Claire's POV

The warehouse was buzzing with movement, the kind of restless energy that came before something big. Weapons were checked, loaded, set aside. Men moved in and out, voices low but purposeful. Everyone had a role, a place.

Except me.

I sat on an overturned crate, watching them, fingers drumming against my knee. A cigarette burned between my fingers, the smoke curling in the stale air. I wasn't smoking it. Just holding it.

Across the room, Vera and Gabriel were hunched over the table, going over every detail of the so-called perfect plan.

The sniper had talked. Too fast. Too easily. Too perfectly. He gave them everything—when, where, how. The exact time Dominic would be extracted. The weak points. The expected routes. Everything they needed to cut Leo's plan off at the knees.

And it didn't sit right.

Leo wasn't reckless. He wouldn't hand over his entire operation to someone so easily broken. If anything, he'd feed them just enough real information to sell a lie.

Vera didn't see it.

Or maybe she did, and she just didn't care.

She was leaning against the table, cigarette between her lips, exhaling smoke as Gabriel pointed at the maps. Her eyes flicked over the plans like she had already decided the outcome. Like she had already won.

And that—that—made my stomach twist.

I didn't care about Gabriel or the rest of the crew, but Vera? Vera could walk straight into a trap, and I was supposed to just sit here?

Yeah. No.

I flicked the cigarette away and pushed off the crate, heading toward Antonio. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking like this was just another night, another job.

"You don't think this sounds a little too easy?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

Antonio glanced at me, unimpressed. "Easy?"

I gestured toward the table where Vera was still talking. "The sniper just gave up everything? Just like that? No hesitation? No misdirection?"

Antonio sighed, rubbing his temple. "Claire—"

"No, listen," I pressed, stepping in front of him. "Leo doesn't make mistakes like this. And Vera's acting like—like it's all going to be smooth, like she hasn't considered that the sniper could be feeding her bullshit."

Antonio gave me a flat look. "Vera knows what she's doing."

I scoffed. "Oh, does she? Because right now, it looks like she's walking straight into a setup with her usual 'nothing touches me' attitude."

Antonio let out a slow breath. "Gabriel double-checked the intel."

"Gabriel is a glorified babysitter with a gun," I shot back. "And even if the intel is good, what if Leo is expecting this? What if he's setting her up?"

Antonio shook his head. "Vera's not stupid, Claire."

I threw my hands up. "No, she's just reckless."

Antonio gave me a pointed look. "And you're worried about her."

I opened my mouth, then shut it.

I wasn't going to answer that.

Instead, I turned on my heel and stormed toward the table. "Vera, we need to talk."

Her eyes flicked up lazily, like she had already decided this conversation would be a waste of her time. "That's cute, pastelito. But I'm busy."

I ignored the warning in her tone. "The sniper gave up too much too fast. You don't think that's suspicious?"

Gabriel sighed like he was already over it. But Vera just took a slow drag of her cigarette, her expression unreadable.

"Are you questioning my plan?" she asked smoothly.

"I'm questioning whether or not you plan on surviving it," I shot back.

Silence.

The kind that warns.

Vera exhaled, standing up, closing the space between us with that slow, deliberate ease that always made my pulse spike.

She studied me, eyes flicking over my face like she was deciding how much of a problem I was about to be. "And where did you suddenly become an expert in war strategy, pastelito?"

I folded my arms. "It's called common sense."

Her smirk deepened, but her eyes sharpened. "No, Claire, it's paranoia. The difference? I have the experience to know when I'm being played. You? You don't even know what game you're in."

I clenched my jaw. "Look me in the eye and tell me this isn't at least worth reconsidering."

Vera's expression didn't waver. But something flickered in her eyes.

Then she exhaled, turning away. "We move forward as planned."

Vera's POV

I was done with this argument before it even started. Claire had been pushing since I mentioned the job, throwing theories and gut feelings at me like they meant anything in this world. She wasn't listening. She didn't understand that hesitation could get us killed.

"You're making a mistake," she said, standing between me and the door like she could actually stop me.

I barely looked at her. "I said we move forward with the plan."

That should have been the end of it. But it never was with Claire.

"This isn't paranoia, Vera. It's a setup."

I exhaled slowly, pressing my tongue against my teeth. I had already checked everything twice. Leo wasn't an idiot, but he wasn't a genius either. If he wanted Dominic out, he wouldn't risk overcomplicating things. There was no reason to believe this was anything other than what we already knew.

