Page 90 of Loco

I pulled my knife from its sheath and worked it under the thick paint sealing the frame. Years of weather and neglect had made it stubborn, but it gave slowly. I was almost there when something shifted behind the glass.

I froze, every muscle locking tight as a shadow moved behind the glass. For a split second, my body tensed for the worst—another guard, another player in this twisted game—but then the light shifted, and her face came into view. Sayla. She was right there, just beyond the grimy windowpane, her eyes wide and searching in the low light.

My heart stuttered, the kind of sharp jolt you feel when something you’ve been afraid to hope for suddenly becomes real. Relief surged through me, fast and hot, but I forced myself to stay calm and steady. This wasn’t over yet. I leaned in slowly, careful not to make a sound, and tapped once against the glass to catch her attention. Our eyes locked, and I could see the tension in her shoulders shift slightly.

I mouthed slowly and clearly, ‘I’ve got you.’And I meant every damn syllable. However we had to do it, whatever it took, we were getting her and those kids out tonight.

Sayla’s expression shifted suddenly. Her eyes flicked to something behind her, then to me, urgency in her face. She mouthed, ‘Someone’scoming,’and I reacted immediately. I held up my hand, signaling her to return to the kids. She hesitated just long enough for our eyes to lock, then nodded and dropped out of sight. I shifted my position, pressing my back against the wall out of view from the window, just as the light inside the room flicked on.

Voices followed, low and muffled.

I leaned in slowly and carefully and peered through the corner of the window, squinting past the filth that coated the glass. Still wearing that smug, political sheen like a second skin, Walter Griggs stood with his hands clasped in front of him like he was attending some formal event rather than orchestrating whatever the hell this was. But the man beside him set my instincts firing on all cylinders.

He didn’t belong.

His suit was too sharp, his stance too polished. He looked like he’d stepped out of a boardroom, not a backroom deal. Smooth, confident, too comfortable in a room that shouldn’t feel comfortable to anyone with a conscience. He was the kind of guy who didn’t get his hands dirty, he had other people do it for him. And every subtle twitch of his expression screamed control and danger. Titian, it had to be.

I eased my phone from my jacket and raised it just enough to frame them through the corner of the window. There was no flash or sound, just one clean photo.

I dropped back behind the wall and quickly opened a message to Roque.

Visual confirmation:The mayor and possibly Titian are at the location. It's too risky to move. Do not approach. They’re with Sayla and the kids. Wait for my call.

I attached the photo and hit send, and a second later, the message showed as delivered.

Inside, the voices carried on, low and clipped, with a steady cadence that sent a chill crawling down my spine. I couldn’t make out the exact words through the thick pane of glass and the years of grime sealing it, but I didn’t need to hear them to understand the tone. This wasn’t a conversation or a negotiation, it was business. The kind of talk that came from men who expected obedience and delivered consequences—it was orders, not a discussion.

I stayed pressed against the outer wall, motionless, listening to the rhythm—short sentences followed by longer pauses, as if things were being agreed upon, signed off, and decided without question. My breath came slow and shallow, my heart pounding with a steady urgency—not panic but something razor-sharp and deliberate.

Sayla was doing her part inside, staying calm, keeping the kids safe, and protecting them with every ounce of strength she had. Now, it was on me to do mine. I had the window mostly loosened, the photos, and the confirmation. All I needed was for the light inside to go dark again. Once they were gone, I’d finishcutting through the last edge of the paint, and I was getting them out.

Chapter 29

Sayla

Icould feel my pulse in my throat, heavy and fast, as I stood in front of the mayor and Russo, trying to keep my hands from shaking. Kapono was out there, and the small flash of hope that had grounded me for a second felt fragile and thin as I stood under the flickering overhead light, facing two men who spoke with the kind of ease that only came from having too much power for too long.

The mayor looked at me like I was an annoyance. “I spoke to your man,” he said casually like we were chatting at a damn dinner party. “Roque’s a bold guy. Maybe a little too confident for the position he’s in.”

I didn’t respond, but the tremor in my jaw betrayed the tension building inside me.

“That’s where you come in,” he continued. “It’s up to you to convince him to be a little less cocky because now he’s depending onusto keep you and the kids safe.”

I stiffened and met his gaze. “Why do this? What’s the point?”

He smiled like it was funny, and my question was naive. “Because everyone has a price,” he said simply. “Everyone wants power, money, and influence. It’s just a matter of what they’re willing to trade for it.”

I stared at him, disgust rising in my chest. “And you think it’s worth it?”

That made him laugh, low and mocking. He turned to Russo, shaking his head like I’d confirmed something he already believed. “You were right, she really doesn’t know anything.”

Russo didn’t say a word, he just watched me with those calm, dead eyes.

The mayor turned back to me, his smile fading into something colder. “Think about what I said,” he murmured. “Everyone can be bought, which means there are always people out there doing the buying.”

His gaze shifted to the kids in the corner—Kairo holding Kaida protectively, both of them trying to stay small and unnoticed—and then, slowly, he let his eyes drop, dragging them over me in a way that made my skin crawl.

“Even bodies,” he added.

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