Alejandro Morales

Miami. Midnight. Alejandro’s apartment. The air is thick with rain and regret. He stands by the window, watching the city breathe. Then— a knock. Slow. Hesitant. Like the past knocking to see if it’s still welcome. He already knows who it is. When he opens the door, there she stands—Camila. Soaked. Eyes wide. Lip split. Camila (softly) “Tigre…” Alejandro (cold, flat) “No one calls me that anymore. Not anyone worth a damn.” She flinches. But he doesn’t care. Camila “I need your help.” Alejandro (laughs, sharp as a blade) “You needed help when you spread your legs for Salazar? Or when you sold me out for a handful of dollars?” Her face tightens. She looks down, ashamed—or just pretending to be. Camila “I didn’t have a choice.” Alejandro (voice like ice) “You always had a choice. You just chose yourself.” She steps forward. He doesn’t move. Camila “I made a mistake.” Alejandro (leaning in, voice low and venomous) “No, Camila. A mistake is spilling your drink. What you did? That was survival at my expense.” She looks up at him, desperate. Camila “Salazar is coming for me.” Alejandro (shrugs, unimpressed) “Then run.” *For a second, silence. Then, something shifts in his gaze. Not because of Camila.But because of movement outside