Reina shoved the front door open with more force than necessary, and the wood slammed against the wall with a satisfied crack. Her chest was still heaving, adrenaline singing through her veins like electricity.
"That was incredibly stupid!" Camila burst through behind her, her curls bouncing with the intensity of her gestures. "Ray, do you even understand what you just did? You threw a rock at his car! Again! You destroyed his mirror!"
"Good." Reina's voice is flat, cold. She kicked off her shoes, leaving them scattered in the entryway.
"Good? GOOD?" Camila's voice climbed higher. "Ray, he could sue you! Malicious damage to property is a real thing! And after what happened at the club—which he clearly knows about—you just gave him more ammunition!"
"Let him sue." Reina whirled around, eyes blazing. "Let him try. I'll tell the judge exactly why I destroyed his precious car. I'll tell everyone what he did to Aldo. I'll—"
"You'll get thrown in jail!" Camila grabbed her arm, forcing Reina to look at her. "Listen to me. I get it, okay? I get that you're angry. You have every right to be angry. But this—" she gestured wildly toward the door, toward where Ruiz's car had been, "—this isn't a plan. This is just… rage. And rage without strategy is just self-destruction."
"Maybe I don't care about strategy." Reina jerked her arm free. "Maybe I'm tired of planning and thinking and being careful while he walks around like he didn't murder my brother. While he shows up at my house, asking me stupid questions like he's mocking me!"
"I know, I know." Camila's voice softened slightly, her hands raised in a placating gesture. "But Ray, you can't keep acting like this. You can't keep doing reckless things that are only going to make your situation worse. We need a real plan. A smart plan. Something that actually brings them down instead of just—"
A sharp knock on the door cut her off.
Both girls froze.
"Shit," Camila whispered, her hand flying to her mouth. "He came back. Ruiz came back, what if he brought—"
But Reina was already moving, fury propelling her back toward the door. "Thay entitled piece of shit," she snarled, her hands curling into fists. "He wants to threaten me in my own house? He wants to come back for round two?"
"Ray, wait—"
Reina ignored her, yanking the door open with a string of profanities already spilling from her lips. "Listen here, you son of a—"
The words died in her throat.
Three police officers stood on her doorstep. Not Ruiz, not his friends, the Police.
The woman in front was maybe forty with sharp features and cold eyes that assessed Reina like she was something distasteful that needed to be dealt with. Her uniform was crisp, badge gleaming on her chest. Behind her stood two male officers—both large, both broad-shouldered, both wearing expressions of professional indifference.
"Reina Carvalho?" The woman said. It wasn't really a question.
Reina's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her brain stuttered, trying to catch up with reality.
"Y-yes," she finally managed. "That's me."
"You're under arrest for the attempted murder of Ruiz Souza." The woman's voice was flat, procedural, as if she said these words a dozen times a day. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney—"
"What?" Camila's voice cracked through the officer's recitation. She rushed forward, pushing past Reina. "Wait, no, there's been a mistake. She didn't—"
"Step back, miss," one of the male officers said, his hand moving to his belt—not threatening, but a clear warning.
"Turn around," the female officer commanded Reina. "Hands behind your back."
Reina's body moved on autopilot, turning slowly. Her mind was blank, white noise filling the space where thoughts should be. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real.
But then she felt it—the cold bite of metal around her wrists. The click of handcuffs locking into place, securing her hands behind her back. The slight pressure as they tightened, not enough to hurt but enough to be undeniable.
This was real.
"There's been a misunderstanding!" Camila was saying, her voice climbing toward hysteria. "Officers, please, you have to listen—she didn't do anything! This is a mistake!"
"Miss, if you don't step back, we'll have to charge you with obstruction of justice," the second male officer said, his tone hardening.
Reina said nothing. She stared straight ahead, her face carefully blank even as her heart hammered against her ribs. Ruiz had done this. Of course he'd done this. He'd delivered his final threat not with violence but with the law itself.
"What's all this noise about?"
