The constant beep, beep, beep of a heart monitor taking over the sound of a crying infant, of Tony’s crying, was the first thing she registered. He was alive. He was okay and she’d gotten to hold him. But seconds after she took notice of the heart monitor beeping, she realized the weight of an infant in her arms was no longer there.

And that was when it all came crashing down around her.

The fire raged around her, burning her skin. The blast was enough to tear her limb from limb, but instead knocking her several feet backwards and throwing her onto her back. Glass rained down like a glittering shower, sparkling in the dim street lights. And she stared, eyes on the night sky until darkness swallowed her whole, her head pounding from its impact with the asphalt road.

Tears fell from her eyes at the realization. Her fingers moved to the endotracheal tube, ready to pull the uncomfortable device from her throat when suddenly Poté was there. He pulled her fingers away from the device that had kept her breathing, shaking his head and telling her to wait. But she didn’t want to wait. Not for a doctor. Not for anyone. Unless that someone was Tony. But just the thought of his name caused the stream of tears to fall quicker down her face.

There was no place for the White Queen to appear and give her a few wise words of advice, something to urge her on. There was no appearance of white other than that which decorated the entirely too sterile room. No person to tell her to hide behind a facade. And so her tears flowed freely. Her walls were shattered just like the glass that had rained down on her. And she fell limp, hands falling back to her side, head nodding off to the side. She was unable and unwilling to meet anyone’s gaze in that moment.

She had failed. She had failed so many.

She’d failed Guero, her first love, the man who’d pulled her from the streets of Calicun and from an entirely too handsy boss. He’d given her everything she could have ever wanted for, and she’d fallen asleep while he bled out in her lap. He’d been buried somewhere just on the other side of the Mexico-America border in an unmarked grave. She’d promised she would figure out a better way to do things.

She had failed Brenda, her best friend. She’d left Brenda to find help and returned to find her dead, killed by members of the cartel. Killed on a mission to extort money from that very same cartel. She’d sworn to Brenda that she’d keep Tony safe.

She had failed King George when the man he loved (because Teresa wasn’t that naive as to not see through them) had been kidnapped and had his mind taken from him. She’d failed Birdie who ended up just being a piece of collateral damage along the way, not even a part of the business and yet taking the retribution due to Teresa.

But none of that hurt as much as the ache that resided in her chest in that first waking moment. In that moment when she realized that Tony was gone. He was only fifteen. He was only just beginning his life. Learning to drive. Applying to art school. She’d started a trust fund for him. She had high hopes for him. She was so very proud of him. He would break the cycle and no matter what happened to her, he would thrive in this life. He would live a comfortable life. He would have a family of his. And he would not be part of this business.

But Tony was dead. He was dead because of her. Yet another person she had failed. He’d died in a car bomb undoubtedly meant for her. It was her car. Who were her enemies to know that the SUV that had been her’s fifteen minutes prior now belonged for a fifteen year old boy? Tony, her godson, the very last person connecting her to her former life, he was gone. And it was her fault.

The tears had only faltered, only stopped and dried when she simply couldn’t shed anymore. The doctors checked her over several times before removing the endotracheal tube. She was stable. She would live. She had little more than a concussion, bruising and a few cuts that had been stitched. She would be released the next morning as long as nothing changed overnight. How was any of that fair? She wanted to scream that they’d gotten it wrong. She was dead and Tony was fine. But she knew that wouldn’t change anything.

She already knew the answer based on the silence all around her, based on the pitying looks Poté and Kelly Anne, hell even Boaz gave. But though she knew the answer, she couldn’t stop herself from that words that fell from her lips when her voice returned to her at some point in the middle of the night.

“Where’s Tony?”

Saying his name hurt worse than thinking it had. Saying his name left a bitter taste in her mouth, left the smell of burning in her nose and brought a tightness to her chest that threatened to stop her heart even as it resided in her chest. At least that would stop the constant beep, beep, beep of the machine beside her.

But what hurt most of all was the look of sadness that crossed over Poté’s face as he stood from his chair and approached her bedside.

“Teresita…”

It was little more than a whisper that broke the sound of the air conditioning that blew into the room.

“He did not make it. He was too close.”

A sob was wrenched from her lips, hands covering her mouth as tears fell anew. She wouldn’t look at Poté, closing her eyes against the salt in her eyes. She’d known the answer, but that didn’t make hearing it any easier. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but she knew he wasn't. The image was ingrained in her mind. The look of confusion on Tony's face as the car’s engine didn't turn over. The way he’d looked at her, turning the ignition again as she yelled his name. A second too slow. Not that it would have made much difference. Even if he'd been able to get out of the car in the seconds that followed her realization of what was going on.

Poté didn't leave her side, his hand resting gently against her arm. He was still there as she resolutely reached up to wipe tears from her face. Layer by layer she pieced back together the Queen facade. Cool and calm, calculating. It was once her face was devoid of any sign of the emotional turmoil that lurked behind darkened hues that she spoke.

“I’m going to kill every single one of them.”

It was a declaration. She didn't care how long it took, or how hard she had to work to find those responsible. Teresa would find anyone and everyone that had anything to do with Tony’s death and she would kill them. 

Teresa Mendoza.

"Teresa would find anyone and everyone that had anything to do with Tony’s death and she would kill them."