They arrived at Mateo's house a few minutes later. It was a modest but cozy home, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. The smell of something rich and savory filled the air as soon as they stepped inside.
"Smells good," Daniel said.
Mateo grinned. "It should. I didn't cook it."
An older woman appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Her face lit up when she saw Daniel.
"Danielito! You're all grown up!"
"Tía Rosa," Daniel smiled, giving her a warm hug. He barely remembered her, but she felt like family right away.
"Sit, sit! You must be starving," she said, pulling out a chair for him.
As they ate, conversation flowed easily—at first. Mateo asked about Daniel's life in the U.S., his education , his travels. But then, the questions started shifting.
"So, Daniel," Mateo said, setting down his fork. "You never really answered my question. Why now?"
Daniel hesitated. He could've said it was just nostalgia, but that wasn't the truth. He pulled out his phone and scrolled to a message he had received a month ago.
Anonymous: "If you want answers about your father, come to Igualada. Ask Mateo."
Daniel slid the phone across the table. Mateo's expression darkened as he read the message.
"You should've stayed in America," Mateo muttered.
Daniel frowned. "What does that mean? What do you know?"
Mateo sighed, rubbing his temples. "Your father… he wasn't who you thought he was."
Daniel's heart pounded. "What do you mean?"
Mateo looked at him, eyes heavy with something unspoken.
"Your father was involved in something dangerous. Something that didn't die with him."
Silence filled the room.
And then—
CRASH!
The front window shattered. A masked figure burst in, gun raised.
"Get down!" Mateo shouted.
Daniel didn't hesitate. He flipped the table for cover as gunfire erupted through the house.