“Diego?” Lucía asked, her voice tight with confusion. “Is that… are those my brother’s shoes?”Diego scrambled to his feet, his heart performing a frantic, irregular rhythm against his ribs. He felt like he’d been caught robbing a bank, which—technically, he supposed—he had. He shoved the bag behind his back, his palms slick with sweat.“Lucía! Hey. Hi. What are you doing here?” Diego stammered, his brain racing to find a lie that didn’t sound like the frantic ramblings of a man having a mental break.“Don’t you dare tell her the truth,” the God buzzed in his head, sounding bored. “Tell her you’re, I don’t know, training for a high-stakes scavenger hunt. Or tell her you’re a secret agent. No, that’s too cliché. Tell her you found them in the trash. People love a rags-to-riches story.”“I found them,” Diego blurted out, his eyes darting toward the street. “In the trash. I was just... inspecting them? Because I’m trying to get into the sneaker resale market? You know, for extra cash. It

“Lucía, listen to me,” Diego stammered, his pulse hammering in his ears like a drum solo. “We have to go. Right now. Seriously, the ceiling is about to have a very bad day.”Lucía didn’t move. She stood frozen in the lobby, her gaze flickering between the stolen briefcase in his grip and the chaotic screams erupting from the ballroom behind him. “Diego, you’re holding a briefcase that belongs to Sterling. You’re sweating like you’ve been through a car wash, and you’re talking about ceilings having bad days. What is happening?”“Oh, for the love of—tell her the ceiling is structurally unsound! Use your ‘paralegal’ brain, you simpleton,” the God hissed. “And move! If you’re still standing there when the security detail catches up, you’re going to be a cautionary tale in the evening news.”“Structural issues!” Diego blurted out, grabbing Lucía’s arm and tugging her toward the lobby exit. “The building. It’s old. Very, very old. The chandelier is a liability. I’m just… doing the firm a fa

The blue and red lights danced across Diego’s bedroom wall like a frantic, strobe-lit interrogation. Diego lay face-down on his carpet, the stolen briefcase wedged firmly under his mattress, his heart drumming against the floorboards.“Would you breathe? You’re hyperventilating again,” the voice buzzed in his skull. “It’s remarkably distracting. If you’re going to be a criminal mastermind, at least try to keep your pulse under a hundred beats per minute.”“I am not a criminal mastermind!” Diego hissed into the fibers of his rug. “I’m a paralegal who currently has a subconscious landlord and a stolen corporate briefcase in his bedroom. This is a nightmare.”Outside his door, heavy boots thudded against the hallway floor.“Check every unit,” a gravelly voice commanded. “The suspect was last seen near the main entrance. The landlord’s incapacitated and currently raving about a pet goldfish, so we need to be thorough.”“Ooh, a search party,” the God chirped. “This is like a game of hide-a

“The vessel?” Lucía repeated, her voice cracking. “What are you talking about? Are you high? Have you been doing something that involves needles or chemicals in that apartment of yours?”Diego ran a hand through his hair, feeling the sweat bead at his temples. The shipping yard seemed to shrink around them, the towering cranes acting like skeletal sentinels waiting for his next move. He could hear the God’s sharp, rhythmic tapping inside his cranium, a reminder of the ticking clock.“No, no, Lucía, look,” Diego said, waving his hands frantically as he tried to craft a story that didn’t involve an ancient, bored deity. “It’s not… it’s not magic. It’s an underground thing. A club. A fight club.”“A fight club?” Lucía took a step back, her eyes flicking to the three unconscious men in the dirt. “You? You struggle to open a jar of pickles without using a towel, Diego. How do you go from paralegal to… to that?”“Oh, tell her about the ‘illegal gambling ring’,” the God buzzed, sounding like

"Don't you dare," Lucía whispered, her hand hovering in the empty air where Diego had stood a heartbeat ago.The glass didn't just break; it exploded outward in a rhythmic, controlled shower of diamonds. Diego was already a blur of motion, a kinetic streak of motion that defied the laws of physics. He vaulted over the velvet ropes, the briefcase tucked tightly against his chest, his boots hitting the pavement outside with the silent grace of a predator."Target identified! Perimeter breach!" the head of security roared, his voice booming through the lobby.Diego didn't look back. The cold night air slapped him in the face, sharp and biting. He hit the alleyway, his lungs burning with the sudden, impossible exertion."Left! Through the ventilation shaft," the voice in his head commanded. It sounded bored, a stark contrast to the chaos erupting behind him. "If you stop, you die. And if you die, I get a new vessel who doesn't whine about his rent.""I'm not whining!" Diego yelled, duckin