Diablo stands a few feet behind her.
His arms are crossed over his chest. His face is unreadable.
He looks like a man trying to hold a storm inside his bones.
Carmen raises her hand and the diamond ring catches the lights again.
“Saints Outlaws,” she calls out, voice carrying easily through the speakers.
The music dips just enough for her words to cut through.
“We’ve survived blood. We’ve survived loss. And we’re not going to let Miami think we’re weak.”
Cheers erupt immediately.
Carmen’s smile grows wider.
“My father built this club,” she continues smoothly. “He bled for it. And before he died, he chose the man he trusted to lead it.”
The crowd starts chanting before she even finishes.
“Diablo. Diablo. Diablo.”
Diablo doesn’t move.
His eyes find mine through the crowd.
The heat of that look crawls up my spine like a spark.
Carmen glances back at him briefly, then faces the room again, sweet as poison.
“We’ve been planning a wedding. We’ve settled on a date. Next month. Everyone here tonight is invited.”
The room explodes.
Whistles. Shouts. Somebody throws a shot glass into the air and it shatters somewhere behind the bar. The DJ cranks the music back up like the whole club is celebrating a coronation.
Lady’s grip tightens around my hand.
I stare at Diablo.
He should say something.
He should shut it down.
He does neither.
He stands there silent while the room celebrates a future that apparently includes him and Carmen.
The silence hits harder than any insult.
My lungs lock. The room tilts at the edges.
Lady leans closer to my ear. “Darling…”
I pull my hand away from her.
My feet start moving before I consciously decide to leave. I shove through the throng around the bar, through the heat of bodies, through the stench of sweat and cigar smoke.
