Attraction, desire, and sinfully beautiful, Mika Santana is a devil with the face of an angel. Despite her tragic past, she's never given up her ruthless pursuits for success and vengeance which leaves little to no room for matters of the heart. But...
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"Hey, it's Mika."
My mouth opens to reply before I'm met with, "Looks like I'm away from the phone right now, or probably getting dicked down. Most likely the latter. Leave your name and message at the beat and I'll call back whenever I have the chance. Kisses."
After ending the call, I slam my phone onto the table, and I repeat the same with my forehead. A tad less painful. It's been three days since I've seen and spoken to Mika, and I'm slowly going insane. At this point, I need to check into a mental hospital to cure me of my Mika obsession. Then maybe I'll be able to get more than three hours of sleep.
Every day, I go to Diablo's Paraiso only to find out Mika is sick. When I went to her apartment with the homemade soup, I was met with the doorbell. Dread circulates through my veins as if I'm receiving an IV of it. All my calls go straight to voicemail, and I almost have no choice but to get my spies on her.
But I know how invading that is.
I rather go insane in my office asylum than trespass on Mika's privacy. Could it have to do with my love confession? She told me to stop, but I couldn't keep it bottled up anymore. As an artist, my feelings pour out in anything I do. Mika is my muse, my love, my diamond. Someone I'll cherish forever, even if the night fades black. I thought we got one step closer that night as we hugged in the rain, but Mika is pulling away.
What else can explain her sudden disappearance?
To cure my Mika infection, I flip through the images of her on my picture file and repeat the cycle over and over again. How can I get any more pathetic? I might as well camp out in her front yard until she presents me with her presence.
Mika.
Are you even thinking about me?
My finger accidentally swipes off the photos and switches to my open tab of Instagram. Along with Tiktok, I only ever used these apps to pass by time like while I'm in the bathroom or waiting for an appointment. Normal mundane things. With an arch eyebrow, I stroke over the million posts from all the members of my familia. When the boredom creeps through, I switch to the stories in the circles on top of my profile.
My stomach constricts when I read Alexandra's new post.
Spencer Hastings is dead. My heart drums against my chest. Could that explain why he stood me up on Thursday? Concern churns through my thoughts. Was it the work of Miclantechuhtli? Did investigating my brother's case drag him to the brick of death? Guilt spreads through my body like wildfire. I should've-- I could've kept him as far away from the case as possible after our discussion.
His death is-- could be all my fault. My nonstop persistence led him to the rabbit hole to the dark side of the law. I ruined his future, Alexandra's future. All I wanted was to find out the truth, but I'm leaving devastation in the background. If Mictlantecuhtli is linked to Spencer's death, I'll have to repay for my sins by discovering the truth myself, even if it brings me the same fate.
