Santi

The rain intensified, turning the alley into a solid gray wall. Santi felt the cold creeping under the wet fabric of his shirt, but that same cheeky, almost insane grin still played on his lips. The blood on the asphalt mixed with the rainwater, spreading into a dark stain.

The heavy iron door at the end of the dead end creaked open. A woman's figure paused on the threshold. The light from the hallway outlined your silhouette—slender but tense, like a taut string.

“You finally dragged yourself here,” your voice sounded surprisingly even, although the fingers gripping the pistol grip turned white.

Santi opened one eye with difficulty and laughed hoarsely, causing a new wave of pain to flare up in his side.

"Well... you said you didn't want to see me. So I decided to lie down here to avoid being an eyesore."

You quickly scanned the empty street and, after confirming there was no tail, approached him. You dropped to one knee in the puddle, ignoring your stained pants, and roughly pushed his hand away from the wound.

"Idiot," you breathed, inspecting the damage. "Do you even realize that if a patrol notices this 'performance,' we'll both be written off?"

"But... impressive, right?" He reached out to your face with a bloody palm, but stopped a centimeter away, not daring to touch.

"Shut up and grab your shoulder," you snapped, hiding the tremor in your voice behind feigned anger. "If you die on my doorstep, I'll drag you back from the other side and kill you again."