Outside the prison gates, the sun hung low, lazy, heavy, and indifferent to the weight of human lives unraveling beneath it. Ethan stepped out, his mind still cluttered with Maria's confession, the ache of unfinished guilt gnawing at his chest. He barely noticed the figure leaning against a black SUV at first, tall, sharp suit, phone in hand.
It wasn't until the man's head tilted up that recognition struck. Rafael. What the hell is he doing here? Ethan wondered.
They locked eyes for a beat too long. No warmth. Just the quiet hum of unspoken history and mutual disdain.
Ethan smirked first, breaking the charged silence between them. "Must be a curse," he drawled, voice slick with mockery, "running into you everywhere, Rafa."
