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pascalispunkczechia · 3 days ago

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Rules I Break For Him 10 (epilogue)

Masterlist for this fic here

I’m standing by the window in my apartment. It’s late. Arms crossed over my chest. And my mind won’t shut the fuck up.

I should be asleep. God knows I’ve tried. But sleep doesn’t come easy these days. Not anymore. Not after everything.

I can’t stop replaying it… over and over. The last months been… hell. And I can’t seem to find the way out.

Therapist says it’s guilt. That I’m carrying too much of it. Guilt for the DEA agents who died that day. For the ambush I walked us into. For the fucking setup that got people killed. For Vanessa. Even though she orchestrated the damn betrayal, even though she sent me that anonymous bullshit letter, I never wanted her dead.

And Javi…

My throat closes. My chest tightens. Fuck. The tears come, same as they always do now.

He changed my life. I know it sounds dramatic, but he did. He made me believe again. In love. In something good. In something real.

I don’t know how the hell he survived.

All I know is - when we finally pulled him out of that Cali nightmare, when we got him to the hospital - his blood pressure was basically zero. Pulse barely there.

But he lived.

Somehow… some insane, fucked-up miracle… he lived. The doctors called it just that. A miracle.

He spent weeks in that damn hospital bed. The headaches only just stopped a few days ago.

Concussion. Multiple. No brain bleed, thank god.

That bullet to the thigh? Hit muscle, missed everything vital.

But he was dehydrated as hell. Weak. Pale. Barely conscious.

And now?

Most nights he still wakes up screaming. I hold him. Calm him. Tell him I’m here, over and over. He usually doesn’t remember it in the morning.

It left scars. On both of us.

Not the kind you can see… but they’re there. Fuck, they’re so there!

And it’s my fault.

No matter how many times he tells me it’s not… I know it is. He wouldn’t have gone through this if I hadn’t sent them in. If I hadn’t walked straight into that goddamn trap.

The tears don’t stop. They just keep falling.

Strong arms wrap around me from behind. His arms. I didn’t even hear him coming, I was too lost in my own head.

He just holds me. Doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t have to. We both know we’re a mess. Both know how heavy all this is.

I lean back into him, hands over his forearms, letting myself breathe for a second.

After a while, I turn to face him. His hair’s all messy - that perfect kind of messy he always pulls off without trying. Eyes glassy, tired. He’s only in boxers. Warm, familiar, mine.

He brushes the tears from my face with his fingers and pulls me into his chest. One hand on the back of my head, stroking my hair, holding me like he’s grounding both of us.

His scent, his skin, the way he holds me - it’s the only thing that calms me down lately.

And then he picks me up, just lifts me like I weigh nothing, and carries me back to the bedroom. Lays me down gently on the bed. The nightstand lamp glows soft and low.

“You’re not sleeping again?” he asks. It’s almost a smile. Almost. Doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s trying.

“I could ask you the same,” I whisper, reaching up to brush my fingers over his cheek.

He takes my hand, presses a kiss to my palm. “Woke up and realized you weren’t there,” he murmurs. “Didn’t even have to guess where you’d be.”

My voice breaks. “I’m sorry… for everything. For you almost–”

But I don’t get to finish. He hushes me gently, finger against my lips. “Baby… no. I don’t blame you. And I didn’t die.” He leans in, resting his forehead against mine. “I’m here. Right here. All of me. Still breathing.” His voice is quiet, low, but it hits deep. “Maybe I wasn’t fully conscious back then, but I knew one thing: I couldn’t give up. Couldn’t leave you behind. And I wouldn’t. Never. You’re the one good thing I’ve got. And it kills me to see you tearing yourself apart like this.”

And when I look up at him - those big brown eyes, god, those eyes - they still undo me. Just like they always have.

I kiss him… deep, messy, real.

He kisses me back without hesitation. Our tongues slide together, slow and warm. We taste each other like we’ve got all the time in the world.

I pull him into bed and he comes with me, letting his weight settle on me just enough. I wrap my legs around his waist and hold him there, close. As close as he’ll go. Between kisses, I whisper: “I need you.”

He pulls back just enough to look at me. I nod. That’s all he needs.

He slides the strap of my tank top down and starts kissing his way down… neck, chest, stomach… slow and steady. I’m already squirming. Desperate. I need him more than anything. I need him close. I need to feel that he’s really here. That he’s safe. Mine.

His hand slips into my shorts, nothing under them. He touches me like he knows every inch of me. Like he remembers what I like. One finger slides inside me, and I gasp because fuck, I’m already so wet. Just from him. He circles his thumb over my clit while his finger moves inside me, slow and easy.

