THE VENDOR AND THE MAFIA BOSS

The rain came down in sheets, pouring from the heavens with a ferocity that seemed to match the tension in the air. In the crowded, chaotic streets of Divisoria, the dampness clung to the skin, but Amara Salazar barely noticed. She was used to the heat, the grime, and the constant hustle of the market. What truly weighed on her were the shadows—those that lurked in the corners of her life, the ones that followed her every step. Amara wiped the water from her face as she hurried down the alley, clutching the small bundle of cloth in her arms. She glanced over her shoulder, her heart racing as the sounds of footsteps echoed behind her. The figures who had been following her since she’d left the market were getting closer, their whispers growing louder. "You don’t get to walk away this time, Amara." The voice, low and grating, sent a shiver down her spine. Edgar, one of the local thugs who worked for a local crime boss, had caught up with her. His hulking figure was drenched, his face twisted in a permanent sneer. She’d crossed him one too many times—and tonight, he wasn’t planning on letting her escape. Not this time. Amara’s mind raced as she ducked behind a corner, trying to lose them in the labyrinthine streets of Divisoria. She knew the area like the back of her hand, but Edgar wasn’t the kind of man who would let her slip away easily. He would follow her until she couldn’t run anymore. She turned another corner and found herself in a narrower alley, a dead end. Her breath hitched in panic, but she didn’t stop. There had to be a way out. She could fight if she needed to, but it was a fight she couldn’t afford to lose. Footsteps thudded closer, and she took a step back, her back now pressed against the cold brick wall. She raised her head, eyes scanning her surroundings, but there was nowhere to hide. Just as Edgar and his goons closed in, a sleek black SUV rolled to a stop at the end of the alley. The headlights cut through the darkness, and the vehicle door opened with a soft hiss. Amara froze. A tall figure stepped out of the car, his black leather jacket glistening in the rain. It was a man she recognized, but only from a distance. Rafa Monteverde. His presence was commanding, even from where Amara stood, but there was something unsettling about the way he moved, like he knew exactly what was happening. His sharp gaze locked on Edgar, and without a word, he took a step toward the thug, his aura radiating a dangerous calm. "Move along," Rafa said, his voice smooth and cold. Edgar hesitated, clearly uncertain about the man who had just appeared out of nowhere. He didn’t recognize him immediately, but something about Rafa’s air made him uneasy. "You don’t know who you're messing with," Edgar growled, his hand going for the knife tucked in his belt. Rafa raised an eyebrow, unbothered by the threat. "I don’t need to. But you do." Before Edgar could react, Rafa was on him. A swift movement, a well-placed kick, and Edgar was on the ground, groaning in pain. His two companions froze, eyes wide with shock. One of them reached for his gun, but Rafa was faster. In a flash, he had it out of the thug’s hand and pointed at the ground. "This isn’t your territory," Rafa said, his tone unwavering. The two men looked at each other, then back at the man who had effortlessly neutralized their leader. They knew they had lost this fight. "Get out of here," Rafa commanded. The goons didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled to their feet and ran, disappearing into the night. Rafa turned to Amara, who was still standing at the end of the alley, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know what to make of this stranger, but she was certain of one thing—he wasn’t like the others who ran the streets of Divisoria. He wasn’t just a thug. There was something more to him, something dangerous. "I think you owe me," he said, his eyes flicking over her as if sizing her up. Amara didn’t speak for a moment, unsure of what to say. She could feel his gaze burning into her, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she pushed the wet strands of hair from her face and straightened her posture. "I don’t owe anyone anything," she replied, her voice steady despite the tremor of fear in her chest. Rafa smiled, a slight curve to his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. "We’ll see about that." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black business card, handing it to her with a deliberate slowness. The words on the card were simple: Rafa Monteverde – Business & Partnerships. "You can find me if you change your mind," he said, before turning and walking back to his car without another word. Amara stood frozen in the alley, the card still in her hand. Her mind whirled with questions. Who was this man? And why had he helped her? Amara sat in her small apartment, staring at the card as rain continued to pour outside. The room was dim, the only light coming from the small lamp on the table. She hadn’t expected this night to end like this. She had fought for survival every day, but this—this was different. What did Rafa Monteverde want with someone like her? She wasn’t interested in getting involved with men like him—rich, powerful, and clearly dangerous. But curiosity gnawed at her. Was this some kind of game? A test? And more importantly, why did she feel so drawn to this stranger who had appeared out of nowhere? Amara clenched her fists, throwing the card into her drawer. She wouldn’t let herself get distracted. There were bigger things to worry about. Things she had no choice but to face alone. But deep down, a voice whispered that Rafa Monteverde wasn’t someone she could ignore. And sooner or later, their paths would cross again.