"You think I don't know how to do my job?" I asked, finally meeting her eyes.

Claire didn't hesitate. "I think you're being reckless."

I smirked, shaking my head. "You're worried about me."

She glared. "I'm right about this."

Her confidence in herself was almost admirable. Almost.

"Claire, you don't know this world like I do," I said, tone calm, measured.

"You don't know everything."

The challenge was there, sharp and clear between us, and I could feel my crew watching. I didn't like this. Claire was getting too comfortable questioning me, and even worse, she was doing it in front of them.

"Let me guess," I said, amusement lacing my voice, "you expect me to call it off because you feel like it's a trap?"

"Yes."

I actually laughed.

Claire's expression shifted, something raw flashing in her eyes, and before I could react, she grabbed my arm.

The room went silent. Everything in me stilled.

She had pulled me back in front of my crew.

I felt the weight of every gaze, the moment stretching too long, too dangerously. Claire had just made a mistake. One I couldn't let slide.

I yanked my arm free and twisted her wrist behind her back.

She gasped, body jerking forward from the sudden movement. I stepped in, lowering my voice so that only she could hear me.

"Know your place," I murmured against her ear, voice smooth, dangerous. "Or I'll put a bullet in your head."

She didn't move, didn't struggle. She was testing me.

And I hated that it worked. She should have backed down. She should have looked away. But she didn't. She just stood there, her breathing uneven, watching me like she could see something I didn't want her to see.

Instead, she whispered, "You think hurting me makes you stronger?"

Something inside me twisted. Claire's eyes were still locked.

I turned and walked away, not looking back. I didn't understand why this sat differently than all the other times I put someone in their place.

I didn't understand why the guilt crept in, sitting at the edge of my mind, an emotion I never let myself feel. I didn't like it. And I hated Claire for making me feel it.

---

The drive to the location was quiet. Too quiet.

I sat in the passenger seat, fingers tapping lightly against my thigh as I stared out the window. The streets blurred past, but my mind wasn't on them. It was back in that room, locked behind a door, throwing sharp words at me like knives.

"You're making a mistake."

"It's a setup."

"You don't see it, but I do."

I clenched my jaw, forcing Claire's voice out of my head. She didn't know this world like I did. But still, something about the way she said it, the certainty in her voice—

I exhaled sharply, rolling my shoulders as if that would shake the feeling off. I wasn't second-guessing myself because of Claire. That wasn't what this was.

Beside me, Gabriel was quiet, his expression unreadable as he cleaned his gun, but I felt the tension rolling off him.

We arrived at the meeting point. A rundown stretch of road with an abandoned building, the perfect spot for a discreet job. Too perfect.

Something wasn't right. The area was too still. The air too thick. I inhaled slowly, my gaze scanning every shadow, every rooftop. Too clean.

The feeling settled in my gut like a weight. I glanced at Antonio. "Pull them back."

Antonio stiffened. "What?"

"Pull. Them. Back."

I saw Gabriel tense beside me. "You're pulling out because of her?" His voice was controlled, but I heard the accusation in it.

I turned my head, eyes locking with his. "You have something to say, Gabriel?"

His jaw tightened. "You're letting her get into your head."

I exhaled through my nose, ignoring the way his words dug under my skin. "You think I'm pulling back because of Claire?"

Gabriel didn't back down. "I think you're hesitating. And you never hesitate."

Something cold curled in my chest. "Then go."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face, but he masked it quickly. "If you're so sure," I continued, voice smooth, "then push forward."

He didn't hesitate. I watched him move, steps measured, gun steady.

Then— The shot rang out.

A sickening crack of a bullet tearing through flesh.

Gabriel dropped. The world snapped into motion. I barely registered Antonio grabbing my arm before I yanked free, already moving.

Gunfire exploded around us, bullets slamming into the pavement, slicing through the air. Gabriel was on the ground, his hand pressed against his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers too fast.

I hit my knees beside him, gripping his vest. "You idiot," I muttered, my voice steady despite the way my pulse hammered.

He exhaled sharply, teeth clenched. "Vera— Leave me behind."

The gunfire didn't stop. I saw Antonio shouting something, his hands moving fast, but I wasn't listening. I was already grabbing Gabriel, dragging him toward cover.

