Marco
Aaliyah
The car rattled faintly as they navigated the winding coastal road, the sound of the tires blending with the faint hum of the engine. Aaliyah stared out the window, the jagged cliffs of Mallorca falling away to the sea below. The scenery was breathtaking, but she couldn’t bring herself to appreciate it. Not with the knot of dread tightening in her stomach.
Cruz was tense. She hadn’t said much since they’d left the safehouse, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, her sharp eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every few seconds. Aaliyah could feel the unease radiating off her, though Cruz’s face betrayed nothing.
“Are you sure about this guy?” Aaliyah asked, breaking the silence. Her voice sounded smaller than she intended, the weight of her own doubt pressing down on her chest.
“No,” Cruz said bluntly, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “But he’s what we’ve got.”
The answer didn’t do much to settle Aaliyah’s nerves. She turned her gaze back to the passing scenery, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her borrowed T-shirt. The thought of meeting this contact—Marco—made her stomach churn. Cruz had explained the basics: he was someone who could provide them with new IDs, no questions asked. But Aaliyah had caught the flicker of hesitation in Cruz’s voice when she mentioned him, and that hesitation had rooted itself in Aaliyah’s mind.
“What if he turns us in?” Aaliyah asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Cruz glanced at her briefly, her expression unreadable. “Then we deal with it.”
It wasn’t much of a reassurance, but Aaliyah knew better than to press. Cruz was already carrying the weight of this escape on her shoulders. The last thing she needed was Aaliyah questioning her every move.
The tension between them settled into a heavy silence as the car wound its way into a small, run-down industrial district. The narrow streets were lined with warehouses and graffiti-covered walls, the kind of place that seemed forgotten by time. Cruz pulled the car into a deserted lot and killed the engine, her eyes scanning the area with the sharpness of a predator.
“He’s late,” Cruz muttered, her fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel.
“Maybe he’s not coming,” Aaliyah said, the hope in her voice barely veiled.
“Oh, he’s coming,” Cruz replied, her tone clipped. “People like Marco don’t pass up opportunities like this.”
Before Aaliyah could ask what she meant, the rumble of an approaching vehicle drew their attention. A sleek black car pulled into the lot, its windows tinted so dark that Aaliyah couldn’t see inside. It parked a few feet away, and the driver’s door opened, revealing a man who looked exactly how she imagined someone like Marco would: slicked-back hair, a sharp suit that seemed out of place in the grimy setting, and a smirk that made her skin crawl.
“Well, well,” Marco said as he approached, his voice smooth but carrying an edge of condescension. “If it isn’t Cruz Manuelos. You’ve been busy.”
Cruz stepped out of the car, her posture relaxed but her eyes hard. Aaliyah hesitated before following, her heart pounding as she moved to stand beside Cruz. Marco’s gaze flicked to her, and the smirk widened.
“And who’s this?” Marco asked, his tone dripping with false charm. “Didn’t know you had a taste for runaway brides.”
Aaliyah’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t respond. Cruz stepped slightly in front of her, her stance protective. “We’re not here to chat, Marco,” Cruz said coldly. “Do you have what I asked for?”
Marco chuckled, pulling a small, sleek case from inside his jacket. He held it up, the glint of the metal catching the light. “You mean these?” He flipped the case open, revealing two neatly printed IDs and matching passports. “Fresh off the press. Top quality, as always.”
Aaliyah’s breath caught as she stared at the documents. They looked real—so real it was unsettling. But her relief was short-lived as Marco snapped the case shut and tucked it back into his jacket.
“Now, let’s talk business,” Marco said, his tone shifting. “You know I don’t do favors, Cruz. What’s in this for me?”
“You’ll get your money,” Cruz said, her voice steady. “Just like we agreed.”
“Money’s one thing,” Marco said, taking a slow step closer. His eyes flicked to Aaliyah again, lingering in a way that made her stomach churn. “But information? That’s worth a lot more.”
“Careful,” Cruz said, her tone sharp enough to cut. “You know how this works.”
Marco raised his hands in mock surrender, the smirk never leaving his face. “Relax. I’m just saying, a girl like this…” He gestured lazily toward Aaliyah. “She’s got people looking for her. Powerful people. I could name my price.”
“Then why haven’t you?” Cruz asked, her voice icy.
Marco shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. “Because I like you, Cruz. And I’m not in the habit of making enemies with people who know how to handle themselves.”
Aaliyah’s chest tightened as she watched the exchange. Marco’s words were veiled threats, and Cruz knew it. The tension between them crackled like static, and Aaliyah fought the urge to step back, to hide.
“You’ve got what you came for,” Marco said after a moment, his tone turning breezy again. “So let’s call this a win-win and go our separate ways.”
Cruz didn’t respond immediately. Her hand hovered near the weapon holstered at her side, her body coiled like a spring. Finally, she gave a curt nod. “We’re done here.”
Marco’s grin widened. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
He turned and walked back to his car, his footsteps echoing in the quiet lot. Aaliyah exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding as Marco’s car roared to life and disappeared into the distance.
Cruz turned to Aaliyah, her expression unreadable. “Get in the car.”
Aaliyah didn’t argue. She climbed into the passenger seat, her hands trembling slightly as she fumbled with the seatbelt. Cruz slid into the driver’s seat a moment later, her movements sharp as she started the engine.
“Do you think he’ll keep quiet?” Aaliyah asked, her voice shaky.
“No,” Cruz said flatly, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “But we’ll be long gone before it matters.”
