The kitchen was bathed in the light glow of a single kerosene lamp. Jeffrey sat at the worn wooden table, his shoulders slumped. Across from him, Omar nursed his glass of rum.

  Jeffrey finally broke the silence.

  "I swore to you, Omar. After… after what happened to Rodrigo, I swore I’d protect this family. No matter what.”

  Jeffrey looked up, his eyes meeting Omar's, the shame raw and exposed.

  “And I failed. Just like I failed him.”

  Omar swirled the rum in his glass, the ice clinking softly against the crystal. He took a slow sip. The alcohol was a bitter comfort against the chill that had settled in his bones. He looked at Jeffrey, steady and unwavering.

  "No. You make no sense, Jeffrey."

  Omar set the glass down on the table.

  “Who could have predicted such a thing? Even Elsa… she was devastated. Who would have suspected her own brother…?”

  The lines in his face deepened, as he shook his head.

  "Even if you had known, what were you gonna do? It wasn’t gonna bring him back."

  There was no need to answer. It was unspoken. Rodrigo evoked a shared grief, and a wound that time had failed to heal. The memory of that day, the screech of tires, the sickening thud of impact, the sight of Rodrigo’s lifeless body sprawled on the asphalt- It was a scene engraved into their minds. It was a recurring nightmare that haunted their waking hours.

  Omar’s voice softened, the hard edge replaced by a weary acceptance.

  “What’s done is done.”

  He looked at Jeffrey, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. His attention shifted towards the guest room, its shimmering light shining from a distance.

  “What matters now is that we haven’t lost another.”

  …

  The hallway stretched out before her. A tunnel of faded seafoam-green and peeling paint was lit by a dying bulb. Scattered scraps of paper, like fallen leaves in an abandoned park, clung to the worn linoleum floor. Oblivious to the drama unfolding behind the orange door, a stray cat dozed on a discarded newspaper. Mariah squinted through the peephole, the distorted image of Rebecca confirming her unease. Opening the door this late was an invitation to trouble.

  "Mariah, it's me, Rebecca! Open up!" Her voice was ragged, edged with a desperation that sent a shiver down Mariah’s spine.

  She unbolted the door, the chain rattling like a prison guard's keys. Rebecca’s usual impeccable dress shirt was rumpled and stained. She stood bathed in the harsh hallway light. Her eyes, usually cool and calculating, were wide and haunted. Mariah’s long t-shirt clung to her like a second skin. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach. This wasn't a social call.

  "Olt," Rebecca gasped, "He's hurt, bad. We need you. We could use your healing abilities."

  Mariah's mind scrambled, the pieces of the puzzle refusing to fit.

  Olt? Hurt? A healer?

  She hadn't used her abilities in years. The whispers of her gift were best kept buried. Synoro’s underbelly would find her and drag her into hell, if she flaunted it.

  "A healer?" she hissed, "Rebecca, I… I haven't…"

  "He took on an Aether user," Rebecca interrupted, her voice tight and urgent. "We don't know how, but he fought back. And there’s reason to believe that he might have used it, too."

  Mariah's stomach twisted, a cold dread spreading through her veins.

  The quiet, studious Olt, wielding the Aether?

  It was an absurd thought. But the desperation on Rebecca's face confirmed the impossible.

  "The potion?" Mariah whispered.

  "We don't know for sure," Rebecca admitted. "But it seems that way."

  Empathy washed over Mariah, quickly followed by a surge of cold, calculating fear. Olt, her friend, her former colleague, was hurt, perhaps dying. But empathy wouldn't pay the bills. It wouldn't protect her family, and wouldn't keep the wrong people at bay.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Rebecca,” Mariah started, “I haven't used my abilities in years. And even if I could, it’s not smart to use it on regulars. It's dangerous."

  Rebecca nodded, her eyes pleading.

  "I know. But we're desperate. Right now, taking Olt to a hospital wouldn’t be smart. Besides, if he survived taking on a user, then there’s a good chance he can survive this."

  Mariah leaned against the doorframe. Calculations swirling in her mind. It would be best to bargain a deal. She needed a way out, in case.

  "Ok, but I need protection. For me and for my family. Ganjo's been… helpful, especially after we lost our jobs. But…I’m afraid spending too much time in that world is gonna-”

  Rebecca's face softened. She knew the risks, the dangers of their world. She knew the price of survival.

  "Bring you more problems?"

  “There’re reasons why I’ve kept my healing ability dormant,” Mariah replied. “In this town we’re rare. The wrong people find out, and I risk being-”

  She looked away into the distance, a frown forming.

