I breathe out slowly, forcing my heartbeat to steady.Think, Ayla. Think.
“We wait,” I finally say. “We take what we got, flip it carefully, and we wait for the next opportunity.”
“That’s not gonna be enough for your fund,” Ricky points out. “You’re the one who was suppose to get out this month.”
“I know.”
“You still need like, what? Five grand?”
“Seven,” I mutter. “Seven thousand more and I’m gone.”
Kay looks up at me, eyes soft. “Where you gonna go?”
I’ve never told them. Never said it out loud because saying it makes it real, makes it something that can be taken away.
But standing here, in this broken warehouse with these broken people who somehow became the only family I have—I tell them.
“Anywhere,” I say quietly. “Anywhere that’s not here.”
I sink into the broken chair, rub the space between my brows, and let my head fall back.
All I need is a little more time. A little more money.
I’ll be gone before Gabriel ever figures it out. I’ll vanish—new papers, new face, new life. I don’t know where yet. Somewhere warm. Mexico, maybe. Or maybe I’ll just keep heading north until I hit trees and silence. Canada. A place with no ghosts, no Gabriel.
A place where I’m no one.
And free.
***
The gates to Gabriel’s place are already open when I get there—like they were expecting me to show and obey orders.
Emir’s waiting near the front, leaning against the hood of some overpriced black SUV, arms crossed like he’s been standing there for hours just to gloat.
He grins. “Didn’t tell him to fuck off, huh?”
I roll my eyes and stride past him. “Youcan fuck right off.”
I don’t wait for his response. I just stroll inside and straight to Gabriel’s office.
I don’t knock. I never knock.
I push open the heavy oak door and step inside like I own the place. It still smells the same; cologne, cigar smoke, and blood that’s long since dried into the grout.
Gabriel looks up from his desk, pen poised like he’s about to sign a death warrant. Probably is.
“You look like shit,” he says.
“Thanks, Gabe.” I flop down into the chair across from him, kick my boots up onto his desk, and give him the fakest smile I’ve got. “What do you want?”
His eye twitches. “Don’t call me that.”
“Aww,” I pout. “Don’t want a little sisterly love?”
He shoves my feet off his desk with a scowl. “Quit acting like a damn street rat.”
I grin wider. “Too late.”
