Ruz's POV
The car hummed beneath me. Adrian was driving, his eyes fixed on the police car ahead of us, its lights still flashing even though there was no emergency anymore.
Liam sat in the back seat, wedged between Marco and the window. His leg was bouncing. His hands were gripping his knees.
"Stop shaking," Marco said.
"I'm not shaking."
"Your whole body is vibrating. The seat is vibrating."
"I'm cold."
"It's thirty degrees outside."
"I have a condition."
"Your condition is called 'almost got shot and now you're dramatic.'"
"I almost got shot! I'm allowed to be dramatic!"
"You almost got shot because you walked into a warehouse full of criminals. On your own. Without backup. Without telling anyone. Without…."
"I get it."
"Do you? Because you keep doing it."
Liam opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"I hate you," he said.
"You love me," Marco said.
"Debatable."
Behind us, another car followed, Nika driving, Mira in the passenger seat, Zayn and Eren in the back. Nika had insisted on driving because she "didn't trust anyone else's skills," which was funny because Nika had gotten three speeding tickets in the past year.
I pulled out my phone.
The phone rang twice before he picked up.
"Where are you?" His voice was sharp. Alert. The voice of someone who had been waiting for this call and was already bracing for bad news.
"We're in the police station," I said casually, like I was telling him the weather.
A pause.
"What did you both do this time?" His voice dropped. Dangerous. "Who got arrested ? You or Adrian?"
"Kairo."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"Is anybody dead?"
"No. All alive."
"You say that like it's an achievement."
"It is an achievement. Do you know how hard it is to capture a criminal mastermind without killing anyone? Very hard. We should get medals."
"Is anybody hurt?"
I hesitated. "Liam, almost got shot."
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING?" His voice cracked. I'd never heard Kuya's voice crack before. "How is he now? Is he Alright? Is he in the hospital? Is he…."
"He's also alive."
"ALSO? YOU SAY ALSO LIKE THAT'S SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER?"
"I mean…"
"I will die before I turn thirty. Not by sickness. Not by enemies. By you. Both of you siblings. By stress.
"Kuya…."
"Don't answer anybody. Don't sign any papers. Do not open your mouth unless absolutely necessary. Do not make eye contact. Do not breathe loudly. Wait for me. I'm coming."
A mischievous idea crept into my head.
I let it stay there.
"Too late," I said, my voice innocent. Too innocent. The kind of innocent that meant I was definitely lying.
"What?"
"We already gave our statements. Signed all the papers. All the processes are done."
Silence.
"I WILL KILL YOU."
He hung up.
I stared at my phone.
"He hung up on my face," I said.
"You deserve it," Adrian said, not looking away from the road.
"He said when he comes, he will kill me."
"He should marinate you in onion and garlic paste and burn you alive. You gave him a heart attack. Why did you lie to him? We haven't even reached the police station yet."
"I was having fun."
"Your definition of fun is concerning."
"Your face is concerning."
"My face is handsome." Adrian shot back instantly.
"My face is better."
"My face has been on magazine covers."
"Yeah," I said dryly, "as a criminal."
Silence.
Then Adrian turned his head slowly toward me, eyes narrowing just a little. Not offended, worse. Amused. Like he finally understood exactly what I was trying to say.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Liam leaned forward from the back seat. "Can we focus on the fact that I almost got shot?"
"Congratulations," Marco said.
"On what?"
"Almost dying."
"That's not a congratulations thing."
"It is in this group."
"Then this group is broken."
"This group was always broken. You just noticed."
Liam sat back. Stared out the window. His leg started bouncing again.
I pulled out my phone and texted Kuya the location.
He had forgotten to ask me where the police station was.
The police station smelled like coffee, sweat, and bad decisions.
Not our bad decisions, the bad decisions of the people who ended up here regularly.
Kairo sat in the lockup.
His hands were cuffed. His expensive suit was wrinkled, His perfect hair was disheveled, strands falling across his forehead like he had just been in a windstorm.
I walked up to the bars.
He looked at me.
"You," he said.
"Me," I said.
"Come to gloat?"
"Come to watch you process your regret in real time."
He smiled. Even in handcuffs, even behind bars, he still had that smile. The smile of someone who believed he would find a way out.
"You think this is over?"
