“You, Even If It Destroys Me”

Chapter 1~ Catalina

Catalina Reyes liked things to make sense.

Not perfectly—she wasn’t unrealistic—but enough to feel like she was in control. She liked knowing where she stood, what came next, how to handle a situation before it spiraled into something unpredictable. It was how she had built her life so far—carefully, step by step, never rushing into something she didn’t understand.

Which was exactly why she knew, the moment the taxi drove away, that she had made a mistake.

The street was too quiet.

Not peaceful quiet. Not the kind that came with late nights and sleeping neighborhoods. This was different—thicker, almost suffocating, like the air itself was holding something back. Catalina stood there for a moment, adjusting the strap of her bag as she glanced down at her phone again.

Same address.

Same instructions.

Still wrong.

“Tranquila” (calm down), she murmured under her breath, more out of habit than actual reassurance. She had come this far already. Turning back now would mean admitting she wasn’t ready for the kind of work she claimed she wanted.

Her professor’s words echoed in her mind. “If you want to understand law, you have to see where it begins. Not in courtrooms. In places like this.”

Catalina exhaled slowly and looked around. The buildings were old, their walls worn and slightly damp, balconies casting long shadows that stretched across the narrow street. No lights. No movement. Nothing that suggested anyone was awake, let alone watching.

Still, something didn’t sit right.

She stepped forward anyway.

Her heels clicked softly against the pavement, each sound a little too loud in the silence. She told herself she was overthinking it, that this was just unfamiliar territory, not danger. But her body didn’t quite believe that. There was a tension in her shoulders now, subtle but persistent, like something waiting just out of sight.

Then she heard it.

A sound—low, uneven, almost swallowed by the night.

Catalina stopped.

Her breath stilled as she tilted her head slightly, listening more carefully. For a second, she thought she might have imagined it. But then it came again.

A struggle.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just enough to feel wrong.

“¿Qué fue eso?” (What was that?) she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Her first instinct was to leave. To turn around, call another taxi, and pretend she had never come here at all. That would have been the smart choice. The safe one.

But Catalina had never been very good at walking away from things she didn’t understand.

Curiosity wasn’t reckless—not to her. It was necessary. If something felt wrong, she needed to know why.

So she followed the sound.

Slower now, more cautious, her steps measured as she approached a partially open metal gate. It looked old, slightly rusted, the hinges creaking faintly when she pushed it just enough to see through.

What she saw made her chest tighten.

Two men stood in the alley. One of them was barely upright, pressed roughly against the wall, his movements weak, uncoordinated. The other stood close, his posture tense.

And then there was a third.

He stood a few steps away, completely still.

Even in the dim light, Catalina could tell he didn’t belong in the same way the others did. There was something about him—something controlled, deliberate. He wasn’t part of the struggle. He was above it.

Watching it.

Her pulse began to pick up, slow but steady.

This wasn’t just a fight.

Before she could process it further, he spoke.

“Termínalo.” (Finish it.)

The word landed heavily in the air.

Not shouted. Not rushed. Just… decided.

A chill ran down Catalina’s spine, sharp and immediate. She felt it then, deep in her instincts—this wasn’t something she could explain away. This wasn’t a misunderstanding.

This was intentional.

She should leave.

Right now.

Her fingers tightened around her phone as she slowly began to step back, careful not to make a sound. If she moved quietly enough, maybe—

Her heel shifted against loose gravel.

The sound was small.

But in that silence, it was enough.

Everything stopped.

The movement. The struggle. Even the air seemed to freeze in place.

Catalina’s breath caught as the man turned his head.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Not searching.

Knowing.

His gaze landed exactly where she stood.

For a second, neither of them moved.

And in that second, Catalina understood something with terrifying clarity.

He had seen her.

There was no doubt in his expression, no hesitation. Just recognition—and something else she couldn’t quite name.

A subtle motion of his hand behind him, and the others immediately stilled, as if waiting for his next instruction.

Then he started walking.

Toward her.

Not fast. Not urgent. Just controlled, measured steps that somehow made everything feel worse.

“Dios…” (God…) she breathed, her body finally reacting.

This wasn’t curiosity anymore.

This was danger.

Catalina pushed the gate open wider, the metal scraping loudly as she turned and moved quickly back toward the street. Her heart was racing now, her breath uneven as she forced herself to stay focused.

Think. Move. Don’t freeze.

She didn’t hear footsteps behind her.

That terrified her more than anything.

Because it meant he didn’t need to chase her.

She reached the main road just as a car approached, headlights cutting through the darkness. Without hesitating, she stepped directly into its path, forcing it to stop with a sharp screech.

“¡Estás loca!” (Are you crazy!) the driver shouted.

She ignored him, pulling the door open and sliding inside.

“Conduce” (Drive), she said quickly.

The driver hesitated.

“Ahora.” (Now.)

The car moved.

Only then did Catalina turn to look back.

The alley was empty.

Completely still.

As if nothing had ever happened.

But she knew better.

Because moments like that didn’t disappear.