A fresh round of bullets tore through the air.

Then— Pain. Sharp, searing. A bullet tore through my shoulder. I gritted my teeth, refusing to let go of Gabriel, refusing to slow down.

Antonio reached us a second later, pressing his hands to Gabriel's wound. "We need to move," he snapped, but I was already calculating, already adjusting.

Too many angles. Too many blind spots.

Claire was right. And I hated that she was right.

"Cover us," I ordered, my voice tight. "We're getting out of here."

Antonio didn't argue. Gunfire flared up again, covering our retreat as we moved—as I pulled Gabriel from the battlefield, bleeding, too pale. I didn't look back.

The drive back was slow, thick with tension. The smell of blood lingered, Gabriel's breathing shallow as Antonio kept pressure on the wound, murmuring to him to stay awake. I kept one hand firm on the wheel, the other pressing against my own injury, but the pain was nothing compared to the anger simmering under my skin.

I heard Claire's words in my head, the doubt in her voice, the way she had insisted something wasn't right. I hadn't wanted to listen. But the second we got to the location, I felt it. The shift. The weight in the air.

Claire was right and I hated that.

But I hated something else even more—the fact that her voice had stayed with me long enough to make me hesitate.

I clenched my jaw, tightening my grip on the wheel.

Gabriel groaned from the back seat, his voice weak. "Tell me again why... I signed up for this?"

Antonio exhaled sharply. "Because you're an idiot."

Gabriel chuckled, but it came out strained. "Fair."

The gates to the warehouse slid open, and I pulled in, barely parking before people were rushing forward. The second I stepped out of the car, Claire was there.

She scanned the scene fast—her eyes landing on Gabriel first, then on me.

I saw it immediately. The shift. The moment her anger became something worse.

Panic.

She didn't even hesitate before moving toward me, reaching for my arm. "Vera, you're—"

I yanked my arm away before she could touch me. "Not now."

Claire barely flinched, but I could see it in the way her lips pressed into a thin line. "You're bleeding," she snapped.

I didn't answer. Didn't acknowledge it. Just stepped past her, walking toward the others.

She followed. "Vera."

I ignored her.

"Vera."

Still ignored her.

Then—she grabbed my arm again.

I stilled. Too many people were watching. My patience snapped. I turned sharply, grabbing her wrist—not tight, just enough to make her let go.

My voice was low, sharp, barely above a whisper. "Do you think you can keep doing this in front of them?"

Claire exhaled harshly, her expression unreadable. "I don't care who's watching. You're hurt."

I leaned in slightly, keeping my voice just for her. "And you don't get to question me in front of them."

She didn't back down. Didn't step away. Just stared at me like she was trying to see past something I didn't want her to see.

I let out a sharp breath, shoving her back. "Antonio, take her inside."

Antonio hesitated. I snapped my gaze to him. "Now." Claire's eyes never left mine as Antonio grabbed her arm.

I turned away, rolling my injured shoulder, ignoring the tightness in my chest, ignoring the guilt creeping up my spine.

I didn't feel guilt. I never had. Then why the fuck was it there now?

Antonio led Claire inside, and I followed a moment later, dragging her toward her room. She fought this time, actually fought.

"Vera, stop!" I didn't. I shoved the door open, pushed her inside. She stumbled, catching herself against the wall. Her breathing was fast, angry.

I reached into my pocket, gripping the key too tightly before tossing it to one of my men. "She doesn't get out."

Claire's voice was sharp. "You're serious?" I turned without answering.

She took a step forward. "Vera—" I slammed the door shut before she could finish.

Her fists hit the other side immediately. "Don't fucking do this!"

I exhaled, pressing my fingers against my temple, ignoring the pounding in my head, in my chest.

I walked away, faster than I needed to. I told myself it was because I had bigger things to deal with.

But deep down, I knew the real reason. I didn't want to hear her yelling my name.

The next few hours were a blur.

The wound was cleaned. The blood was gone. Gabriel was stable. The crew had dispersed.

I sat alone in my room, my head resting against the back of my chair, my fingers pressing into my temples.

The safehouse was quiet. Too quiet. And I hated it.

My eyes flickered toward the door.

I had locked Claire up and walked away, thinking it would silence her, thinking it would shut off the part of me that cared.

It hadn't.