I’m moaning. I can’t even pretend not to. I open my legs more, wanting more of him but he pulls his hand away.

God, it leaves me aching.

He pushes his boxers down, he’s already hard. “Sorry, baby,” he murmurs, voice rough, breath hot against my ear. “I just need to be inside you right now.”

He slides his tip over me, teasing me with it. Rubbing it against my clit until I let out this helpless noise and then he pushes in.

Slow. Deep. No rush. No performance. Just us.

We fall into this rhythm together, like our bodies know what to do. Like they’ve done this a thousand times and never got tired of it.

I hold onto his shoulders, hips rising to meet him.

He kisses my neck. His hands find my chest, his fingers brushing over my nipples.

Everything about it feels intense. But soft. Like we’re both trying to say ‘I’m still here’ without using words.

I come first… tight and shaking, muscles clenching around him. He groans, follows right after, coming deep inside me, holding me like he never wants to let go.

He buries his face in my neck, still breathing hard, kissing whatever skin he can reach. “I love you,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “So fucking much.”

I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him tight. “I love you too,” I breathe out. “More than I know what to do with.”

She saved me.

Body and mind. And fuck, I don’t even know how she did it.

It’s been a 2 months since that jungle nightmare. Since she pulled me out. Not the DEA. Not the embassy. Her.

I still don’t get how the fuck I’m even alive.

She dragged me out bleeding, half-conscious, barely breathing, and she didn’t stop. Took me straight to the hospital. Sat with me the whole time. Slept in a goddamn chair. I know, ’cause I fucking watched her. Every time I woke up.

Now everyone knows. The suits. The DEA. They don’t give a shit why she did it. Just that a few poor bastards got shot, and a civilian (Vanessa) took a bullet.

Yeah. I know. I know everything now. The letter from Vanessa. The blood. What she risked.

We talked. Not right away. She didn’t wanna. Just kept telling me to rest. But I pushed. I had to know.

Carrillo’s gone. So are the others. Whole fucking team. Just like that. It hit me like a goddamn freight train. But not as hard as hearing what she did. What she had to do.

She killed someone. Worked with Los Pepes. Burned every rule we ever swore by. And I don’t blame her. Not even a little. She did it for me. For us.

I just hate what it’s gonna do to her. Her badge. Her name. Her fucking heart. They train us to survive this job, but they don’t train us for what it takes to keep someone alive. Not like that.

And me? I’m done. With all of it. The DEA. The games. Fuck Diego. Fuck the embassy. They left me to rot. She didn’t.

And Cali cartel? They own half of Bogotá and Cali. Maybe more. You can’t fight shadows in suits.

But right now? I don’t give a shit about any of that.

She’s lying next to me. Naked. Asleep. Breathing soft. We had sex half an hour ago. Slow. Deep. Like we were making up for every second we almost lost.

And for once, I’m not alone.

We wake up to sunlight pouring through the windows. I wish that was the only thing today had in store.

Today’s the day. I have to report to the station. Turn in my badge. Then head straight to the embassy in Bogotá to face the music.

I knew it was coming. Doesn’t mean I’m ready for it. Especially not the embassy bullshit.

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed when Javi walks out of the shower, towel around his hips, water still glistening on his shoulders. He leans down, kisses the top of my head. “Morning,” he grins, all soft and suspiciously cheerful. He’s trying to distract me. I know it. He knows it.

And I’ve got my own way of doing that. I undo the knot of his towel. It drops to the floor. I look up at him, raise one eyebrow. His eyes darken instantly. I get up, grab his face and nuzzle against his cheek, breathing him in. Toothpaste. Shampoo. Him. That smell that fucks me up in the best way.

You know how they say your person should smell right? Javier’s the first man who ever made that real for me. I can’t get enough of it.

He kisses me… hungry, wet, filthy. His tongue pushes into my mouth like he owns it. Actually… he does.

I kiss back like I need it to survive. Because maybe I fucking do!

His hands slide down my back and under my thighs, lifting me up, pressing me against his hard stomach. His cock’s already hard, digging into my lower belly. He’s smiling against my mouth. Cocky bastard.

I tug on his damp curls, wrap my legs around his waist, lock my ankles behind him. He nips at my lower lip and I nearly lose my mind. He takes a step away from the bed, just enough to slam me against the nearest wall.

The cold surface against my back, his mouth on mine, his body… I’m gone. “Fuck me,” I say, staring right into his eyes.

And he does. He shifts me slightly, and then he’s inside. Hard. Deep. No hesitation.

