This Means War

14. - LUIS -

fourteen

- LUIS -

C oming home was meant to feel secure—a place to steady yourself. But as I stood in the quiet kitchen nursing a cup of black coffee, every muscle in my body tensed, waiting for a hit that hadn’t come yet. The space felt hollow like it wasn’t doing its job anymore. Maybe it wasn’t the walls—it was me.

Either of us could have accessed a state-backed safe house—not my family home. But that would have ruined the ruse that I was risking my job for a girl. Jobs , really, for a chance at a ‘fling’ with a coworker.

The early morning light bled through the blinds, thin and gray, while the muffled sound of Rafael’s voice filtered in from the next room. He and Monica were already going over the plan, their words too low for me to catch specifics. Rafael, as usual, had been up before any of us, securing logistics like it was the most natural thing in the world. Tickets, cover IDs, new earpiece comms—everything we’d need for the summit had been secured hours ago.

And he acted like it was no big deal.

I pressed my mug to my lips, letting the bitterness ground me.

“You going to sit there brooding all morning?”

Rafael’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade. I turned to find him leaning in the archway, that familiar smirk curving his mouth. He looked irritatingly put-together for someone who’d probably slept less than I had—crisp shirt, sharp lines—like he didn’t even need sleep to be beautiful.

“Didn’t realize I was on a schedule,” I muttered.

“You’re not.” He shrugged, stepping into the kitchen with that easy, arrogant grace of his. “But you’ll want your head on straight today.”

I didn’t need the reminder. The summit wasn’t some backroom deal or sloppy troll operation—it was a showcase of power. And behind all the glitter and luxury would be NoxTech’s CEO and his orbit of loyal followers—Rafael’s old boss.

A part of me had wondered if that bothered him, if he felt any weight at the idea of running headlong into the belly of the beast. As if we weren’t already there. But if it did, he didn’t show it. He never did.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” I said.

Rafael tilted his head, his smirk softening slightly. “That’s not what this is.”

And maybe it wasn’t.

Before I could reply, Monica stepped into the kitchen, heels clicking softly against the floor. “Ready to move,” she said briskly, her eyes sharp as she looked at the two of us. “You good to go boys?”

“Always,” Rafael replied smoothly, though I caught the faint tension in his jaw.

“Good.” Monica turned to me, giving me a small nod. “Let’s go.”

The drive to the summit was quiet, the weight of what we were walking into heavy between us. It was far, and we hit traffic so much of our day was spent simply getting there. Monica scrolled through files on her phone, double-checking what Rafael had sent before she checked her makeup. It must be extra hard to be policed like that as a woman.

I gripped the wheel, my eyes quickly returning to the empty road ahead.

“You’re quiet,” she called over from the passenger seat.

“Just focused.”

Her gaze flicked toward me, too knowing. “Rafael seems pretty confident.”

“Rafael’s always confident,” I muttered, maybe too sharply.

Monica hummed under her breath, unconvinced. She glanced back into the backseat where Rafael finally fell asleep while we drove.

I didn’t say anything and didn’t look. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Rafael always trusted me to do my job, and I trusted him to do this. It would’ve been easier if we didn’t.

The summit was housed in a sleek, gleaming venue—an expanse of marble floors, soaring glass windows, and the hum of wealth reverberating through every inch of space. The kind of place where everything was expensive, everyone was important, and the line between friend and predator was razor-thin.

Monica walked in like she owned the room, her head high, every movement deliberate. I stayed close, blending in without looking like I was trying. It had never been easier since following her.

Rafael’s voice buzzed faintly in my ear through the comms.

“Status check?” he asked.

“Fancy place,” I murmured under my breath, my gaze scanning the crowd.

The people here were everything I’d expected—tech moguls, political influencers, wannabe entrepreneurs who didn’t pull strings, they wove entire webs of connections. But beneath the luxury and polish, there was something darker. No one was here out of the kindness of their social hearts. They were here to climb the ranks of attention. I could feel their gazes sweeping the room, lingering just a little too long on certain faces.

Just like hyenas, their gazes darted around the room, searching for the next meal to rip apart. Hungry for blood, chaos, and the thrill of watching someone else fall for their entertainment.

We moved deeper into the crowd, stopping near a table that displayed the latest innovations in surveillance technology—sleek drones, facial recognition tools, things that made my stomach twist.

“Luis,” Rafael’s voice came through my earpiece again, steady but sharper this time. “Two men, ten o’clock. They’re watching Monica.”

I turned slightly, spotting them near the far edge of the room—two men in tech bro casual, their focus zeroed in on her.

Monica didn’t look up from the display. “Let them look. They’re here to show off just as much as we are.”

