Valeria's POV

I didn't look back. Didn't let myself. Didn't allow a single hesitation to betray me.

I moved like a shadow through the estate, every step careful, every breath measured. I had done this a thousand times before-slipping out of places unseen, vanishing before I could be caught.

Except this wasn't the same. This wasn't a job.

This wasn't survival. This was something else entirely.

This was walking away from the only thing that ever made me feel like I could be different.

I reached the edge of the garden, my body pressed against the stone pillar as I waited for the guard to pass. I should have been focused. I should have been thinking about the route, about the blind spots, about how to slip through the gates without being noticed.

But all I could hear was her.

"You just stood there and let her die?"

"Get away from me, Get out of my life."

The words buried themselves deep, cutting into something I had long since believed was numb.

I had told myself-warned myself-that this was how it would end. I should have known better. Should have never let it get this far.

Because now, I had to live with the look on her face. With the way she had finally seen me for what I was.

Not someone worth fighting for. Not someone worth forgiving. Not someone worth loving.

A cold weight settled in my chest, heavier than anything I had carried before. I was a fool.

A fool for ever believing that I could have had something else. A fool for thinking Emilia could look at me and see anything other than a monster.

She had tried. God, she had tried. She had fought for me, defended me, let me into her life. And I had repaid her by being exactly what I had always been.

Someone who let the people who mattered die. I pressed the heel of my palm against my temple, forcing myself to breathe. Not now. I couldn't afford to fall apart.

Not yet. A guard passed nearby, his radio crackling softly. I exhaled, moving low through the garden, keeping my steps silent. Precise.

When I reached the fence line, I didn't hesitate. I climbed over it, landing on the other side with barely a sound.

And then I walked. And walked. And walked.

No money. No backup. No plan. No home.

I had lived with nothing before, but this felt different. Before, I had always known where to go. Had always had a crew, a safe house, a place where I could disappear until the heat died down.

Now? Now there was nothing but empty streets and the weight of my own thoughts. I had let her believe that I was gone once before. This time, I had really lost her.

And worse-I had lost the only version of myself that had ever been worth something. The person I could have been, if only she had never found out the truth.

I didn't know where I was going. Didn't have a destination.

I kept walking, hands shoved deep into my jacket, head down, eyes scanning the dark streets around me.

It was late. The city had quieted. The only sounds were distant traffic, the occasional drunken laughter spilling from some bar, and the wind cutting through the spaces between buildings like a blade.

I wasn't cold. Not in the way other people would be. But there was something hollow inside me, something pressing down on my ribs with every step.

Eventually, I ended up at a public park. Not on purpose. My body had just kept moving until it couldn't anymore.

The benches were empty. The few people that were still around-homeless, just like I was now-kept to themselves.

I didn't sit. I leaned against a tree, my fingers brushing over the rough bark, grounding myself in the sensation.

And then, finally, I let myself feel it. The full weight of it. The loss. The grief.

The bitter fucking irony that I had fought so hard to stay alive only to realize that without her, I had nothing.

I had lost people before. Had buried them. Had walked away. Had convinced myself that loss didn't mean anything.

But this? This was different. Because for the first time in my life, I had actually let myself want something more. And now it was gone.

I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly, my fingers curling against the bark. Then I pushed it down.

Buried it. I couldn't afford to break.

Because if I couldn't fix this, if I couldn't do something that mattered, then all of this-all of it-would have been for nothing.

Even if it meant my death.

Emilia's POV

Days passed, and I told myself that this was what I wanted. That it was supposed to feel this way. The silence. The emptiness. The slow, crushing weight of knowing that she was gone.

Because I was the one who made her leave.

The first day, I tried to push through it, to act like nothing had changed. I went through the motions, drank my coffee, memorized my schedule, answered my emails. I threw myself into work, into anything that would keep my hands busy, my mind distracted.

It didn't work. Because she wasn't here.

I had grown used to her presence, used to hearing the sound of her moving around the house at night when she thought no one was awake. Used to the way she would linger near the windows, watching the world outside as if she still didn't know how to exist in it.

I told myself I was fine without her. That I should be relieved. That I had done the right thing. But the second night, when I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I couldn't stop hearing her voice in my head.

"I told you it was your first mistake to trust me." It played over and over again, a reminder, a punishment, a wound I had cut into myself.

