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