"You really didn't have to, Car," I said, my arms aching slightly as I struggled with the sheer number of shopping bags hanging from my hands. Designer logos everywhere.

  Fabric so soft it felt unreal. And tucked safely against my side, the one thing I couldn't stop gncing at—the Louis Vuitton bag.

  The deep brown leather, the pattern, the weight of it—it felt expensive in a way that almost scared me.

  Car just ughed, completely unbothered. "I'll spoil my baby as much as I want," she said easily, cing her fingers through mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  The mall buzzed around us—kids shouting with excitement, couples ughing, heels clicking against polished floors, music echoing softly from hidden speakers. It felt alive. Normal. Human.

  A strange contrast to the life she lived, and yet she walked through it like she owned the pce without needing to prove it.

  I squeezed her hand, grounding myself in her presence, still half in disbelief that this was real.

  Then she suddenly stopped.

  "Oh— we almost forgot," she said, eyes lighting up with that familiar mischievous spark.

  Before I could ask anything, she gently but firmly tugged me in another direction, pulling me away from the main stretch of stores. My heart skipped a little.

  "Forgot what?" I asked, trying to keep up as she led me down a quieter corridor, the crowd thinning, the noise fading into a distant hum.

  She gnced back at me over her shoulder, smiling—one of those smiles that told me she was up to something. "You'll see," she said simply.

  And somehow, just those two words were enough to make my chest tighten with excitement.

  I let her guide me, almost blindly, weaving through the crowd as people parted around us like water. Everywhere we passed, eyes followed—careful, fearful gnces shot our way.

  Some people froze mid-step, others subtly shifted paths, pretending not to stare while very clearly staring. Seeing Car out in the open did that to people. They knew who she was. Fear wasn't optional.

  The looks lingered even longer on me.

  I could feel it—the confusion, the disbelief. Why was she with him? A man at her side, fingers interced with hers like it was normal. Like it was allowed.

  My shoulders tensed without me realizing.

  "Don't pay attention to them, Miguel," Car murmured, her thumb brushing comfortingly over my knuckles. Her voice was soft, grounding. "Ignore them."

  I nodded, focusing on her instead—the steady warmth of her hand, the way she walked with effortless confidence. The polished marble floor gleamed beneath us, our footsteps echoing faintly, a quiet squeak following us down the corridor as the mall noise dulled behind each turn.

  We rounded one st corner, and the atmosphere shifted.

  Bright lights. Clean lines. Gss everywhere.

  We stopped in front of a sleek, high-end computer store—nothing fshy, but undeniably expensive. Dispys of immacute PC builds lined the windows, RGB lights glowing softly inside pristine cases. Graphics cards, processors, keyboards that looked more like art than tools—everything arranged with precision.

  I blinked, taking it all in.

  "...Oh," I breathed.

  Car gnced at me, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

  "Remember when you said you've always wanted a PC?" she asked casually, like she wasn't about to drop a small fortune.

  Before I could even process the words, she was already pulling me along, her hand firm around mine as we headed toward the entrance. My heart started hammering in my chest, a mix of excitement and panic swirling together.

  How much was she about to spend on me? The thought alone made my stomach twist.

  Inside, the store felt almost sterile—bright white lights reflecting off gss counters, the soft hum of electronics filling the air. Sleek towers stood on dispy like trophies, fans glowing softly in blues and purples.

  Walls were lined with components I couldn't even begin to understand. Boxes covered in sharp angles and aggressive fonts promised power, speed, performance—words that meant absolutely nothing to me.

  I drifted around aimlessly, hands tucked into my sleeves, staring at bels like they were written in another nguage. SSD. GPU. RAM. Motherboard.

  I didn't even know where to start. I nodded along at nothing in particur, pretending I wasn't completely lost.

  Car, meanwhile, looked perfectly at home.

  "Se?ora," (ma'am) she called out smoothly, motioning for one of the workers to come over.

  "?Cuáles son los mejores componentes para una computadora? El precio no importa. Para jugar, por supuesto." (What are the best parts for a PC? Price doesn't matter, for gaming of course)

  The words hit the employee like a sp.

  She froze mid-step, eyes widening as recognition dawned. Her posture straightened instantly, shoulders stiff, hands csping together like she'd been summoned by royalty—or worse. A bead of sweat formed at his temple as he nodded rapidly.

  "S-sí, cro," (yes, of course) she stammered, swallowing hard.

  I just stood there, heart still racing, watching it all unfold—Car calm and completely in control, the worker visibly terrified, and me caught somewhere in between, slowly realizing this wasn't just a normal shopping trip.

  This was Car deciding I deserved the best, without hesitation, without limits.

  I barely moved, just drifting from dispy to dispy, eyes skimming over parts I didn't understand. Car handled everything effortlessly, pointing, nodding, asking questions I couldn't even follow.

  The employee responded to her like her life depended on it, voice polite, rushed, eager to please.

