Valeria's POV

The kitchen was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant tick of the wall clock. I opened a cabinet, pulling out a plate like it owed me answers. My mind was still spinning, still tasting her lips, still hearing the soft hum she'd made when I kissed her like I'd finally figured something out.

I didn't figure anything out.

I was a mess.

The door creaked behind me.

"Look who's roaming the halls like she owns the place," Claire's voice echoed, smug and too loud for the calm in my chest. I didn't turn around. Not yet. I grabbed a fork from the drawer like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

She didn't stop. She never did.

"So," she continued, hopping up to sit on the counter like a damn crow waiting to pick at something, "how's the post-apocalyptic emotional breakdown going? Surviving? Thriving?"

I ignored her.

She let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "Oh, come on. You can't just brood your way through every conversation. That's Emilia's thing. She broods artfully. You're just... grumpy."

I clenched my jaw, putting the fork down with more force than necessary. Maybe if I ignored her long enough, she'd get bored.

Spoiler: she didn't.

"Wait," Claire's voice sharpened, her grin practically audible. "Did you two...?"

I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch her mischievous expression out of the corner of my eye.

She wiggled her eyebrows. "You know... have sex?"

I froze.

Not because the question shocked me-Claire was made of nothing but intrusive thoughts and poor timing-but because the word felt heavier than it should've.

Sex.

I knew what it was. I'd had it before. Transactional. Quick. Mechanical. But with Emilia... it wasn't the same. It was nothing like the past. It wasn't about currency or survival. It was her-soft, warm, overwhelming.

I must've hesitated too long because Claire's grin grew wider. "Oh my God, you haven't, have you?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to shake it off. "Mind your business."

Claire laughed, kicking her legs like a child. "Oh, it is my business now. I mean, Emilia's practically a sister to me. I need to know if I should give you the shovel talk."

"The what?"

"You know," she leaned in, lowering her voice dramatically, "if you hurt her, I'll bury you with a tiny shovel."

I couldn't help the snort that escaped me. It caught me off guard more than it did her. Claire grinned like she'd won something.

But the truth sat heavy in my chest, heavier than her dumb jokes.

I put the plate down and leaned against the counter, crossing my arms. "How does it work?"

She blinked. "The shovel? It's more of a metaphor-"

"No," I interrupted, shifting uncomfortably, "sex. With... a woman."

Claire stared at me for a beat, then burst out laughing. "Ohhhh." She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still giggling. "Wow. Okay. Um... first of all, that's adorable. Second of all-are you serious?"

I didn't respond.

Her laughter faded into something softer. She hopped off the counter, stepping closer like she'd just realized I wasn't joking.

"Oh. You're serious."

I shrugged. "It's not like I ever needed to know before."

She tilted her head, studying me. "And now you do."

Silence.

She sighed, leaning her hip against the counter beside me. "Look, it's not like there's a secret manual or anything. There's no right way. It's just... whatever feels good. You figure it out together."

I frowned. "That's not helpful."

She grinned. "It wasn't supposed to be. But if you're really curious-" she paused, considering, "-you could just ask Emilia. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to... demonstrate."

I glared at her, but my ears felt hot.

Claire wasn't done. "Though, if you're fishing for details about her exes-yes, she's had a few. No, none of them mattered."

My jaw tightened. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Because she never looked at any of them the way she looks at you."

I didn't respond. Something twisted in my chest-tight and unfamiliar. But the words slipped out before I could stop them.

"She's experienced," I muttered, more to myself than to Claire. "She'll expect... certain things."

Claire raised an eyebrow, catching onto my insecurity faster than I'd like. She hopped back onto the counter, swinging her legs casually like she was about to spill the world's most casual secret.

"Oh, yeah," she said, taking a bite of her apple, the crunch obnoxiously loud in the quiet kitchen. "Before you showed up, Emilia was-" she waved the apple around vaguely, "-wild. Parties, flings, hookups. You name it."

The words hit me harder than they should've. My stomach clenched, something cold and sharp settling under my ribs. I didn't know what to say, so I stared at the floor like it might give me answers.

