It's past sunset when I pull into the motel lot. My hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white. The neon sign blinks ominously, like a final warning. Is this a trap or a last chance? My mind yells WTF on repeat.
I step out, each footstep an echo of every risk we've taken. I open the motel door. Inside, Elena stands by the curtained window, shadows playing across her tense form.
She turns, eyes swimming with a jumble of hope and fear. "You came," she whispers.
I say nothing, just stare at her. My heart slams in my chest. This is it—a moment that could redefine everything or destroy us both. Slowly, I close the door behind me, the click sounding final, like sealing our fates.
She steps forward, trembling, lips parted. I cross the gap, and at last, our mouths meet in a rush of pent-up longing. The kiss is frantic, desperate, like two people about to leap off a cliff. My mind screams at the madness—my boss's wife—but my body is on fire with want, drowning out reason.
We break apart, gasping. Tears streak her cheeks. "I don't know what happens next," she confesses, voice cracking.
"Neither do I," I admit, pressing my forehead to hers, the taste of her still on my lips. Outside, a car engine revs. Every noise seems too loud, every shadow too threatening.
For a moment, we cling to each other, all illusions gone. The question of tomorrow hangs heavy. Will we run? Will we face the wrath of Adrian Vasquez? Is this worth the risk?
I don't have answers. The only certainty is that we've crossed the line—and there's no going back.