I straightened my shirt and rolled up my sleeves as I padded toward the kitchen, the lingering bite of mint still cool on my tongue, my skin clean and warm from the shower.

  It struck me how light I felt—how unfamiliar it was to wake up without dread sitting on my chest. I couldn't remember the st time a morning felt this... easy.

  I stifled a yawn and reached for a pan, setting it gently over the stove before nudging the heat to low. No rushing this—pancakes needed patience, and the bacon deserved attention. I turned and opened the fridge a few steps away, its interior glowing softly, shelves packed to the edges with food. Fresh produce, drinks, leftovers neatly stacked—everything someone could possibly need for months.

  "Gosh..." I murmured under my breath, half in awe, half amused, as I searched for the bacon. I finally spotted it tucked toward the back and pulled it free, setting it on the counter beside the warming pan.

  While I was there, I grabbed butter and milk too, already pnning the texture of the batter in my head. The pancake mix would be on the top shelf—of course it was.

  I id everything out like a quiet ritual: bowl, mix, utensils. I slit open the bacon package with a knife, the pstic giving way with a soft tear, then used the tongs to ease the strips into the pan. The sizzle was immediate—sharp, satisfying—fat popping gently as the smell of salt and smoke began to bloom through the kitchen.

  "Ouch," I hissed as a fleck of grease jumped from the pan and kissed my arm. I flinched instinctively, then ughed it off, flipping the bacon with the tongs. A few minutes ter the strips were perfectly crisp—deep brown, edges curled just right.

  I transferred them onto a pte lined with napkins, the paper immediately soaking up the excess grease.

  I slid the used pan into the sink, letting the leftover fat cool and cloud over, then turned back to the counter. Pancake mix went into the waiting bowl, followed by a spsh of milk. I was mid-stir when I felt it—that quiet sense of being watched.

  I gnced over my shoulder.

  Car stood a few steps behind me, leaning against the kitchen isnd, arms crossed loosely as she watched me work like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  "Looking absolutely stunning," she said.

  I chuckled, shaking my head as I finished smoothing the batter. Once it was just right—thick but pourable—I reached for a clean pan and set it on the burner, adjusting the heat with a practiced twist. I paused, eyes widening slightly.

  Chocote chips.

  I moved easily through the kitchen, opening the cabinet on the far left. There they were, tucked away, waiting. I grabbed the bag and set it beside the bowl.

  "Car, come help me crumble the bacon," I said, gncing back at her. "Just throw on some pstic gloves."

  She stepped up beside me a moment ter, gloved hands ready. She grabbed a strip and crushed it between her palms, the bacon breaking apart with a dry crackle into perfect little shards and chunks.

  I watched her work for a second, smiling to myself. Yeah—this was exactly how these pancakes were supposed to be made.

  "You did great... I'll take it from here," I said softly.

  Car nodded, giving me one st look before heading back toward the living room. Her footsteps faded, leaving the kitchen wrapped in the gentle crackle of heat and the faint hum of the house.

  I exhaled, a quiet, satisfied sound, and poured the batter into the pan. It spread slowly, forming a perfect circle. I sprinkled in the chocote chips first, watching them sink slightly, then followed with the bacon—generous, unapologetic. Car liked it that way. Extra of everything.

  The pancake began to bubble, the edges setting as the smell filled the air—sweet, smoky, warm. Familiar.

  I gnced toward the wide window at the far end of the kitchen. Beyond it, the forest stretched endlessly, yers of green swallowing the horizon. No roads. No people. Just trees and sky.

  A calm settled into my chest, steady and real.

  "Nobody can take this happiness away from me," I whispered, more promise than thought.

  -

  "God, it's so fucking peak..." Car muttered around her first bite.

  She froze for half a second, fork hovering midair, then her shoulders rexed like something heavy had finally slipped off her back. Her eyes softened, almost gssy, and she let out a quiet sound that was halfway between a ugh and a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

  "I'm so gd I have you, Miguel," she said, already going in for another bite. "Jesus... these are unreal."

  She ate without shame, savoring every mouthful, eyes briefly rolling back as if the world beyond the pte had ceased to exist. I couldn't help but ugh under my breath.

  When I gnced over my shoulder, I noticed one of the guards nearby. Even she looked entertained, the corner of her mouth twitching as she pretended not to watch.

  "Nobody else is ever getting these," Car added decisively, pointing her fork at me like it was a promise.

  The words settled in my chest, warm and strange. Not heavy. Not frightening. Just... intimate in a way I wasn't used to. To be honest, they made me feel good almost...

  "I'm gd you like them," I said, meaning more than just the food.

  I rested my chin in my hands and watched her eat, letting the moment stretch. Seeing her enjoy something I made—really enjoy it—filled a quiet space inside me I hadn't known was empty.

  After everything I'd been through, being wanted like this, appreciated without conditions or fear, felt unreal.

  But it was real. Insanely real.

  "Huele a pura belleza aquí..." (smells like pure beauty in here)

  The voice came out of nowhere—smooth, amused. I turned instinctively, fork pausing mid-air.

  A woman stood near the entrance of the kitchen, simir to Car in a way that was impossible to miss: the same posture, the same confidence. But where Car was all warm browns, this woman carried darker hair and striking green eyes, sharp like she enjoyed being noticed.

  Car didn't even look surprised. She just sighed and rolled her eyes.

  "That's my sister. Cecilia Sazar Juarez," she said ftly. "Half-sister."

  "Oh..." Cecilia's gaze slid to me immediately, slow and deliberate. A smile tugged at her lips as she stepped closer. "?Y quién es este chico precioso...?" (And who’s this pretty boy)

  My stomach tightened. The tone, the distance she closed so casually—it set something off in me. I leaned back without thinking, shoulders drawing in, every instinct telling me to create space.

