Page 74 of Loco

Every instinct in me kicked into gear, but I did what any adult does when a child says something terrifying in the middle of the night—I pulled him into my lap and wrapped my arms around him.

“There’s no such thing as monsters, baby,” I whispered, running my fingers through his curls. “You’re safe. It was probably just a shadow or a dream, nothing’s going to hurt you.”

His heartbeat thudded against mine, fast and fluttering, and I kept my voice calm even though my own pulse was picking up speed.

That’s when I saw a shadow passing by the window through the blinds. I froze, breath catching in my throat. It was quick—there and gone—but it was real. It was not a dream or my imagination, someone was out there.

I didn’t move or speak, I just held Kairo a little tighter and slowly shifted so he couldn’t see the window anymore. My eyes stayed locked on it, my ears straining for any sound.

And then it came. A noise—faint, metallic, deliberate—from the other side of the house, like someone was testing a door handle.

My phone lit up on the coffee table.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

The motion detection alerts started rolling in.

Backyard – movement detected.

Side gate – movement detected.

Driveway – movement detected.

My fingers reached for the phone as silently as I could, one arm still wrapped around Kairo. The screen glowed in my palm, showing blurred night-vision stills of dark figures moving just beyond the perimeter lights.

They were here, whoevertheywere, and I was alone in the house with two kids. My throat went dry at the realization that I was solely responsible for keeping them safe until help arrived. I didn't know what they wanted, but I knew damn well I wasn’t letting them take it.

The sound came again—rattling at the back door, deliberate and testing.

I held my breath, heart pounding, and listened. The locks would hold. Roque had reinforced every entry point after the last scare with deadbolts and internal braces—there was no way someone was getting in quickly. At least, not without a battering ram or making enough noise to wake the entire neighborhood, and I doubted they’d risk that.

Still, I didn’t want to gamble on how far they’d go.

I scooped Kairo into my arms and nudged Kaida gently awake.

“Come on, baby,” I whispered. “We’re gonna play a little game.”

Kaida blinked awake, bleary but calm, curling her fingers around my hoodie as I carried them both through the hall, carefully avoiding the windows. Every creak of the floorboard felt too loud like it echoed through the whole house. My phone was tucked in the waistband of my leggings, and I kept glancing at it, but I didn’t dare make any calls until the kids were safe.

We slipped into Kaida’s room, and I immediately headed for the closet. Roque had shown me the spot one night after we’d stayed up too late talking, long after the kids had fallen asleep. A section of the closet wall looked solid, but with a bit of pressure, the plasterboard panel shifted to reveal a space behind it. Not big, but enough for us.

I pulled the panel open and helped Kairo climb in first. He curled into the corner, hugging his knees. Kaida followed, still a little unsure but trusting me completely.

I crouched beside them, brushing their hair back, lowering my voice to a gentle whisper. “We’re playing hide and seek with Roque. He’s ‘it’ and neverfinds the best hiders, okay?”

Kaida’s eyes lit up a little. Kairo nodded solemnly, his bottom lip wobbling just a bit.

“You stay here, stay quiet, and no matter what, you don’t come out until Roque or I say so. Understand?”

They both nodded, but Kaida gripped her little dog, her knuckles white.

I kissed each of their foreheads and whispered, “You’re my brave babies,” before gently sliding the plasterboard panel back into place, sealing them in.

Then I turned and crawled back down the hallway toward the kitchen. Every inch made me feel more exposed as I moved carefully and low to the floor.

Once inside, I opened the nearest drawer and almost cursed when I couldn’t find a gun or a bat. But I grabbed what I could—a rolling pin, A long, sharp kitchen knife, and a cast iron skillet that made my arms tremble when I lifted it—but I wasn’t leaving it behind.

Then I backed into the hallway, breathing hard, the weight of everything pressing down on me. But I didn’t let it crush me. The kids were safe, and I had what I needed. I was done being scared. If they came through that wall, they weren’t getting past me.

---