Blue eyed vengeance

had happened, it all felt like a dream. Walking through the dimly lit streets, the rain had reduced to a fine drizzle,

ay, but tonight was different. The sorrow and anger from Jim's death gnawed at him, seeking

emanded, his voice thick with arroganc

shaking but firm. "No tengo nada que ver contigo.

chica, solo es un número. No seas difícil." ("Come

e. "Vete al diablo," she spat, crossi

Spanish, "Hey, mierda profunda, ¿esto parece asunto tuy

hard stare. "You've got a death wish, huh?" the secon

ood for this tonight," Connor slur

onnor by the collar. ("Come here, fool!") Connor re

tomach of the first man. A fight ensued, but the men were no match for Connor. His drunken state did li

nnor's fist connected with his jaw, send

he bar to call for help. Lisa came

nnor, that

is rage, and he paused. The thugs l

rembling with relief. "No sabía qué más hacer.

or. "Ve adentro, estarás a salvo allí." ("I

traightened his cloth

have you sleeping in a cel

had given him a brief release, a way to channel his pent-up anger. As he walked, he heard the

restless, filled with fragmented dreams of Jim, the fight, and a shadowy figure that seemed to haunt him. H

s face was blurry in his memory, but her fear palpable. He wondered if she was okay, if she h

ady reassurance that had always been there to guide him. But now, those memories were tain

self a cup and sat at the small kitchen table, staring into the dark liquid. The fig

this. Jim's death demanded justice, and Connor was determined to find it. He would track down e

d set the cup down with a determined clink. He had a promise to keep, and he wouldn't rest

membering that he needed to go to the grocery store. The thought of mundane tasks seemed almost surreal in the midst of his grief and an