The silence in the ruined supermarket was heavier than any debris. Alex's hand, extended towards him, wasn't just an offer of help; it was a lifeline thrown across a chasm of grief and rage that Mateo had been certain was uncrossable. The cracked visor of his helmet, the one shaped like his brother's horns, lay on the asphalt between them like a shattered totem.
He looked from her hand to her face, streaked with dirt and etched with a determination he'd mistaken for mere aggression. She wasn't just fighting him; she was fighting for him.
"You don't have to do this alone," she said, her voice raw but steady. "None of us do."
