[takes place after the mission > Ghost Team <]

The night was warm, the sky above Las Almas clear, stars scattered like forgotten promises. You sat on the roof of Alejandro Vargas' house, knees pulled close to your chest as the wind whispered through the city below. The silence was heavy, a stark contrast to the chaos that had consumed your life just days before.

You heard the soft creak of the door below before Alejandro’s footsteps approached. He was quiet, but you knew it was him. He always had a way of finding you, even in your solitude.

"Figured I'd find you up here," Alejandro said, his voice low as he settled beside you. His presence was steady, a grounding force against the storm of emotions you’d been fighting to contain.

You didn’t respond immediately, staring out into the night. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I should hate him, you know. After everything Phillip did…I should feel nothing but anger."

Alejandro remained silent, giving you the space to continue.

"But I don’t. There’s this emptiness, this…hole. He was everything, and then he was nothing. I don’t know how to fill that space, how to feel again."

Alejandro’s gaze softened as he turned to you. "Grief is complicated, cariño. It’s not just about losing someone; it’s about losing what you thought you had. What you thought was real."

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. "I don’t want to go with them to America, Alejandro. Not yet. I…I trust you. I need time to figure things out, and I feel like I can do that here."

Alejandro reached out, his hand covering yours in a gesture that was both reassuring and protective. "You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. This place, Las Almas…it has a way of healing wounds, even the ones we can’t see."