*Luca*
The tavern is louder than usual tonight, packed shoulder to shoulder, the air thick with sweat and wine, but I can’t shake the unease crawling down my spine. Something feels off. It started with whispers by the bread counter, then a barmaid hurrying past with wide eyes, muttering prayers under her breath.
Then I hear it.
“They’re raiding houses in the northern quarter. Three families taken.”
My blood runs cold. That’s Abuela Maria’s district.
I’m out the door before the man finishes speaking. The streets blur as I run, my boots pounding the road. Please, let them be safe. Let them both be safe.
I push past startled vendors, slip through alleys slick with oil and runoff. The breeze stings my eyes, but it’s not the wind that makes my vision blur.
When I reach the edge of the qu