One hand in my hair, pulling my head back. The other braced on the wall by my head. God, he looks so fucking hot like this.

“Hard,” I beg. “Fuck me hard.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Pulls out. Carries me to the couch. Throws me down, flat on my back. Spreads my legs wide and presses a hand gently around my throat… not choking, just possessive.

“You’re mine,” he growls. His eyes are so dark I can’t see where iris ends and pupil begins.

Yes. There he is… rough Javier.

His tongue crashes into my mouth right as his cock slams into me again. Hard. Deep. He grabs my hips and fucks me like he’s got something to prove.

And maybe he does. Maybe we both do.

“Yes… fuck, yes!” I’m shaking. Screaming. Coming.

He pulls out, fast. Thumb on my bottom lip, forces my mouth open… then he comes. In my mouth. Hot, thick, all of it.

I swallow. Keep my eyes on him the whole time.

He watches me, a smirk curling the edge of his mouth. Now I can see the gold coming back into his eyes. The softness. The calm.

Both of us slowly catching our breath. This is what we need. We’re patching up the shit inside us with this.

Sometimes slow. Gentle. Sometimes rough. Hard. Desperate.

Whatever it takes.

Later that day

After our little morning… distraction, I showered, got dressed, we had breakfast, and headed out. First the DEA base. Then Bogotá - Embassy time.

I put on a gray pencil skirt that hits just above the knees, white shirt tucked in. Javi said he’s coming in with me, so he threw on a shirt and suit.

God, I love him in a suit. Maybe just a tiny bit more than anything else.

We get in the car. Neither of us has been back here since everything went down.

The whole place feels different. Quieter. Makes sense. Some of the guys who used to fill this place with noise… are gone. Killed.

No new updates on Cali. Not that I expected to be briefed. Just because no one’s saying anything doesn’t mean nothing’s happening. But who the fuck knows if anything ever will happen. 80 % of the people in this building are on Cali’s damn payroll. Hard to make change when the system’s already rotting.

We take the elevator up to the 4th floor - director’s office.

Doors slide open and bam!, I nearly walk straight into Diego. Fucking perfect.

Before I can react, I see Javier move in the corner of my eye. He grabs Diego by the collar and slams him against the wall. “You piece of shit,” Javi growls. He’s not yelling but he doesn’t need to. His voice is pure threat. “Touch her again, and I swear to God - you’ll be answering not just to me, but to the senator herself. You know what they call this in the States? Sexual fucking harassment. This is your warning.”

Inside, I wince. Maybe… maybe I didn’t need to tell him about that part. Maybe.

Diego scoffs. “Oh yeah? You warning me now, Peña?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking warning you, motherfucker,” Javier growls, shoving Diego even harder against the wall, hard enough that his head smacks into it with a nasty thud.

“Javi!” I gasp, rushing toward him. I grab his arm, firm but gentle, trying to get him to loosen his grip on Diego’s shirt. “He’s not worth it,” I say, shooting Diego a look full of pure disgust.

His face says it all - hate mixed with fear. Perfect.

Javi finally lets go. Diego kind of spits toward Javi’s boots, then storms off like the coward he is.

Javi’s still breathing hard, angry as hell. I turn to face him, take his face in my hands. “Hey. Hey! Hey, it’s okay,” I whisper. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

It takes a second, but he blinks, starts to actually see me. He nods a little and grabs my hands, holding them tight in his. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t have to. I know that look - he needs me. Right now.

Honestly? I’d give anything to cancel this stupid meeting with the DEA director and drag him into the nearest empty room. He needs to let it out. And let’s be real - lately, we’ve both been dealing with shit the same way.

Yeah, sex. A lot of it. Kind of like trauma therapy, but… hot. And messy. And fucking necessary. He’s still technically recovering, not fully back at work. And me? I’m basically out already. Just need to hand over the badge and it’s official. So yeah. Multiple times a day. No shame. It helps!

But I can see it all over him - Diego really got under his skin. And I know exactly what Javi needs. Right before I can say ‘screw this meeting’, the director’s assistant opens the office door and gives us the “you can come in now” wave.

As we walk past her, I catch the way she’s looking at Javier. Like… yeah. Nope. Step the fuck back, sweetheart. He’s not for you.

Not that he notices, he’s too busy gripping my hand like he might fall apart if he lets go. Jaw tight. Shoulders tense.

The moment we step into the director’s office, I spot the ambassador from Bogotá. Great. I lift an eyebrow.

“Good to see you,” she says, motioning for us to sit across from them. “I know we planned to talk in Bogotá later, but I figured we could settle everything right here in Cali.”

