So that's her name.
She doesn't answer. Just presses harder against the door, like she's trying to disappear into the bricks.
"She doesn't look like she wants to talk to you." I take another step forward. The buzzing in my ear is almost gone now. It always quiets when violence gets close. Like my brain finally has something real to focus on instead of phantom noise. "Looks like she wants you to leave."
"Listen, friend—"
"Not your friend." I let them see my hands. See the scars across my knuckles. The one that splits my left eyebrow. I'm not tryingto intimidate them. I'm giving them information. Letting them make an informed choice about what happens next. "And she already said no. You should listen."
The mean one's hand moves toward his waistband.
Gun.
The assessment is automatic. Military training that never shuts off. He's carrying and he's thinking about it. Wondering if I'm worth the complication of drawing down in a public parking lot.
"Don't." The word comes out quiet. Almost gentle. "You pull that weapon, this goes a direction nobody walks away from clean."
"You threatening us?"
"Informing you." I shift my weight. Not aggressive. Just ready. "She said no. Said she's not going back. You can accept that and leave, or you can make this harder than it needs to be."
Gym-rat touches his partner's arm. Smart man. He's reading the situation better than mean-and-stupid. "Mr. Castellano's going to want to know about this."
"He can know whatever he wants." I don't take my eyes off them. "Won't change the answer."
"She belongs—"
"She doesn't belong to anybody." The words come out harder than I mean them to. "That's not how people work."
There's a long moment. The kind that could tip either direction. I can feel Nora behind me, hear her breathing too fast. Can feel the mean one deciding if his pride's worth bleeding over.
Gym-rat makes the choice for both of them.
"Come on." He pulls his partner back a step. "We'll report back. Let Mr. Castellano decide how he wants to handle this."
They're backing away now. Slow. Watching me like I might rush them.
I won't. Not unless they make me.
"This isn't over," the mean one says. Looking at Nora, not me. "You can't hide forever."
Then they're walking. Crossing the parking lot to a black SUV with tinted windows. Very subtle. Very low-profile. I don't move until they're pulling out onto the street. Don't turn around until the taillights disappear.
When I finally do, Nora's staring at me.
Up close, she's younger than I thought. Mid-twenties maybe. Curvy in a way her oversized hoodie can't quite hide. Her hair's coming loose, falling around a face that's too pale, too scared.
Hazel eyes locked on mine like she's trying to figure out if I'm safe.
"You okay?" Stupid question. She's clearly not okay.
"I—" She swallows hard. "Thank you. You didn't have to—"
"Yeah, I did." I shift my bag on my shoulder. The adrenaline's starting to fade and the buzzing's coming back. "You need to call the police?"
"No." Too fast. "No police."
Red flag. Big one.
