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“Graphic,” he mutters.

“I’m not here to be delicate,” I snap.

Matteo steps away from the window and leans against the edge of the table. His tone shifts—calm, even, but undercut with steel. “Delicate isn’t the problem. The problem is what happens if Cruz gets a whiff of the wrong scent off you tomorrow. If he suspects anything—fear, hesitation, lies—you don’t walk out of there. None of us do.”

“I know,” I say, because I do. Every possibility has already played itself out in my head a dozen ways. Best case, Cruz believes I’m the supplier I claim to be and opens the door to Reyes. Worst case? My body gets dumped in a shipping container bound for nowhere. I’m not afraid of either outcome. But I am tired of pretending that’s not the truth we’re dancing with.

Jensen exhales slowly, like he’s weighing how hard to push. “You’ve got that look in your eyes again. The one that says you haven’t slept and your demons are getting mouthy.”

“They never shut up,” I say, sharper than I mean to. I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the tension that’s been welded there since last night.

Eli doesn’t press the issue, but his gaze flicks up from the tablet long enough to clock me with concern—buried beneath sarcasm, sure, but there. Always there.

The silence hangs for a beat too long.

Then Matteo shifts off the wall. “We need to talk about tomorrow.”

I nod, grateful for the pivot. “Cruz wants a full commitment. Product volume, drop location, capital—all of it. He’s playing like he believes me, but he’s still testing. If we show up with a half-assed proposal, he’ll bail.”

Jensen tosses another folder on the table. “We’ve got a mock portfolio set up. Cash logs, shell companies, the works. It’s convincing. But you’ll need to memorize it top to bottom. If he asks even one question you can’t answer—”

“He’ll slit my throat with that smug little smile,” I finish. “Yeah, I know.”

“No pressure,” Eli mutters. “Just cartel thugs and fake bank statements between you and a shallow grave.”

I smile thinly. “Sounds like a Tuesday.”

We decide to meet back here tomorrow morning, early, a few hours before the second meet with Cruz. Time to re-check comms, final prep, confirm surveillance, and rehearse contingencies in case shit goes sideways. Which, let’s be honest, it will.

But for now, we split.

Matteo heads for his car. Jensen and Eli pile into the SUV they arrived in. Eli stretches with an exaggerated groan like he’s shaking off the tension, before lighting a cigarette. Jensen’s already dialing someone, probably to double-check one of the narcotics teams.

“I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” I call out and they don’t question it. I walk off without comment, angling toward the east side exit. My car’s parked a block away—always is when we use this place. Too many blind corners for my taste.

We’ve done what we can today. All that’s left is to rest, reset, and hope nobody ends up in a body bag tomorrow.

The air is cooler now, slick with the scent of metal and rain. As I walk into the evening, the gritty wind scraping down the alley, my phone starts buzzing in my palm. I pause mid-step, frown at the screen.

Hydessa.

“If I hide…” she says softly, her voice barely audible, like a secret she’s afraid the shadows might overhear.

I close my eyes for half a second, just breathing in the exhaustion, the weight of everything.

“Then I’ll seek…” I say, trying not to let too much show through. But Hydessa knows me too well. She pauses.

“Are you okay?” she asks gently, all concern and intuition, like she already knows I’m unraveling by degrees.

“Yeah,” I lie with a practiced ease. “Just a lot going on. Don’t worry about me.”

A beat passes. I shift my weight to lean against a lamppost, pressing the phone tighter to my ear. I can hear waves in the background—she’s still on the island.

“How’s your investigation going?” I ask, keeping my voice light, trying to redirect her from the minefield I’ve built under my own feet.

“It’s going well,” she says, but I can tell she’s holding something back. “I have a possible lead.”

“That’s great!” I say, letting genuine pride leak through. “And have you taken the time to have some fun with a hot guy yet?”