Your hands go numb. “The girl inside said he lives there. I heard him crying. Then everything went dark.”Reyes exhales, controlled. “Do not go in alone.”
You laugh once, bitter. “I don’t have time.”
“I said do not go in alone,” she repeats, and now you hear something else in her voice. Not just concern. Anger. “If they’re watching you, you push in, they move him. Or they hurt someone. You stay visible, you stay alive, and you let me do this the right way.”
You look back toward the house from where you stand. From here, it’s just another broken place on a broken street, but you know better. You’ve been living in a world where ordinary doors hide extraordinary cruelty.
“I can’t lose him again,” you say, and your throat tries to close around the words.
“You won’t,” Reyes says, and you can hear her grabbing keys, moving. “But you have to listen. Can you see the front and the back?”
You turn your head, scanning. “Front, yes. Back is fenced.”
“Good,” she says. “Stay where you can see the door. Don’t let them slip out without being seen. And if they come out armed, you don’t play hero.”
Your mouth goes dry. “Armed?”
“It’s a neighborhood where desperate people make desperate choices,” she says, careful with the words. “Keep your distance. Keep your eyes open.”
