Behind his black eyes

Chapter Five

Ariella – On the Run

The roar of the engine was the only sound that filled the silence between us. I kept my eyes fixed on the rain-slicked road ahead, even though I wasn’t the one driving. Elías’s fingers were tight around the steering wheel, knuckles pale, jaw set in the way I recognized all too well. He was angry. Or scared. Or both.

I didn’t care.

My heart was still racing like it had the moment I heard my father say those words: You’re getting married, Ariella.

Married. To a man I had never met. To pay off a debt I didn’t owe.

How is that even real?

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window, hoping the icy touch would slow the storm in my chest. It didn’t.

“What are you thinking?” Elías asked without looking at me.

I didn’t answer. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know how. Everything was still a blur—my father’s stern face, my mother’s silence, my brother watching with wide, confused eyes. Even my abuela’s hands shaking as she whispered, “No es justo, mi niña… esto no es justo.”

None of it was fair.

“I asked you something, Ariella,” he said again, louder now. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “We’re almost at the motel. Just a few more hours.”

“Do you think they’re looking for me yet?”

Elías finally turned to glance at me, and the truth was written across his face.

Of course they were.

Whoever this man was—this billionaire stranger—he was powerful enough to make my father hand me over like a pawn on a chessboard. He wouldn’t let me disappear so easily.

My fingers dug into my lap. “I hate him. I hate them all.”

Elías didn’t respond, and the silence made something in me twist. I turned my head slowly to face him. “You still haven’t asked me.”

He blinked. “Asked you what?”

“Why I agreed to come with you. Why I didn’t stay and fight.”

A pause.

“I figured you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I do now.” My voice was sharp, more bitter than I intended, but I didn’t apologize. “Don’t you want to know if I still love you?”

He went quiet again.

And that silence was my answer.

I laughed under my breath, humorless and raw. “It’s okay, Elías. I already know.”

“Ego curo de te, Ariella,” he said softly. I care about you, Ariella.

“Caring and loving are not the same thing,” I replied coldly. “Do you love me?”

He gripped the wheel harder. “Nunc non est tempus.” Now is not the time.

“That’s a no, then,” I muttered.

“I thought we were running from your father. From a forced marriage. Not picking a fight in the car.”

“No estás escuchando,” I muttered. You’re not listening.

He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but then sighed and looked back at the road. “Ignosce mihi. Just… tired.”

A long stretch of silence passed, and I returned to staring out the window, watching the blur of trees and signs. I tried to imagine what my life would’ve looked like if this hadn’t happened—if my father hadn’t gotten involved with dangerous people, if he’d asked me instead of deciding for me.

If love had meant something more than money.

My mother’s silence haunted me more than anything. Her hands wringing her apron, her mouth trembling. She didn’t agree. I know she didn’t. But she didn’t say a word. She didn’t stop him.

“Where are we going after this motel?” I asked.

“I have a friend up north. Safe place. We’ll lay low for a while.”

“And then what?”

He glanced at me. “We figure it out.”

Figure it out. The three words everyone says when they don’t actually have a plan.

“I need answers, Elías. I need to know who this man is. Why he agreed to marry someone he’s never even met.”

“I’ll try to find out—”

“No. I will.”

He looked at me warily. “You’re not contacting him, are you?”

“Of course not.” Yet.

“I just… I don’t trust this whole situation. Your dad would never—”

“You don’t know what my dad would or wouldn’t do,” I snapped. “Clearly, neither did I.”

That shut him up.

The rain started to come down harder, tapping against the roof like fingers drumming an ominous rhythm. We pulled into the dim parking lot of a roadside motel, the kind with flickering neon signs and rooms that smelled like bleach and regret. Elías parked under a broken lamp post and got out, grabbing the small duffel bag from the trunk.

“I’ll get us a key.”

I nodded and stayed in the car, heart pounding. The farther we drove, the more real this became. The man I was supposed to marry—whoever he was—wouldn’t stop until he found me. And no matter how much I wanted to believe Elías could protect me, a dark part of me already knew the truth.

