Chapter 2

Alejandro's pov I didn't understand what was happening with Camila. Every time I tried to reach her, it felt like talking to a stranger instead of my best friend, whom I grew up with and was once close to. Now she seemed distant. Now, when we were talking, there was fear in her eyes, some sort of terror I couldn't quite comprehend. And when she smiled, it didn't feel real anymore, like it used to. She was concealing something. I couldn't identify it, but I could feel its presence between us. It seemed that each time I tried to approach, she built another wall between us. As I noticed that she had become more distant from me and less open about communicating, my fears increased exponentially: Was she in distress or doing anything strange? I tried to suppress my thoughts, but they kept returning and gnawing at my spirit. That was when I decided to confront her. I couldn't stand being in the dark anymore; every time I thought about her, I got this pit in my stomach. To stop this cycle, I went directly to her apartment, hoping she'd let me in and talk with me. But she just showed up without a word, as if she didn't know me or that we were still alive. As I opened the door, her face looked drawn. I tried to smile and make her feel better, but all that happened was she stared back at me with eyes filled with something I couldn't quite identify. "Alejandro?" she whispered hesitantly. "What are you doing here?" "We need to talk," I stated with an expressionless face, informing her I needed her presence at once. My voice seemed firmer than usual as well. "About what?" she inquired in a barely audible whisper, her gaze darting nervously away as if looking for an escape route out of this conversation. "Your behavior has been out of line, Camila. Something's not quite right here; stop cutting me off like this." "No need for--" Her eyes widened slightly as she spoke up. "No," I interrupted. "You aren't okay. I can see it." She shook her head, tightening her lips in frustration. "You don't understand. I don't want you involved with this; it is not safe for you." "Not safe for me?" I inquired as I moved closer. If Camila were in any danger, I would appreciate being informed right away. She turned away and headed towards the kitchen. "My only desire is for you to avoid any harm." "Don't think I would walk away if you needed help? Camila, please keep in mind how important you are to me like family. If anything is making you sad or unhappy, let me be the one to help find out why!" I continued following Camila until we reached her house, where we found her sleeping alone on her sofa. "Why would I walk away?" Camila thought as we talked, and I nodded my head sadly in agreement. She kept her back to me, yet I could still see the way her shoulders were shuddering with tension. Although she wasn't crying out loud, I could sense tension building within her that almost made me angry. I felt her breaking apart before my very eyes, and that disgusted me immensely. She was holding back something so powerful it terrified her. "Please, Camila. Please tell me the truth!" I stepped forward. She turned around finally, and when she looked at me, I could read fear, confusion, and guilt in her eyes. Her breath came in short, shaky bursts. "I can't...," she whispered with emotion rippling through her voice, her tone soft and low. "You won't understand everything I have been going through; all I am trying to do is keep Emiliano safe. Fix everything... But..." I could see tears well up in her eyes before she quickly wiped them away. "Camila..." I softly said before pulling her into a hug. Regardless of her hesitation or lack of desire for comforting hugs from me, I needed her to feel something apart from fear in her eyes. She held tight, her shoulders shuddering beneath the weight of whatever was making its way into my arms. I could feel my heart racing as my shoulders trembled from what felt like being my burden to bear. After an extended silence, she pulled back and I could see the guilt on her face. "You can't save me," she stated with an inflection that suggested her voice was quiet. "You have no idea about my situation; I'm already in too deep." "Camila, don't feel alone in this. No matter what the issue is, we can find solutions together. Don't go through the process alone; let me in." She shook her head again, her eyes still filled with fear. "You just don't understand. There's no escape for me here." "What do you mean, and are we involved?" My heart raced as I looked into her eyes. But just then, her phone rang and tension in the room skyrocketed as she looked down at the screen with pallor-filled facial features. I could feel something shift in the air. Camila hesitated, with her fingers hovering over the screen. "Who are they?" I inquired, knowing the answer already but still not wanting to hear it. "I can't... I can't talk about this right now," she whispered tremblingly. But I wasn't about to let her shut me out not now, not when she seemed so intent on getting away from me. "Camila," I said as I approached closer. My voice became increasingly insistent as I spoke out louder: "Tell me who's calling or drawing you into this situation. Who are these individuals who want you here?" She looked back and forth between me and the phone before looking back at me again with uncertainty in her eyes, yet she didn't turn away or withdraw further from our conversation. She didn't change course; instead, she continued speaking. I noticed fear and hesitation in her gaze, but this time around she didn't withdraw or abandon us altogether. She answered the phone with shaking fingers. "Luis," she whispered quietly. My heart sank as soon as I realized Luis Vega was connected to El Diablo's cartel; this was someone whom I knew from back in the day who always seemed too cold and calculated for my liking. But this time around when I looked at Camila, I saw something I wasn't used to seeing: an entirely new side that wasn't familiar. She wasn't the same girl I used to know. As I stepped back, my mind started racing with ideas. Luis, her fear-filled eyes, her attempts at protecting me from the truth it all pointed to one conclusion. Camila was in deep, and I wasn't certain whether I could help her this time around. "Camila," I demanded with urgency in my voice, "tell me what's happening and let me know where things stand." "You don't want to know," she whispered, her face contorted with agony. My heart pounded in my chest as the thought crossed my mind: she couldn't go that easily! I could never let go. I needed answers immediately. But could I handle the truth and free her from her dangerous environment? And most importantly... Had I already lost her? What was she getting herself into, and is it too late to bring her back?