As she shut the door behind her, Victoria's hands squeezed the back of the first chair she found in her way until her knuckles turned completely white, her mind barely able to form a coherent thought. For some ten minutes she just stood there, staring at the white adobe wall in front of her, her heard filled with an immense sense of sorrow.

She would have much rather married Diego than Juan. When she had come to Monterey she didn't even know that was an option. Leaving him as she had, not knowing if she'd ever see him again, had been the hardest thing she had done in her life.

Consequently, finding out that he loved her, that they could have built a life together, that she could have stayed in Los Angeles under the protection of her closest friends was, at that very moment, heartbreaking for Victoria. A missed opportunity to be happy or, at least, as happy as she could be without Zorro.

Those thoughts, however, came with guilt and self-reproaches, and, as a defense mechanism was triggered in her brain, the taverness started looking for arguments that what she had just done, marrying Juan, had been the right thing to do.

She, thus, thought of the expression on Diego's face when he had asked if she was pregnant, and decided he was scandalized at the mere idea that it could be true. "Of course," she told herself with some bitterness, "everyone in Los Angeles must have speculated about my hasty departure. At least the Alcalde would have suspected the pregnancy, and would have, most probably shared such suspicions with his closest acquaintances, Diego included." They might have never liked each other, but the two men still seemed to have some sort of bond, even if it only resulted from their time together at the university.

True, the tall caballero was naïve, and Victoria doubted he would have easily believed something like that about her. Still, he was a don, the proud son and only heir to Don Alejandro de la Vega, one of the richest, most influential haciendados in California.

"Despite his feelings," the young woman, thus, concluded, "neither Diego nor his father would have agreed to a marriage between the two of us after finding out I am expecting another man's child. They would have tried to help me, but they would have never welcomed me into their family if they knew the truth."

She was better off with Juan after all and she dared to smile at reaching that conclusion, even if she felt like she was lying to herself.

Juan had accepted her despite her situation, even pushed up the wedding to be certain that, no matter what happened to him, she and her child would be safe.

Victoria crossed herself and knocked on wood at realizing part of her wished for Juan never to return home. If she could not marry the man she loved, she didn't want another, neither Juan nor even Diego. She was a widow in her heart, and would have rather stayed that way, alone in her grief, only her child to comfort her. Again she crossed herself, feeling guilty for harboring such feelings.

As these thoughts were going through her tormented mind, Victoria heard a knock on the door. Several more followed before she realized what they were, and went to open.

"Señora, the caballero who was here earlier returned and asked to speak to you." The lancer who had knocked on Victoria's door inquired.

She thought about it, her eyes glancing towards where Diego was standing, some twenty feet away, in the plaza.

Victoria considered saying yes, but suddenly the thought crossed her mind that both the women, who were still washing, and some of the lancers had overheard the previous conversation. Under such circumstances, agreeing to see the caballero in private would have been extremely damaging for her reputation. And, since she had promised Juan to give their marriage a real chance, she couldn't risk that, as any stain on his wife would have been damaging for him and his career, as well. Besides, at feeling himself betrayed, the young officer could easily decide to ask for an annulment and then she'd be in an even worse position than she had been at arriving in Monterey.

No matter how much her heart urged her to, at least, tell Diego she had not meant a word she had told him, she knew it wouldn't really do any good to admit that. She had made her choice, the only choice she had convinced herself she truly had, and he needed to find someone else to fall in love with, and live his life.

"Tell him I have nothing more to say to him!" She, thus, replied, then closed the door.

ZZZ

Diego rode out of Monterey slowly, his head spinning and his heart shattered. He had lost the woman he loved. Perhaps he had never truly had her in the first place. Perhaps she never could love more than half of him, no matter how she had sometimes looked at him, even when he wasn't wearing a mask. It had all been in his imagination, nothing more than a fleeting illusion, a dream.

That night he spent under the stars, the alcohol helping him sleep like a log. It also numbed his senses and left him with a hangover, making the following morning unbearable to him.

With some effort and an Indian remedy he knew, he eventually managed to mount his favorite mare and, Emilio following her, the caballero continued his journey towards Los Angeles, wondering what to do next with his life.

Without Victoria by his side, he didn't much care about marriage. He knew, however, that, especially under the current circumstances, Don Alejandro would insist on him marrying, but the caballero decided he'd never agree to that. He would never love another woman, and Felipe was his son. His father would have to content himself with him as his only grandson for he'd never have one through whose veins ran De la Vega blood.

Those were the thoughts going through his head as a bullet whistled past him. He barely had the chance to find out who was shooting when two more bullets scared Esperanza, one of them grazing her neck. The mare reared, throwing off her rider, then, just like Emilio, bolted away, following her survival instinct.

Diego fell on a boulder, hitting his head, which left him unconscious, prey to the men who had opened fire.

He woke up several times during the following hours, yet his consciousness only lasted for a few moments, not even enough for him to understand what was happening.

It was already nightfall when he opened his eyes to find himself near a campfire, fussed over by a young woman.

"Diego? You're finally awake! I was getting worried." She uttered, her voice soft and soothing. "How are you feeling?"

He let out a groan instead of an answer as he closed his eyes again.

"You should try to stay awake. You hit your head, and those injuries are dangerous." The woman told him.

He slowly opened his eyes again, and stared at her. She seemed blurry, so he took a hand to his eyes, wiping them in an effort to see better. When he could finally focus, he noticed she was beautiful so he smiled at her as she softly caressed his hair.

"How's he?" Diego heard a man ask.

"He is conscious." The woman answered him, and the caballero turned his head with some effort in the direction from which the other voice was coming.

A rough-looking black-haired man looked attentively at him. "My apologies, Señor De la Vega, but my men had been informed there were military spies in the area and took you for one. At least they did the right thing and brought you to our camp when they saw you were injured. We didn't manage to capture any of your horses, unfortunately, but we'll find a way to help you return to Los Angeles, no worries!" He said as he sat down near the woman who seemed embarrassed by his presence.

"Los Angeles?" The caballero asked.

"Unless you changed your mind and decided to join us after all." The man answered.

"Join you?" Diego repeated, an inquisitive look in his eyes.

The two people with him glanced at each other, then at him, and the young don felt in his gut something was amiss, but couldn't for the life of him say what exactly that was, so he just stared blankly at the couple.

"Diego, are you alright?" The young woman asked. She seemed so familiar to him, although he couldn't even remember her name. On second thought, he couldn't remember his, either. "Diego" she had called him. His name was Diego. And the man had called him De la Vega. Diego de la Vega. It sounded right and familiar, but his mind still struggled to remember something… anything.

The caballero nodded slightly, before closing his eyes again, unable to keep them open anymore. Just as he did, he heard the man get up and, moments later, something flying by, a muffled sound and the woman next to him shouting, a scream followed by many others which barely found their way into his subconscious as he was sleeping.