Time to get my girls safe. Whatever it fucking takes.
Exhaustion crashes over me like a wave. I slip back inside, locking the door with a soft click. Harvee hasn't stirred, still curled soft on the couch, one arm outstretched like she was reaching for me in her sleep. I tuck the envelope deep under the cushion for safekeeping. It's out of sight, but the weight is still heavy in my mind. I crawl onto the couch behind her. My body molds to hers, arm draping possessive over her waist, pulling her flush against my chest. Her warmth seeps into me, chasing out the night's chill, her hair tickling my nose as I bury my face there and breathe her in. For the first time in days — hell, weeks — sleep drags me under peacefully. Deep. Like the world outside this shithole unit can wait till morning. Like maybe, just maybe, we've bought ourselves a little more time.
Morning comes gray and quiet through the high window slits.
Harvee's fingers are tracing the stubble on my jaw when I surface, feather-light, like she's checking if I'm real.
"Well, good morning," I manage.
"What's that?" She nods at the envelope half-wedged under the cushion.
I pull it out and flip it open. Crisp hundreds, and tucked in the middle, a folded scrap of paper in Raul's handwriting. I unfold it with fingers that aren't quite steady.
You've done everything for me. Please take care of our family. I wish you both a happy future. I love you, cuz.
The room goes cold. What the fuck?
Ice floods my veins, heart slamming into overdrive.Take care of our family? Happy future?My mind catapults to the worst. Raul's casual offers to handle her, the way he eyed the storage unit door last night like he was memorizing it, the flat calm in his voice when he saidlet me handle it. This isn't a gift. This is a goddamn suicide note.
"DJ?" Harvee's voice, small and careful.
I'm already reaching for my phone, thumb smashing Raul's contact. It doesn't even ring. Just that cold, automatedThe number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.
"Fuck… Fuck!" I redial. Same dead tone. Third time, fourth — nothing but the robotic voice mocking me. My hands shake as I stab Uncle Ernie's number next, pacing tight circles on the concrete, boots scuffing like I can wear a hole through to Raul. Straight to voicemail: "Ernie here, leave a message."
I try the crew next — a couple of low-level runners we trust. No answer. I shoot them all a text asking if they've heard from him.
One text back.
Haven't seen him since yesterday. Why?
Where is he?
IDK man. Thought he was with you.
Harvee's off the couch now, arms wrapped around herself, eyes wide and tracking my every move. "DJ? What's going on?"
"Raul's gone." My voice shakes, fists clenching the phone so hard the case creaks. "He left this," I shake the envelope, bills rustling like accusations, "and a note like he's fucking signing off. 'Take care of the family'? 'Happy future'? That's not how Raul writes. That's?—"
No. Fuck no. I'm not letting my brother throw his life away or harm himself. Not like this. Not after everything.
I whirl on Harvee, mind racing a million miles a minute. "Get dressed. We're finding him. Now."
Where the fuck are you?
I text Raul's dead phone anyway, fingers shaking as I stab the screen, desperation making me irrational — like a message could pull him back from whatever edge he's jumped off.
A few agonizing moments crawl by, each second stretching into eternity. Then my phone rings sharp, Uncle Ernie's name flashing like a lifeline. I snatch it up, nearly dropping it, heart slamming against my ribs.
"Hey, kiddo," his warm, gravelly voice rumbles through the speaker, steady as the man himself even at this ungodly hour.
"What's going on? Where's Raul? Have you heard from him?!" My voice cracks raw, barely holding together.
"Yeah, he called a bit ago but I was told to tell you not to worry."
"Not to worry about what?!" I bark, pacing faster now, boot heels grinding divots into the concrete, Harvee's wide eyes tracking me from the couch.
"He's in jail, Diego." A heavy beat of silence. "He turned himself in."