𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

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SOFÍA CASTILLO

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SOFÍA CASTILLO

There is sudden silence. The echo of words fill the air. Their lasting impression, deafening.

No one moves. Not even the rise and fall of breathing can be noticed. The fork in my hand is tightened with an iron grip, the metal sides digging into the flesh. But I don't blink. The silence is eerie.

Steven. Rogers.

Steven Rogers.

Steven Rogers.

I repeat this name in my mind, wondering why it sounded so familiar. It wasn't like I took a class on American Mafia Bosses 101. I only knew so much about James while reading through a file on the plane to his city.

But... the name Steven? There's a faint, distant bell that rings in my head with recognition but I can't quite figure it out.

The grunt from my father's lips pulls me from my thoughts and my eyes drift towards him. His face shows recognition for this name and my brows furrow with confusion.

"Papá?" I call out, but I'm met with another grunt.

My eyes glance back towards my cousin who has a mischievous grin plastered on his face. He gives me a small wink before going back to his meal.

Steven Rogers.

The name reverberates again in my mind as I turn my gaze back towards my father. He must tell me why my cousin is choosing to work with this man. He knows something.

And then a thought comes to mind, one that I should have formulated the moment my cousin told us his news.

Does James know this Steven Rogers?

There is something in me telling me that there's some connection. I want to listen to that part of my mind that's speaking, but I don't want to draw any conclusions until I'm able to speak to James.

But there is also something in me that's fixated on my cousin starting a new business with another mafia man. It just doesn't seem good.

I might hate my cousin, but I don't want to see him get into any trouble if we can prevent it. I don't want him to be in any danger that leaves him dead.

"When are you wanting to meet with everyone?" My father finally speaks up. Miguel looks towards him and gives him a cocky smile.

"I was thinking Saturday or Sunday?"

I shake my head. "It will have to be Friday or Saturday. I've got my own obligations this weekend."

"Like what?" My cousin barters. "A cruise with your party friends?"

"A birthday, but yes."

"How responsible, you are."

"Excuse me?" My brows furrowed in confusion.

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