The moon lies.
I want to be angry, but I do not have the energy.
The moon has this miraculous ability to produce an abnormal amount of excitement in its victims, casting a veil of deceit. This excitement leads to bad judgment, red flags being overlooked, disguised by ecstasy, the thrill of the moment.
Did you know blood sparkles like diamonds in the moonlight?
Deep hues of black and stunning hints of scarlet have me in a trance. Only a full moon could produce such splendor.
I reflect as I take a laboring breath.
The color could be called betrayal.
I think most people would agree that when pining a color to the damning word, they would approve with my assessment. I look up, seeing the luminous orb in the night sky and realize that a full moon is not an invitation but a dire warning. I think I have heard that bad things happen on a full moon, to stay inside and lock your doors. Well, if it has the ability to transform a mere man into a ten—foot wolf, then that is something to be had. Maybe if I had remembered this earlier, I would have had my guard up.
I mentally laugh, tasting metallic as I cough.
My tickets to Paris now a soggy mess next to me, the dashed dreams of my life in luxury. This was the gig of a lifetime, a job we have worked up for, for the past three years. Being so careful, honing our skills to almost perfection. Lucus had promised me that this would be our last job, the payment being beyond our imaginations. Diamonds. Thousands of them.
Well, he was half right; this would be my last job, not his.
Vetrov Yankovich was my Russian prey tonight; the bisexual billionaire was perfect with his thirst for extravagance. His harem—like tastes and massive orgies made him an easy target, a clear mission. Vetrov and I shared the same feelings for wealth, the more beautiful things in life. We became fast friends in our circles, giving me an easy in.
What can I say, I have always had high tastes.
Since I was a little girl, my father had always spoiled me, gifting me with lavish gifts. The known drug lord had more money than he could spend. But when he died, I couldn't walk away from the life I knew so well and loved. I needed it, yearned for it. I wanted extravagance.
And, I did what I had to, to keep it.
I steal expensive things from billionaires. But I was fucking stupid tonight, for lack of better words. Lucus is probably on a one—way flight out of here, sipping champagne while getting a shoulder massage. I make a sound of disgust. To ease the guilt and tension, he must be feeling. It's not easy being a monster.
The poor thing.
I can still remember looking up into the glowing moon with a silly smile on my red lips, my glittering gown swaying with the slight breeze. The thrill and adrenaline were still coursing through my veins, powered by this energy that I had felt.
We did it, I had thought.
In my bag was over three hundred million dollars worth in precious diamonds. Lucus and I were flawless, getting by security like seasoned thieves. This heist was executed with precision and extreme talent that took years to master. Vetrov will probably not notice the fakes in his massive safe, or at least not for a while.
But I was not focused on the real threat.
The blaring threat that told me he loved me and that he would buy me the moon if he could. How fitting, the moon. Such a mysterious thing. I wonder how many red flags I missed this night, like when he was on his phone and quickly hung up when I glanced in his direction.
Or, when he told me that we should take separate flights to not draw unwanted attention to us. In hindsight, he had been distant lately. But, I had just thought it was the nerves, the impending obligation that we had to do this job without fault. I am so imprudent I can't even get mad at Lucus, I should have smelled the bullshit a mile away. Now my life in riches is but a vague memory, poor Camila.
Poor Camila.
"Camila," Lucas had said, coming up to me with a broad smile, dashing as always. "Do you have the bag?"
I grin back at him, the alleyway hiding us from curious eyes. "That depends."
His black suit matches the darkness around us. "On what?" he is still grinning. "You going to skip town without me?"
"Never," I say too fast. "But I want the biggest diamond ring to wear on my finger," I purr, my arms snaking around his neck.
"And you shall have it, mi reina."
My Queen.
He always called me his Queen, something that I found quite enduring, until now, that is. My vision blurs for a moment then rights itself.
Lucas had grabbed my face, and passionately kissed me, saying, "I will take the bag, Cariño."
I remember frowning. "I thought we decided I take it?"
"I don't want you to risk this, let me handle this."
I had smiled at him, thinking that this man does love me to protect me like this, and I hand over the bag, which was my death sentence.
The knife in my stomach happened so fast that I was in shock when he kissed me again, saying how sorry he was, impaling me harder. He slowly lowered me to the ground and kissed my head for the last time.
He told me that this hurts him more than it does me, and left without looking back.
More tears stream down my face as I feel my heart pounding against my chest, laboring. I let my head fall back and wait for the darkness to consume me. Maybe I will get to see my father again, and we can laugh together over our dumb life—choices...
Footsteps.
I hear them echoing.
Hope.
I open my heavy lids, a flash of adrenaline courses through me. "E...lllllppp." I try to wheeze out. I'm not sure how much blood I have lost, but I know I have but minutes left.
I try and focus my vision as I see a tall, burry figure stop in front of me.
I look up at him, wondering why he is not calling for help at the shocking sight of me. "Mister," I moan. "Help. 9—911!"
He kneels right in front of me, his features coming into focus. He is very handsome, I realize, but not recognizable.
The man tilts his head at me with a bright smile. "Camila, is that you? Almost didn't recognize you with the wig."
I frown at him.
He knows me?
And, why is he talking to me like I am not dying?!
The man shakes his head and holds up his hand. "You don't have to answer that. I see that you have gotten yourself in a little bit of a pickle."
