Juan stood in the middle of the room for a while, not moving. His eyes were fixed on the dark window in front of him. The glass reflected his face—he looked tired, older than before. His thoughts were spinning in two directions. One part of him wanted to go see Belle. She needed care, maybe just someone to be there. The other part of him was thinking about the warehouse situation, which was serious and needed to be handled with strength and focus.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He typed a short message to Hernandez:
“Any progress?”
Less than a minute later, a reply appeared on the screen.
“They’re not talking. We’ve tried… everything.”
Juan’s jaw tightened. He thought about going there himself. He knew what it would be like. Just another long night filled with te
