Chapter 6 Mauricio #2
“So this is about fear.” I soften my voice despite myself, recognizing desperation when I see it. “About running out of time.”
“This is about survival.” Her correction carries steel beneath the vulnerability. “And yes, fear is part of that. But it’s also about finally having an opportunity to do something instead of just enduring.”
The honesty in her admission does something uncomfortable to my chest. I recognize that sentiment, that shift from passive survival to active resistance. I felt it in prison when I stopped just counting days and started planning for the ones that came after.
“Show me.” I gesture to her pocket. “The flash drive. Let me see what you’re actually offering before I agree to anything.”
She hesitates, and in that suspended moment I watch her weigh everything—the life she knows against the one she’s imagining, safety against freedom, survival against actual living.
Her hand trembles slightly before she steadies it, and I recognize that look: someone who knows they’re about to step off a cliff but has run out of ground to stand on.
Then she pulls out the drive and places it in my palm, her fingers brushing mine in a way that sends electricity up my arm.
“Verify it,” she says quietly. “Take your time. But know that every day you spend verifying is a day closer to me becoming someone else’s property.”
I close my hand around the flash drive, feeling its weight like a promise and a threat combined. “If this is legitimate, if even half of what you’re claiming is true, you understand what you’re offering to do? You’ll be destroying the only life you’ve ever known.”
“That life was never mine.” Fire enters her eyes again. “It was a carefully constructed prison designed to keep me compliant and useful. I want to burn it down and see what grows from the ashes.”
“Burning things down is easy.” I step closer, close enough that I can see gold flecks in her green eyes, close enough to be dangerous for both of us. “It’s what comes after that’s hard. You sure you’re ready for that kind of destruction?”
“Are you?” She doesn’t back away, meeting my proximity with her own challenge. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one who spent fifteen years locked up for protecting someone else. You want to tell me about understanding destruction and reconstruction?”
“Touché.” The word comes out rougher than intended, and I’m suddenly aware of how close we’re standing, how the space between us feels charged with something that has nothing to do with strategy or alliances.
She feels it too—I see it in the way her breath catches, how her pupils dilate, the slight parting of her lips that would be an invitation if either of us were stupid enough to act on it.
“This doesn’t work if we complicate it.” I force myself to step back, to put distance between us and whatever magnetic pull is trying to drag me closer. “Whatever attraction you think you’re feeling—it’s adrenaline. Fear. The thrill of rebellion. Nothing more.”
“I didn’t say I was feeling attraction.” But her voice carries amusement underneath the protest. “That’s all you, Mauricio.”
“Then we’re both feeling something we’re smart enough not to act on.
” I pocket the flash drive, creating professional distance through sheer force of will.
“I’ll verify this information. If it’s legitimate, we move forward with a trial alliance.
You provide intelligence, I provide protection and eventually an exit strategy. ”
“And if it’s not legitimate?” She raises an eyebrow. “What then?”
“Then I assume you’re a spy, tell Simeone to triple security, and make sure Sabino Picarelli knows his daughter tried to play both sides.
” The threat comes out colder than I intend, but she needs to understand the stakes.
“This isn’t a game, Regina. Betrayal means death—yours, mine, potentially everyone we care about. ”
“I’m aware of the stakes.” No fear in her voice, just acceptance. “Do you think I’d risk this if I had any other options?”
“I think you’re desperate.” Honesty feels necessary, even if it’s cruel. “And desperate people make mistakes. They trust too easily, move too fast, assume risks that rational calculation would avoid.”
“And cynical people miss opportunities because they’re too busy assuming everyone’s an enemy.” Her counter comes fast, sharp. “You want to talk about mistakes? You spent fifteen years in prison for someone else’s decisions. Tell me that wasn’t born from some kind of desperation.”
The observation lands harder than it should. She’s right—my choice to take the fall for Simeone came from desperate loyalty, from believing that protecting him mattered more than my own freedom.
“That’s different.”
“Is it?” She moves closer again, and this time I don’t retreat. “Or are we both just people who’ve been trapped by circumstances beyond our control, trying to find whatever leverage we can to change the game?”
“Maybe.” I study her face, looking for manipulation and finding only raw honesty that’s more dangerous than any lie. “Or maybe you’re very good at telling me exactly what I want to hear.”
“If I were that good, you’d have already agreed without all this philosophical debate.
” Her smile is sharp, carrying an edge that makes something heat in my chest. “Face it, Mauricio—you want to believe me. You want to think I’m the key to dismantling Sabino’s empire.
Because if I am, then maybe fifteen years wasn’t wasted.
Maybe your sacrifice means something beyond just keeping Simeone safe. ”
The accuracy of her read makes my skin prickle with awareness. “You’re perceptive.”
“I’m desperate,” she corrects, throwing my own words back at me. “Which makes me motivated to understand exactly what you need to hear to give me what I want. That’s not manipulation—that’s survival.”
“There’s not always a difference.” But I’m smiling despite myself, drawn to her sharpness in ways that have nothing to do with strategy.
“Fine. Trial alliance. You provide information, I verify it, and use what’s legitimate.
In exchange, I help you navigate the chaos that comes from your father’s world potentially crumbling. ”
“And eventually?”
“Eventually, if you prove trustworthy, I’ll help you disappear.” The promise feels dangerous to make, but I mean it. “New life, new identity, somewhere Sabino Picarelli’s reach doesn’t extend.”
“How do I know you’ll keep that promise?” Vulnerability flashes across her face. “How do I know you won’t use me and then abandon me to whatever consequences come?”
“You don’t.” Honesty feels like the only currency worth trading right now. “Same way I don’t know you’re not playing me. We’re both taking risks, Regina. The question is whether potential reward outweighs guaranteed danger.”
The silence stretches. Finally, she nods—not like someone who’s sure, but like someone who’s decided to stop second-guessing.
“When do we start?”
“Now.” I pull out my phone, and type quickly. “I’m sending you a secure communication app. Download it, set up an account with a name that won’t trace back to you. We use that for all contact going forward—never text, never call, nothing that leaves obvious trails.”
“Paranoid.”
“Practical.” I correct. “Your father didn’t survive this long by being careless. Neither will we.”
“Don’t make me regret trusting you.”
“Right back at you.”
Then she’s gone, slipping through shadows like she was never there at all.
I stand alone in the abandoned church, flash drive heavy in my pocket and her scent still lingering in the air—bergamot and vanilla mixed with possibility and danger.
This is either the smartest alliance I’ve ever formed or the stupidest mistake I’ve made since the job that sent me to prison.
Time will tell which.