Chapter 15 – Remi #2
I park and dismount my bike, but I can’t bring myself to move any farther. Valentina comes to stand beside me, hooks her elbow through mine, and rests her head against my shoulder.
“We’ll go whenever you’re ready.”
I stare toward the rows of headstones and draw a steady breath. “I’ll never be ready.”
As promised, Valentina hasn’t left my side.
She’s held me, cried with me, and held me again, while Mamá has stayed wrapped around my other arm.
Only when it’s over and the cemetery slowly empties do I realize how hard I’ve been holding myself together.
The quiet returns, and part of me wants to run, to climb on my bike and ride until I can’t feel any of this anymore.
But I stay.
Because beneath all the sadness, there’s also a strange sense of peace in standing here with her one last time. I stare at the fresh mound of earth. My sweet Estela.
From everything we know, the bank robbery was random. Estela and Zara weren’t even supposed to be there. They were going to the market when Zara asked for a treat from a street vendor who only accepted cash. The ATM outside the bank wasn’t working, so Estela took her inside.
Such a small fucking thing.
One broken ATM, and one innocent request from a little girl. A few minutes in either direction and maybe none of it would’ve happened.
But tragedy doesn’t care about maybes.
A faint smile touches my lips despite the ache. When everything went wrong, Estela did what she had always done for the people she loved. She protected Zara, and I’ll spend the rest of my life grateful to have known her, loved her, and been loved by her.
The last thing she ever gave me was another act of love, a text warning me of what was happening.
“I’ll meet you at home, mi amor.”
Mamá presses a kiss into my hair, followed by Papá and Gio. I watch their car pull away until it disappears from view.
Aunt Leni steps up beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me against her. Growing up, I used to think she was naturally more drawn to Valentina, and maybe in some ways, she was. Intuition and all that, for her future daughter-in-law.
But as I got older, I realized Aunt Leni always knew how to love us differently. Val needed one version of her, and I needed another. Somehow, she always seemed to know which one to give us.
Having a woman like her in my corner is something I’ll never take for granted. Once one of the world’s most ruthless assassins, she helped shape the world I grew up in. I admired her confidence and skill long before I understood the cost of becoming that woman.
“Let me know if you need anything,” she says, leaning closer to my ear. “But I also need you to tell me if you know the man about twenty yards to your right.” Her hand drifts toward the blade hidden at her waist.
“He’s been standing there for the last fifteen minutes, just watching.” Her gaze stays fixed beyond me. “And before I leave, I need to know you and Vali are good.”
I follow her line of sight.
Even from this distance, where I can’t make out his face, I know exactly who he is. There aren’t many men built like Thiago Braga.
“Yeah, I know him.” I place my hand gently over hers, easing it away from the blade. “We’re good.”
I should probably leave it at that, but my feet are already carrying me toward him.
“I’ll be back.”
He starts walking too.
I don’t know what I’m going to say, but I know I need to say something. He took care of my girl and ensured she was safe, even if it makes everything so much more complicated.
Thiago reaches me first but stops a few feet away, as if there’s a line between us that he knows better than to cross. Up close, there’s no missing the tension in his shoulders or the way his jaw is set, like he’s holding something back.
“Remi.”
My name sounds different when he says it now, or maybe I’m the one hearing it differently. I’m not sure. He doesn’t move any closer, reach for me, or tell me he’s sorry for my loss. I’m glad he doesn’t, because I have no idea what I’d do if he did.
I cross my arms over my chest, grounding myself while keeping the space between us. “I didn’t know SWAT made house calls.”
His gaze flicks past me for a moment before returning to mine. “We don’t.”
“Then why are you here?”
He’s quiet for a second, yet he doesn’t look away. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
The words sting, but I shake my head and force out a breath. “You’ve got a funny way of doing that.”
“I wasn’t going to come up to you or anything. I just needed to see for myself.”
The silence stretches between us as I study him, really looking at him this time, and the image returns as clearly as if I were standing outside that bank again.
Zara was covered in blood and wrapped around him like he was the only safe thing left in the world, while Thiago held on to her just as tightly.
“You got her out,” I say finally. “Zara.”
His expression changes, like he’s back there with her too. “She did exactly what she was told. She stayed low.”
“That sounds like her.” I look down for a moment, gathering the words I came over here to say. “I owe you,” I tell him, lifting my gaze back to his. “For bringing her back to me. She’s special to us. That’s our baby.”
He shakes his head immediately. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I do.”
“No,” he says, firmer this time. “You don’t.”
I should leave it there, thank him and walk away before this becomes anything more than it needs to be. But then I hear myself say, “You were there when I wasn’t.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I should’ve been with them.” The admission scrapes its way up my throat. “I got caught up at work, and I can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t left. Maybe they never would’ve gone to that bank. Maybe Estela would still be here.”
Thiago takes a step toward me before stopping himself. “You can’t put that on yourself.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“No, I don’t.” His voice softens, but there’s nothing uncertain about it. “That doesn’t make it any less true.”
I look past him toward the rows of headstones, trying to get myself back under control. He doesn’t understand. If I had been there, I would’ve emptied every bullet I had into those men before they touched Zara or Estela, torn them apart with my bare hands if that was what it took.
But I wasn’t there. And Thiago was.
I swallow against the burn in my throat and look back at him.
Maybe coming over here was a mistake. I thought I could thank him and walk away, but standing in front of him only makes it harder to shove him back into the neat little box I put him in the moment I saw that badge.
He lied to me, and he’s still a cop. Neither has changed. But he also carried Zara out of danger. He stayed with her when she was terrified and brought her back to me.
I don’t know what to do with both versions of him yet.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice softer now because it’s the only thing I trust myself to give him. “Just know…this doesn’t make us friends.”
He lets out a tut under his breath. “I had a feeling.”
“Take care of yourself, Officer Braga.”
I turn and walk away without waiting for a response. Only this time, I make myself keep going.