Page 39 of South of Justice

Lucía’s fingers curled against her hip. “Mateo?—”

He pulled the fresh stack of papers off the tray and turned to her, suddenly. “I liked you, you know.” The words hit like a physical shove.

“I know,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “And I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”

Lucía’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that.”

“No?” His voice was soft, but not kind. “You don’t have to explain, Lucía. You’re brilliant. And he sees that. Maybe that’s enough.”

“Nothing happened. I walked out.”

Silence fell again, thick as dust.

Mateo handed her a single sheet from the stack. “This is for your review. Tomorrow.” He brushed past her and opened the door. Paused. “You’re better than him. You know that, right?”

He didn’t wait for her answer. He left her in the small fluorescent-lit room, alone with a sinking weight in her chest.

She worked late that night. Or tried to. The office was quiet again, the open floor dim except for her pool of light and the humming blue screen.

She stepped away for coffee. No more than five minutes, but when she returned to her desk, her browser was closed. Her keyboard was crooked.

Lucía stared. She hadn’t closed her browser. She never angled the keyboard like that.

She sat down slowly. Logged in. There was nothing missing or changed. But something was off. She checked the access logs on the internal terminal. Someone had pinged her machine. Briefly. A local IP. No login attempt. Just…ping.

Lucía shut off the monitor. Her reflection looked back at her in the black glass. Blank-eyed. Tight-lipped.

It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t curiosity.

It was a message.

Someone had been at her desk. She looked across the open office floor, rows of cubicles now ghostly in the dark.

Lucía reached for her bag, packed her things slowly, and left.

She didn’t look back. But the sensation followed her out, across the marble foyer, into the night, and down every empty block.

Someone was watching. Someone had always been watching.

TWENTY-SIX

The café’sshade offered a brief reprieve from the heat, but now the sun was back in full force, weighing down on Lucía’s back as she stepped outside. She let the screen door click shut behind her and moved toward the edge of the lot where a sliver of shade was cast by a dying jacaranda tree.

Ryan was still inside, paying the bill. She sat down on her pack and closed her eyes. They had a plan now. A lead. A city. It felt like something tangible, a thread they could pull, one that might—just might—have Noah on the other end. But that feeling came wrapped in a strange kind of stillness. Almost a hush. Like the lull before a storm breaks.

She opened her eyes and scanned the road, the lot, the tree line. A breeze kicked dust across the asphalt. No one lingered or stared.

And yet. There it was again. That feeling.

Not danger, not exactly.

Attention.

It wasn’t a threat you could see, it was one you could feel. A presence that knew too much about you. Knew your tells. Your silences. The things you never said.

Javier.