And then it starts. The explaining. Why I did what I did. Why I went to Don Berna. Why I got Los Pepes involved.

But it’s all pointless. They’ve already made up their minds. Doesn’t matter what I say.

So it ends the way I expected - I hand over my badge. Sign the paperwork. That’s it. Done with the DEA. For good.

Javi clears his throat after a while. “Mind if I say something?” he asks. The director and the ambassador both look at him, curious. So do I. “So… this is how it ends. I won’t even get into everything I think about this bullshit,” he starts. “I’ll just say one thing: I know you’re on Cali’s payroll.” The second it leaves his mouth, the ambassador goes pale and the director turns beet red. Before anyone can open their mouth, Javi keeps going: “Which means nothing we say here fucking matters. Nothing she says to defend herself matters. You’ve already decided, right?”

“Javier, listen–” the director jumps in. “There are things we simply can’t ignore. Collaborating with drug traffickers and death squads? It’s not who we are. The agent here had her orders. We get her reasons, but at DEA, there’s no such thing as personal life. Surely you understand that.”

Not a word about the Cali comment. Like he didn’t even say it. I raise an eyebrow. I’ve had enough. I can’t sit here and listen to this shit anymore. They would’ve let him die. His life meant nothing to them.

But before I get the chance to speak, Javi does. “I resign,” he says flatly. “Right here. Right now. So… here’s my badge. Get the papers ready.”

“Agent Peña, there’s no need to rush–” the ambassador tries. “You’re our best field agent and–”

He lets out a dark laugh. “Yeah. Present tense. ‘Are’ our best. That’s not thanks to any of you. So get the damn papers ready. I’m not repeating myself.”

Back home, after leaving the station, evening

He did it. He really fucking did it. He quit. He was driving the whole way back, totally focused. Neither of us said a word.

Now we’re sitting on the couch, facing each other. Javier takes my hands in his and starts talking. Why he did it. What pushed him there. He’d had enough - of the corruption, of Cali owning every damn thing and everyone. “This isn’t a fight we were ever gonna win,” he says. “And I’m done being their puppet. Especially without you in it.”

I don’t say anything. I get it. I do. Even if a part of me aches for what it cost him. I try to say something, but he cuts me off: “Baby… right now I just wanna be inside you. That’s all,” he murmurs.

I nod. I knew. From the second he saw Diego today. This is what he needs. What we both need. Sex as therapy. As a reset button. As a way to prove we’re still here.

“I need you too,” I whisper. “I need to know you’re really here. I know it’s been a months, but… I still see it sometimes. You, at that fence. The gunshot. You falling and–”

I can’t even finish. His finger’s already on my lips. “Shhh,” he says softly. “Don’t go there. Just think about me. Fuck Cali. Fuck the DEA. And in a few days? Fuck Colombia. Right now it’s just us.”

And with those words, he fucks me that night. Hard and tender all at once. Exactly how we need it.

Afterwards, I’m lying on his chest. Room’s quiet except for the low hum of the AC. Javi’s got one arm under his head, the other on my back, just running his hand up and down slowly. His hair’s a mess… full-on post-sex chaos.

I breathe him in. That smell that’s just him. Fuck, I love it. “Javi?” I whisper.

“Mhm?” he mumbles, eyes still half closed.

I lift my head, prop myself on my elbow so I can see his face. He turns to me, those big brown eyes looking straight at me… soft, tired, but all there.

“I love you,” I say, voice quiet. “And I’m so fucking glad I found you. Even with everything that’s happened. Without you, I don’t even know who I’d be. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. The best and the most painful. I’ve never felt anything like this before… this much love and this much fear at the same time. I hope I never feel that kind of fear again.”

His jaw tightens a bit, but his eyes go warm. “Shit, baby…” He exhales and looks up at the ceiling for a second like he’s trying to find the right words. “I don’t want you to go through that again. Ever. That’s why I’m done. I’m out. Can’t keep doing this shit, not after what we’ve been through. Not without you. I wouldn’t survive it.” He pauses, bites his lip, still figuring out how to say what’s in his head. “Fuck… I’m not good at this. I’ve never been… I mean… look, I’ve never loved anyone like this before. Not really. Lorraine? Sure. But we were young and dumb and didn’t know shit about love. But you? This… this is different. And it scares the hell outta me ‘cause I keep thinking I’ll mess it up.”

His voice drops lower. “But I wanna leave. With you. Go back to the States, wherever. Just not here. Not anymore. I can’t promise I’ll always be perfect… hell, I screw shit up all the time… but I wanna try. For you. With you. Because I love you.”

