Her timing was impeccable.
"What?" I snapped, not bothering to soften my tone.
I didn't like her. I'd regretted calling her when Bael needed backup, but he'd handled his own problems, and now she lingered like a bad habit.
"Get up, Vicente," she barked. "We've got a deal going down. Warehouse by the Gandy. Thirty minutes. Don't make me call you again."
"Three in the fucking morning?" I muttered, knowing it didn't matter.
"Money doesn't sleep."
The line went dead.
I stared at the blank screen, my jaw tightening.
Bael had offered me an out when he left—a chance to walk away from all of this.
I should've taken it.
But I couldn't.
Because debts had to be paid.
I owed him for freeing me from the Bellamy family.
Vito Bellamy's namesake—his worthless son—had killed my Sophia. Drunk and reckless, he'd plowed into her car and walked away unscathed, shielded by his father's name.
So I beat him to death in the middle of his family's gambling den.
Vito hadn't even mourned him. He'd just put a price on my life—five million dollars.
Not enough to kill me, but enough to chain me to him.
If I died, the debt would've passed to the people I loved.
So I left everything behind.
My family.
My old life.
I became what I needed to be.
By the time Bael found me, I'd been working off the debt for four years.
He bought it.
Now I owed him.
For a long moment, I sat on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands.
The dream clung to me, Sophia's face still imprinted behind my eyes—her smile, the way she looked at me like I was something worth saving.
A ghost that never left.
I forced myself to move.
My body ached, stiff with old pain and fresh scars, but I ignored it.
