I step into the hallway with nothing but my clutch and the clothes on my back. Out of habit I lock the door behind me even though it feels pointless.
Like locking a barn after the horses are already gone.
My knees wobble as I make my way down the stairwell.
Outside, the Miami night slams into me like a wall. Thick humid air wraps around my skin. Salt and car exhaust and the faint smell of fried food from somewhere nearby. A car rolls past with the windows down, reggaeton rattling the street like the city is mocking me.
Somewhere down the block someone laughs loudly, like nothing bad ever happens here. I stand under the streetlight with my arms wrapped around myself, trying not to fall apart. Ten minutes later a black SUV glides to the curb.
The passenger window rolls down.
Lady Nyx leans across the seat wearing oversized sunglasses even though it’s nearly midnight. Her lips shine with gloss. Long black curls spill over her shoulders like liquid ink.
Her whole presence screams confidence.
But when she looks at me, something softer flashes in her eyes.
“Oh, bebé,” she murmurs. “Come here.”
I slide into the backseat.
Cold air from the AC blasts across my overheated skin and makes me shiver. My breathing comes out uneven.
“Tell me everything,” she says.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t know who did it. But there was… there was a white rose.”
Lady’s mouth tightens.
“White rose,” she repeats like she’s tasting poison.
“You think Carmen?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer right away.
That silence scares me more than anything.
“I think Carmen is the type to cut with a smile,” Lady finally says. “And I think you just got sliced.”
For a moment we pass within sight of Vice Ink.
The old church facade glows bruised pink and blue. Neon buzzing in the stained glass. A couple motorcycles out front. Shadows moving inside like the building is breathing.
My stomach twists.
I don’t tell Lady to stop.
I don’t tell her I want to run inside and scream at Diablo until he understands what happened.
Because I don’t want to admit how badly I still want him.
The SUV glides through Miami’s streets, past neon signs, palm trees and nightclubs blasting music onto crowded sidewalks. South Beach glitter. Downtown glass. The city pretending it’s all just a party. It finally turns into her condo’s garage.
Everything inside Lady’s place is sleek and spotless reminding me of the mess I left. Even though I’ve been here, I am out of place the second I step in. Lady hands me a glass of water. My fingers tremble around it.
“Sit,” she orders.
I sink onto the white couch.
