Vera's POV

I pulled my hand away, scoffing, masking the shift, the flicker of control that had slipped from my fingers. I forced a smirk, letting it stretch slow and lazy, as if none of this mattered, as if Claire wasn't pushing something I wasn't ready to name.

"Don't get comfortable, pastelito. I don't belong to you."

I expected her to roll her eyes, maybe throw back something sharp, but she didn't.

Instead, she did something worse. She tightened her grip on my hand. Firm. Intentional.

Her gaze didn't waver, steady and testing. "No?" she murmured, her voice quiet but certain. "You're not pulling away."

A slow burn spread in my chest. She was pressing her luck. And worse? She knew it.

I should've laughed. Should've ripped my hand away, thrown something cruel between us to remind her exactly what this was. But instead, I stepped closer, my voice dipping low, teasing, testing.

"You think you can play with me?"

Her breath caught. Just barely. Just enough for me to notice.

I let her feel it—the weight of my presence, the heat, the tension she was playing with like she understood it.

Then the door swung open.

Gabriel.

His gaze landed on us, and for a second, he didn't move. He saw. His eyes flicked from my face to Claire's, then down to our hands—her fingers still curled around mine.

I felt the moment crack beneath my ribs.

I yanked my hand back immediately, stepping away like it hadn't just happened. Like it hadn't meant anything.

Claire didn't move. She just watched me. She had seen it.

I turned before she could say anything, my voice sharp, cold, like I hadn't just been caught in something I didn't know how to name. "Did you need something?"

Gabriel's jaw tightened. He hesitated. His eyes flicked to Claire again, like he was trying to piece something together.

But it was too late. The moment was gone.And Claire had just seen my mask slip. Even if only for a second.

He didn't speak right away. His eyes flicked between me and Claire, something unreadable tightening in his expression. He wasn't stupid. He saw what he saw. And I hated that.

I exhaled sharply, my patience wearing thin. "Spit it out, Gabriel."

His jaw flexed, but his voice remained measured. "We need to talk. Alone."

Claire crossed her arms, still standing close, still watching me like she was waiting for me to acknowledge something. I refused to give her that.

I turned back to Gabriel, my voice clipped. "Then talk."

He didn't move. Didn't glance at Claire. Just stood there, waiting.

I felt my teeth grind together.

I wasn't about to let him think he had any power over me, but I also wasn't in the mood for a drawn-out fight over something I was already going to give him.

I turned to Claire. "Go."

Her brows lifted slightly, like she wasn't expecting me to dismiss her that easily.

She hesitated. "Why?"

I stared at her " I said go." She tilted her head slightly, studying me, then glanced at Gabriel. She could feel the shift in the room, the way the air thickened with something unsaid.

Claire wasn't stupid.

She knew whatever this was, it was about her. But to my surprise, she didn't push.

She exhaled slowly, giving me one last look before stepping back. "Fine."

She walked past Gabriel, brushing his shoulder just slightly as she left the room.

I waited until the door clicked shut before looking at him. "What?"

Gabriel didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the door for a second longer before shifting back to me. His voice was even, unreadable. "You trust her?"

I smirked, playing bored. "You losing sleep over it?"

Gabriel exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. "She's different."

I tilted my head slightly. "She's useful."

Gabriel held my gaze. "And that's all?"

Silence stretched between us, thick, weighted. I didn't like the way he was looking at me, like he was reading something I hadn't meant to put on display.

I pushed off the desk, walking past him. "If you're here to remind me of my priorities, save your breath."

Gabriel turned slightly, his voice quieter now. "I just want to know what you see in her."

I paused at the door, gripping the frame.

A dozen answers surfaced—cold, calculated ones. She was leverage. A means to an end. A way to keep Valeria from interfering.

But I didn't say any of those things. Because none of them would have been the truth.

I didn't look back when I spoke. "She doesn't bore me."

Then I walked out, leaving Gabriel to make of that whatever he wanted.

Claire's POV

The air shifted when I walked by.

I felt it before I even saw it—the weight of their stares, the thick silence that stretched in the wake of my steps. The crew wasn't subtle. They didn't need to be.

They knew.

I could feel it in the way their eyes followed me, sharp and cold. They knew Hector was dead because of me.

No one said anything. Not outright. But their looks spoke loud enough. If they weren't scared of Vera, I had no doubt they would've already made it clear exactly what they thought about me being here.

I kept my shoulders squared, my pace steady, refusing to let them see me falter. But my fingers twitched at my sides, curling into fists.

I made it to my room, shutting the door behind me, exhaling as if I could keep their stares out. As if that would make a difference.

A soft knock.

I tensed.

For a second, I thought it was Vera. But then the door cracked open, and Antonio stepped inside.

I sighed. "What do you want, Antonio?"

His expression was unreadable, but his voice was even, calm. "Claire, I know it's overwhelming, but you knew what this place was. You knew what we do. You walked in here knowing that."

"I know!" I snapped, the frustration boiling over before I could stop it.

Antonio didn't react. He just nodded, like he was waiting for me to process it myself. "Then what?"

I swallowed hard, shaking my head. "He was one of you guys. It's not even about the work."

Antonio exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "There's no point discussing this again. We did before." His voice softened, more careful now. "I just came to give you some advice."

I crossed my arms, watching him warily. "Oh, this should be good."

"The crew is starting to talk," he said, ignoring my sarcasm. "They don't understand why you're here. And if Vera notices... it won't be pretty."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Great. So more people can get killed."

