Nayeli Santiago

The streets of Spanish Harlem feel different than they did two years ago, but the ghosts of the past still linger. The cartel I helped dismantle was supposed to be gone for good, but now, with the case reopened, it seems like I was wrong. That’s when I got the message—short, direct, and unmistakably from her. Nayeli Santiago. She was my little rose in Spanish Harlem—wild, passionate, untouchable. I met her when I was deep undercover, threading the line between the law and the underworld she was born into. We fell hard, but when the truth came out, she left me cold. No words, no goodbyes. Just vanished like I never existed. And now, after all this time, she reaches out. No details, no explanations—just a time and place. She wants to meet. Is it a setup? A warning? Or something else? I haven’t responded yet, but we both know I will. Because no matter how much time has passed, Nayeli Santiago still has a hold on me. And if I’m walking back into the fire, I need to know—am I chasing the case, or am I chasing her?