She wasn’t wrong, but something felt off. The trolls weren’t just watching—they were waiting. For what, I didn’t know. Maybe for us to stumble.

I kept close to Monica, close enough that anyone watching would think twice before approaching her. My hand hovered near the small of her back, protectively guiding her through crowds as we moved through the room.

This kind of quiet possessiveness wasn’t entirely an act anymore. It was the way the light caught the edge of her sharp, focused expression, the way her confidence carved a path through the crowd that made me want to shield her from anyone who dared look too long. Not because she was simply beautiful, but because she cared deeply. How she had the courage to risk herself, and the cushy, important-sounding job, just so the truth could be flushed out.

Thankfully, or maybe horrifically, it didn’t take long to find what we were looking for. Near the back of the hall, was a wall of screens with a single open laptop in the middle. Each display had a list of names scrolling too quickly for anyone to catch them all in a single go.

Monica and I stepped closer, pretending to admire the set of semi-holographic screens.

“Is this…” she started to ask under her breath, “their targeted harassment list?”

I caught it then—a photo of Monica, her name and job title highlighted in red before the screen flashed to someone else.

My stomach dropped. “Seems so,” I murmured.

Monica’s expression didn’t falter, but I saw her shoulders tense. “Okay,” she breathed out, “we knew I was on that already.”

The endless scrolling text starts to remind me of when I would do a lazy Control F search through bloated government documents. Words flashing too quickly to grab, like someone trying to hide the truth in plain sight. Only here, the stakes were sharper, each name a potential target to dogpile on. No, this search had to be more then simply picking a target to play with...

“They’re setting people up for something bigger,” I said, my voice low.

Before she could respond, Rafael’s voice cut in sharply through the comms. “Luis, Monica—move. Now .”

“What is it?” Monica asked quietly.

“Too much chatter. You’ve been made.”

We moved fast, slipping through the crowd toward the west door. I could feel the tension in the air, the subtle shift as the crowd’s attention. I didn’t look back, but I knew someone was following.

“Left hallway,” Rafael said, guiding us through the earpiece. “There’s a service exit two floors down.”

Monica stayed close, her movements frantic but focused. I took the lead, every muscle in my body braced for the fight I knew was coming.

“Luis, stay sharp,” Rafael said, his voice quieter now. “I can’t see ahead of you currently.”

“I’m fine,” I replied, though my pulse pounded in my ears.

“You always are,” he said softly.

We hit the hallway just as two men turned the corner in front of us. For a split second, everything slowed—Monica jumped back, the men’s eyes widened, and I moved before they could.

I surged forward, slamming one of the men into the wall. The other reached for something—probably a weapon—but Monica was faster, grabbing a fire extinguisher and swinging it into his side.

“Nice!” I shouted, pulling her toward the stairwell. “Keep moving!”

We hit the stairs again running, Rafael’s voice guiding us step by step. By the time we reached the service exit, the pounding of feet echoed behind us, too close for comfort.

Monica shoved the door open, and the cold night air hit me like a slap. We sprinted into the empty lot outside, gravel crunching beneath our feet.

“Car’s to your left,” Rafael said. “Back seat. Hurry.”

We didn’t stop until we were in the back. Raf threw the car into drive as we sped away from the building. The silence in the car was heavy, both of us catching our breath.

“They’re not just randomly harassing people,” Monica said finally, her voice steady despite everything. “What are they orchestrating and why the continued focus on me?”

“They’re setting you up to take a fall. Remember that murder in the news? Piece by piece they are finding the perfect scapegoat.” he added, as I thought back to what we’d witnessed. “And the program mathematically picked it to be you.”

“Why me?” As she repeated those words her voice wavered, and for the first time that calm professional veneer fully cracked. “Because I just moved into town?”

Rafael ventured a glance into the backseat. “It’s not just about your job,” he said, his voice quick but more hushed than usual. “One of your exs got dragged into it first. The connection is weak. But she tweeted angrily at the murder victim before hand. The internet sleuths combed all of her accounts and fond a photo of you two together on vacation.”

She ?

Monica gestured vaguely, her frustration rising to the point where she was at an utter loss of words. “That isn’t—,” she started to say but with Raf’s eyes back on the road she merely slumped back in her seat. “Fuck!”

A strange stillness washed over me, as if everything had frozen in that moment. Raf had said it so casually, but the realization that she had a girlfriend...

Everything made sense now. The way she hadn’t judged me, the understanding in her eyes. She knew. Of course, she knew.

We weren't so different after all. We held close the exact same secret.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if we’d ever catch up to the pieces that had been set into motion. But one thing was certain—whatever happened next, we weren’t getting out of this clean.