Capítulo 3: (The Good Guy)
Mariana woke up, realizing she was lying on a soft sofa, even though her eyes were still closed. She was surprised to find herself unbound, no tape or rope constricting her. She could move her hands freely.
Mariana couldn't shake the memory of everything that had happened. She was exhausted from the fear and worry, and she hesitated to open her eyes again. But the sound of a man's voice, speaking into a phone, compelled her to open them. She recognized the voice as belonging to the masked man who had taken Mr. Harden.
"What do you want me to do with this woman, Crow?" the man asked.
Mariana's eyes flew open, her curiosity piqued by the name "Crow." She remembered those masked men who had been searching for him. Crow must be a powerful figure in a syndicate, and this man was working for him. Mr. Harden must be Crow, she was convinced. Her hypothesis had led her to this startling conclusion.
"Killing her isn't a problem, Crow. I'll take your order," the man said.
Mariana's heart sank. She was terrified that this man would kill her. She carefully sat up on the azure-colored sofa, the light of the setting sun bouncing off the glass window and stinging her eyes. She blinked, the brightness irritating her.Her gaze fell upon a fair-skinned man near the window, half-naked, shirtless. He was facing the window, oblivious to her presence. A dragon tattoo, starting on his left hip and continuing across his waist, was visible. His shoulders were broad, he was muscular, and she estimated he was as tall as Alton. His black hair was slightly messy but stylishly cut.
Mariana felt a surge of panic. This man was going to kill her, and she had to escape. She rolled her eyes, taking in the room, searching for something useful. She spotted a gun on the table in front of her and didn't hesitate to grab it. This was the first time she had ever held a gun. Her hands trembled, and she felt unsteady. Her heart pounded, a wave of hysteria washing over her.
The man hung up the phone and turned around, catching Mariana pointing the gun directly at him. She stared at him blankly, her fear mounting. He had a certain allure that made you doubt he was a bad guy. His face was different from what she had expected. He showed no reaction, as if he were accustomed to handling this kind of situation.
"Put the gun down," he commanded calmly.
Mariana shook her head in disagreement, sweat dripping down her forehead. Her hands were slick with perspiration, and her nervousness urged her to pull the trigger.
"I said put the gun down!" he shouted, a hint of annoyance in his voice because she hadn't listened.
Mariana panicked at the sound of his raised voice. She accidentally pulled the trigger, the bullet striking the man's shoulder.
She gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief. She couldn't believe she had just shot someone. She was flustered, seeing the man's shoulder bleeding. She couldn't think straight, her actions driven by a surge of irrationality. She lowered the gun and ran towards him.
"I-I'm sorry... Oh my... God. I'm sorry," she stammered, pressing her hand against the bleeding wound, trying to stop the blood flow. It was just a minor cut; she wasn't a good shot, not capable of killing anyone. She felt her hands shaking, cold. The man didn't move to stop her; he was simply astonished by her actions. It was unusual for a victim to help their captor, especially in this situation. Perhaps the shock had made Mariana act irrationally, forgetting what was sensible. Or maybe, according to her, this was the right thing to do.
He looked at her, his face just a meter away. He sensed her innocence and kindness, her youthful face radiating it.
Mariana cleared her mind, trying to regain her composure. She realized how foolish she had been. She shouldn't care if this man lived or died, if he was hurt or fine. The reality was that she had been kidnapped by him, and she should want him dead. Finally, she understood.
She looked up into his face, meeting his mesmerizing hazel eyes, filled with mystery. He was undeniably handsome, yet his face held no trace of happiness. Looking at him, you wouldn't be afraid, but you would be filled with curiosity.
They stared at each other, wondering what was going on in each other's minds.
He broke the silence. "Get your hands off my shoulder."
Mariana took a deep breath and let go of his bleeding shoulder, avoiding his gaze. Her emotions were stabilizing, her fear subsiding, replaced by a sense of calm. She didn't know how she knew she was safe, but her instincts told her this man was good.
He pressed his shoulder, then grabbed the gun from the table. Mariana stood rigid, ready to face her fate if he was going to shoot her. But that was an overreaction. She watched him walk away, pacing towards the kitchen.
She inhaled deeply, as if her lungs had been deprived of oxygen. She made sure she was still breathing, that he hadn't shot her. She felt his blood on her hand and ignored it. She followed him, careful not to provoke him, to avoid being killed.