"I know this is over. The police have you. Your men have turned on you. You're sitting in a cell wearing handcuffs that probably don't match your aesthetic."
"My aesthetic?"
"You look like a man who cares about his appearance. That orange jumpsuit they're going to give you? It's going to clash with everything. Your skin tone. Your hair color. Your entire personality."
His smile faltered.
"Watch your mouth, little girl."
"I'm watching yours. It's moving. It should stop. That's what people in jail do. They sit quietly and think about their choices."
"You're funny."
"I'm hilarious. And you're in jail."
He stood up. Walked to the bars. His fingers wrapped around the metal, knuckles white with tension.
"When I get out…"
"You won't."
"..I will make you regret this. I will make you regret every word you've ever said to me. Every laugh. Every joke. Everything."
I stepped closer to the bars.
"You wanted to kill Liam because his father hurt your ego years ago. That's not revenge. That's pathetic. That's the kind of thing children do when they don't get their way."
"When you get out," I said quietly, staring straight at him, my expression changing, no trace of jokes, no teasing left, only something sharp and cold, "I'll make sure you regret everything."
My lips curved slightly, not warm, not friendly, just a thin, sarcastic smile
My voice didn't shake. That was the terrifying part. "You'll regret what you did. What you tried to do. Every plan you made. You'll regret touching my friends. You'll regret going after Liam."
His expression twitched slightly.
"And Tita Luna?" I let out a humorless laugh. "That alone signed your fate."
The room suddenly felt too small for the amount of rage sitting inside me.
"You should've stayed far away from the people I love."
He looked at me in disbelief, slightly stunned to see a girl like me threatening him like that, and for a moment, he felt a bit afraid.
I smiled at him then, cold and sharp enough to cut.
"But don't worry," I whispered. "When I'm done, even your existence will feel like a punishment. For now, enjoy your orange jumpsuit," I said. "I hope it's itchy."
I walked away.
He wasn't going anywhere.
Ten minutes later, the station doors burst open.
Kuya walked in like a storm.
People looked up. Conversations stopped. Even the cops straightened their postures.
His eyes found me immediately.
Found Adrian.
Found Liam, who was sitting on a bench looking like he wanted to dissolve into the floor.
"Ruzelle Richelle Cruz."
Uh oh.
Full name.
That's never good.
"Kuya…"
"Not now."
He walked past me to the officers handling the case. Started talking to them in low, controlled tones. Presenting documents. Answering questions. Signing papers. His voice was calm, but his shoulders were tense, and I could see the vein.
I sat down next to Liam.
"He's mad," Liam whispered.
"He's furious," I agreed.
"At you?"
"At me."
"Good luck."
"I'll need it."
Adrian sat on my other side. "You should run."
"Where?"
"Another country. Another planet."
"Tempting. Does Mars have extradition?"
Liam leaned forward. "Can we focus on the fact that I almost got shot?"
"You've mentioned that," Adrian said.
"Multiple times," Marco added.
"I almost died!"
"You're still here."
"That doesn't mean I'm not traumatized!"
"That's what therapy is for."
"I don't need therapy. I need people to acknowledge my suffering."
"Your suffering has been acknowledged," I said.
I pulled out the bag Tita had packed.
Liam's eyes widened. "Is that…"
"The pork with the special sauce. The one you like. Tita made it for you. She said it reminded her of your grandmother's cooking."
"She remembered?"
"Of course she remembered. She remembers everything."
I opened the container.
The smell filled the station with garlic, soy sauce, something sweet and savory and warm.
I grabbed a piece of pork with my fingers.
"Open," I said.
Liam stared at me.
"Open your mouth."
"I'm not a baby."
"You're acting like one. Say Aaa."
He opened.
I put the pork in his mouth.
His expression changed. The tension in his shoulders eased. The stress lines on his forehead smoothed. His eyes closed in bliss.
"Good?" I asked.
He nodded, mouth full, unable to speak.
"Good."
I fed him another piece.
Then another.
Adrian watched from across the room, his arms crossed, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and disgust.
"You're feeding him like a baby bird," he said.
"He almost got shot. He deserves baby bird treatment."
"I almost got punched."
"That's different."
"How?"
"Punches build character. Bullets end lives."
He considered this. "Fair point."
"He's right," Marco said. "I've been punched. It builds character."
"You've also been shot."