And I know he means every word. I don’t even have to say anything. I just kiss him. And that kiss? That’s my answer. Yes. Yes to everything. I want this life. I want him. I wanna heal - with him next to me.

Maybe that’s why I came here in the first place. Not to fix a broken country. But to find something that’d fix me. To find him.

I lie back down on his chest, wrap myself around him. His grip on me tightens like he’s afraid to let go, like we both are.

The last few months tried to tear us apart. But fuck that.

We’re still here. And we’re not going anywhere.

THE END. THAT’S IT.

Fuck, it’s really hard to say goodbye to this story. Part of me is honestly hurting right now.

And you know what? At first, I was actually planning to let Javi die 😿

But let’s be real - I don’t think I could’ve done it. I wanted to give him a chance.

A chance for a new life, for love, for healing from all the scars Colombia left on him. The kind of chance he never got in the show and I just know that season 3 Javier would’ve wanted exactly this.

I’m happy I ended up writing the finale in a somewhat positive way.

And yeah, I know I kinda skipped some smutty parts in a few chapters (Tumblr, I hear you 😅), so I made sure to include them here again.

But mostly, I wanted to show how Javi and f!reader (but especially Javi) process trauma because let’s face it, we’ve seen him do this in the show too. Like after what happened with Carillo and the kids in season 2. Sex as a weird kind of therapy? Yep, that’s very much him.

So THANK YOU for reading, for every like, every reblog, every message here and on Instagram (if you’re not following me there, I’m using the same nickname).

Can’t wait to see you again for the next fanfic! 🫶🏼

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pascalispunkczechia · 10 days ago

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Rules I Break For Him 9

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Waking up. Fucking hell. Head’s pounding like a bitch again. I don’t even know where the fuck I am for a second… just heat, pain, and this weird humming in my ears.

Then it clicks. That fucking jungle farm. The stench hits first - sweat, blood, piss, rot. My mouth tastes like iron and dirt. And yeah, I’m still here. Still their fucking prisoner. DEA agent turned human bargaining chip.

My temple’s crusted with blood. Right… got hit with a rifle butt. Again. Probably lost track of how many fucking concussions I’ve got at this point. Whole body’s sore like hell. Every muscle screams when I try to sit up. I’m in that makeshift cage. Electric barriers buzzing like I’m some rabid dog. Two assholes stand a few meters away, laughing, drinking aguardiente, not giving a fuck. One’s pissing on a tree like it’s a normal Friday night.

Fuck me.

It all starts flooding back. The ambush. Gunshots. Yelling. Didn’t even make it out of the car. Door ripped open, then boom - blackout.

And now I’m here.

No one’s said shit to me since. But I heard them talking. Cali cartel. They know who I am. They know I’m DEA. That’s why I’m not dead yet. Just beaten, starved, and waiting to be used like a fucking pawn.

And then… fuck. Her. She was on the other end of the radio. I know she heard it. The shots. Me going down.

My chest clenches like I can’t fucking breathe.

Last time I saw her, she looked like she wanted to punch me in the face. Wouldn’t talk. Wouldn’t look at me. And that piece of shit Diego was right there, acting like he belonged in her office. That look she gave me? Like I was just some fucked-up mistake. I thought I’d talk to her after the mission. Fix shit. Figure out what the hell happened.

Didn’t get the chance. And now I’m here. Alone. Probably not getting out.

They’re not gonna trade for me. I know how this works. DEA doesn’t negotiate. Not for guys like me. Especially not now, when everything’s going to shit. I’m just another name in a report.

And her? Fuck, maybe she wouldn’t trade for me either. That thought hurts worse than the goddamn rifle.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Try to shove it out. Can’t go there. Not now. Not when I’ve still got her voice in my head. Not when there’s still a sliver of a chance she’s out there, fighting to get me back.

Because fuck, if I die here without telling her I love her… I’ll never fucking forgive myself.

I’m sitting in a military chopper with Don Berna and the Los Pepes crew, armed to the fucking teeth. I’m not here to kill anyone (no matter how goddamn furious I am) but I will if I have to. All I care about is getting Javi the hell out of there, alive.

Berna keeps eyeing me like he doesn’t trust me. I don’t get it. We’re allies, aren’t we? I’m not planning to screw anyone over. I look out the window instead.

Below us, the jungle spreads like an endless green beast. Somewhere down there, they’re keeping Javier. Berna claims he knows exactly where. I have no choice but to believe him.

