"It will be. Get yourself cleaned up and go to sleep. I'll check in on you when I get home."

I pull away, prepared to leave, but Ivy reaches for my hand and tugs me back. When I glance down at her in question, she leans up and gives me one last gentle kiss to take with me.

"Be safe, Santi."

Be safe.

Her words echo through my mind as I navigate the dark streets to the 7th Ward. Wondering what Ivy meant by that request is the only thing keeping my thoughts from drifting to darker territory.

During the drive, Marco called to update me that he's inside the apartment, and Mercedes is safe. But he requested that I get there right away, and something in his voice alarmed me. It was an urgency I seldom hear from him.

It takes me thirty minutes to reach this part of the city. The part that isn't safe for anyone really, let alone girls like Mercedes. These apartments are a high crime area, and almost everyone will turn a blind eye for a bit of cash. There's a level of paranoia in this district that separates the residents from the outsiders. Anyone who isn't local is a threat, and it isn't uncommon for lost tourists to wander into these areas only to get stabbed or mugged.

If the mystery woman Mercedes is following lives here, it's because the apartments are cheap, and she can pay cash. The neighbors won't talk, and it's a good place to hide. Without even seeing her yet, I can take a stab that she is the same woman from the gala. The question is, why is Mercedes chasing after her?

I still don't want to accept the correlation. Not until I see it for myself. But the evidence is stacking up against her. She's been avoiding my calls and hasn't returned to the house. The updates I've received from Marco indicate that she's been staking out the Moreno house, which means this has something to do with Abel.

I can't believe Mercedes would ever lower herself to the level of Abel Moreno as a companion or even a participant in her schemes. But the connection can't be denied.

I pull up onto the street in one of my guard's cars, something inconspicuous with a fake plate. The second I shift the car into park, my phone chimes with another message from Marco with instructions on where to enter.

I follow his directions to the back of the building, where he's waiting for me at an exit door that's riddled with bullet holes and large dents from previous break-ins. So far, the gloomy state of this place isn't inspiring any faith that I'm going to like what I find inside.

Marco gestures for me to follow him silently, opening the door and leading me down the hall. When we reach the apartment door, he glances over his shoulders, checking for prying eyes before we enter.