"That was different."
"How?"
"That bullet was meant for someone else."
"That doesn't make it better."
"It makes it less personal."
"That's not how bullets work."
"That's how I choose to remember it."
Liam finished the food.
He looked better now. Less pale. Less shaky. Almost like himself.
"Thank you," he said.
"Shut up," I said.
"Your Tita is an angel."
"I know."
" And you're Demon ."
"I know."
"I mean that as a compliment."
"It didn't sound like one."
"It was one."
I almost smiled.
Almost.
When we reached home, the driveway was full of cars.
Tita Luna's car. Aira's car. Rifat's motorcycle, because of course Rifat rode a motorcycle, because Rifat was too cool for cars. Diego's SUV, parked at a slightly crooked angle.
Everyone was here.
They "They've been with Auntie since this morning.
What if Kairo attacked her?
What if he went after Liam's mother instead of Liam?
The thought made my stomach clench.
We walked inside.
Tita Luna was sitting on the couch, Tita beside her, holding her hand. Aira was on the floor, leaning against the couch, her eyes tired but alert,
Rifat stood by the window, watching the street like a soldier on guard duty. His arms were crossed. His expression was unreadable. But his eyes were sharp.
Diego sat at the dining table, scrolling through his phone, pretending to be calm.
Everyone looked up when we walked in.
Tita Luna stood.
"Liam," she said.
"Ma."
She crossed the room and pulled him into her arms. Held him tight.
"I'm okay," he said into her shoulder.
"You're not okay. You almost…."
"I'm still here."
"That's not the same thing."
"I know."
They stayed like that for a moment.
Then Tita Luna pulled back. Looked at me. At Adrian. At Marco. At everyone who had been with him.
"Thank you," she said. "For saving my son."
"No thanks needed," I said.
"Thanks are always needed."
She hugged me.
I stood there, stiff and uncomfortable, not sure what to do with my hands. Hugs were not my thing. Hugs were for people who knew how to be soft.
"You're welcome," I said finally.
She pulled back. Her eyes were wet.
I looked away.
We went upstairs to get ready.
The girls took my room. The boys took Adrian's. The hallway became a war zone of people running back and forth, borrowing things, stealing things, arguing about things that didn't matter.
My room was chaos within seconds.
Nika immediately flopped onto my bed, spread eagle, taking up as much space as possible.
"I'm never moving again," she announced.
"You have to. We have a party. A fancy party. With important people and expensive food and cameras that will definitely capture whatever state you're in."
"The party can wait."
"The party cannot wait. Liam needs distractions. He needs to forget that someone tried to kill him on his birthday. He needs cake and music and people pretending everything is normal. He needs…"
"A break?"
"A life."
Mira sat at my desk, pulling out her phone, checking something. Her fingers moved across the screen with practiced speed.
"Your locket," she said. "The tracker. It worked perfectly. I watched your location the entire time. Every step. Every turn. Every moment."
"I noticed. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Also, your heart rate spiked seventeen times during the fight. That's concerning."
"My heart rate spikes when I run."
"You weren't running. You were fighting."
"Same thing."
"It's not the same thing."
"It is in my world."
Aira sat on the floor, her back against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her silence was quiet, which was impressive.
"You okay?" I asked.
She looked at me.
"I thought you were going to die," she said. "In the warehouse.
"But I didn't die."
"You almost did."
"Almost doesn't count."
"It counts to me."
I sat down next to her.
"I'm not that easy to kill," I said. "I'm harder to kill than a cockroach. Cockroaches can survive everything."
"You're not a cockroach."
"I'm cockroach adjacent."
"That's not a compliment."
"It's not supposed to be. It's supposed to be honest."
She leaned her head against my shoulder.
I let her.
Nika sat up. "Okay, enough sadness. We have a party to attend. We have dresses to wear. We have faces to make beautiful. We have…"
"My face is already beautiful," I said.
"Your face is adequate."
"Your face is…"
"Adequate," Mira said.
They both turned to look at her.
"What?" Mira asked. "Both of you have adequate faces. Nothing special. Nothing extraordinary. Just…."
"This is the worst pep talk I've ever received," Nika said.
"This isn't a pep talk. This is an assessment. I'm assessing your faces. Objectively."
"Nothing about you is objective."