On the third day, Claire noticed. She stood in the doorway of my room, arms crossed, eyes sharp, watching me like she was trying to figure out what was wrong.

I pretended not to notice. "You look like shit," she said eventually.

"Thanks," I muttered, not looking up from my laptop.

She ignored my sarcasm. "Where's Valeria?" I stiffened. My fingers paused over the keyboard for just a second-just long enough for her to catch it.

"She's gone," I said flatly.

Claire's brows furrowed. "Gone where?"

I didn't answer.

Claire let out a small huff, stepping inside the room. "I haven't seen her for days," she continued, watching me too closely. "You haven't mentioned her once. You think I wouldn't notice?"

I kept my eyes on the screen, even though I wasn't reading a single word. "There's nothing to talk about."

Claire didn't move. She just stood there, waiting, waiting for me to say something, to explain, to admit what happened.

When I didn't, she exhaled sharply, shaking her head.

"Fine," she said. "If that's how you want to be." She turned and left, but I could still feel the weight of her words long after she was gone.

On the fourth day, Lucia came looking for me.

She found me in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge even though I wasn't really hungry. She leaned against the counter, hesitant, her gaze pressing into me.

"Miss Emilia.. Where's Valeria?"

I didn't react this time. Didn't let anything slip. "She's gone," I said, the words coming easier now, practiced, controlled.

Lucia frowned. "Gone where?"

"I don't know." I shrugged.

A flicker of something passed through her expression. "What do you mean you don't know?"

I sighed, shutting the fridge harder than necessary. "It doesn't matter, Lucia."

She blinked. "Doesn't-doesn't matter?" I didn't answer.

Lucia stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to figure out if I was serious. Then she straightened, her jaw tightening.

"She doesn't have anywhere to go." The words hit harder than I wanted them to.

"She's gone," I repeated. "She can take care of herself."

Lucia scoffed, shaking her head. "Miss Emilia, I don't mean to disrespect you but -"

I walked away, I didn't answer. I couldn't.

Because I didn't know. Because for the first time since I had met Valeria, I had no idea where she was.

No idea if she was safe. No idea if she had food, shelter, if she was even alive. The thought sent something sharp and unbearable through my chest.

Had she gone back to her old neighborhood? Had she gone looking for trouble on purpose?

Had something happened to her? Would I ever even know?

Guilt pooled in my stomach, rising, choking, heavy.

I had thrown her out. I had sent her back into the world with nothing.

No money. No safety. No home.

I had spent so much time hating her for the things she had done, but had I ever stopped to think about why she had done them? About what kind of life she had lived?

I closed my eyes, pressing my fingers to my temple, willing the thoughts to go away.

I had to stop this. I had to stop caring. I had made my choice.

I had told her to leave. And now, she was gone.

So why did it feel like I was the one who had lost everything?

Valeria's POV

The streets smelled the same as they always had-like gasoline, rain, and cigarette smoke. The city was alive, buzzing with the kind of energy that felt like it never truly slept. But I was moving through it like a ghost, blending into the cracks, existing in the spaces where no one looked too closely.

I had spent years surviving in places like this. I didn't have money. Didn't have a safe house. Didn't have the luxury of rest.

But I still had contacts. And that was all I needed.

I pulled my hood lower, keeping my head down as I made my way to the meeting point-a small, forgotten alley near the edge of the market district. The kind of place where no one asked questions, where business was done quickly, quietly.

When I arrived, he was already there.

Juan.

A man with a hundred different names and twice as many sins. He was older now, his hair thinner, the lines on his face deeper. But his eyes were still sharp, still calculating.

He took one look at me and let out a low chuckle. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you again, Alacrán."

I stiffened at the nickname-It was Carlos that gave me that nickname. The scorpion- but didn't acknowledge it. "I need information."

Juan tsked, shaking his head. "Always straight to business. No 'how have you been, Juan?' No 'did you miss me?'"

I didn't react. Just waited. He sighed, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a folded piece of paper.

"I don't know why you're digging into this, but I know you. You don't let things go." He held the paper between two fingers. "Go here. You'll find what you're looking for."

I reached for it, but he didn't let go right away. His eyes studied me carefully. "Whatever you think you'll find, be ready for worse."

I tore the paper from his grasp and turned to leave without another word.

