"I said I don't care," she muttered again, weaker this time.
"I know," Santiago replied, his tone quieter now, but no less firm. "That's the problem."
His hand lingered for a second at her shoulder before withdrawing.
Not lingering out of softness.
But as if confirming she wouldn't fall apart again.
Daniella swallowed hard, her fingers slowly curling into the fabric of the shirt now covering her. It smelled faintly like him, clean, sharp, controlled. She hated that it grounded her, even slightly.
"I did the job," she said after a moment, her voice steadier now, though still carrying the remnants of everything she had felt. "The money is there. That's all that should matter to you."
Santiago leaned back slightly, his gaze still locked onto her.
"It does," he said.
A pause followed.
Heavy.
"But so do you."
