Aldo
12:08 AM. The room was dimly lit, the amber glow from the whisky decanter casting long shadows across the walls.
Sighing, I swirled the contents of my glass with the ice.
The air was thick with salt and tension, even though I was alone. I paced the length of my rental, the distant hum of the weekend life below barely reaching my ears. I wasn’t sure what Alejandro’s mood would be when he arrived, but I knew it wouldn’t be good. The man had every right to be furious. Stephanie had nearly k*lled him, and I, whether by negligence or misjudgment, had let her get close enough to try.
Hearing the commotion inside, I sat on a chair on the balcony of the rental, fingers drumming idly against the polished surface of a coffee table, my mind sharp despite the exhaustion tugging at the ed