We were being hunted.

I leaned back in the seat and whispered to no one, “Ego non ero victima. Non iterum.”

I will not be a victim. Not again.

Elías returned, tossing me a key. “Room 3C. Let’s go.”

I followed him in silence, entering the room and dropping my coat on the creaky bed. The air smelled like old carpet and desperation.

He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. “You should try to get some sleep.”

“I can’t.”

He nodded, not offering anything else.

I walked to the window and pulled the curtains halfway. There was nothing outside but fog and the faint outline of the highway in the distance. But still, I couldn’t shake the feeling.

Someone was coming.

And I was running out of time.

I didn’t sleep.

Even with the blinds drawn and the lights off, the quiet of the motel pressed too loud against my mind. Elías had knocked out early, one arm slung across his face to block the flickering red glow of the alarm clock. I watched him for a moment—peaceful, even now. How did he always manage that?

I rolled over, curling into myself.

He used to hold me when I couldn’t sleep. Used to whisper sweet nothings in Latin that made my skin flush and my heart swell. But now?

He was distant. Distant like the stars.

Maybe it was because of the way I snapped earlier. Maybe it was the weight of everything hanging over us. Maybe it was just that we were unraveling slowly.

“Amor meus… nonne me amas?”

My love… do you not love me?

I said it in a whisper too faint for him to hear. Or maybe I didn’t want him to.

I slipped quietly from the bed and tiptoed to the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click. My reflection stared back at me from the cracked mirror—messy curls, tired eyes, a smear of eyeliner I hadn’t bothered to remove. My twenty-third birthday was three days ago. Happy birthday to me.

Running from a forced marriage. Sleeping in motels. Arguing with the man I once thought I’d marry.

What a gift.

I splashed cold water on my face and gripped the edges of the sink until my fingers ached. Then I whispered the question that had been haunting me since I left home.

“Who the hell is this man?”

This mystery billionaire who could convince my father to give me away like some bargaining chip. Who had the kind of power that made grown men tremble and girls like me run.

And why me?

I didn’t get it. I wasn’t rich. I wasn’t some mafia princess. I was just a girl with a too-big mouth and a brain full of rebellion.

“Elías,” I said softly, opening the bathroom door.

He stirred.

I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, brushing his arm lightly. “Elías.”

He opened one eye. “Quid est?”

What is it?

“I can’t sleep.”

He sighed and sat up slowly, dragging a hand through his curls. “It’s almost three.”

“I know. But something doesn’t feel right.”

He blinked and looked at me with a little more focus. “You think someone found us?”

“I don’t know. Just… unease.”

He stood, stretched, and padded barefoot to the window. He moved the curtain aside just a fraction and peered into the night.

There was nothing.

Then—

“Elías,” I whispered.

A black SUV drove slowly past the motel entrance, its headlights dimmed. It didn’t stop. Just rolled by. But my heart dropped.

“That’s the third one I’ve seen in the last hour,” he muttered.

“You’ve been watching?”

“Of course.” He let the curtain fall and turned to me. “You think I’d let them take you while I slept?”

A pause passed between us. One filled with things neither of us said. I looked up at him, really looked, and saw the fear under his calm. The way his chest moved a little faster. He was scared too.

“Elías…”

He reached for me then, pulling me into his arms. His warmth hit me like a wave—familiar, anchoring. But still, something in me flinched.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered. “Promitto.”

I promise.

I rested my head on his shoulder. “How long do you think we can stay ahead?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he pressed a kiss to the top of my head, murmured “Semper ero hic pro te”—I will always be here for you—and wrapped his arms tighter around me like that could stop the world from closing in.

Meanwhile…

Somewhere across the city…

“Room 3C. She’s inside.”

The voice crackled over the comm. The man in the driver’s seat smirked and shut the radio off. He didn’t need further instructions. The boss had given clear orders.

Find her. Bring her back.

And don’t let her fall in love with anyone else.