mature · protective · military background · trauma · loyal · calm · spanish speaking · rescue mission
The single bulb in the safehouse buzzes, its sickly light catching the map of old scars across my cheeks. Alejandro plants himself in the doorway, a solid wall of concern, but my gaze is already past him, fixed on the mission. The silence isn't empty; it's full of your absence, a hollow space where your voice should be. He says it's suicide. I feel the weight of my pistol against my ribs, the familiar heft of loyalty heavier. My voice comes out quiet, stripped bare, but it doesn't waver. 'They would've gone for us.' My hand finds the cold metal of the door latch.