We’re descending. And for some reason, the rotor sounds twice as loud. My heart is pounding. I’m trying to keep it together, but I can feel the panic creeping in.

We land with a jolt. No runway, just rough grass. Of course. They’re hiding this place from satellites, too.

Berna passes command over to the Los Pepes guys. They brief us on how it’s going down. One of them pulls out a map - no idea where the hell they got that from - but I burn every detail into my brain.

We check our helmet comms. Mine’s a bit too big. I tighten the strap and clip a headlamp to the front. I probably look ridiculous, but who gives a shit. The Los Pepes men aren’t here to rescue anyone. They’re here for blood. They want chaos. The whole Vanessa thing? That was just foreplay for them.

“You know this’ll probably ruin your career,” Berna says as we walk side by side.

“I know.” I don’t feel like explaining myself to him.

According to the plan, we’re getting close.

Berna glances sideways. “Is he really worth it?”

I stop. Look him dead in the eye. I don’t answer. But yeah. He is. Nothing in my life has ever felt more fucking real than being with Javi. And I can’t even think about that right now or I’ll fall apart. My eyes sting. No. Not now.

Berna moves on. I follow.

About ten minutes in, I spot faint lights between the trees. That’s it. That’s the place. Hidden just enough to stay off the radar.

I try to stretch and see more, but at 165 cm, I’m basically useless for recon.

The leader of Los Pepes starts waving like a maniac, signaling positions. I get it. We’re spreading out, circling the camp for a silent entry.

I slip away with two other guys, moving left toward the edge of the lights. Quiet. Focused. Ready.

Screaming breaks out to the right. Gunfire. Fuck. They know we’re here. I sprint between the trees, ducking for cover. For once, being short actually helps. A few meters away, a Los Pepes guy drops to the ground, shot clean through the neck. Shit.

I grip my gun tighter and crawl under the nearest bush. Trying to dig through my memory for where they usually keep prisoners. If I’m right, I should be close.

Screams and gunshots are everywhere. I have no fucking clue how many there are. But from what I can tell, most of them look like regular-ass farmers. Or at least they’re dressed like it. What the hell did Cali promise them? Land? Cash? A way out?

Then someone jumps out in front of me. Older guy. Instinct kicks in, I shoot him straight in the knee. I didn’t want to kill him. Didn’t mean to. But he drops, and the second his body twists, the bullet rips through his head instead.

Fuck. I killed him!

I press myself up against a tree, chest heaving. I can’t even look at where the body landed. It’s just… lying there. And I’m frozen.

No idea how long I stand there like that, with my ears ringing from all the noise. Eventually, the chaos starts to die down. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the Los Pepes leader shouting.

I risk peeking out from behind the tree. God, I’m a coward. I started this whole mission to save the man I love and I end up hiding behind bark like a scared rookie.

I spot the commander. He’s got a few men with him. He nods toward me and signals something with his hand. I get it. It’s over. They probably killed them all. And right now, I don’t give a shit. I just need to know Javier is alive.

Few minutes later

I reach the fence. Looks like it’s electrified, judging by the way my headlamp hits it. I listen. Waiting for that familiar crackle or buzz. Nothing. I touch it. Still nothing. Of course. Los Pepes probably took out the generators. I climb over fast. No time to think. Once I’m inside, I lift my head, scanning every corner like a fucking hawk.

And then I see him! Crumpled in the corner, slumped against the wooden part of the fence. Barely conscious. Fuck.

I run.

“Javi!” I cry out, voice breaking. He’s hurt. Gash on his head, another above his temple. Not bleeding anymore, at least. I kneel beside him, try to shake him gently. Careful. Check his pulse. Weak, but there.

His eyes blink open. Confused. Dilated.

“Javi, I’m getting you out of here,” I whisper, already crying. My hand on his face. That face I love so fucking much I want to scream. I feel it - relief so deep it’s almost painful.

“Baby,” he murmurs. Voice hoarse. Barely there.

“Shh. Don’t talk,” I say quickly. He looks like shit. Probably a concussion. Starved, dehydrated. So this is how they treat a DEA hostage? Fuck every single one of them. I hope they’re rotting.

“Lo…ve…y…ou,” he mutters. Slurred. “I love you.”

I freeze. Did I just hear that right?! I think I did.

He lifts his hand, pulls me close. It’s weak, not the grip I’m used to, but I swear to God, it’s everything. He kisses me. I kiss him back, hard. I can’t believe he said it. That he’s here. That I’m holding him. That I’m not too late.

“I love you too,” I breathe out, both palms on his face, and then I break. Loud sobs. No shame.