I exhaled sharply, shoving up from my chair, annoyed that I was doing this. Annoyed that I even cared. I made my way down the hall, my boots barely making a sound against the floor. I found the guy I had given the key to, took it from him without a word.

Then I unlocked the door myself.

Claire's POV

I sat on the bed, arms crossed, forcing my breath to stay even, forcing myself not to show just how much I'd been replaying the last few hours in my head. The second the door unlocked, my body tensed instinctively, but I didn't move.

I knew it was her.

Vera stepped inside, her expression unreadable, her usual presence filling the room like she was the one who owned it. Maybe she did. Maybe I was just a guest in her world, in her rules, on her terms.

I barely looked at her. "You here to threaten me again?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she tossed something onto the bed beside me.

The med kit.

My brows furrowed as I glanced down at it, then back up at her. "What—?"

"You wanted to help," she muttered. "So help."

I stared at her for a long moment, searching for something—an explanation, a crack, anything that would tell me why the hell she was here, why she suddenly decided to let me in.

For a second, I considered ignoring her. Then I exhaled, shaking my head. But my hands still reached for the med kit. I pulled it open, then motioned for her to sit.

She hesitated. I saw it. That brief flicker of reluctance, like she was still deciding if this was the right move.

Then, slowly, she did.

I focused on my hands, pulling down her sleeve, exposing the bandages. The blood had seeped through, staining the gauze, and I exhaled quietly through my nose, trying not to let the frustration creep into my face.

Her body was tense, but she didn't pull away. Didn't stop me.

The air between us was thick. Heavy.

Unspoken.

I worked in silence, carefully unwrapping the bandage, cleaning the wound. My hands were steady, but my breathing wasn't. Because despite everything—despite knowing what kind of person Vera was, despite knowing how much she had pushed me away, despite knowing she had locked me up like I was just another thing she could control—I was still here.

Helping her. After a moment, the words slipped out before I could stop them.

"You didn't have to lock me up."

Vera let out a soft chuckle, one that held no real humor. "Yeah. I did."

I shook my head, my grip on the gauze tightening slightly. "No, Vera. You didn't."

She didn't respond. Because she knew I was right.

I should've stopped there. Should've let it go. But my hands lingered, brushing against her skin as I worked, and for a split second, I felt it—her body relaxing.

She noticed me noticing. And just like that, the tension returned.

She scoffed, voice lighter than it should've been. "What is that look, Pastelito?"

I rolled my eyes. "You keep pretending you don't care, but I see you, Vera."

Her jaw tightened, a flicker of something passing through her eyes before she masked it again. "You see what I want you to see."

I tilted my head slightly, studying her.

Then, softer this time, barely above a whisper—

"You don't have to pretend with me." Something in her face shifted.

The silence stretched, thick and charged, but I didn't break it. I let it settle between us, let her feel it, let her wonder what I was going to do next.

I tested the boundaries like I always did—slow, deliberate, teasing at the edges. My fingers brushed against her hand as I adjusted the bandage, light, absentminded. I felt her muscles tense beneath my fingertips, but she didn't move.

Didn't pull away.

She felt it. And she let it happen.

Encouraged, I let my fingers trail lower, tracing the inside of her palm like I wasn't thinking about it, like it was nothing. But it wasn't.

Vera exhaled, slow and measured. "You're awfully comfortable touching me, pastelito."

I tilted my head slightly. "You're awfully comfortable letting me."

Her smirk flickered.

I dragged my fingertips down her palm again, watching her pulse jump, and before she could turn this into a game, I spoke.

"How are you feeling?"

Vera blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

I gestured lazily at the wound I had just patched up. "Your injury. The ambush. Gabriel. How do you feel?"

Vera studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "Since when do we talk about things like that?"

I shrugged. "Since when do you pretend you don't have an answer?"

She smirked, shaking her head slightly. "You think I care about Gabriel?"

"I don't think. I know."

Her amusement flickered, just barely, before she masked it.

I leaned in slightly, voice lower. "You want people to believe you don't care about anyone, but I see through you, Vera. I know you care. And I know you don't like admitting it."

Vera exhaled, slow, deliberate. "And what, exactly, do you think I care about?"

I studied her carefully. "A family. A place where you belong."

That got a reaction. Subtle, but there.

Vera let out a quiet chuckle, but it lacked its usual sharpness. "Tell me, pastelito... are you saying this because you believe it? Or because you caught me kissing him?"

