𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 97: 𝐖𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐌𝐫 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬°°°

Outside smelled of stale earth and cold wind. Nevena had asked twice where they were going. Junior hadn't answered either time, he just led her to the road and flagged down a cab.

The driver—a thick-necked man with tired eyes—glanced at them. "Where to?"

Junior leaned forward and switched languages like flipping a knife. "La casa de mi madre. El barrio viejo. Santa Fe."

The driver's eyes flicked to Nevena, then back to Junior. A beat. A slow nod.

"¿Sola la casa?"

"Sí. Ella no necesita saber la dirección."

The driver grunted and clicked the lock. Junior reached for the door but Nevena's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"What did you say to him?" Her pulse climbed. "I have a bad feeling."

"Trust me." Junior turned at her. "We aren't getting into trouble."

Nevena stared back. This wasn't the boy who'd asked for crayons yesterday.

Trusting his guideline, she settled into the cab with him. The driver dropped the meter and they pulled away from the curb.

Neon signs blurred past. Liquor stores. Pawn shops. Empty lots with chain-link teeth.

Nevena sat rigid and her pulse got louder but she couldn't unleash her fear because Junior was pressed against her side.

She could have told the driver to stop and maybe grab the boy and drag him back, but Junior was more of a little rebellious. Keeping him away would only make him run alone.

She looked out the window, watching the city peel away.

The cab ate miles and soon turned onto the familiar highway. Heading south. "Wait—this is the way to your house. You could've saved me the guess work."

"That's not how this works," he whispered.

The driver slowed onto a cracked asphalt road with no name. Junior looked out. The rows of their apartment came into view—faint, farther.

He sat forward. "Stop at F-block."

The cab rolled to a stop and Junior opened his door. "You coming, bestie?"

"Obviously.” she came down immediately, but as they turned towards Breanna's door the driver peeked out of the mirror and grunted

“Payment?”

The two paused, realizing they brought no money along, Junior however walked back to the driver and leaned forward. Nevena watched his lips move—low, fast, in that same local dialect.

The driver killed the engine. Got out. Lit a cigarette and leaned against the hood.

Nevena stared at them confused. The six-year-old in front of her had just paid a fare with words or maybe he was just pulling too many fast ones on her.

—

The front door was password-locked. Junior punched six digits—fast, automatic—and pushed it open like he'd done it a thousand times.

Inside was dimly lit and quiet, but it didn't deter the boy, he walked through it all. Straight to the shelf place.

He ascended a small ladder and grabbed a briefcase— black, scuffed, heavy.

Nevena recognized it. Antonio gave it to him the day he walked into court at the peak of her sentencing.

"Are we going to court?" She tried to smile.

Junior didn't look at her as he replied. "You'll know when we get there.”

She smacked her tongue. Defeated. Her bestie was in Breanna's-son mood today. As she feasted her eyes on the house interior design Junior called her attention.

"Could use some help here." He pointed at the upper shelf.

“Sure” Nevena nodded. Stretched and lifted down a resin-designed box. Opened it and her eyes widened.

"Nice collection." She ran a hand through it. "How long did it take you to gather this much?”

"Save the interview for later." Junior tugged her chin—tender but firm. "Please pack it. I'll change."

"Rascal." She seethed as he ran off to his room.

Minutes later, he emerged. Decked in total black—corporate suit. The one Antonio customized for him.

“Junior?”

“Let's go” the little boy countered hastily and walked away.

Nevena felt a little dumb, she was the adult here but Junior's dominance since morning was just so compelling— Detective Stewart blood, obviously.

—

Outside, the cab was waiting. The driver had finished his cigarette. They boarded and he took the exit without being told—dirt road first, then highway unspooling like a black ribbon.

Nevena watched the landscape flatten. She didn't ask where they were going, Junior was in control.

Minutes later the driveway appeared—long, private, flanked by iron gates that opened without a sound. The luxurious hotel rose ahead: expansive.

Antonio's cold warning last time made Nevena's spine stiff. >Don't come looking for me.

None of her muscles nor limbs moved except her lips. "You brought me to Antonio's Hotel. Why?"

"Sorry for gaslighting you." Junior opened the door. Stepped onto the interlock. "I'm taking us to the only person who can save my mother."

She turned on him—fury and fear twisted together. "You're six years old. You don't get to make this decision alone."

Junior's high aura dimmed. "You can wait in the cab. I'll see Buddy."

He thought she'd meet his demand yet again. But seeing the hesitation in her face, he grabbed his briefcase with one last sentence before disappearing into the building.

"Don't let me go alone.”

—

He used the contact card Antonio gave him and secured his pass at the door. But commotion awakened at the reception desk.

He presented the card—black, embossed, heavier than it looked. “Morning Aunty. I want to see Mr Hunt”

The receptionist took it like it might burn her. Her eyes went wide seeing it was authentic.

She looked at Junior. Then signalled securities to close in.

"Where did you get this?" Her voice pitched high. "Did you steal it?"

“No I didn't. Buddy gave it to me” the boy chimed innocently unaware of the danger closing in.

“Unbelievable” The chief security stepped in—barrel-chested, close-cropped gray. "This card belongs to Mr. Hunt. Only Mr. Hunt. You're a scoundrel.”

"I'm not lying." Junior's voice didn't waver. "Buddy gave it to me."

“Shut up, rascal.” The man raised his hand to silence Junior.

“Don't you dare hit my boy.” Nevena cut in sharply.

Every head turned to her and Junior immediately scrambled and pressed against her leg.

"Shame on you—interrogating a child like a criminal.” She held the chief's gaze. "You just accused a child of theft based on your own ignorance. Want to double down, or walk it back? Deal with it, Mr. Hunt gave it to him personally.”

The chief's jaw worked. Then he bowed—stiff, begrudging. "Apologies, ma'am. Rare provocation. We don't see that card often, that's why."

Nevena didn't soften. "We need to see Mr. Hunt.”

“Ma'am we can work through this” the man pressed “apologies on behalf of me and my team's misconduct— we will do better next time.”

“Unbelievable” Nevena clinked her tongue. “I'm not as petty as you. We only need to see Mr Hunt for something else.”

“Oh” the man sighed, adjusting his tie. “He hasn't arrived yet but if you're on appointment we can put him through on call.”

"No need for that trouble. We'll wait.”