Chapter 3

• DIABLO
• This is not how tonight was supposed to go. I only came here to check out the place before tomorrow night’s drop. The plan was simple, come in, look around, and see what kind of trouble might come up. That’s it.
• The first thing I notice is that this bar is a dump. The lights are dim and yellow, the kind that make everything look tired and old. The table in front of me is cracked and sticky, the seat lumpy and worn down. It’s the kind of place that smells like spilled beer and old smoke. Not where I usually spend my nights.
• All I have to do is finish my drink and get out without anyone remembering my face. That’s the plan. But then I go and break every rule I’ve ever set for myself.
• And for what? Because some woman happened to catch my eye? There are thousands of women in this city, I could have chosen any one of them. But no, fate decided to throw her in my path tonight.
• Why her? Why now? Maybe fate just enjoys watching me lose control.
• She’s working behind the bar, moving fast, keeping her head down. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s standing right in the middle of something dangerous. The Rossi Cartel picked this place for tomorrow night’s drop, the one job that could fix everything for me. Maybe it’s a test, maybe it’s a trap, or maybe it’s fate trying to screw with me.
• I tell myself to stay focused. I need to keep my mind on the job. Brian’s outside checking the exits, cameras, and alarms. I just need to sit here, drink my beer, and watch the owner. No talking. No distractions.
• But then I did what I swore I wouldn’t. I talked to her. I even stopped a guy from drenching her in beer. Then I told her to take tomorrow night off.
• What the hell was I thinking?
• Every move I made tonight could have given me away. Might as well have hung a neon sign outside saying something big is going down and the Romano family knows about it.
• She doesn’t know how beautiful she is. April Morgan. That’s her name. She hides behind her hair, keeps her eyes low like she doesn’t want to be seen. She flinched when I brushed a loose strand off her face. There’s something fragile about her, something that makes me want to protect her even when I know I shouldn’t.
• Her eyes are what get me. Bright blue, deep enough to drown in. They shine even in this filthy light, like the sea near the Amalfi coast. But she doesn’t use them much, barely makes eye contact with the customers. I wonder what she’s scared of.
• Maybe it’s her boss. Every time he shouts, she shrinks a little, like she’s been through this before. It makes my stomach twist with anger. I want to pull her out of this place, show her something better, something clean.
• I imagine what her life must be like. Shy girl from out of town, came here chasing a dream, ended up stuck in this rundown bar. But she’s got fire in her. I can see it when she talks about Rome. Her face lights up when she says it. She wants to go there someday.
• I told her she should. I even said she’d love it. For a second, she smiled like she believed it was possible.
• Her boss keeps peeking out of his office, eyes darting around. He knows something’s off. He sees me and ducks back in, probably worried the Rossi Cartel will pull the deal if anything feels wrong. He’s nervous, that much is clear. I can tell this job is bigger than anything he’s handled before. He yells at the bartenders, but mostly at her.
• When he shouted at April, I almost broke his neck right there. But I can’t do that. Not tonight. Not when I’m this close to getting my clean slate.
• This job is everything. If it goes right, I can finally disappear. Start over. If it goes wrong, I won’t be alive long enough to regret it.
• I’ve checked the layout. The back door opens into a small courtyard where the smokers hang out. It’s perfect for a fast exit. Everything’s set. I should get up, meet Brian, and get out of here.
• So why did I order another drink? Why did I stay? Why did I tell her to take tomorrow night off?
• I don’t know. Maybe part of me wanted to warn her, to keep her safe. But that’s not my job. She’s not part of this world. She doesn’t belong in it.
• Still, I can’t stop watching her.
• April Morgan. I know her name now, and tomorrow I’ll know everything about her.
• She’s perfect in ways she doesn’t even realize. Mid-length dark hair that curls slightly at the ends, soft waves that catch the light. She’s got that natural beauty that doesn’t need any effort. She’s probably in her early twenties, far too young for me. Hell, I’m at least fifteen years older, and I’ve got too much blood on my hands to ever deserve someone like her.
• But I can’t look away. It’s not just her looks. It’s the way she moves, the quiet rhythm she taps on the bar when she’s bored, the way her fingers dance as if she’s hearing music no one else can. Every detail sticks in my head, one after another, pulling me in deeper.
• When she talks about Rome, her whole face lights up. For a moment, she forgets where she is, and I can see the dream in her eyes. She loves Italy, takes language classes, even wears a little pin shaped like the Colosseum.
• Maybe I could take her there.
• The thought is stupid, and I know it. I’ll be gone soon, erased like I never existed. My name will vanish, and I’ll be a ghost in another country. She deserves more than that.
• Abel always said no relationships. They’re a weakness, a distraction. You can’t run clean if someone’s holding you back. And he’s right.
• So I’ll stare, but I won’t act. That’s what I keep telling myself.
• But then she glances back at me, just for a second, and I see something in her eyes. Curiosity. Maybe even hunger. And that’s when I know I need to leave.
• If her boss sees her looking at me, he’ll start asking questions, and I can’t afford that. Not now. Not when tomorrow night decides everything.
• It’s time to go. But even as I stand, I can still feel her eyes on me.
• And I already know I’ll see her again.