Exhaustion had been seeping in for hours now. All of Ismael's muscles ached, all his wounds throbbed. But nothing was worse than the piercing pain that exploded in his shoulder every time he moved it.
And she noticed it.
The priest screamed as Ofelia sunk her thumb into the knife wound until she found his bone. To reach the firearm first, he'd have to knock her unconscious. It was his only choice. Fighting his dizziness, Ismael used both hands to overpower her, and for a moment he succeeded.
"You should have let me die that night in my church."
"Never." Her voice didn't waver despite the effort. "You will kill yourself, as Marcelo did."
"I never meant to hurt him."
She drew her masked face close enough for him to see the rage burning behind her eyes.
"To hell with your intentions!"
"You give me too much credit, kiddo. The boy sealed his fate when he killed his stepfather."
"He didn't murder that rabid animal," she said. "I did!"
The priest held her harder by her wrists and pinned her down.
"What are you saying?"
"That afternoon, the bastard had abused my friend one too many times, so I broke his skull with his own baseball bat."
Ismael smiled at her.
All the puzzle pieces fit together.
Without realizing it, he loosened his grip.
"Your dad discovered everything and hid the evidence."
Ofelia, squirming from his grasp, buried her knee in his groin. The jolt of sudden pain made him cringe and moan. The priest fell on his side as his hands went down to protect his crotch, while she crawled away, groping for the gun.
"Abraham was never going to let his daughter end up in juvie," she said. "He is great at keeping secrets. We're all guilty, and we will pay. You were just the first on the list. But I admit it, you were not supposed to be this difficult." Her eyes darted everywhere. "Dammit! Where is it?"
"This way! I hear more people down there," shouted a voice from the floor above.
"Remember, the rapist and the mime are mine!"
The priest and the king stayed motionless for the longest second.
"That's your dad. It's over, Ofelia. All over."
She struggled to her feet and headed towards the door. "It will never be over as long as I live."
Ismael watched her leave, limping away as fast as she could, and knew she wasn't lying. Why? Why? Why? Why won't this end? Then he remembered, that wasn't the right question, and suddenly he knew. His mind came into focus, like static from a radio clearing up. He knew the answer. He understood.
"Who?" Ismael asked himself. "Me!"
He had to act quickly, with no hesitation. If his instincts were right, and the collectives had gunned down most of the Skulls, then it all came down to killing Ofelia.
A flash of lightning lit up the basement through the slits and cracks in the barricaded hopper windows. Then the priest felt that for the first time since his heart attack luck was on his side.
To his right, the gun was lying there, within reach.
"God's timing is perfect."