Claire must've noticed because she leaned forward, her voice softening. "But none of them mattered."

I clenched my jaw. "You said that already."

"Yeah, and you clearly didn't believe me the first time."

I hated how easily she could read me. It made me feel exposed, raw in a way I didn't like. I crossed my arms, trying to act like I didn't care, but the ache in my chest was impossible to ignore.

"She's not going to compare you to them, Valeria," Claire added gently. "You think Emilia's the type to measure people like that? She doesn't want what she had with them. She wants you."

I didn't respond.

Claire hopped off the counter, tossing the apple core into the trash. She walked past me, then paused at the doorway.

"For what it's worth," she said without looking back, "I don't think Emilia's the only one who's wild. You just don't know it yet."

And with that, she was gone, her words lingering long after.

I stood there, staring at the empty doorway, heart pounding like she'd just told me something dangerous.

Maybe she had.

But of course, Claire couldn't leave well enough alone.

She popped her head back into the kitchen, grinning like the devil herself. "Oh, and Valeria-just so you know-it's all about rhythm." She made an absolutely obscene gesture with her hand, mimicking something I refused to acknowledge, wiggling her eyebrows like she'd just shared ancient wisdom.

I stared at her, completely unimpressed.

That's when Emilia walked in, pausing mid-step, her eyes flicking between us with immediate suspicion. "What are you talking about?"

Claire didn't miss a beat. She casually leaned against the doorframe, repeating the same vulgar gesture-slower this time-with a smug grin plastered on her face. "Oh, nothing important. Just... discussing sex and stuff."

Emilia froze.

Like actually froze.

Her eyes went wide, cheeks flushing a soft pink that crept up to the tips of her ears. She blinked rapidly, her mouth opening slightly-probably to say something-but no words came out.

I stood there, pretending I wasn't dying inside.

Claire, clearly fueled by chaos, kept going. "Yep. Just giving Valeria some-" she paused dramatically, "-helpful advice."

Emilia's gaze snapped to me, her face now the color of a ripe tomato. "Helpful advice? For what?"

I could feel my ears burning, my jaw tightening. "Ignore her."

But Claire wasn't done. "Oh, you know... for when she decides to-" she made an exaggerated popping sound with her mouth, followed by the most obscene hand gesture yet. "Seal the deal."

Emilia's face turned an even deeper shade of red, her hand instinctively flying up to cover her mouth, eyes darting toward me and then quickly away, like she didn't know where to look. "Claire!" she squeaked, her voice an octave higher than usual.

I groaned, running a hand down my face. "I hate you."

Claire winked, completely unbothered. "You'll thank me later."

Emilia was still standing there, visibly flustered, her fingers now fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, stealing quick glances at me before looking anywhere else.

I started walking toward the door, desperate to escape this nightmare. As I passed Emilia, I couldn't resist leaning in slightly.

"Rhythm, huh?" I whispered just loud enough for her to hear, smirking when her face turned an impossible shade of red.

Claire's laughter echoed behind us as she left the kitchen.

Emilia's POV

We sat across from each other at the small kitchen table, the plate of tamales sitting between us like it held more tension than food. The room was quiet, except for the occasional clink of forks against plates.

But it wasn't the silence that was loud-it was the glances.

Valeria kept stealing quick looks at me when she thought I wasn't paying attention. And when I'd catch her, she'd pretend she was looking at anything else-her plate, the wall, the fork in her hand like it was a fascinating artifact. But then I'd catch myself doing the same, my eyes drifting to her lips, her hands, the faint bruises of warmth still lingering on my skin from earlier.

I stabbed a piece of tamale, trying to focus on chewing instead of the way my heart raced every time our eyes met.

What started that conversation with Claire? I wondered, my mind spiraling. Was she curious about... sex? Was she thinking about it with me?

I almost choked on my food at the thought.

I glanced up again, and Valeria was already looking at me, her fork halfway to her mouth. She didn't look away this time.

