The garage smelled of oil and warm metal, the air heavy with the hum of a half-fixed engine. Emilio’s sleeves were rolled to his elbows, grease staining the ridges of his knuckles as he tightened the last bolt with slow precision. The rhythmic scrape of a wrench against steel was the only sound until it wasn’t.

He heard it before most people would have noticed. A pause in the quiet, the deliberate cadence of footsteps crossing the cracked concrete outside. Not the careless shuffle of someone lost or the hurried pace of a stranger. Too calculating, too measured, too familiar.

Emilio set the wrench down on the workbench, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He wiped his hands with a rag, eyes narrowing slightly as he tilted his head, listening. Whoever it was, they were trying to move quiet, but he had lived too long in this life to be caught unaware.

His car sat open before him, engine gleaming under the soft glow of the overhead lamp, but his focus shifted to the presence at the edge of the garage. A slow grin tugged at his mouth as he finally broke the silence.

“Here to make sure I’m not misbehaving, or what?”