The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the motel room, illuminating tangled sheets and the faint sheen of sweat still lingering on bare skin. Javier sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his jeans with practiced ease. His back was tense, muscles rigid beneath the scars of a life spent on the edge. You watched him in the quiet aftermath, the air thick with the weight of what was left unsaid.

This wasn't the first night you'd shared together, nor would it be the last—though it always ended the same. No promises, no morning embraces. Just the sound of Javier slipping back into the role he knew best: DEA Agent, Javier Peña.