When he reached the kitchen, he placed the gun on the counter and took a first aid kit from the upper cabinet.
"Who are you?" Mariana asked softly, trying to maintain her composure, to make him believe she was fine.
He didn't respond, focusing on tending to his wound. She continued talking, knowing criminals rarely gave their names or talked about themselves to their victims. She should have known that.
"I don't know what you want, but I'm sure I have nothing to do with it. Right?" she said.
He finished tending to his wound and showed no sign of answering her question or listening to her. He turned and walked back into the living room. Mariana felt like she was a wall he was simply passing through.
She followed him again, speaking. "Please... You need to answer me. You're working for Mr. Harden, right? I need to go home. I know you didn't intend to kidnap me. Those assholes just took me hostage, and I think that's all my part in this."
The man stopped, and Mariana paused, afraid she had angered him.
"You know what I want from you?" he asked, turning to face her. Mariana saw his mesmerizing eyes flash with anger.
"I want you to keep quiet."
His voice was deep and masculine, making Mariana feel less afraid, but still intensely intrigued.
"I heard you were going to kill me, and I don't think I can keep quiet. What about all those people who were killed? I need some explanations. I'm horrified by everything that happened hours ago. I never expected anything like this to happen in my life, and I hope you understand. I'm sorry, but I can't. I can't keep quiet," she said, her voice trembling, tears welling up in her eyes. She fought back the tears, refusing to let her bravery falter. She had to speak for herself. This was all new to her. She had never had a conversation with a criminal stranger before, and this conversation was strange. Her natural ability to talk in front of crowds, her talent for persuading others, seemed to be failing her.
"You'll be back with your family tomorrow, but please shut your mouth. I don't want to have small talk with you," he said.
A sense of calm washed over Mariana after hearing those words. His slightly deep, husky voice was soothing, even though his words weren't particularly comforting.
"Don't bother me or talk to me ever again," he added.
She looked at him seriously. His words rendered her speechless. Was he serious? Was he really going to do that? She asked herself, as if her soul would provide an answer. She was convinced he was a good man, and her instincts had never failed her. He was sincere, and she saw it in his eyes.
He turned back to her, putting on a plain white t-shirt and grabbing his black jacket. He picked up the car keys from the small round table near the sofa and walked out of the house.
Mariana remained where she stood, unable to believe what he had just said. She waited until she heard the sound of the car driving away.
She wondered why her kidnapper had left the door open and said he would send her home. She was curious, but at least she felt at ease now. He was far away, and she could protect herself in case he was lying.
The house she was in was old. It was dusty, but the design and furniture were still beautiful. Mariana was eager to go outside, but she searched for a phone or telephone first, finding none.
There was nothing that could help her identify the man. There were two rooms in the house, and the other one was locked. She tried everything she could to open it, but she couldn't crack the code.
She decided to go outside. She discovered the house was isolated in the middle of the woods. She didn't recognize the area. She had no choice but to go back inside rather than wander around and encounter Bigfoot or anacondas.
The sunset was fading, darkness slowly engulfing the woods. The nocturnal animals were making their sounds as night fell. There was a very real chance of encountering Bigfoot or anacondas out there.
Mariana felt scared, so she went back inside the house and locked the door.
She sat down on the sofa, exhausted. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she was hungry. Of course, she was hungry. She hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch. She bet all the nervousness and fear had made her forget about her hunger.
As she sat there, the events of the day replayed in her mind. The clients lying on the floor, bleeding; Troye Simmons; the masked men who were dead. So much bad had happened today. She couldn't hold back her tears, and they streamed down her face. These terrible memories would forever be a part of her life.
She wiped away her tears and stood up. She couldn't let destiny defeat her. She had to be brave and hopeful. She was a strong, independent woman, and she knew there was nothing she couldn't handle. She had lived her life without a father. She had cared for her sick mother, and losing her had been the most painful thing. She had done everything to keep her mother alive, even begging for donations from every foundation she knew to afford hospital bills, but her mother hadn't survived. If it hadn't been for her intelligence and hard work, she wouldn't have achieved her successful career. Her experiences had made her a better person, and she didn't need to convince herself that she could win this battle. She had already won so much, and doubting her strength was wrong.
She walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
"It's dangerous to face a battle when you're hungry. I need to save my energy because I'm going to be afraid and nervous for a long time," she said, a humorous glint in her eyes, even though she didn't smile. Cheering herself up was the best thing to do, she guessed.
***
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