacts a few fractions later. My chest clenches as I watch her struggle to reach the dangling key on top of the box-- her height is an extreme disadvantage right now.

I have faith in her.

She's got this.

Isabela blows a frustrated breath as she paces around the small box, tapping her chin. Suddenly, she grabs her long leg of hair and uses it as a rope, swinging at the key, causing it to collapse after her third hit. She unlocks the metal cuffs on her ankles, and inspects the engraving on the key.

Another shot fires.

An uneasy feeling settles in my chest from the look of water entering her glass box. Suffocation. Shit. The box is big enough to give her five minutes to free herself before she's submerged in the water. Her cinnamon-brown eyes glow in the fluorescent lights shining above, the analyzation clicking in her head.

She drops to her knees, digging through the water to find another key. I suck in a sharp breath when another contestant's floor disappears, and drops down the slide to victory. Isabela is tied with the other three men, trying to crack the code on the pad. The water is about at her waistline as she paces around, her lips moving.

She's close.

I know she is.

Aggravation washes Isabela as she plugs in multiple codes-- all of them, earning a red light. Incorrect. The crystal-blue water is above her shoulders, barely giving her room to breathe unless she tilts her head upward. A small pain hits me in the chest as I watch her struggle.

I wish I could help her.

But a part of me thinks she went along with this to prove something to herself. I just wish the stakes weren't her life. Her frown digs deep into her face. She's giving up. I want to look away, but by doing so, I'm disheartening her.

Isabela might hate my guts right now, but as long as it's an emotion. I'm given a chance to uplift her from here. She swims, holding her head above the small space to inhale a long breath in her lungs before the water covers everything. My stomach twists and turns in the most horrible way as she repeatedly plugs in a code.

The sound of the crowd cheering and booing turns into nothingness as I solely focus on Isabela. Her brown eyes frantically search through the mass, landing on me. Truthfully, I don't know if it was her intention or if I'm the only obvious one, but her eyes always have a hold on me. I wonder if it's reciprocated.

"You can do this," I mouth to her.

Isabela coughs, bubbles floating to the surface as her small gust of oxygen is running out. She taps the keypad, and the color shines green, causing the floor to disappear along with Isabela and the water.

Finally, I release the breath I was fucking holding.

"Motherfucker!" Someone yells behind me. "I think he's dead."

Their arm extends past my shoulders, pointing at the glass box beside Isabela's, with a frail, thin man's face turning purple. He grips his throat as bubbles depart from his mouth, and he slowly floats to the top, his eyes bloodshot wide. A few sobs pierce the cheers in the crowd as the round comes to an end with a curtain falling down.

What is this a play?

An illuminated sign drops to the center of the curtain with intermission written on-- thirty minutes.

Glancing back, I catch a peek of Lorenzo's annoyingly bright platinum blonde hair, and storm through everybody to catch up to him. He's like a sparkling Christmas tree-- never hard to find. Don't even get me started about his arm being wrapped around another girl. How was he able to focus on anything other than Isabela?

"Hey, Lorenzo!" I shout, seizing his shoulder. "What the fuck?"

He whispers something into the redhead's ear, and she rushes away. "So, who do I have to kill for tipping you off? You aren't supposed to be here."

My eye twitches with irritation. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Without thinking, I crane my fist back and smash it across his face, causing him to lose her foot placement. "What did you offer her, huh? What is so good that it's worth sacrificing her life to repair your family?"

Lorenzo wipes the blood on his mouth with his sleeve, laughing. "Hey, you don't have to hurt my pretty face. I'm always willing to talk." He steps closer, smiling. "I offered her freedom. She could've asked for anything, but it's easy to feed a girl so out of touch with reality scraps."

My stomach tenses, and I grab him by the collar, laying another two hits before his bodyguard separates us.

"She can die!"

Lorenzo grins at the protection of his four bodyguards in a shape of a square around him. "How sad of you to have such little faith in her."

My fingers brush through my hair. "Of course, I believe in her, but this isn't about faith. You're selfish enough to let her risk her life to save your problems. Do you lack a conscious?"

He groans, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, Julian, I told her to not go through with it. What did you want me to do? Lock her up for the rest of her life?"

"Did you tell her not to go through with it after you made your offer or before?"

"After," he replies.

It's clear.

Nothing could've changed her mind.

She will gain her freedom one way or another-- life or death.

Lorenzo narrows his eyes. "If you promise to stop fucking hitting me, I'll take you to the viewing area. It's private this time. Only people who're known by the contestant are allowed in. Everyone watches via a live stream, but we will be right by her side. She hates your guts, but I don't want to make her hate me by turning you away."

I bob my head. "Truce."

Lorenzo's bodyguards swarm him like hawks as we walk towards the elevator and click the number ten to lead us to the tenth floor. Our ears pop as we descend lower and lower. I'm assuming the rounds get challenging as they go on, and I can't wrap my head around what can be worse.