"She said you had a lot of exes," Valeria blurted, her voice low, casual-but her jaw was tight, her eyes sharp.

I blinked. "Claire?"

She nodded.

I set my fork down, suddenly not hungry. "She exaggerates."

Valeria didn't respond. She just kept staring, like she was trying to read between the lines of my face.

Then she asked, "Do you still see any of them?"

The question hung between us, thick and heavy.

I shrugged, trying to brush it off, but my heart was racing. "No. They're in the past."

She didn't look convinced. Her fingers tapped against the side of her glass, a small, restless motion. Her discomfort was written all over her face-subtle, but there.

I wanted to say more. Reassure her. Tell her none of them mattered. That they were just shadows compared to her. But before I could find the words-

"Well, isn't this cozy."

We both turned toward the voice.

Claudia stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with that infuriating smirk plastered across her face, arms crossed like she'd just stumbled into her favorite soap opera.

Valeria's face shifted from mild annoyance to something lighter-a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Claudia," she greeted, her voice softer, warmer than I expected. "What are you doing here?"

I didn't bother hiding the irritation in my voice. "The question should be-how did you enter the house?"

Claudia's smirk grew, her eyes glinting with amusement. She exchanged a quick look with Valeria, and both of them burst into quiet laughter like I'd just told the funniest joke in the world.

I felt my jaw tighten. "What's funny?"

Valeria wiped at the corner of her mouth, trying to suppress her grin. "You really think she can't get past a few guards and security?"

Claudia tilted her head, chuckling as she added, "Ah, those rich people-always thinking they're untouchable."

My eyes snapped to her, my annoyance sharp enough to cut through the air.

Valeria's smile faded instantly, her posture shifting, as if realizing Claudia's words might've crossed a line. She didn't laugh this time.

Claudia didn't seem to care.

"What are you doing here?" Valeria finally asked, her tone more serious now.

Claudia's grin softened into something else-something quieter. She leaned against the counter, her arms crossing lazily over her chest.

"Heard some stuff from the streets," she said, her voice dropping a little. "Wanted to talk to you."

She paused, her eyes flickering to me, then back to Valeria.

"Privately."

Valeria glanced at me, her expression unreadable.

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. Of course.

"Whatever you want to say to Valeria, you can say to me," I snapped, my gaze unwavering.

Claudia's smirk deepened, amusement flickering in her sharp eyes like I'd just provided her with premium entertainment. She leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, clearly savoring the tension.

"Oh?" She cocked her head slightly. "Is that how it works now?"

I didn't back down. Instead, I shifted my gaze to Valeria, silently demanding her support. Back me up.

Valeria's dark eyes met mine, something unreadable flickering beneath the surface. She hesitated, but it was brief-just long enough to make my chest tighten.

Then she spoke, her voice low but steady. "She's right. Whatever it is, you can say it."

A small, satisfied pulse echoed in my chest, but Claudia's grin didn't falter. If anything, it grew wider, like she'd just been handed another piece to a puzzle she was already solving.

"Well," Claudia sighed, stepping further into the kitchen, her boots echoing softly against the floor. "I heard some things from the street. Dominic's getting restless. He's been asking more questions-loudly. Not just about Carlos anymore."

Valeria's body tensed beside me, her casual posture gone in an instant.

"What do you mean?" Valeria's voice dropped, sharp and controlled.

Claudia leaned against the table, fingers tapping rhythmically on the surface. "I mean he's not just looking for who killed Carlos. He's starting to think Carlos was a traitor. That he set Emilia free. That maybe..." Her gaze flicked to Valeria, her smile turning razor-sharp. "Carlos wasn't working alone."

Silence settled over the room, thick and suffocating.

"He's digging into anyone connected to Carlos," Claudia continued, her tone light despite the weight of her words. "And if he starts pulling the right threads, it won't take long to get to you."

Valeria's jaw clenched, her hand unconsciously tightening around the glass in front of her. "Let him pull. He won't find anything."

