The house was dark when Elena slipped inside, the hum of the fridge and the faint creak of the old wood the only sounds.
Carmen was passed out on the couch, a blanket thrown half-over her, her shoes a wreck near the door.
Elena smiled faintly and moved past her without a word, boots dragging as she climbed into bed still half-dressed.
Sleep found her eventually.
But it wasn't kind.
It pulled her under slow—
not deep enough to rest, just far enough to trap her.
She stood in the dark.
No walls. No sky. Just endless night wrapped around her skin.
And him.
Standing a few steps away—
close enough that the space between them felt electric, but too far for her to reach.
His eyes locked onto hers—
deep and endless, dark and burning like something she shouldn't have dared to hold.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
The weight of his stare pinned her in place, like hands she could almost feel on her skin.
Like the air had thickened between them, waiting.
He moved.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Closing the space between them one heartbeat at a time.
Her breath caught—
trapped somewhere between fear and want.
Closer.
Until hi face was inches from hers,
Until she could feel the heat of his body without him touching her at all.
His hand lifted—
calloused fingers brushing the edge of her jaw slow enough to be a question, steady enough to feel like a promise.
Elena tilted toward him without meaning to, drawn by something low and aching inside her she couldn't control.
His mouth hovered near hers—
not touching.
The heat of it like gravity pulling her under.
Her eyes fluttered closed—
ready.
waiting.
And then—
She jerked awake, gasping.
Sheets tangled around her legs, the cold air cutting too sharp against her burning skin.
The house was alive around her.
Morning light leaking weakly through the blinds.
The clutter of pans.
Carmen humming something wildly off-key from the kitchen.
Elena dragged herself out of bed, every muscle stiff, skin still humming like a live wire.
She hadn't even made it to the doorway before Carmen pounced.
"Well, well, if it isn't the queen of sneak-outs," Carmen said, spatula in hand like a weapon.
"You wanna tell me what the hell happened last night, or should i just assume you eloped with a biker gang?"
Elena shot her a look, reaching blindly for the coffee pot.
"Nothing happened."
Carmen snorted, dropping a piece of burnt toast on a plate like she was throwing down evidence.
"Yeah, because normal people totally go joyriding at midnight and come back looking like they've seen a ghost."
"I didn't—" Elena started, then bit it back.
What was she supposed to say?
That she'd been staring down the barrel of something she wasn't sure she could survive?
Right.
That's go over great.
Carmen studied her, sharp and knowing.
"You look different," she said, not teasing anymore.
"Like something cracked."
Elena forced a breath past the tight knot in her chest.
"It's fine," she said.
"Just... needed to clear my head."
Carmen didn't call her out.
Not yet.
But her silence said she wanted to.
Elena slipped outside before the walls inside could close in.
The morning was sharp and cold.
The Mustang sat in the driveway—silent, gleaming, waiting.
The key weighed heavy in her pocket.
She stared at the car, at the dark lines of it, at the memory of a hand that had almost touched her.
Before she could second-guess herself, she pulled out her phone.
Scrolled to Mack.
Hit call.
It rang once.
Twice.
She almost hung up.
Then Mack's rough voice cracked through the speaker.
"Elena? You okay?"
No.
Not even close.
"I need to ask you something." she said, steady enough to surprise herself.
"And i need you not to lie."
A breath on the other end.
Long. Heavy.
"Depends what you're asking," Mack said.
She didn't blink.
"The car," she said.
"The man who gave it to me."
A silence deep enough to drown in.
When Mack spoke again, it was quieter.
Less the gruff mechanic and more the man who'd seen too many bad roads.
"Your old man always said you had a nose for trouble," he muttered.
"Guess he wasn't wrong."
Elena stayed silent.
Waiting.
"You want my advice?" Mack said finally.
"You leave it alone. Some debts don't end clean. Some roads, once you turn down them... you don't come back."
The line went dead before she could say a word.
Elena stood there, the Mustang gleaming in the cold light, the phone limp in her hand.
Warnings didn't scare her.
They never had.
But this one... this one carved itself deeper.
And somehow, despite everything, she knew:
It was already too late to turn back.