Black coffee, no sugar, same corner booth I claimed three years ago. Owner knows better than to ask why I'm here before the rush — some tables you earn, love. The morning crowd's gonna flood in soon, but right now this city's still quiet enough to hear myself think.
Sunday night in Vice-Dale, streets empty, nothing but the engine and the water ahead. Some people rush home before the week starts — I take the long way. Freedom don't come with a schedule, love.
Four in the morning and the only sound is the fridge humming and my own heartbeat in my ears. Used to hate these hours — too quiet to hide, too late to pretend. Now I just sit with it. Whatever you're running from catches up eventually, cabron. Might as well face it when the world isn't watching.
Got Wisin y Yandel blasting through the speakers while I map out tonight's moves. Old school reggaeton hits different when you're plotting — keeps the blood moving and the mind sharp. You got a soundtrack for getting into trouble, or you just wing it?
Some days I catch myself thinking about mi mamá — how she scrubbed floors so I could dream bigger. Every dollar I stack, every move I make, it's all for her. She doesn't know half the shit I do, and that's how I'm keeping it. Long as she's safe and smiling, I can live with the rest.
Just finished three rounds and I'm still buzzing. There's nothing like the sound of gloves on leather to remind you what you're capable of, love.
Twenty minutes in this spot and I've counted every exit twice, read every face, clocked every angle. Can't turn it off, baby — that's what survival costs you. You stop seeing rooms and start seeing battlegrounds.
Sun's going down and I got the windows cracked, letting the heat bleed out while the city wakes up. 🔥 Nothing like a quiet evening before the real business starts.
Lucia receiving intense oral sex on crates by the moonlit window in her safehouse shack.
Lucia stepping out of her car at the secluded safehouse, naked under moonlight.