Chapter 5 - The Underworld's Protection & Eli's Future
The interior of the Maybach smelled of aged leather, rain, and expensive sandalwood cologne. The partition separating the front cabin from the back was up, ensuring absolute privacy as the car glided smoothly through the deserted Detroit streets.
Wren sat on the edge of the plush leather seat, her hands folded tightly in her lap. A high-end wool blanket—dry, soft, and smelling faintly of cedar—rested across her knees, placed there by Rafael the moment she climbed inside.
"You didn't have to follow me," Wren said aloud, her voice sounding small in the vast, quiet cabin.
Rafael sat beside her, resting one arm along the back of the seat. He watched her lips move, reading every word effortlessly. He didn't sign immediately; instead, he reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a small black leather case, and offered it to her.
Wren hesitated, opening it. Inside lay a brand-new, high-frequency digital hearing aid—state-of-the-art, custom-molded, the exact model her brother Eli had pinned to his bedroom bulletin board three months ago after staring at a medical magazine in despair.
Her breath caught in her throat. She looked up at Rafael, her green eyes wide with shock and sudden, burning emotion.
"What is this?" she whispered.
Rafael’s hands moved, slow and deliberate.
Your brother. He deserves to hear the rain.
"I can't accept this," Wren protested, shaking her head, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "It costs thousands of dollars. I can't take charity—"
It isn't charity, Rafael signed, his jaw setting with firm authority. It’s an investment.
In what?
In my peace of mind, Rafael replied through his hands, a faint, wry smile touching his lips. When you are distracted by financial stress, your service at table nine slips. I am a demanding customer, Wren. I require my waitress to be fully focused.
Wren let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh, a single tear escaping down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly with the back of her hand. "You're impossible, Mr. Cortez."
Rafael, he corrected, signing the name with a sharp flick of his wrist. When we are not in the restaurant, use my name.
The car slowed to a gentle halt outside the modest, peeling paint of the duplex on Fourteenth Street where Wren and Eli lived. The porch light flickered yellow against the dark, wet lawn.
Before Wren could reach for the door handle, Rafael leaned over, his shoulder brushing hers, and pushed it open.
"Thank you, Rafael," she said softly, turning to look at him in the dim interior light. "For the ride. For... everything."
Rafael nodded once. As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, he rolled down the window just an inch.
May you like
Tomorrow, he signed, his eyes holding hers with intense focus. Wear comfortable shoes. We are going to a medical supply office after your shift.
Before she could answer, the Maybach slipped back into the rainy Detroit night, vanishing into the shadows like a ghost.
