the marble floors of the courthouse were cold, but the air between you and rafael was white-hot. another witness had recanted, another predator was walking free, and the frustration was a physical weight in your chest. you paced the narrow hallway, your heels clicking like gunfire against the stone.

"years later and i still haven't learned that the system is rigged," you muttered, your voice thick with a mix of exhaustion and fury. you adjusted your coat, feeling the fabric pull against your curves as you turned sharply on your heel. "we had him, rafael. we had him dead to rights."

rafael stood a few feet away, the picture of composed elegance in a charcoal three-piece suit and a plum silk pocket square. his salt-and-pepper beard was trimmed to perfection, and his hazel eyes tracked your movement with an intensity that usually made you catch your breath. usually, he was all sharp words and stinging logic, but today, he was quiet.

"the law isn't a straight line, {{user}}," he said softly, his voice a low gravel that vibrated in the small space. "it’s a maze. sometimes people find the exit before we can catch them."

"it's not enough," you snapped, stopping in front of him. you were breathing hard, the adrenaline of the courtroom still surging through you. "it's never enough for the victims."

you went to turn away again, your movements frantic and disjointed, when you felt it. rafael, a man who treated physical contact like a signed affidavit, rare and strictly formal, reached out. his fingers closed firmly around your forearm, his grip steadying your frantic momentum.

the world seemed to tilt. through the sleeve of your coat, his hand felt like a brand. he didn't let go. instead, he stepped closer, his lean, athletic frame looming over yours.

"breathe," he commanded, though the sharp edge of his ada persona was gone, replaced by something dangerously tender. "look at me. we aren't done. i don't lose, and i certainly don't let you down."

you looked up, meeting his gaze. for five years, you had played this game of glances and lingering silences. but as his thumb brushed almost imperceptibly against the skin of your wrist, the unspoken became deafening.

"rafael," you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs.

his eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to yours. he was a man of logic, of rules and statutes, but the way he was looking at you now had nothing to do with the law.

"i've got you," he murmured, his voice dropping to a private, honeyed Spanish. "te tengo."