I Understood Every Word He Used to Sacrifice Me

Forty-eight hours before my wedding, I was kidnapped and gang-raped, surviving by only a thread in the depths of despair.

When my mafia boss fiancé and my police detective best friend stood guard by my hospital bed with bloodshot eyes, I heard him suddenly switch to Navajo and ask her, "The death row inmates from the dark web—were they dealt with cleanly?"

My best friend chuckled, replying in the same language. "Don't worry. The guys who put their hands on Maya have been wiped out. Dead men tell no tales."

"Sacrificing Maya alone gave you the perfect excuse to wipe out the rival family and swallow the southern smuggling network, while earning me a high-level promotion. It was a damn good deal."

Amidst tearing, agonizing pain, it felt as if I had been plunged into an ice cliff.

They thought I could never understand this obscure tribal language, so they brazenly feasted on the spoils of victory built upon my very flesh and blood.

But what they didn't know was that, to surprise my fiancé during our wedding vows... I had been secretly studying Navajo for an entire year.

......

My entire body felt as though it had been crushed by an eighteen-wheeler.

The tearing agony, especially in my lower body, served as a relentless reminder of the inhumane torture I had endured.

"Maya, my baby, you're safe. I swear to God I'll tear the Rojas family to fucking pieces!"

A pair of warm, trembling hands tightly engulfed my ice-cold fingers.

I struggled to pry open my swollen eyelids, my gaze colliding with Mateo's bloodshot eyes.

Seeing me awake, he practically collapsed forward, pressing his forehead against the back of my hand as he let out a long, shuddering exhale.

Here was the underground kingpin who made the entire city tremble, now hunched over my bed, reeking of the sheer terror of almost losing me.

He looked so devastatingly humble, like any ordinary man terrified of losing the love of his life.

Standing right behind him was Isabella, my best friend of ten years.

Tears streamed down her face as she stepped forward to grasp my other hand. "Maya, I'm so sorry. We... the police were a step too late. Those animals... I'll send them to hell myself."

Watching them weep over my broken state, my cracked lips trembled, and silent tears slipped down my cheeks.

I thought I was the unluckiest woman in the world, kidnapped and violated by a rival cartel just days before my wedding.

Yet, at the same time, I thought I was the luckiest, knowing the man I loved and my very best friend would risk everything to protect me.

"The doctor says you need to rest. Just sleep. I'm right here if you need anything," Mateo murmured, pressing a devastatingly gentle kiss to my forehead.

I closed my eyes, but the agonizing pain kept me awake. Faintly, I heard them talking.

At first, they kept their voices low, speaking in English. But then, the cadence shifted, and Mateo began spitting out a string of obscure, guttural syllables.

It was Navajo.

Mateo had once mentioned that Navajo was one of the hardest languages in the world to master.

What he didn't know was that, wanting to surprise him at our wedding, I had spent a whole year hiring the most expensive private tutors, wearing out my headphones as I painstakingly memorized the language.

I had planned to use his "unbreakable code" to say 'I do' during our vows.

But now, this very language had become the blade that pierced my heart.

"Did the Rojas family take the bait?" Mateo's Navajo dripped with a chilling, calculated coldness—a striking contrast to the heartbroken, careful man who was just at my bedside.

"They swallowed it whole," Isabella chuckled softly, her tone laced with undisguised triumph. "The police have gathered all the 'evidence' of their brutal assault on Maya. Thanks to the horrific nature of this crime, the bureau approved a maximum-level purge order overnight. Congratulations, Mateo. After tonight, the entire southern smuggling network is completely yours."

My heart violently contracted. The blood in my veins turned to ice.

"No survivors among the guys who did the job, right?" Mateo asked sharply.

"Don't worry. I found death row inmates off the dark web. They were cleaned up the second it was done."

Isabella paused, her tone shifting, carrying a faint trace of jealousy and probing. "Though I gotta say, seeing you with those red eyes in her room... you really are ruthless, aren't you? By the time those guys were done with her, she was half-dead. Could you really bear it?"

A brief silence fell between them.

"How could I not be heartbroken? I love her," Mateo exhaled a long drag of smoke, a hint of helplessness woven into his words. "But I had no choice."

"If we didn't orchestrate a tragedy this appalling—something that crosses every line and incites public outrage—how could you possibly request to lead the strike team under the guise of avenging your best friend? I promised to put you in that Captain's chair, and I had to pave the surest path to get you there. This move wasn't just to secure my southern network; it was to build the perfect resume for your high-level promotion."

"I'll still marry her. That's not an issue," Mateo continued, his tone bleeding with a grotesque, sickening trace of affection. "After going through something like this, she'll have no choice but to cling to me like a lifeline. I'll hire the best shrinks for her, naturally keep her safe in my home forever, and spend the rest of my life making it up to her."

I bit down on my cracked lips until the overwhelming metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth, the only way I could suppress the piercing scream tearing at my throat.

Tears poured like a breached dam.

The kidnapping I endured... those nauseating, filthy hands on my body... the sunless, endless torture...

It was a tailor-made sacrifice, orchestrated by the fiancé I trusted with my life and the best friend I cherished!

They used my purity, my dignity, and half my life to trade for a blood-soaked smuggling route and a golden ticket up the police ranks.

They assumed I wouldn't understand, shamelessly feeding on the spoils of war carved directly from my flesh and blood.

Under the sheets, my fingernails dug so deeply into my palms that warm blood began to seep into the mattress.

The very last trace of warmth in my heart crystallized, inch by inch, into solid ice.