The words hit like a slap, but I didn't let it show.

I stayed perfectly still, my face unreadable as I finished wrapping her bandage. Then, before she could pull away, I took her hand and rested it in my lap.

Her fingers twitched but she let it happen. I traced them lightly, slowly, watching her closely. Watching the way her eyes darkened, the way her smirk faltered for just a second.

"You push me away," I said, voice softer now. "Even when you know I care."

Vera's expression didn't change, but something in her eyes hardened.

"I don't believe you care," she said evenly. "You think you do, but you don't. You're looking for something here, and sooner or later, you'll realize you won't find it."

I tilted my head, my fingers still playing with hers.

"That's funny," I murmured. "Because I haven't stopped thinking about you since the day we met."

Vera's gaze flickered. "Since when?"

I hesitated. Then, quietly, "Since the day at Emilia's house."

A slow smirk curved her lips. "Why?"

I shook my head. "I don't know." I swallowed, then added, "But I was asking Valeria about you. Every day. Trying to reach you."

Vera's eyes stayed locked on mine, calculating, unreadable. Then, finally, she tilted her head, smirking just slightly. "And what did Valeria have to say about all that?"

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head. "Valeria isn't what you think she is, you know?"

Vera arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Enlighten me."

I let my fingers drag along her wrist again, slow, deliberate. "From day one, Valeria was the one who helped Emilia. People like to say Emilia changed her, but that's bullshit. Valeria always had a kind heart. She didn't leave the crew for Emilia—she left because she never wanted this life."

Vera scoffed, but there was something in her eyes, something I wasn't sure she even realized was there. "This life is all we knew."

I hummed, still playing with her fingers. "So what? That means you're just supposed to accept it? Do nothing else?"

Vera let out a low chuckle. "You think I could just walk away? That someone like me could have a normal life?"

I tilted my head. "I don't know, Vera. From what I hear, you're pretty good at getting whatever you want."

She smirked. "That's true."

I let the silence stretch between us, my fingers tracing the inside of her palm. She let it happen.

Then, casually, I said, "So tell me... do you want Gabriel, or was that just for fun?"

Vera's smirk didn't falter, but I saw the flicker of something in her eyes. "Why? Does it bother you?"

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Not at all. I mean, I'd be worried for your standards, but hey, who am I to judge?"

Vera let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. "Careful, mi vida. You almost sound jealous."

I smirked, giving her hand a light squeeze. "Not jealous. Just concerned. I mean, you could do better."

Vera hummed, amused. "Like who?"

I hummed back, pretending to think, my thumb absentmindedly brushing against hers. "I don't know... someone who challenges you. Keeps you on your toes."

Vera exhaled slowly, her smirk still in place, but she didn't pull her hand away.

I leaned in slightly. "Oh, wait. You already have that, don't you?"

Vera's eyes darkened, but she didn't let me see what was behind them. "You're playing a dangerous game, pastelito."

I grinned. "Yeah? I thought you like danger?"

She let me hold her hand for a moment longer. Then, finally, she leaned in, her lips brushing just past my ear as she murmured, "I do but I won't let you win."

A slow breath left me, but I kept my face blank, refusing to give her the satisfaction.

I tilted my head, smirking slightly. "You always get this close when you make a point, or am I just special?"

Vera's eyes flickered with something sharp—amused, dangerous. Her fingers, still tangled with mine, gave a slow, deliberate squeeze.

"Don't flatter yourself," she murmured, voice low. "I just like watching you squirm."

I smirked, tilting my head just slightly. "I'll squirm for you anytime you want."

Vera's smirk didn't waver. If anything, it deepened, slow and knowing.

"Oh, I have no doubt you would." Her voice was smooth, almost teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something unreadable.

My breath faltered for half a second before I forced myself to scoff. "And yet, you still act like you don't enjoy it."

Her fingers flexed against my wrist, her expression unreadable, but something flickered in her eyes—something she didn't want me to see.

Because we both knew it didn't bother her. It never had.

Her grip lingered for a second longer, her thumb tracing the inside of my wrist, like she was trying to memorize something—then, just as easily, she let go, standing smoothly.

"You talk too much."

I watched her go, shaking my head, muttering just loud enough for her to hear—

"You're gonna miss me, you will come back for me."

Vera didn't turn around. But I swore I saw the way her fingers twitched at her side, just for a second.