It took me an hour to get there-an old apartment building near the outskirts of the city, tucked away between abandoned warehouses and forgotten streets.

I didn't hesitate. Didn't stop to think. I climbed the stairs two at a time, the tension in my chest growing tighter with every step.

When I reached the door, I knocked twice, stepping back, ready for anything.

The door opened. And I froze.

Because standing there, staring at me with wide eyes, was someone I thought had been dead for years.

Claudia.

Her hair was shorter now, her face thinner, but it was her. Alive.

I felt my fingers twitch at my sides, my brain trying to process what I was seeing. I had mourned her. I had blamed myself. Carlos told me she was dead.

But she wasn't. She was right here.

And when her expression shifted from shock to something else-something like relief, something like familiarity-I knew she had been waiting for this moment just as much as I had.

"Valeria," she breathed.

And for the first time in a long, long time, I didn't know what to say.

Claudia was alive. I didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't understand.

For years, I had believed she was dead. I had buried her in my mind, told myself there was nothing I could have done to save her. That Carlos had taken one more person from me, just like he always did.

Looking at me like she had seen a ghost. She wasn't the only one.

"Valeria," she said again, softer this time, and something inside me twisted so hard it hurt.

I should have said something. Should have asked her how, when, why. Should have demanded answers.

But all I could do was stand there, my hands twitching at my sides, my body coiled tight like I was still waiting for the shot that never came.

Claudia's eyes flickered over me, taking me in, her expression unreadable. Then, without warning, she grabbed my arm and yanked me inside, shutting the door behind me.

I tensed instinctively, my muscles locking up, my instincts screaming to react, to push her away-but I didn't.

Not to Claudia. Not to her.

The door clicked shut, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then Claudia let out a breath, her shoulders sinking as she leaned back against the door.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered, running a hand through her hair before looking at me again. "I-I thought you were dead."

I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. "Carlos told me you were gone."

She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah, well. Carlos lied."

That shouldn't have surprised me. But it did.

"How?" I finally managed. My voice was lower than I expected, rough.

Claudia sighed, pushing off the door and walking toward the small kitchen in the corner of the room. She grabbed a bottle of water, tossed one to me. I caught it out of reflex.

"You remember that night, don't you?" she asked. Like I could ever forget. The night Carlos had punished her.

The night he had dragged her away, beaten her until she could barely stand, and then-silence.

I had assumed the worst. I had believed it because that was what Carlos did. He took. He destroyed. He made people disappear.

Claudia shook her head. "I thought I was dead too. I wanted to be. But instead, he dumped me. Left me for dead outside the city. I don't know why. Maybe he thought I wasn't worth the bullet." Her voice was bitter, but there was something else in it. A darkness that hadn't been there before.

"He didn't think I'd crawl out of that hole he put me in." Her lips curled slightly, but there was no humor in it. "But I did."

I felt something sharp cut through me-rage, guilt, the weight of what I had believed.

"I should have looked for you," I said, the words tasting like rust on my tongue.

Claudia snorted, shaking her head. "You wouldn't have found me. I made sure of that."

Silence stretched between us. A silence full of things we didn't know how to say.

Claudia finally leaned against the counter, watching me. "Why are you here, Valeria?"

I exhaled slowly. "I'm looking for information. On Victor Espinoza."

Her expression shifted instantly, her body going still. I knew that look.

Recognition. Fear. Anger. She knew something.

I took a step closer. "You know who he works for."

Claudia's jaw clenched. "I know more than that." I waited.

Then, finally, she exhaled. "Victor isn't just some middleman, Valeria. He's connected-deep. And whoever he works for?" She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering. "They're bigger than Dominic."

I felt my stomach twist. Bigger than Dominic?

That wasn't possible. Dominic was the end of the chain. At least, that's what I had always believed. He had been the one pulling the strings, controlling Carlos, orchestrating every hit, every job. He had been the untouchable one, the one no one dared to cross.

And yet, here Claudia was, telling me there was someone above him. Someone worse.

I kept my voice steady. "Who?" Claudia hesitated, her fingers tapping against the counter.

"You sure you want to know?" she asked. "Because once I tell you, you won't be able to walk away from this."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "I haven't been able to walk away from this since the night my parents gave me to Carlos"

Claudia nodded slowly, like she had expected that answer. Then she said a name. And I felt everything inside me go cold.