CHAPTER TWO: A DEBT I DIDN’T OWE

A week passed. Seven long days since I saw that man bleeding on the floor of Club Rosario.

I kept thinking about his face—the sharp jaw, the shadow of a beard, those dark eyes filled with something heavy, like pain or rage. He didn’t even say his name before he vanished.

No call. No message. Not even a damn thanks.

And me? I was still stuck in the same cycle: washing dishes at the diner, counting every penny for Mama’s pills, pretending my sister, Carmen didn’t exist.

The meds were almost gone. Mama’s cough was getting worse. She barely got out of bed now. Her hands shook when she held a spoon. Sometimes I found her staring at the ceiling like she was counting how many breaths she had left.

I needed money. I needed it fast. 

Bad.

So when Carmen showed up at the diner one evening, all sweet and sugary with a fake smile on her lips, I should’ve known something was off.

“Need a ride home?” she asked, popping her gum. “Feet must be killing you.”

I paused. Carmen was never nice to me. She rather caused me pain and trouble. 

“What’s the catch?”

She smirked. “No catch. Just being nice.”

I should’ve said no cause I didn't trust her. 

But my shoes were soaked from cleaning grease off the kitchen floor. My ankles ached. My back was tight. And I didn’t have the strength to walk ten blocks in the hot night.

So I got in her car.

She played loud music. Her friends were quiet for once. It felt strange, It felt like the calm before a storm, and I knew it. But I stayed.

When we got home, the living room was dark—only a single lamp lit the corner.

Felix, my older brother, sat on the couch, arms crossed. He looked nervous. His hands were Sweaty. His legs moved up and down fast.

Next to him stood a tall man. He was in a long black coat.

I froze.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. Just stared at me with cold eyes that sliced right through my skin.

“Are you Maya Torres?” he asked, voice low and smooth, like someone who never needed to raise it to be heard.

I nodded slowly.

“You’ll be working for Diego Salazar now.”

I blinked. “Who?”

“Who is Diego Salazar?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he said. “Felix stole drugs from Mr. Salazar. He owes him. And since your brother is too useless to pay back what he took…”

He turned toward me fully, hands in his coat pockets.

“You’re the payment.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped, backing away. “I didn’t do anything—”

He stepped closer, voice still calm.

“Your mom needs her medicine, doesn’t she? Imagine if she stopped getting it. If something happened to her.”

My blood ran cold.

“You would hurt her?” I whispered.

“No,” he said. “But our friends know how to delay shipments. Misplace prescriptions. Doctors don’t always remember the right dosage.”

I shook my head. “You’re monsters.”

Carmen laughed in the corner. “I told you she would freak out.”

My heart was pounding so loud I couldn’t hear anything else. I looked at Felix—he wouldn’t meet my eyes. Coward.

“You’ll show up at the address we send you,” the man said, walking toward the door. “Two days from now. Wear something plain.”

“What if I don't go?” I said, my voice shaking.

He looked over his shoulder, eyes like ice.

“Then your mother stops breathing.”

And just like that, he was gone.

The silence after he left felt louder than the threat.

I turned to Carmen, fists clenched.

“You let this happen?” I asked a question that needs no answering 

She shrugged. “Why should I suffer just because you’re Mama’s favorite? Time for you to carry some weight.”

I slapped her.

It felt so good.

She gasped, holding her cheek like I’d killed her.

“You hit me?” She said. 

“You’re trash,” I said through clenched teeth. “You always have been.”

I didn’t sleep that night. I just sat by Mama’s side, listening to her breathe, my hands clutching hers like they were the only thing anchoring me to this world.

Two days passed.

I showed up at the address they sent—a big warehouse by the water side, quiet and grim. The sea air smelled like oil and fish.

A man at the gate waved me in.

Inside, it was cold. Gray walls. Metal chairs. Cameras in every corner.

I stood there, arms crossed, pretending I wasn’t scared but deep down I was scared to death.

Then I heard footsteps.

He walked in, wearing a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms lined with veins. He had a broken leg. A cane tapped the floor with every step.

My heart stopped.

It was him.

The man I saved. The stranger from the club.

Except now… I knew his name.

Diego Salazar.

And the look he gave me?

It wasn’t grateful.

It was furious.