The car sped out of the lot, the tension still thick in the air. Aaliyah stared out the window, her heart pounding as the reality of what they were up against settled over her.
Cruz
The car’s hum was steady, but Cruz’s mind was anything but. She kept her hands firm on the wheel, her eyes flicking between the road ahead and the rearview mirror, scanning for anything out of place. Every twist of the narrow coastal road felt like a potential trap, every shadow like a hiding place for someone waiting to strike.
The tension in the car was palpable. Cruz didn’t need to look at Aaliyah to know the girl was on edge. She could feel it, the way the silence between them grew heavier with every mile.
“You sure about this guy?” Aaliyah asked suddenly, her voice breaking through the quiet.
“No,” Cruz replied without hesitation, her tone clipped. “But he’s our only option.”
She could feel Aaliyah’s unease, the way her question lingered in the air like an accusation. Cruz tightened her grip on the wheel, her knuckles whitening. Marco was a gamble—always had been—but he was also the best chance they had at disappearing before the Amrohis caught up with them.
“What if he turns us in?” Aaliyah’s voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.
Cruz let out a slow breath, her eyes fixed on the winding road ahead. “Then we deal with it.”
It wasn’t the kind of reassurance Aaliyah was looking for, but it was the truth. Marco was a wildcard, and Cruz knew better than to rely on loyalty from someone like him. He operated on leverage, and right now, Cruz had very little of it.
The industrial district came into view, its grimy warehouses and cracked pavement a stark contrast to the picturesque cliffs they’d just left behind. Cruz pulled into an empty lot, the car’s engine cutting off with a low rumble. She scanned the area, her sharp eyes noting every potential entry point, every corner that could hide someone waiting to ambush them.
“He’s late,” she muttered, her voice low.
“Maybe he’s not coming,” Aaliyah offered, her tone carrying a faint note of hope.
Cruz shook her head. “He’ll come. Marco doesn’t miss opportunities like this.”
The words tasted bitter in her mouth. Marco loved to play the game, to hold all the cards and make sure you knew it. Cruz had dealt with men like him before—men who thrived on power, on making others feel small. It didn’t bother her; she could handle it. But this time, the stakes felt higher, and she wasn’t sure why.
The rumble of an approaching car broke her train of thought. Cruz tensed, her hand drifting instinctively toward her weapon as a sleek black car pulled into the lot. It parked a few feet away, its windows so dark that Cruz couldn’t see who was inside. She stepped out of the car, her movements smooth and deliberate, her body coiled like a spring.
Marco emerged, his sharp suit and slicked-back hair as out of place here as a diamond in the dirt. Cruz’s jaw tightened as he approached, the smirk on his face already grating on her nerves.
“Well, well,” Marco drawled, his voice smooth and dripping with condescension. “Cruz Manuelos. You’ve been keeping busy.”
Cruz stood her ground, her expression unreadable. “We’re not here for small talk. Do you have what I asked for?”
Marco’s smirk widened as his gaze shifted to Aaliyah, who had stepped out of the car but lingered close to Cruz. “And who’s this?” he asked, his tone dripping with false charm. “Didn’t know you had a taste for runaway brides.”
“Marco,” Cruz said sharply, her tone a warning.
Marco chuckled, pulling a sleek case from inside his jacket. He flipped it open with a flourish, revealing two pristine IDs and matching passports. “Fresh off the press. Top quality, as always.”
Cruz’s eyes flicked to the documents briefly, then back to Marco. “Good. Let’s wrap this up.”
But Marco didn’t hand over the case. Instead, he snapped it shut and tucked it back into his jacket, his smirk deepening. “Now, now, Cruz. You know how this works. Nothing comes for free.”
“You’ll get your money,” Cruz said evenly, her voice steady despite the flicker of irritation in her chest.
“Money’s easy,” Marco replied, taking a slow step closer. “What I’m really interested in is information.”
Cruz’s body tensed, her hand inching closer to her holster. “You’re not getting any.”
“Relax,” Marco said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, people are looking for her.” He nodded toward Aaliyah. “Powerful people. I could make a fortune just pointing them in the right direction.”
“You won’t,” Cruz said coldly, her voice a blade.
Marco chuckled again, the sound grating. “Of course not. We’re old friends, Cruz. I’d never betray you.”
Cruz’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t trust a word of it. Marco was a snake, and snakes only looked out for themselves. “Hand over the IDs. Now.”
Marco hesitated for a beat, as though savoring the tension, before finally producing the case again. He tossed it to Cruz, who caught it with practiced ease. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said breezily.
Cruz didn’t respond. She checked the IDs quickly, verifying their details before tucking them into her jacket. “We’re done here,” she said, her tone final.
Marco’s grin widened. “Always a pleasure, Cruz.”
He turned and walked back to his car, his footsteps echoing in the empty lot. Cruz didn’t take her eyes off him until his car disappeared down the street, leaving behind only the faint scent of exhaust.
“Get in,” Cruz said to Aaliyah, her voice low but firm.
Aaliyah didn’t argue. She climbed into the passenger seat, her movements stiff with tension. Cruz slid into the driver’s seat a moment later, her hands gripping the wheel tightly as she started the engine.
“Do you think he’ll keep quiet?” Aaliyah asked, her voice small.
“No,” Cruz said bluntly, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “But we’ll be long gone before he gets the chance.”
The car sped out of the lot, the weight of the encounter pressing down on Cruz’s chest. Marco had played his part for now, but she knew better than to trust him. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.