Santi.
“Don’t sneak up Santi, what the hell!”
He chuckles, dropping my wrist. “Where’s the fun in that?”
His hands find his pockets, his green eyes find mine, even in the low light of the alleyway they glow, just like when we were kids.
“I haven’t seen you around in a while,” I mutter.
“I didn’t want to be seen, I’ve been busy.”
I scoff. “Too busy for me?”
I tuck my knife back in my boot.
“Wasn’t like you’ve been around.”
I nod. “True, why you lurking around back here?”
“I got a job. In Florida. I leave tomorrow.”
“What the fuck? Way to bury the lead! You’re getting out?”
I can’t help the smile that breaks across my face.
“Something like that,” he shrugs.
“Something like that? What does that mean?”
He shifts his weight, eyes dropping to the ground. “I need to get away from Arsen. He’s... he’s getting worse.”
“What did he do?” I ask, voice low.
Santi’s jaw clenches. “Nothing yet. But I see the way he looks at me. Like I’m a problem he needs to solve.” He finally meets my eyes. “I’m not waiting around to find out what that solution looks like.”
“Florida’s far enough?”
“It’ll have to be.” He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket, presses it into my palm. “My new number. When you get out from under Gabriel, call me. We’ll figure it out together.”
The paper feels heavy in my hand. Like a promise. Like goodbye.
“Santi—”
“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Be safe.”
“You too.” He pulls me into a hug—quick, tight, desperate. Then he’s gone, disappearing into the shadows like he was never there.
I stand in the alleyway, paper clutched in my fist, trying to breathe around the weight crushing my chest.
One less person to worry about.
One less person in my corner.
I shove the paper deep into my pocket and head back inside.
***
