The moment Evelyn collapsed, Miter Rodrigo’s heart nearly stopped.
“Evelyn!” he barked, his booming voice stripped of its usual command, thick with panic. He caught her before her head hit the ground, her body limp in his arms. The glow of the screen outside still flickered through the glass door, mocking him with that damning word: WANTED.
He didn’t think, he moved.
With the strength of a man who had lifted crates of produce half his life, Rodrigo scooped her up, cradling her like a child. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her dark hair spilling across his chest, her skin ashen. She looked smaller than ever.
He barreled through the back hallway, his staff parting with startled looks, and pushed into his office. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind him.
“Breathe, niña,” he mutte
