HE COMES AT NIGHT

2

Armando gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he sped through the empty city streets. His jaw was clenched, his mind replaying the footage they had just watched from the penthouse’s CCTV. Beside him, Alexander and Arthur sat quietly, the tension in the car palpable.

As they drove, Armando’s eyes stayed fixed on the screen in Alexander’s hand, watching the horror unfold on the grainy footage. Jessica, she sensed something and quickly making her way out his room, she pressed the safe button. Her movements were quick but controlled, he could see the fear in the way her hands trembled as she hid their child into the hidden, fortified room. His heart tightened in his chest as the intruder lunged at her.

The next moment, Jessica was thrown against the couch, her body hitting hard, and he saw her grab at her chest, crying out in pain. His chest ached as though he could feel the impact himself. She had fought, but the anguish on her face was burned into his mind. He cursed under his breath, the rage inside him barely contained.

"Boss, we’re close," Arthur said quietly from the passenger seat, breaking the silence.

Armando didn’t respond. His eyes flickered with cold fury as he shoved the tablet into Alexander’s hands. He didn’t need to see any more. He already knew the damage. Knew the terror Jessica had faced.

As the car pulled up to the entrance of the penthouse, Armando was out before it even came to a stop. Alexander and Arthur followed, moving quickly behind him. His heart pounded in his ears, his thoughts consumed by Jessica’s pained cry, her haunted eyes when the intruder had thrown her. He had sworn to protect her and Alvaro, but tonight had proven that even the walls he had built around them weren’t enough.

Inside the penthouse, the air was thick with tension. The soft hum of the security system buzzed in the background, but the chaos from earlier still lingered. Jessica was standing by Alvaro’s room, cradling their son in her arms as she rocked him gently, trying to pacify him. Alvaro’s soft, cranky cries filled the room, but Jessica’s face was hard, set in a cold mask of anger.

The moment Jessica saw Armando enter, her eyes locked onto his, and the look she gave him cut deep—heated, full of resentment and fury. She didn’t say a word, but the hatred radiated off her in waves.

Armando paused, taking in the sight of her. Alive, but shaken. His heart clenched painfully in his chest. He could see the faint tremor in her hands as she held Alvaro close. Her breath was uneven, and despite her attempts to stay composed, there was fear in her eyes. But that fear was quickly overshadowed by the burning resentment she held for him. For the life he had forced her into.

"Give him to me," Armando said, his voice low, but steady.

Jessica hesitated, her grip tightening on Alvaro for a moment as if she wanted to keep him away from Armando. But Alvaro, seeing his father, reached out with tiny hands, wanting to go to him. With reluctance, Jessica handed their son over, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her gaze never left Armando, and though she remained silent, her hatred was palpable.

Armando took Alvaro into his arms, his tough exterior briefly softening as he cradled his son. The warmth of his little body, the way Alvaro immediately quieted in his embrace, brought a sense of calm to his storm. For a moment, Armando held his child close, breathing in deeply as if to ground himself in the midst of the chaos.

But he could feel Jessica’s eyes on him, could feel the silent accusations burning into his skin. She didn’t say it, but her face spoke volumes. This was his fault. This was the life he had dragged her into.

Behind them, Dante, Arthur, and Alexander moved through the room, examining the body of the dead intruder. Dante had already neutralized the threat, but they worked quietly, making sure the scene was secured. The presence of the other men added to the tension, making Jessica even more rigid.

Armando’s eyes flicked over to her chest. She was holding herself stiffly, like she was trying to hide her pain. He knew the blow she had taken had hurt her, but she was too proud... too furious... to show it. The way she held her breath, the subtle flinch every time she moved, told him more than words ever could.

“You okay?” Armando asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jessica didn’t respond. She looked away, her lips pressed tight as if holding back the venom she wanted to spit at him. She wasn’t okay. He knew it. And the worst part was that it wasn’t just her body that was bruised. He could see it in her eyes—her trust, her love, the bond they once shared. All of it was cracked, fractured by the life he had chosen.

Dante approached quietly, giving Armando a brief nod, confirming the situation was handled. The dead man lay on the floor, masked and motionless, but Armando barely spared him a glance. His focus was on Jessica, on the hatred and fear that now lived behind her eyes.

“We’re done here,” Dante said quietly, his voice respectful, as always. “We’ll clean up.”

Armando nodded, shifting Alvaro in his arms as the baby nestled against his chest. “Take care of it,” he muttered. His voice was rough, the weight of everything pressing down on him.

The men went back to work, but Armando’s world had shrunk down to just Jessica and the quiet rage she held inside. She stayed silent, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, as if shielding herself from him.

“Jess—” he began, but the moment he said her name, she turned away sharply, her body rigid with anger.

“Don’t,” she hissed, her voice trembling. “Not here. Not now.”

Armando’s jaw clenched, the guilt and anger battling inside him. He wanted to hold her, to tell her everything would be okay, but he knew it wouldn’t. Not anymore.

As he stood there, holding their son, watching the woman he loved drift further away from him, Armando realized that the walls he had built to keep his family safe had become the very thing trapping them in his world. A world they no longer belonged in.