  Car noticed instantly.

  "Hey." She stood up, chair scraping lightly against the floor. "Fuck off, Cecilia. Miguel's mine."

  The words were sharp, final. My chest eased just a little. The situation felt uncomfortably familiar—too close to something I didn't want to relive.

  Cecilia raised her hands in mock surrender, ughing softly. "Rex. Didn't mean anything by it." Her eyes flicked to Car. "Didn't know he was yours."

  That word nded differently than I expected. I waited for discomfort, for fear.

  Instead... warmth. A quiet, grounding kind.

  "What do you want, Cecilia?" Car said, sitting back down and stabbing into her pancakes with more force than necessary. "I'm not talking business in my house."

  Cecilia shrugged and pulled out a chair, sitting like she owned the pce. "Just checking on my little sister," she said lightly. "Seeing how she's handling the family business."

  "I've been doing this for a while now," Car replied, biting into her food like it personally offended her. "I'm fine."

  Cecilia smirked. "Just because you're thirty-four and already running everything doesn't mean you can't still fuck it up."

  She gnced at me, clearly fishing for agreement.

  I didn't give it to her.

  I just stayed quiet, eyes down, fingers curled slightly into my sleeve. New people always did this to me—made me retreat inward. Car didn't miss it. Her knee brushed against mine under the table, subtle but reassuring.

  A silent reminder.

  I'm safe.

  "How's Cami doing under you?" Car asked suddenly, her tone casual but precise. "She hasn't been caught, has she?"

  The name made my brow crease before I could stop it. Another sister?

  Cecilia noticed immediately. "Yeah," she said, gncing at me with a knowing look. "Little sister."

  "Cami's doing fine," Cecilia continued, leaning back in her chair. "She's got her own small group in the Juárez faction now. Same setup as you, more or less."

  Car hummed, unimpressed. Cecilia reached over without asking, plucking a stray chocote chip from Car's pte and popping it into her mouth like she'd done it a thousand times before.

  "Oh really?" Car said. "What's it called? And don't tell me she chose something embarrassing."

  "Los Acranes," (the scorpions) Cecilia replied.

  Car snorted softly. "Meh. Nothing beats my Grupo Sombra." (Shadow group) There was pride there—quiet, earned.

  Cecilia checked the time on her phone, then stood. "Alright. I've seen what I came to see." Her gaze slid to me, softer now, less predatory. "Nice meeting you, Miguel."

  She held out her hand.

  I hesitated just a fraction before taking it. Her grip was firm, confident, lingering half a second longer than necessary. She smiled—sharp, unreadable—then turned and walked away, heels clicking faintly until she disappeared down the hall.

  The room felt lighter the second she was gone.

  Car exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "She always shows up like that."

  I nodded quietly, shoulders easing as I reached for my coffee. Whatever storm Cecilia carried with her, it had passed—for now.

  "You have a nice family," I said softly, my hands folded in my p, fingers fidgeting just a little. "At least... it seems that way."

  Car huffed a small ugh. "Yeah. My mom had a habit of collecting men," she said dryly. "Three sisters. Three different fathers." There was no bitterness in her voice—just acceptance, like she'd long since made peace with it.

  I nodded, letting that settle. The kitchen was warm, still faintly smelling of chocote and butter, the quiet after Cecilia's departure stretching comfortably between us.

  "I want a big family someday," I said suddenly, the words leaving my mouth before I could second-guess them.

  Car froze mid-bite.

  The fork hovered in the air as she slowly turned to look at me—not casually this time, not distracted. Her eyes searched my face, steady and intent, like she was making sure I meant it. Like she was seeing something fragile and honest id bare.

  Then she set the fork down.

  "You will," she said, calm but certain. "You'll have it someday, Miguel. I promise."

  Something in my chest loosened at the way she said it—not like a dream, not like a maybe, but like a fact already written. I smiled, small at first, then wider, warmth spreading through me.

  She always did that—made the world feel less cruel, less uncertain, just by believing in me so completely.

  Car's phone buzzed against the table, the sharp vibration slicing clean through the calm of the kitchen. The sound felt loud in a room that had been so soft just moments ago. I barely reacted at first, instinctively pulling out my own phone and scrolling without really seeing anything, giving her privacy.

  "Well then shut them up," Car said ftly, turning slightly away from me. "Knock them out. Drug them. I don't care how you do it." A pause. Her jaw tightened just a bit. "They won't be here after tomorrow. Just—keep them alive until then."

  The call ended.

  I stared at my screen, my thumb frozen mid-scroll. My stomach twisted, curiosity brushing uncomfortably close to fear. Whatever that was, it wasn't something meant for me. And honestly... I wasn't sure I wanted it to be.

  "Sorry," Car said lightly, like she hadn't just dropped a shadow over the room. She smiled, easy again, the switch almost seamless. "Business nonsense."

  She leaned against the table, eyes flicking toward me with that familiar warmth. "How would you feel about going out for a bit?" she asked. "I'll take the Bugatti. We can drive through Culiacán, maybe grab some food."

  The idea nded like sunlight breaking through clouds. The mansion was beautiful—safe—but part of me craved motion, noise, proof that the world was still spinning.

  "I'd love that," I said without hesitation.

  Car's smile widened, pleased. And just like that, the heaviness lifted.

  ———

  Extra chapter cause I feel bad, nobody's donated so there hasn't been any extra chapters in a bit, here's a freebie :)

  https://ko-fi.com/dayofdarkness666