Claudia snorted softly. "You underestimate how desperate men like Dominic get when they feel betrayed. He's not just looking for answers. He's looking for someone to blame."

Valeria's fingers drummed against the table, the tension in her body radiating like heat.

"I have an idea," Claudia added, her voice dropping into something quieter, more dangerous. "What if we flip the script? Make Dominic believe Carlos did betray him. Paint Valeria as the one who found out and dealt with him. A loyal soldier cleaning up the mess."

Valeria's eyes narrowed. "You want me to get close to Dominic again."

Claudia shrugged. "Not for long. Just enough to get him off your back-and maybe figure out who's really pulling the strings. We both know Carlos wasn't smart enough to plan all this on his own."

I shifted uncomfortably, my stomach knotting at the thought of Valeria walking back into Dominic's world.

"And what about Ignacio?" I asked, my voice quieter but no less sharp.

Claudia's grin faded slightly, her expression turning serious. "Dominic's just the front. If we want to know why Ignacio's involved, we start with him."

Valeria glanced at me, her jaw tight, eyes dark with something I couldn't name.

"Think about it," Claudia said, pushing off the table. "But don't take too long. Dominic's patience is running thin."

With that, she turned and walked out, leaving the air thick with the weight of everything unsaid.

Valeria's POV

The door clicked shut behind Claudia, leaving nothing but the echo of her words hanging in the air. My chest felt tight, like there wasn't enough oxygen in the room. I stayed where I was, staring at the floor, the plan already forming in my head-step by step, risk by risk. It was dangerous, but it was the only way.

"You're not doing this."

Her voice was sharp, slicing through my thoughts like a blade. I didn't need to turn around to know the look on her face-fury tangled with fear, the kind that made her eyes burn and her jaw clench.

I stayed silent.

"Forget about Claudia's plan. We'll figure something else out." Her footsteps grew closer, her frustration thick enough to choke on.

"There is nothing else." My voice came out flat, cold even, but it was the truth. And the truth never sounded pretty.

She let out a bitter laugh, one that didn't reach her eyes. "There's always something else. You just don't care enough to look for it."

That stung more than I'd admit. I turned then, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were glassy, wild with emotion. "Yes, I do."

"Then why?" she snapped, taking a step closer. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, shaking slightly. "Why do you always run straight into the fire? Why do you insist on taking the hardest, most dangerous road?"

I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my face blank, but I could feel it-cracks forming where she always managed to get through.

"Because it's the only way to keep you safe."

Her laugh this time was harsh, brittle. "Safe? You think this is about keeping me safe? You think I care about that when every time you walk out that door, I don't know if you're coming back?"

I had nothing to say to that because it was true. I didn't know if I'd come back either.

"Every time," she whispered, softer now, but her words hit harder. "You walk away, and you take a piece of me with you. And I let you because I thought-" She shook her head, tears shining in her eyes. "I thought it was the only way. But it's not."

I took a step toward her, my heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with her. "Emilia-"

"Why do you keep doing this?" Her voice broke, and I felt something snap inside me. "Why do you insist on breaking my heart?"

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. I'd faced death without flinching, but this-this felt like being gutted from the inside out.

"Because I don't know how to stay," I whispered, the words spilling out like blood from an open wound. "I don't know how to be enough. But I know how to fight. I know how to bleed. And if bleeding keeps you safe, then I'll do it again and again."

Her face crumpled, and before I could react, she was in front of me, her hands on my face, warm and trembling. Her touch was everything soft and everything I didn't deserve.

"I don't need you to bleed for me," she whispered fiercely. "I need you to stay."

Her words shattered me. Broke me in ways bullets never could.

I closed my eyes, covering her hands with mine like it was the only thing holding me together. "I don't know how."

"Then let me show you." She rested her forehead against mine, her breath warm against my skin, her words anchoring me. "Stay, Valeria. Please."

I closed my eyes, covering her hands with mine like it was the only thing holding me together. My voice came out rough, trembling under the weight of everything I'd buried deep inside. "They're closing in, Emilia. This doesn't end with us pretending we're safe. It plays out one of two ways-either Dominic figures out the truth and I end up dead, or I get one step ahead of him and play a game dangerous enough to survive."

Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening against my skin like she could hold me in place, like she could tether me to her.

But I was already tethered. I always had been.

"I want it to end," I whispered, my throat burning with the words I'd never said out loud. "Not just because I'm tired of running. Not just because I'm tired of fighting. I want it to end because maybe... maybe if it's over, I can believe there's a chance for me. For us."

Her eyes softened, but it didn't make it easier. It made it harder. Because she was looking at me like I was something more than the sum of my mistakes, more than the blood on my hands.

"Maybe if I can bury the past where it belongs, I can finally live in the future." My voice cracked, and I let it. "And the only future I want is with you."

The silence between us wasn't empty. It was filled with everything I'd never dared to hope for.

I took a shaky breath, leaning into her touch. "I don't know how to be what you deserve, Emilia. But I swear to you, I will try. I'll let you in-I'll let you know every step I take. I'll take every step with you in mind, because there's nothing in this world I want more than to be someone you can believe in."

Her fingers trembled against my skin, her tears mingling with mine as she leaned in, resting her forehead against mine.

"You already are," she whispered, her voice breaking, but her words stitching something back together inside me.

For the first time in my life, I wasn't just fighting to survive.

I was fighting for us.

The heaviness of our words lingered as we climbed the stairs, each step weighted with everything we'd just confessed. The silence wasn't the suffocating kind, though. It was thick, yes-but with comfort, with understanding, with the fragile, delicate thing growing between us that neither of us fully knew how to name yet.

Emilia's hand brushed against mine as we reached the bedroom. That small touch sent a current through me, grounding me more than any weapon ever had. She didn't say anything, didn't need to. Her eyes, soft and glassy, filled with a warmth that unraveled every knot inside me, said everything.

I closed the door behind us, shutting out the world like it was something we could keep at bay, just for tonight.

She moved first, walking over to the bed with a grace that made my chest ache. She didn't ask me to follow. She didn't need to. I crossed the room, my feet pulling me toward her like gravity had shifted and she was the center of it all.

Without a word, we lay down, facing each other, the mattress dipping slightly under our weight. The space between us was barely there-a breath, a heartbeat.

Her hand found its way to my face, her fingers trailing softly along my jaw, tracing invisible lines like she was trying to memorize me. I closed my eyes for a second, just to feel it. The warmth. The tenderness. The peace.

When I opened them, she was still there-her eyes searching mine, her lips curved in the faintest, softest smile. A smile that wasn't perfect but was everything.

I reached out, my hand resting on her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between us. She nestled into me, her head finding its place against my chest, right where my heart was beating too fast to hide.

Her fingers played with the hem of my shirt, absentmindedly tracing circles against my skin. Every touch was a quiet confession. Every breath she took against me felt like a promise.

I wrapped my arms around her, holding her like I was afraid she'd disappear if I let go. But she wasn't going anywhere. Not tonight.

"I can feel your heart," she whispered softly, her voice muffled against my chest.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "It's because you're here."

She didn't respond with words. Instead, she pressed a soft kiss against the fabric covering my skin, her lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary, like she was imprinting herself there.

I rested my chin gently on top of her head, breathing her in-citrus and something sweet I couldn't name. My fingers traced lazy patterns along her back, grounding myself in the feeling of her warmth against me.

The room grew quieter, our breaths the only sound. Slowly, her body grew heavier in my arms, her breathing evening out as sleep claimed her.

But I didn't sleep right away.

I lay there, holding her, my eyes tracing the faint outline of the ceiling in the dark, my heart whispering things I was too scared to say out loud.

I'd promised her I'd try.

And for the first time in my life, I wanted to keep that promise more than anything.

Eventually, sleep pulled me under too, wrapped in the warmth of her arms, the soft weight of her body against mine, and the fragile, terrifying, beautiful hope that maybe-just maybe-this was what it felt like to stay.