"Everything about me is objective. I'm the most objective person in this room."
"You're the most annoying person in this room."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive."
Aira laughed.
Just a little.
Our dresses arrived in separate boxes, delivered by couriers who probably thought we were celebrities or criminals or both.
Nika's dress was red.
Bright red. The kind of red that demanded attention, that screamed LOOK AT ME from across the room, that made people stop mid sentence and stare. The kind of red that said I'm here, I'm important, and I'm better than you.
"I look like I'm about to murder someone," she said, examining herself in the mirror.
"You look like you just murdered someone and are now attending the funeral in their honor," I said.
"Same energy."
"Same dress."
"The dress is not responsible for the energy. The dress is just fabric. The energy comes from me."
"The dress is loud fabric."
"The dress is confident fabric."
"The dress is screaming."
"The dress is announcing."
Aira looked at her. "You look nice."
"Nice? I look spectacular. I look like I should be on a magazine cover."
"Which magazine?"
"All of them."
Mira's dress was black.
Simple. Elegant. The kind of dress that didn't need to scream because its presence was enough.
"You look like a spy," Nika said.
"I am a spy," Mira said.
"You're not a spy."
"That's what a spy would say."
"That's what a normal person would say too."
"That's also what a spy would say."
Nika threw a pillow at her.
Mira caught it without looking.
"I hate you," Nika said.
"No, you don't," Mira said.
"I know."
Aira's dress was blue.
Soft blue. The color of the sky on a clear morning. The kind of dress that made her look like she had never been in a fight in her life.
"You look nice," I said.
"Thanks," she said.
"You look like you're going to a wedding."
"I'm going to a birthday party."
"Same thing. Just without the vows.
My dress was green.
Dark green. Forest green. Tita had picked it out, she had known exactly what I would need.
"It suits you," Mira said.
"It's just a dress."
"It's not just a dress. It's armor. You wear it when you need to be strong. When you need to face things that scare you."
"I'm not scared of anything."
"Everyone is scared of something."
"I'm scared of boring parties."
"That's not a real fear."
"It is in my world."
The boys were also getting ready.
I could hear them through the wall.
Adrian was yelling at someone, probably Enzo, who had probably done something stupid.
"No, not that tie. THE OTHER ONE."
"There's only one tie!"
"THEN BUY ANOTHER TIE."
"You can't buy a tie in five minutes!"
"THEN WEAR A DIFFERENT SHIRT."
"I only brought one shirt!"
"WHY DID YOU ONLY BRING ONE SHIRT?"
"I WAS IN A RUSH!"
"YOU'RE ALWAYS IN A RUSH!"
"YOU'RE ALWAYS YELLING!"
"BECAUSE YOU'RE ALWAYS STUPID!"
Liam's voice cut through: "Can you both shut up? I'm trying to look handsome here."
"YOU CAN'T LOOK HANDSOME," Adrian said. "YOU'RE INCAPABLE."
"I'm perfectly capable."
"YOUR FACE IS INCAPABLE."
"MY FACE SAVED YOUR LIFE."
"MY LIFE DOESN'T NEED SAVING."
"IT LITERALLY JUST DID."
"THAT WAS RUZ."
"RUZ IS YOUR SISTER."
"EXACTLY."
"THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE."
"NOTHING MAKES SENSE. THAT'S LIFE."
Zayn's calm voice cut through: "Everyone quiet."
Silence.
"Thank you," Zayn said.
"Liam, your tie is crooked. Adrian, stop yelling at Enzo. Enzo, you look fine. Rifat, stop staring at the wall, it's not going to stare back. Diego, your hair is fine, stop touching it. Eren, your shoes are untied."
"You're not my mother," someone said.
"No," Zayn said. "I'm worse than you mother."
Chandeliers that's probably costly. Marble floors that reflected the lights like mirrors. Staff in uniforms that looked quite expensive. The kind of place where businessmen brought clients to impress them, where deals were made over champagne and handshakes, where everything was designed to make you feel underdressed.
Liam's mother had reserved the entire ballroom.
Castillo Empire guests filled every corner. Businessmen in expensive suits. Businesswomen in even more expensive dresses. People who owned things,companies, buildings, probably small countries. People who had never been in a fight in their lives.
Liam's mother stood near the entrance, greeting guests, her smile bright and professional.