The elevator doors spread to reveal a dimly lit room with a large screen taking up most of the space on the wall. There is one computer with double monitors in the first row. The other rows are just empty tables with chairs tucked in. On the left side, there's a metal door with the sign 'emergencies only'.

Lorenzo sits in front of the computer, turning the fucker on and causing the lights to flicker from the overuse of electricity. In the center of the room, there's a digital clock with less than ten minutes flashing on it.

"This round is called Starvation," Lorenzo explains, swirling around in his chair. "To even the playing field for Isabela, the creators agreed to hold everyone in their cell for seven days with little to no food and water. Just enough to keep them functioning."

My stomach is in knots just thinking of Isabela suffering.

Lorenzo flashes a half-tilt grin. "It will be tough mentally, but I think she got this. At least Damien trained her to starve for most of her years with us. That part should be a breeze. If it becomes too much... one of us is allowed five minutes to calm her through those doors. I hope it won't ever reach that level."

My lips tense in a tight line. "W-What happens on the seventh day?"

"They will all fight to the death." His eyes drop. "No and, ifs, or buts."

Our attention flickers to the large screen in the room when the prison dome where Isabela will call home for the next week appears. The employees drag Isabela inside by the arms and place the key at her feet, securely locking the door behind them.

The air is sucked from my lungs. She looks exhausted already. Isabela doesn't bother unlocking herself, resting her head on the walls and closing her eyes. Sleep is the smartest way to make the days go by faster.

The time ticks to zero and alternates with the phrase, 'Let the games begin."

We watch Isabela every second of every minute of every hour of her day. It's been about three days since Isabela and her competitors calmly resting in the dungeon. Thus far, only Octavio has complained about hunger. Carlos, Romeo, and Isabela haven't mentioned food once.

Isabela has barely moved a muscle other than to readjust herself on the wall. She's doing fantastic.

The bitterness in my expression is real when Lorenzo comes out of the restroom with the redhead following behind him. He advised me to relax before I pop a vein, but I can't physically nor mentally ease up. I wish I could endure this for her. Other than exiting for a quick shower, I've been attached to the live stream for the last three days.

A harsh, manly voice speaks on the loudspeaker, "As we approach the fourth day of this journey, we've decided to throw a curveball at the contestant with soothing music. Remember, once flipped, there's no going back. Choice is in your hands."

"Did you hear that?" I ask.

Lorenzo waves me off as his tongue is down the redhead's throat. The digital clock flashes again, with thirty seconds ticking down. My jaw ticks. If he wasn't going to take the job seriously, then he should've let me do it.

"There's ten seconds left, Lorenzo."

He groans, removing his lips from her mouth. Lorenzo flicks a few switches while flipping me the birdie over his girl's shoulders. I don't care. The only thing I was nervous about was the timer ticking down to zero.

I sigh long and hard, rubbing my eyes to the point I see black and white spots.

Only four more days.

My eyes flutter open.

My eyebrows draw in taut at the view of Isabela.

"Lorenzo!"

He huffs. "What? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Turn on the audio."

"What?" he says.

"Turn on the fucking audio!" I demand.

Lorenzo raises the volume and zooms in on a distraught Isabela, gripping her ears and sobbing. My heart drops to my stomach. Lorenzo's gaze flickers to me from the corner of his eyes as he swallows.

"Please! Please! Please, stop," Isabela weeps. Her straight, dark hair falls in front of her face as her breathing becomes unstable. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, just make it stop." She lunges towards the door, banging her fists against it. "Isiah, please! I'm sorry for asking you to play. Just let me out. I want to get out!"

Lorenzo grabs the mic. "Bella-boo, you need to calm down. If you get out... then it's done."

Isabela screams, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I-I- can't! Let me out! I don't want to play anymore!"

Confusion and shock washes over me. "What did you pick for her soothing music?" Lorenzo's face turns beet red. "What did you fucking play?"

"Thunderstorms..." he swallows audibly. "Who doesn't like the sound of thunderstorms?"

Motherfucker.

Taking a deep breath, I charge towards the door and grip the handle. "Buzz me in."

A short laugh bubbles out of him. "No. We can't waste it this early on. I'll talk to her through the mic."

A tightness fills my chest as my pulse jumps so fast, watching my girl crying in terror. "You don't understand-- I'm not asking. Isabela will not make it unless we talk to her-- face to-face. She needs to know she's not alone."

The door lock switches open.

Hopefully, her hatred for me can be put on the back burner-- just until I can get her to see she's not alone.

Hey guys, I'm finally back with a new chapter what does you guys think?

Did Lorenzo deserved punches Julian gave him?

We're you as anxious as Julian watching Isabela compete?

How do you think or want Julian to do when he goes in to speak to Isabela during her breakdown 🥹🥹🥹poor Angel she's been through so so much!

Thank you so so much for reading my story and spreading love to me and my character!!! I couldn't put into words how much I appreciate it!!!

Love ya