Antonio watched me for a second, like he was deciding how much to say. Then he exhaled, crossing his arms. "You need to find a place here, a reason to stay."

I let out a dry laugh. "I am not joining the crew."

"I didn't say you had to."

"Then what?" I asked, exasperated. "You want me to be your personal bartender? Cook? Should I start organizing gun shipments for Vera? What do you expect me to do here?"

Antonio sighed. "Then try to talk to Vera."

I let out another laugh, shaking my head. "You know she's unreasonable."

He gave me a pointed look. "I know. But you can at least find a way to reach her."

I scoffed, looking away, rubbing a hand down my face. "And what makes you think I can do that?"

Antonio was quiet for a moment before saying, "Because she lets you."

I frowned.

"She listens to you," he continued. "More than she does anyone else. You might not see it, but we do."

Something twisted in my chest, something I wasn't ready to unpack. I shook my head. "She doesn't listen to me, Antonio."

"She hasn't kicked you out yet."

I swallowed, not having an answer for that.

----

I don't know why I was looking for her.

Maybe I was bored. Maybe I wanted to poke at something dangerous just to see if it would bite. Maybe I just wanted to see if Antonio was right.

Or maybe, I already knew the answer—I just wanted to hear it from her.

I stepped outside, the night air settling around me. Vera was leaning against the railing, cigarette balanced between her fingers, the ember glowing faintly in the dark. Unbothered. Untouched.

She always looked like nothing could get to her.

I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorway. "You're going to die before fifty if you keep that up."

Vera didn't turn. "Worried about me, pastelito?"

I scoffed, stepping closer. "I'd be worried if I thought anything could actually kill you."

She exhaled a slow stream of smoke, finally flicking her gaze toward me, amused. "Then why are you here?"

I leaned against the railing beside her, not answering right away. "Maybe I wanted to see if you're always this pleasant when you're alone."

Her lips curled slightly. "Disappointed?"

I tilted my head. "Jury's still out."

She hummed, tapping the cigarette against the railing. "You usually make decisions faster than that."

I watched her fingers, the way she moved—controlled, effortless, always calculating. I knew she wasn't the type to let people get under her skin. But I was starting to wonder if I already had.

So I pushed.

"You ever change your mind about things, Vera?"

She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "What are you trying to get at?"

I shrugged. "Just wondering if you're as predictable as you act."

Her smirk deepened. "You think you've figured me out?"

"I think you let me stand here longer than most people."

She took another slow drag of her cigarette, exhaling before speaking. "And what do you think that means?"

I held her gaze. Testing. Searching.

"You tell me."

The silence stretched for a beat.

Then Vera flicked the cigarette to the ground, stepping toward me, her voice dropping just enough to make my breath hitch.

"I don't keep things I don't want, pastelito."

A slow realization curled in my chest, something sharp, something dangerous.

She stepped past me, her presence brushing mine for just a second. Just enough.

And I didn't know what unsettled me more—the words themselves, or the fact that I knew she meant them.

Vera's POV

I had said enough. Claire wasn't stupid. She knew what I meant. I could see it in the way her expression flickered, the way she chewed on my words, dissecting them, trying to decide what to do with them.

I turned to leave.

But I barely took a step before she moved—quick, deliberate—cutting off my path.

I arched a brow. "Problem, Pastelito?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she tilted her head, her eyes sharp with something assessing, searching. She wasn't just standing in my way.

She was testing me. Interesting. I exhaled, tilting my head slightly, waiting to see how far she planned to take this. She didn't back down. Instead, she took a slow, measured step closer.

Too close.

I felt the heat of her body now, the way she invaded my space, pressing into that line neither of us had acknowledged—not yet. She reached out, her fingers barely grazing my forearm. Not enough to be a touch, not enough to demand attention.

But enough to ask for it. I didn't move.

She dragged the tips of her fingers up, featherlight against my sleeve, deliberate and slow, watching me as she did it. Watching to see if I would stop her.

I didn't.

I smirked instead. "You trying something, Claire?"

She hummed, the sound low, considering.

Her hand traveled higher, barely brushing against my bicep now, subtle but intentional.

"I don't know," she murmured, tilting her head slightly, still watching. "Am I?"

I didn't answer. She took another step, closing the last bit of space between us, her chest nearly brushing mine.

And then—finally, she did it.

Her fingers curled against my waist. Not hesitant. Not uncertain. Testing.

I exhaled slowly, controlled, my smirk unwavering. But I knew she felt it—the way my muscles tensed, the way my breathing shifted. Her grip tightened slightly.

"Why are you letting me do this?" she asked, her voice quieter now, like she wasn't sure she wanted the answer.

I let the silence stretch just long enough to make her wonder.

Then, slowly, deliberately, I reached down, my fingers wrapping around her wrist.

Not pulling her away. Not yet.

I met her gaze, my grip firm but not forceful. "I don't stop people from making mistakes, Claire."

Something flickered in her expression. She searched my face for something, but I didn't give it to her. Instead, I tightened my grip on her wrist—just slightly, just enough for her to feel the shift.

And then, with a slow smirk, I leaned in, letting my breath brush her ear. "But I do make them regret it."

Her breath hitched. I felt it. I knew she did, too.

Then I let go. Stepping back, I watched her carefully, waiting to see if she'd push further. She didn't. Not this time.

Good girl.