Instead, I walk into the bathroom, turn on the tap, and splash cold water onto my face. The mirror fogs slightly at the edges, and I stare at myself through the haze. My eyes look different. A little wider. More awake. Like something inside me has started shifting too.
Not breaking.
Changing.
7
RAFE
Ikeep my hands in my pockets so I don’t have to feel how ready they are to clench.
The alley behind the market reeks of fish bones and engine oil, and the overhead lamp buzzes like it’s trying to hold on through one last shift before dying. My boots scrape against damp concrete as I step out from the shadows and look down at the man trembling at my feet. He’s not begging yet. Not crying either. Just sitting there, back against the bricks, staring up at me with wide eyes and a mouth that keeps opening but hasn’t managed to form a coherent sentence.
He’s not armed. He’s not fighting. He’s not even talking.
He’s just waiting.
I pull a photo from my pocket and compare it to the face in front of me. Same sloped nose. Same crooked teeth. Same mole on the neck just under the collarbone. This is him. No question.
Mateo said he was a threat. Said he passed intel about a shipment to someone he shouldn’t have. Said he was trying to get out, disappear with his family, maybe run to Lisbon and start over. That might be true. Might not. Doesn’t matter. Mateo made it clear—this one’s not supposed to walk away.
I should be moving already. Should’ve pulled the blade two minutes ago, done the job quick and clean, walked out like I always do.
But I’m not moving.
I’m just staring down at him while his chest rises and falls like he’s trying not to choke on his own heartbeat.
“Are you gonna—” he starts to ask, voice cracking.
“No,” I cut in, sharp and flat.
He stares at me.
I shake my head once. “Run.”
His brows pull together like he didn’t hear me right, but I don’t say it again. I just step back. One full pace.
That’s all he needs.
He scrambles to his feet, limps down the alley, and disappears around the corner. I hear the sound of his footsteps echoing long after he’s gone, carried on the wind like a prayer tossed into a fire.
I let out a breath that feels too loud, and my jaw tightens on instinct. That was the line. I know it. I saw it the second I stepped out of that van, saw the twitch in his hands, the wet glint in his eyes, the way he didn’t reach for a weapon because there wasn’t one.
Mateo’s gonna notice. Pilar too. Maybe even Esteban, if he’s still watching from the roof like he was earlier.
I look up at the sky, thick with clouds, no stars tonight, just a dull smear of gray hanging low over the city like it wants to fall.
I know what comes next.
Sure enough, my phone buzzes before I get two blocks away.
I check the screen. No name. Just a number I recognize from Mateo’s burner rotation.
I answer but don’t say anything.
The voice on the other end is smooth.
“You forget how to finish?”