But her eyes were tired.
Today had been hard on her.
"Welcome," she said as we approached. Her smile softened when she saw us. "Liam's friends. The ones who saved him."
"We try," Nika said.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
We walked inside.
The ballroom was beautiful.
Lights. Flowers. A band playing soft music that no one was listening to because everyone was too busy talking. The kind of music that was supposed to be background but somehow made everything feel more important.
Waiters moved through the crowd with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres that looked too pretty to eat but tasted too good not to.
Liam disappeared into the crowd, pulled away by relatives, by family friends, by people who wanted to congratulate him and probably also wanted something else.
"We stick together," I said to the group.
"No splitting up," Adrian agreed.
"No wandering off," Mira added.
"No getting kidnapped," Nika said.
"That should go without saying."
"Nothing goes without saying with this group. Remember the warehouse? Remember the lockup? Remember…."
"We remember."
"Just checking."
I saw him across the room.
Rafael Mendoza.
Dressed in a dark suit, standing near the bar, talking to someone who looked important. His posture was straight, his movements confident, his expression the kind of neutral that meant he was calculating something.
He saw me.
Our eyes met.
He nodded.
I nodded back.
Then he walked toward me.
"You look nice," he said when he reached me.
"Thanks."
"Your dress. It's green. Dark green. Like the forest."
"It is."
"Your mother liked green.The color of new leaves in spring. She said it reminded her of hope."
I said nothing.
He looked at the group around me. At Adrian. At Nika. At Mira. At Aira. At the others scattered around, watching, waiting.
"These are your friends?"
"Yes."
He looked at them again.
"You're all very young."
"We're aware."
"You're also very brave."
"We're also very hungry. Is there food?"
He laughed. Actually laughed. The sound surprised me, I hadn't heard him laugh in years, hadn't known if he still could.
"Yes," he said. "There's food. Lots of food. Castillo parties are famous for their food. People come for the business and stay for the catering."
"I'm going to eat it all."
"Please do. That's what food is for."
He hesitated.
"Can I talk to you? Alone? Just for a moment? There's something I want to discuss with you."
I looked at Adrian.
Adrian shrugged. "We'll be here. Probably eating. Definitely judging the other guests."
"Don't go anywhere."
"We won't. Where would we go? The food is here."
I followed my father to a quieter corner of the room.
"I want to throw a party for your eighteenth birthday," he said.
Your party. A big one. In Manila. At the house. The one you've never seen."
I said nothing.
"I want you to live with me. In Makati. Before your birthday. So we have time. To get to know each other. To figure things out. To learn how to be in the same room without arguing."
"Figure what things out?"
"How to be a family."
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
His eyes were different now. Softer. The way they used to be before everything fell apart.
"I want to select a good college for you," he continued. "The best one. Because you deserve the best. Because you've worked hard and you've earned it."
"I can select my own college."
"I know you can. You're smart enough to select your own college. Let me do something for you."
"I want to teach you business myself." His voice was earnest. Desperate. Like he was afraid I would say no and he would lose his chance. "I want to show you how everything works. How the company runs. How to manage people. How to negotiate. How to win."
"I already know how to win."
"I know you do. You know how to win. But there's always more to learn. New strategies. New approaches. New ways to succeed."
"I want to introduce you to the family. Your uncles. Your aunts. Your cousins. They're desperate to meet you. They've been waiting for you, asking about you. Hoping you would come."
I was quiet.
"Please, anak," he said. "Don't say no. I want to use my second chance properly. I don't want to make any more mistakes. I want to spend more time with you. Before it's too late. Before you're grown and busy and don't need me anymore."
Anak.
He called me anak.
Like I was his daughter.
Like I had always been his daughter, even when he wasn't there.
"I'll think about it," I said.
"That's all I ask," he said and left.
Liam found me after papa walked away.
His expression was different. Upset. Not angry,just… sad. The kind of sad that came from realizing something you didn't want to realize.
"You're leaving," he said.
"What?"
"Your father. He wants you to live with him. In Makati. After school. After everything. I heard him. I was standing nearby. I was just… standing."
"He wants me to. That doesn't mean I will."
"But you're thinking about it."
I said nothing.
"I thought we were going to the same college," he said. "I thought we were going to stay together. Here. In the same city. The same school. The same…."
