Page 80 of Hate That Blooms
I thought he screamed before, but nothing compares to the screams and the fight he has now. Repeatedly, I shove the fake cock up his ass. Blood pours out of him in a steady stream down my hand and arm. “This is,” I say with a strained grunt as the dildo gets stuck and I have to pull it out with considerable force. “For the woman I love. She will heal—I’ll make sure of it. You will bleed out right here, and I get to watch you die.”
I toss the dildo aside and move to the side to watch the life drain from his eyes. “I’ll see you in Hell, Nate.”
* * *
I close the front door behind me, the weight of it a familiar sound—solid, final. Diego and his guys let me clean up a bit at their clubhouse and said they would take care of the rest. It’s late, but Gabriela is still sitting in the kitchen, her figure framed by the dim light of the overhead lamp. She doesn’t look up at first, but I can feel the tension radiating off her, like she’s been waiting for me to walk through that door.
“Joaquín?” Her voice is soft and uncertain, but there’s a crack in it I can’t ignore. The same one I’ve heard too many times before. She knows something’s off. She always does.
I stand still for a moment, my hands at my sides, the blood from Nate still damp in my hair, hidden by the shadows. I can feel her eyes on me now, tracking every slight movement. I don’t need to look at her to know that her gaze is already lingering on the messy streaks in my hair and the smudge of red near my ear.
I swallow hard. Don’t flinch.
“Joaquín…” She stands slowly, a flash of concern in her eyes, and then she steps closer. Her eyes search my face, trying to piece together the story, even though I haven’t told her a word. She reaches out instinctively, fingers brushing my jaw, as if she can smooth away the tension in my bones.
“Is he gone?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper, though it holds a sharp edge beneath it. I can see her shoulders tighten.
I don’t need to ask who she means. The only “he” that matters.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice low, rougher than usual. “He’s gone. And you don’t ever have to worry again.”
Her breath catches, and I feel her hand tremble slightly as it drops from my face. She swallows, and for a moment, the silence between us is louder than anything I’ve ever heard. Her gaze flickers from me to the floor, then back up, her lips parting. “Good. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“I’d do anything for you, Gabriela. Anything.” I don’t say anything else. What more is there to say? She doesn’t need details. She doesn’t need to know how he died. All that matters is that I’ve handled it. It’s over.
“Come on,” she grabs me by the hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Okay, baby.” But even as those words come out of my mouth, I can feel a knot tightening in my chest. It feels like a sense of relief. Knowing that she knows what I’ve done, and she still chooses me. She isn’t afraid of me. I killed him, and she knows it and she's taking me back to our bedroom to clean me.
Her hand touches mine, her fingers warm against my skin. She holds my gaze for a beat longer, and then, without another word, she turns and pulls me toward the hallway. Once in the safety of our room, she closes the door and pulls me into her arms. Locking her lips with mine, breathing life into me.
“You are my hero, Joaquín. I know I am safe with you. That Mireya is safe with you. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me tonight. You truly are my king, baby.”
Epilogue One: Joaquín
Three Years Later
It’s hard to believe that it’s finally here. Graduation day. Three years have passed since Gabriela and I made things official between us, since I moved into their house, and since Mireya made me feel like I could actually be a father someday. And now, here I am, watching Gabriela—the love of my life—cross the stage, her cap and gown flowing behind her like she’s just stepped into a new chapter of her life. Of our lives.
I don’t know why, but I always thought this day would come sooner. Maybe I just wanted time to move faster so I could get to this moment. Maybe I didn’t want to wait any longer. But now that it’s here, I find myself feeling something I didn’t expect.
Proud. More proud than I thought I would be.
Gabriela steps up to the podium, her name called loud over the speakers. The crowd around me cheers, and I can hear Mireya’s voice above the noise, her fists pumping in the air as she yells, “Mama!” My heart swells, and I can’t help but grin as she takes her diploma. She’s earned it, and then some. I know what she’s been through to get here—the late nights, the sacrifices, the endless balancing act between being a mom and being a student. She’s never once complained about the pressure, never once backed down from what she knew she wanted.
Gabriela deserves this. And so much more.
I clap louder than anyone, my eyes fixed on her. I think back to the first time we really talked and how I was nervous as hell, unsure if I could be what she and Mireya needed. But now, here we are three years later. The life we’ve built together—it feels right.
As she makes her way back to her seat, I feel Mireya tug at my hand. Her face is full of excitement, her brown eyes wide, and I can tell she’s ready to celebrate.
“IsMamagonna be okay?” She asks, looking up at me, her voice serious for a seven-year-old.
I laugh softly, my hand gently patting her head, giving her a kiss. “She’s going to be just fine. We just can’t be with her yet. We’ll celebrate with her later. Big party tonight, remember?”
Mireya grins, clearly satisfied with that answer, and bounces on the balls of her feet. “Yay! Cake!” she exclaims, and I can’t help but chuckle at her excitement.
I know that tonight is going to be special for Gabriela. She deserves this celebration—she’s worked harder than anyone I know to get here. But the truth is, I’ve been planning for something else, something that’ll make tonight even more unforgettable. I’ve been carrying this ring around for weeks now, waiting for the right moment, the right time to ask her the one question that’s been sitting in my heart.
