“I’m not scared of you anymore,” I say.
His eyes narrow.
“You should be.”
He lunges forward again and grabs my upper arm hard enough to bruise. Pain shoots through my shoulder. Something inside me snaps. I slam my heel down onto his foot as hard as I can. He shouts, loud and ugly. I shove him backward and sprint for the door.
For a split second his fingers catch my hair, yanking painfully before I twist free.
“Don’t forget!” he shouts after me. “Disco stays with me until I get what I want! And we won’t be here much longer. Don’t think of sending your boyfriend.”
I wrench the door open and bolt into the hallway.
My heart pounds so violently I taste metal.
I don’t stop running until I burst out into the humid Miami night.
Lady’s SUV screeches up to the curb before I even reach the sidewalk. She must’ve been rolling the block. She jumps out immediately.
“You okay?” she demands, scanning my face and arms.
I nod, even though my whole body is shaking.
“Where’s Disco?” she asks.
“With him,” I whisper.
Lady swears under her breath. “Coño.”
“What did he want?” she asks, already guiding me toward the passenger door like she’s moving a wounded soldier.
“Information.”
Her expression goes still.
“On who?”
“You know who.”
Neither of us says Diablo’s name.
We sit in silence for a long moment while the city buzzes around us. Music drifts from the bar. A couple argues loudly in Spanish across the street. A scooter zips by like it has somewhere to be.
The world keeps moving like my life didn’t just crack open.
“He said they’re looking for him,” I murmur.
“They are,” Lady replies.
“And if I tell Diablo, he’ll kill him.”
“Yes.”
“And if I don’t,” I say quietly, voice breaking, “Rico kills Disco.”
Lady grips the steering wheel tight enough her knuckles go white.
“You can’t handle this alone,” she says.