  “Ganjo is around the wrong people all the time.”

  Mariah’s attention returned, focused on Rebecca.

  “Ganjo wouldn’t let anyone do that to you,” Rebecca stressed.

  “Ganjo’s one man, Rebecca!” Mariah rebutted.

  Rebecca sighed.

  “I get it. Listen, I know all this is a lot…but, I'll make sure you're safe. We all will. That’s why we’re helping each other.”

  Placing her hand on Mariah’s shoulder, Rebecca’s eyes met the fear on her face.

  The stray cat stirred. Its tail twitched, as it felt the tension.

  A deal with the devil.

  Mariah hated the thought. But in Synoro, what other choice did she have?

  “Let me get dressed.”

  …

  Rain lashed against the windshield, blurring the neon-drenched cityscape into a medley of shimmering colors. Inside the sedan, a sanctuary of soft leather and polished wood, there were unspoken anxieties. Blue leather seats, stitched in a diamond pattern, cradled them. A sleek, minimalist dashboard, accented with brushed aluminum, curved around the driver. The center console, a sculpted piece of polished wood, housed a crystal gear shift and a series of controls.

  Mariah was angry.

  "Fuck, you better come right with your promise.”

  She punched Rebecca’s arm with a jab that belied the fear in her eyes.

  "Assassination attempts, some shadowy chick, and now, Olt. Why didn’t you tell me this before I got in the car? What the hell did you guys do?!"

  With a tight grip on the steering wheel, Rebecca navigated the slick streets with a grim focus. The car sliced through the rain-slicked streets. Its powerful engine was a muted purr within the insulated cabin.

  "I didn't want to worry you," Rebecca mumbled, her voice tight with a fatigue that went beyond the long drive.

  "Worry me?" Mariah chuckled, cynically. "Of course not, you just wanted to fuck me over. Damn it Rebecca, I spent my whole life trying to avoid trouble. And you guys just bring me into it nice and casually."

  A street light flashed past, momentarily illuminating the interior of the car. Their tense faces were highlighted by the light. Rebecca sighed with a weary exhale that fogged the window, momentarily.

  "You’re right," Rebecca admitted. "But if Ganjo goes down because of all of this, what happens to you? What are you gonna do, huh? You’ve been able to survive because of him. He’s gone, then what?

  Mariah's hand rested on the cool leather of the door panel, her fingers tracing the intricate stitching. She looked at Rebecca, her eyes softening.

  "You sound like my parents."

  Mariah paused, her view drifting towards the rain-streaked window.

  "You know when you try not to think of something, hoping it goes away?" she added, her voice hardening, "all this scares me, because I knew I’d have to confront it sooner or later."

  "Yeah…I was just there not too long ago,” Rebecca replied, confirming her sentiment.

  She took her eyes off the road for a second to look at Mariah. Mariah’s attention was now on her hands.

  “Just do your best,” Rebecca began, her voice gaining determination. “I know it’s been a while, but you’d be doing some good. If anyone could use your power, it’s Olt. And if this works…”

  Rebecca paused, looking back at the road.

  “I’ll make sure Ganjo understands your value,” she continued, her knuckles turning white from gripping the wheel so hard. “You'll be a part of it. A real part. Not just someone who can be exploited."

  Raising her head to look at Rebecca, Mariah sighed.

  When Olt and Rebecca arrived at the Institute, Mariah had a few years teaching boring Quantum Biology. She was one of the youngest faculty members. This kept her socially excluded from many. Being from Bonao, also worsened her status. There was a clear divide among social classes in the halls of power and academia.

  With Olt being a country boy who was only a few years younger, and Rebecca being almost ostracized due to her background, the three became close. Olt and Mariah bonded over poking fun of their more privileged peers. Exercising to keep sane was also something they had in common. It was through Olt that Mariah met Ganjo.

  An epiphany was not the word Mariah would have chosen for this moment. But, she understood how Olt and Ganjo deserved her gratitude.

  A wry smile formed on her lips.

  "Well, I guess you have no other choice but to include me," she said, trying to mask her anxiety with sass.

  "Besides," she added, her eyes glinting, "you guys sure keep me from being bored."

  Rebecca remained fixed on the road, but a faint smile touched her lips.

  "There's something else," Rebecca said. "Something I think Veronica will be very interested in."

  Mariah’s curiosity piqued. But the question died on her lips. She leaned back against the plush leather seat. Some secrets, she knew, were best left undisturbed. For now, the promise of a future, however uncertain, was enough.