"Liam."
"...same everything. I thought…"
"Liam."
He stopped.
"I'm not leaving forever," I said. "I'm visiting. Every week. I'll come back. I'll stay here. This is my home. You're my friend. I'm not going to disappear."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
"You better."
"I will."
He looked at me for a long moment.
"You owe me."
"For what?"
"For almost dying. On my birthday. That's traumatic. I'm going to need therapy."
"You're using your trauma to guilt me?"
"Is it working?"
"No."
"Yes, it is."
"…Maybe a little."
He almost smiled.
"Good."
The food was excellent,Tita's food made an appearance next to the hotel's fancy dishes, and somehow Tita's food won. People kept coming back to it, kept asking where it came from, kept taking photos of it like it was art. Businessmen in expensive suits were eating pork adobo with their fingers. Businesswomen in designer dresses were licking sauce off their thumbs.
Liam laughed more as the night went on. The tension drained from his shoulders. The shadows faded from his eyes.
He danced with his mother. With Aira. With Nika. With Mira. With every girl who asked and some who didn't.
He danced with me.
"You're stepping on my feet," I said.
"I'm not stepping. I'm guiding."
"Your guiding is stepping."
"My guiding is artistic."
"Your guiding is criminal."
He laughed.
I let him hold my hand.
Just for the song.
Just for the moment.
Nika started a food fight.
No one knew how. No one knew why. One moment everyone was eating politely, and the next moment cake was flying through the air and landing on people's faces. It was like magic, but with more sugar.
"Is that…"
"Chocolate…"
"WHO THREW THAT…"
"NOT ME…"
"YOUR FACE IS COVERED…"
"YOUR FACE IS COVERED TOO…."
Adrian caught a piece of cake
mid air.
And threw it back.
It hit Enzo in the forehead with a satisfying splat.
"Direct hit," Adrian said.
"Direct hit on my face," Enzo said.
"The cake doesn't care where it lands. The cake is non judgmental."
"The cake is on my suit."
"The suit was too expensive anyway."
"THIS SUIT WAS MY FATHER'S."
"Then your father had bad taste."
Enzo turned to Marco. "Did you see that?"
"I saw nothing."
"HE THREW CAKE AT ME."
"I didn't see it."
"YOU WERE STANDING RIGHT THERE."
"I was looking the other way."
"THERE'S NOTHING THE OTHER WAY."
"There was a wall."
"WALLS AREN'T INTERESTING."
"This one was. It had texture."
Nika grabbed another piece of cake.
"You wouldn't," I said.
"I would."
"Don't."
"Too late."
She threw it.
I ducked.
It hit the businessman behind me.
He turned around. Looked at the cake on his jacket. Looked at Nika. Looked at the cake. Looked at Nika.
"Young lady," he said.
"It wasn't me," Nika said.
"My jacket is covered in frosting."
"It adds character. Frosting is the new embroidery."
"My jacket costs more than your education."
"Then you should have worn a bib. Or a poncho. Or stayed home."
The businessman stared at her.
Nika stared back.
Then he laughed.
"I like you," he said.
"Everyone does," Nika said.
"That's arrogant."
"That's accurate."
And that's how we almost ruined Liam's birthday party.
The party ended late.
Guests trickled out, one by one, until only the close ones remained. Liam's mother was talking to Tita in a corner, their heads together, their voices low. Tito was chatting with some businessmen about something that was probably boring.
Kuya was standing near the door, his arms crossed, his eyes on me.
He was still mad.
But he was also tired.
I walked over to him.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"For?"
"For worrying you. For lying on the phone. For almost getting shot. For…"
"The lying was the worst part."
"Not getting shot?"
"That was bad. But the lying was worse. The lying was intentional. Almost getting shot was just poor planning."
"I'll work on my planning."
"Work on your honesty first."
I nodded.
We stood there for a moment.
Then Adrian walked over.
"We should go," he said. "It's late. We have school tomorrow. Unfortunately."
"School," I said. "After everything that happened. We have school."
"Life doesn't stop just because you captured a criminal."
"Life should stop. Life needs to rest."
"Tell life that. See if it listens."
We walked to the car.
The night was cool. The stars were bright. The city was quiet.
Liam stood at the entrance of the hotel, watching us go.
I waved.
He waved back.
Then we drove away.