_ Nobody Hurts What’s Mine!

I grinned from ear to ear sheepishly. 

"María José," I repeated, testing the name on my tongue. 

It suited her. Soft, delicate. A name meant to be whispered. 

The name danced on my tongue like a prayer I had never learned to say.

María José.

Oh, by the devil, she was real. Right in front of me. Speaking to me. Looking at me with those big, soulful eyes that belonged to someone who had no idea how dangerous I was.

And damn—I felt alive.

More than I had in years.

I had spent my life in darkness, feeding off fear, power, and control. But standing here, in this filth-ridden pigsty, speaking to her like I was just another man ending his shift, I felt something foreign buzz beneath my skin.

She enchanted me.

And I—I, the predator, the villain, the man who had come here to dispose of a body—was utterly, hopelessly captivated.

She made me feel like the twelve-year-old Luis again.

I didn't like it.