Free The Cartel 4: Diamonds Are Forever by Ashley, JaQuavis

agonizing ache in his heart, but a lighter soul. His mind was telling him to put a hollow tip through Miamor’s chest, but his spirit was teaching him the hard lesson of forgiveness. He never looked back as he left Miamor. He was afraid that his rage might change his mind if he ever saw her face again.
    Miamor waited until she was sure that Mecca had gone before she lost all composure. The cry that erupted from her battered body reflected years of pain. No one knew the things that she had suppressed, but deep inside she knew that Mecca understood. He did her no favors. She was still bound and beaten near extinction, but he had left her with a tiny chance to survive. He owed her nothing, so that tiny act was a gift. It was ironically the kindest thing that anyone had ever done for her.
    Miamor grunted in excruciating pain as she used her body weight to tip the chair on its side. She wasn’t ready to meet her Maker, and the only thing stopping her from surviving was the rope that bound her. She pulled with all of her might, but the beating she had endured had robbed her of her strength. She was too weak to break free, and as she twisted her wrists, the friction burned into her skin.
    “Aghh!” she screamed out in frustration before finally giving up. The room spun around her as she lapsed in and out of consciousness. “God forgive me,” were the last words to escape her crusted lips before everything faded to black.

    Miamor’s eyes opened slowly and her heartbeat rapidly increased as she awakened from her four-day slumber. She was on full alert as her senses kicked into full gear. Her eyes darted around the foreign room, disoriented and confused. The sterile smell invaded her nose, making her ill instantly. It was so dark that all she could see was the fluorescent light that shined in the hallway, outlining the door to her room. Her pain was so great that it was immeasurable. Bruised and battered, Miamor was beyond repair. What she needed most was time for her body and mind to recuperate from the trauma she had endured.
    How did I get here? she thought as she lay deathly still. I have to get out of here. If Mecca finds me . . .
    The steady tone of the heart monitor and busy sounds of medical staff scurrying about outside of her room gave away her location. She was in a hospital, but she had no idea how she had gotten there. He told me to leave town. If he gets wind that I survived and that I’m here, he’ll come finish the job.
    Panicked, her body temperature began to rise and her pulse raced as fear caused her adrenaline to soar. Mecca had instilled a permanent terror in her heart. She had never been afraid of anyone, until now. Not even God had taught her a lesson so tough. Mecca had given her the craving to live, and in order to do that she had to get out of Miami . . . fast.
    Her panic caused the machines around her to sound off and she cursed herself silently. Miamor knew that the police would undoubtedly have questions for her that she wasn’t prepared to answer.
    She closed her eyes just as the handle on the door twisted open. Playing possum, she listened to the commotion around her.
    “What’s going on with our Jane Doe?” the doctor asked.
    “Blood pressure is up, heart rate is elevated,” a nurse responded. Miamor lay still as they checked her vitals. With her eyes closed and ears open she listened carefully.
    “She is lucky that those kids found her when they did. Another day and she might not have made it,” the nurse said with sympathy in her voice. “I can’t imagine why someone would hurt a young woman this way. With her injuries, I’m surprised she is even alive.”
    The doctor, focused on his job, merely grunted a reply. He had seen much worse in his ten years on the job. He wasn’t emotionally attached to the patients like the young, novice nurse. “Monitor her closely,” he finally said as he jotted notes on Miamor’s chart. “As soon as she wakes up, inform me and call this