The quavering voice cut through the chaos like a knife. All heads turned toward the hallway, where Reina's grandmother stood in her nightgown, her weathered face confused and alarmed. She'd been napping, but now stood with one hand on the wall for balance.
"Nona, go back to bed," Reina said quickly, finding her voice. "It's nothing. Just go—"
But it was too late. Her grandmother's eyes had found the handcuffs. Found the police officers holding down her granddaughter like criminals.
"What—" the old woman's voice broke. "What are you doing? Why is she—officers, what's happening? Why is my granddaughter in handcuffs?"
"Ma'am, your granddaughter is under arrest," the female officer said, her tone softening just slightly. "We need to take her to the station for processing."
"Arrest?" Nona's face crumpled. "No. No, there must be some mistake. My Reina, she's a good girl. She hasn't done anything. Tell them, neta. Tell them!"
"Let's go." The male officer's hand closed around Reina's upper arm roughly, guiding her toward the door.
"Wait! WAIT!" Nona stumbled forward, surprisingly fast despite her age. "You can't take her! She's just a child! Officers, please, there's been a mistake!"
"Nona, it's okay," Reina heard herself say, even though nothing was okay. Even though everything was falling apart. "It's just a misunderstanding. I'll be home soon. Don't worry."
The lie tasted like ash in her mouth, but she forced it out anyway. For her grandmother. To spare her the truth—that she'd brought this on herself.
They were moving now, down the front steps, across the small yard toward the two patrol cars idling at the curb. Reina could hear her grandmother behind her, crying, pleading with the officers in Portuguese and broken sobs. She could hear Camila's voice, higher and more desperate, trying to reason with people who weren't listening.
The female officer opened the back door of the patrol car. The other officer guided Reina's head down—thay universal gesture she'd seen a thousand times on TV but never thought she'd experience—ans helped her into the backseat.
The door slammed shut with a finality that echoed in her bones.
Through the window, Reina watched her grandmother stumble down the front steps, Camila catching her before she fell. The old woman's mouth was open, still calling out words Reina couldn't hear through the glass. Tears streamed down her weathered face, and she reached toward the car with shaking hands as if she could physically pull her granddaughter out.
Camila had her phone out now, pressed to her ear, her free arm wrapped around Nona's shoulders. Her face appeared pale, her expression frantic as she spoke rapidly to whoever was on the other end. Her dad perhaps? Mr. Luca Marquez was one of the finest lawyers in São Paulo.
The engine started, and the vehicles began to pull away from the curb.
Reina twisted in her seat, the handcuffs digging into her wrists as she craned her neck to keep watching. To memorize the image of her grandmother weeping on her front lawn, of Camila desperately trying to hold both her and the phone at once, of her modest house—the place where she'd grown up, where Aldo had lived, where everything that mattered existed—growing smaller and smaller.
A single tear escaped, hot and shameful, tracking down her cheek.
She'd told herself she was ready for the consequences. Had convinced herself that bringing down Ruiz was worth whatever price she had to pay. But sitting here, hands cuffed behind her back, watching her grandmother's grief-stricken face disappear into the distance, Reina realized she'd been lying to herself.
She wasn't for any of this.
The patrol car turned the corner, and her house vanished from view. Reina faced forward, her reflection staring back at her from the plexiglass divider—amber eyes red-rimmed, face pale, jaw clenched tight enough to ache.
Behind that divider, two officers sat in silence. Not speaking to each other. Not speaking to her. Just driving with the mechanical efficiency of people who did this every day, who transported criminals from their homes to their fates without a second thought.
Except something felt wrong.
Reina couldn't quite name it, couldn't quite grasp the unease that was beginning to curl in her stomach. But as she watched the familiar streets of her neighborhood slide past the window, as she noted the turns the driver was making, that unease solidified into something colder.
Something weary.
They were heading away from the city center. Away from where the main police stations should be. But maybe there were multiple stations, right? She hadn't asked, they didn't mention.
"W-where are we going?" she finally managed, heart pounding as she awaited their response.
The policeman driving, looked over his shoulder at her, scoffed and refocused his attention on a road that led towards the outskirts of Sao Paulo.