  In my head, I started doing rough math, stacking imaginary prices together. "That one looks expensive... so does that... and that..."

  Knowing Car, I wouldn't have been surprised if she casually dropped ten thousand without blinking.

  Time blurred. Five minutes passed—maybe more. I lost track, too busy staring at glowing fans and gss cases, wondering how something so foreign was about to belong to me.

  And then suddenly, it was over.

  We were walking out of the store, the bright lights fading behind us, Car holding a receipt so long it nearly folded in half under its own weight. She gnced at it once, unimpressed.

  "They'll deliver it to one of my warehouses," she said simply.

  That expined a lot.

  Every time we left the compound, I'd noticed them—those quiet, almost forgotten buildings scattered around, looking abandoned at first gnce.

  I'd never questioned it. Now it clicked. They weren't abandoned at all. They were arteries. Supply lines. Pces where things arrived without questions.

  I tightened my grip on her hand as we stepped back into the mall crowd, the weight of it all finally settling in.

  This wasn't just a gift. It was Car taking care of me—in her own overwhelming, terrifying, unforgettable way.

  We walked together toward the exit, the polished mall floor stretching ahead of us. The bags dug into my fingers, the thin handles biting into my skin from the weight.

  My hands were starting to ache, but I didn't say anything. I just adjusted my grip and pushed through it.

  That's when I caught it.

  A slurred sound—wet, unfocused. Then the smell hit me a second ter. Strong liquor, sour and unmistakable, cutting through the clean, artificial scent of the mall.

  I tried to ignore it at first. People drank, people were loud—nothing new. But Car slowed, just slightly. Her grip on my hand tightened.

  I turned my head.

  A woman staggered a few steps behind us. Her clothes were wrinkled, her posture loose and careless, eyes gssy and unfocused. She wasn't looking around. She wasn't distracted.

  She was staring at me.

  Not curious. Not confused. Fixed. Lingering. Wrong.

  Her gaze crawled over me in a way that made my skin prickle, like something cold dragging across my back. She swayed as she walked, a zy smirk tugging at her lips, eyes never leaving my face.

  I felt my stomach twist.

  Car noticed it a bit too. I could feel it in the way her body shifted—subtle, controlled, dangerous. The air around her seemed to change, pressure building where there hadn't been any before.

  I tried to push the creeping dread aside, my grip tightening around Car's hand, fingers digging into her palm. "Come on, let's go..." I muttered, my voice low and urgent. I stole a quick gnce over my shoulder, and my heart thudded harder—the woman was closing in, her unsteady steps somehow gaining on us.

  Her eyes were unfocused, but locked on me with a disturbing intensity. Ahead, the exit loomed like a beacon, the faint glow of streetlights seeping through the gss doors, so close I could almost feel the cool afternoon air.

  Then it happened. A sudden, invasive touch—a hand groping at my behind, fingers pressing with a clumsy, brazen force.

  My stomach churned, a sick wave of viotion crashing over me. I froze for a split second, breath catching in my throat.

  Car's eyes widened in horror, her grip on my hand tightening as a small, involuntary yelp escaped my lips. She whipped her head around, and there was the drunk woman, swaying on her feet, her hand still outstretched, lingering in the air where she'd just touched me. Her cracked lips curled into a sloppy, oblivious grin, completely unaware of the line she'd crossed.

  I felt the weight of Car's words, soft but heavy with regret. "Look away, Miguel," she murmured, her voice a gentle command ced with something darker.

  I swallowed hard, my throat tight, and forced my eyes toward the exit. Each step felt like wading through mud, slow and deliberate, as if moving too fast would shatter the fragile calm around us.

  Behind me, the sharp, deafening crack of two gunshots tore through the mall's oppressive silence.

  Screams erupted, raw and panicked, echoing off the tiled walls, but the crowd seemed frozen, rooted in shock or fear, their bodies refusing to flee.

  I barely registered the static crackle of Car's radio as she flipped it on, her voice low and urgent as she spoke into it. The words were muffled, lost under the pounding of my own heartbeat in my ears.

  Then, just as quickly, she was back at my side, her presence a sudden warmth. Her fingers intertwined with mine, gripping tight, almost painfully, as if she feared letting go.

  "I should've killed her before she had the chance. I'm so sorry, Miguel," she said, her voice raw, trembling with a mix of guilt and barely contained rage.

  Her dark eyes searched mine, glistening with unshed emotion, her jaw clenched tight.

  "It's fine... it is..." I whispered, barely audible even to myself. My mind was a fog, repying that invasive touch, the sound of the shots, the screams.

  We stepped outside, the cool air hitting my face like a sp. The truck sat waiting in the dimly lit parking lot, a hulking shadow against the faint glow of flickering streetlights.

  Each step toward it felt heavier, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on my chest, but Car's hand in mine was a tether, pulling me forward.

  ——