He smiles. A real one. There’s a single tear in his eye. Fuck. I can barely breathe.

Then a rough voice behind me barks: “So this is supposed to be some fuckin’ ambush? You really think we’re that fuckin’ stupid? Thought you’d catch us all off guard?!”

I don’t even get a chance to turn around. Cold metal presses to the back of my neck, a fucking gun barrel.

“Now get up. Hands in the air, bitch. And don’t even think about trying any slick moves,” the voice snaps again.

Terrified, I let go of Javi’s hand - even though he’s trying to hold on - and push myself to my feet. I can see how bad he wants to do something. Anything. But he’s too weak. And fuck, he knows it. I can see it in his eyes. Those goddamn eyes. So deep, so beautiful, the kind of eyes I want to wake up to every day for the rest of my life.

But I don’t have time to think about that. Or wipe the tears running down my face. Something tells me this is gonna end bad. Real bad.

As I stand up fully, a pair of hands grabs mine from behind. Not Javi’s. These hands are rough. Cold. Sweaty. Filthy.

“Don’t turn around,” the guy growls again. I don’t recognize the voice. Probably some fuckin’ Narco or one of those sleazy-ass farm rats doing Cali cartel’s dirty work.

“You motherfucker—let her go!” Javi’s voice suddenly rips through the air, full of fury. I can tell it’s costing him everything just to speak. “I swear to God, let her–” He doesn’t finish.

The barrel lifts from my neck… and then the shot.

I scream. Full-on, hysterical.

Javi cuts off mid-sentence. A huge blotch of blood spreads over his thigh.

I try to twist out of the bastard’s grip, the one who shot him, but he’s stronger. His hand’s clamped around my wrist like a fuckin’ vice.

Javi crumples to the ground. His body goes limp.

No. No, no, no. Fuck NO!

“Let me go, you piece of shit! LET ME FUCKING GO!” I scream, kicking and flailing. I twist toward him, yank my arm free.

The guy aiming the gun at me is some scummy-looking farmer with murder in his eyes and cartel stink all over him. He’s got the same gun. The one he just used on Javi.

I sneak a glance at Javi… his eyes are shut. I can’t even tell if he’s breathing.

“Eyes on ME!” the guy snaps. “Calm the fuck down or I swear to–”

“Please,” I choke out. I didn’t wanna cry in front of this bastard but it’s like my body’s giving up the fight. My man - my fucking man - is bleeding out on the floor five feet away. Because of me. Because he followed me into this nightmare. “Please just let me help him. He’ll die!” I whisper it. Barely.

I don’t even know if he’s still alive. If that bullet hit an artery, he’s got no fucking chance without medical help. God. Please no. I have to figure out if it was just muscle, or worse. And if it was an artery… then I just want to be there. At the end. With him. I start sobbing. Ugly, hopeless sobs. Didn’t even think I had any tears left. “Please. Just let me try to help him,” I beg the bastard. “I swear, I won’t pull anything. No tricks. Nothing.”

“Do what you gotta do,” he growls, “but try shit and I’ll shoot him again. Then you.” He’s still got the gun on me. Doesn’t lower it even a little.

But I rush to Javi anyway.

First thing I check - breathing. Pulse. He’s breathing. Barely. His chest and stomach move just enough to see under his green tshirt.

I exhale.

His pulse is weak. But it’s there.

I run a hand through his hair. He doesn’t react.

Okay. The leg. Fuck. That’s deep. But the blood’s not spurting. Not shooting out. I dig through memories from old DEA training, trying to remember what the hell to do. Fuck.

It takes me a second. But yeah… no arterial spray. Probably just a muscle hit.

I press my fingers to his ankle. Pulse. It’s there. Okay. That’s something. Still… he’s got maybe an hour. Maybe. And only if he’s not bleeding internally somewhere else.

I rip a strip from the bottom of my tshirt and tie it tight around his thigh, just above the wound. My hands are shaking. My face’s wet. My whole body’s trembling. “Please, Javi… stay with me. Please.” I whisper to him, but I don’t even know if he hears me.

I don’t want to shake him. Don’t want to move him too much. But Jesus. He’s not waking up. He’s cold.

I curl in against him. Right then, I don’t give a fuck if that piece of shit is still pointing a gun at me. Let him see me like this. Let him see everything.

I press myself against Javi and grab his hand. It’s cold. I try to breathe, but I can’t. I’m close to panic. His scent hits me - faded, but still there. Mixed with the metallic stench of blood.

So this is it? This is gonna be our last moment? Blood. Jungle. Dirt. A fuckin’ farmer with a gun. That’s what we get?

