The drive to Mexico felt endless.
It wasn't just the miles of cracked highways or the endless stretches of desert. It was the silence — thick and suffocating. Every passing minute stretched out like the miles beneath their wheels, each one heavier than the last.
Nick was gripping the steering wheel like it was his only tether to reality. Noah sat next to him, watching the road, watching him, but saying nothing. The weight of Mona's revelation still hung between them — a thick, heavy thing neither of them could push aside.
They didn't talk about it. Not really. Not yet.
---
The border was a blur. Guards checked their IDs, their faces expressionless. The whole process felt like a performance, an act they were both pretending to follow.
They crossed without incident.
Once into Mexico, the landscape shifted — rolling hills and dry, cracked earth. The air was hot and suffocating, like the world was holding its breath.
Nick's mind was still racing, a thousand questions fighting for attention.
> "We're going to find him, right?" Noah asked quietly, breaking the silence.
> "We have to."
---
They reached a small town by dusk, barely more than a cluster of adobe houses and dirt roads. The place felt forgotten, like it had been carved out of time itself.
Nick parked the car near a rundown bar at the edge of town, the neon sign flickering above them. The street was empty, the air too thick to be anything but oppressive.
> "This is it," Nick muttered. "The last place Santoro was seen before he disappeared."
They stepped out of the car, the dry dust swirling around their feet. Noah pulled the hood of her jacket up, but it did little to protect her from the heat. They walked through the door of the bar, the cool air hitting them like a slap in the face.
The place was dimly lit, smoke curling from the corners, the buzz of murmured conversations filling the air.
> "What are we looking for?" Noah asked, her voice a little shaky.
> "A name. A lead. Anything," Nick said.
They walked to the bar, where an older man with graying hair stood cleaning glasses. His eyes shifted as they approached, a flicker of recognition flashing across his face before he masked it with indifference.
> "What can I get you?" the bartender asked, his voice rough, accent thick.
> "We're looking for information," Nick said, leaning forward on the counter. "About Rafael Santoro."
The bartender's eyes narrowed slightly.
> "You're in the wrong place for that," he said, wiping a glass more vigorously than necessary. "Santoro's name is poison here. No one talks about him."
> "He's not dead," Noah said, her voice steady despite the tension in her chest. "I know he's not."
The bartender paused, then glanced around the room, ensuring no one was listening. He lowered his voice.
> "You don't understand. Rafael Santoro doesn't exist anymore. His name died the day he disappeared. But his legacy..." He trailed off, as if he was deciding whether or not to say more.
Nick leaned in, his voice cold.
> "Tell us what you know."
---
It took another round of drinks — Nick's charm, and a fair bit of money — before the bartender finally spoke again, his eyes flicking nervously toward the back of the room.
> "Santoro was never the man they say he was. He was powerful, yes. But it wasn't just money he dealt in. He had enemies... people who wanted him erased for good. The last anyone saw of him was the night he left this town. They said he was dead, but I never believed it."
> "Who took him?" Noah pressed.
> "I don't know his name. But there's a man, older, ruthless. He came for Santoro. Took everything from him, destroyed his empire... and then vanished. If you want to find Santoro, you'll have to find him first. And that won't be easy."
> "Where do we start?" Nick asked, voice low and controlled.
The bartender shook his head slowly, his eyes darkening.
> "You don't. You get in over your head. And then you don't get out."
---
They left the bar without another word, the weight of the bartender's cryptic warning settling in the pit of Noah's stomach. They walked back to the car in silence, both of them lost in thought.
> "He's still out there," Nick finally said. "Santoro. And whoever took him. We're getting close."
> "But at what cost?" Noah asked, her voice trembling. "We're digging into something that might destroy us."
Nick stopped walking and turned to her, his hand reaching out for hers.
> "I won't stop, Noah. Not until we have the truth."
She stared at him, feeling the pull between them, stronger than the danger, stronger than the fear. It wasn't just about the past anymore. It was about them — about the future they were trying to carve out of this mess.
> "Then we go. All the way."
---
They slept in the car that night, the desert air thick with the promise of more danger. But they didn't sleep alone. They slept together.
---