They’re taking the one person who means everything to me now. Everything.

I bury myself against Javi even tighter. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the guy’s not even pointing the gun at us anymore. Maybe he’s realizing Javi’s not gonna make it.

And me? He can shoot me whenever the fuck he wants. I don’t care anymore.

Javi’s chest is still rising. Barely. But how much longer?

I shut my eyes. And the memories hit me like a freight train.

Sunday morning. Day after we locked up one of the Cali assholes. The celebrations were rough - first at the station, then home. Just us.

I woke up in a good mood, decided to make pancakes and bacon. Something that’d feel like home. I’m mixing the batter, radio playing low in the background, first pancake sizzling. I’m swaying my hips a little to the rhythm, totally in my own world. So much so, I don’t even hear Javi come into the kitchen. He was still breathing slow and deep in bed just a minute ago.

I only notice him when his hands slide around my hips and he murmurs, “Mornin’,” against my ear.

I flinch a little, laugh.

He turns me to face him, kisses the tip of my nose, and lifts me onto the kitchen island.

“Javi! I’m gonna burn breakfast,” I giggle, trying to push him off, but he doesn’t let go. Just smirks and says he’ll eat my pancakes even if they’re burnt to hell.

We’re laughing. Kissing. He smells like sleep and soap and him. It’s one of those perfect moments. One of the ones you never want to end.

I sniff, and squeeze his hand tighter.

Next flash…

I’m putting down the phone. A call from the States. From my dad. He told me Molly (our cat) got hit by a car. I burst into tears.

Javi rushes over, asking what happened. I tell him. I’m half-expecting him to laugh, to not get why I’m sobbing over a cat.

But he doesn’t. He just holds me. Lets me cry it all out.

And when I finally calm down, he pulls me down onto the couch with him and says: “Tell me about her. Everything. What she used to do, the funny shit, the stuff that made her yours.”

And I do. And it helps.

Ever since, whenever I think of Molly, I smile.

My head yanks me back to the real world. I’m still gripping Javi’s hand like my life depends on it. Other hand’s on his arm, stroking him, holding on. Eyes shut tight. “You know… it’s you. Because of you, I actually believe again. That someone can love me without stabbing me in the back. I’m so fucking happy with you. I can’t lose you. You hear me? Maybe you don’t. Maybe you’re already too far. But you need to know… fuck, Javi, I love you so much it hurts. Like I’m gonna explode. If you leave me now, I’m done. I’m fucking done. Please stay,” I whisper between sobs, shaking. Just a little while ago, you were right here. Holding me. Breathing. Telling me you love me. And now? Now I’m fucking losing you?! “Please, Javi, please…”

But I don’t get to say more - gunshot. Someone yells.

For a second, I swear to God, I don’t care. ‘Cause if I’m losing him, what’s the fucking point? My whole world’s going with him.

Someone grabs me, shakes me hard. “Agent!” someone shouts.

I blink through tears, and it takes a second for everything to focus. Don Berna. The guys from Los Pepes behind him. I whip my head to the side where the bastard with the gun stood. He’s down. Not moving. Dead, probably. Good.

I’m still holding Javi’s hand. Still. I lean in, press my fingers to his chest, he’s breathing. Barely. But it’s there. Thank fuck. It’s there. “We need a hospital. Now,” I croak. Voice barely works.

Berna doesn’t say shit. Just snaps his fingers. His guys move in.

“Careful. Please. He probably has a concussion. Don’t shake him, don’t… fuck, please,” I beg, not letting go of his hand.

“Hey!” Berna snaps. “You gotta let go. We can’t move him otherwise.”

That snaps me out of it. I let them take him. I stay glued to their side, not even blinking, watching their every move. One of them’s got him under the arms, the other’s carrying his legs. He’s out cold. Limp. Nothing. That’s bad. That’s really fucking bad.

No idea how long we’re moving. Just running on adrenaline and fear. But we get to the chopper and I climb in right after them, drop to the floor next to Javi. I keep my hands on him the whole time, steadying him, guarding him. I don’t even care if it helps. I have to do something.

His leg’s still bleeding, but not gushing. Breathing’s worse though. Shallow. Too shallow. I run my fingers through his hair. “Please stay with me. We’re almost there. You got this. You have to. We’ve got so much shit to do still. I’m not ready. You can’t go. You can’t go. Please. Just… stay.”

I just keep whispering it, over and over, while the chopper lifts off, and everything inside me is falling apart.

NEXT CHAPTER HERE And yes, the next chapter will be the last one - the epilogue! Are you ready?!

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