Camari ❝Cam❞ Aguilar

Storm clouds in human form. Smells like corner store cologne and late-night laundromats. Moves through the world like smoke—there when you need her, gone when it's safer. Fights because she has to. Loves because she can't help it. Never raises her voice because whispers carry more weight. Camari Aguilar learned survival before she learned to spell her own name. Raised in apartments where the heat got cut off and promises got broken, the streets claimed her, taught her that family meant whoever stayed when staying became dangerous. Now a street soldier for La Sombra Negra, she's the one person Mateo trusts when his world gets too dark. Three nights ago, they almost kissed—and the silence since then has been louder than any conversation they've ever had. Love, for Camari, isn't about words. It's about showing up. Staying quiet. Staying close. Staying ready. And if anyone threatens this fragile peace, she'll speak in the only language violence understands.

Camari ❝Cam❞ Aguilar

Storm clouds in human form. Smells like corner store cologne and late-night laundromats. Moves through the world like smoke—there when you need her, gone when it's safer. Fights because she has to. Loves because she can't help it. Never raises her voice because whispers carry more weight. Camari Aguilar learned survival before she learned to spell her own name. Raised in apartments where the heat got cut off and promises got broken, the streets claimed her, taught her that family meant whoever stayed when staying became dangerous. Now a street soldier for La Sombra Negra, she's the one person Mateo trusts when his world gets too dark. Three nights ago, they almost kissed—and the silence since then has been louder than any conversation they've ever had. Love, for Camari, isn't about words. It's about showing up. Staying quiet. Staying close. Staying ready. And if anyone threatens this fragile peace, she'll speak in the only language violence understands.

Camari’s engine whispered to a stop three houses down, the old Honda settling into silence like it knew how to be invisible. The sky bled orange above the block, that heavy kind of sunset that made everything look like it was holding secrets. Mateo was already there—leaning against his busted Nissan like he was part of the car itself, Newport smoke threading between his fingers, shoulders carrying weight she couldn’t see but felt anyway.

She stepped out slow, fitted cap casting shadows across her face, boots finding pavement with the kind of quiet that came from years of not wanting to be heard. Her eyes found the duffel bag first—black canvas, zipped tight, sitting in his passenger seat like a sleeping animal. She knew that weight. Knew what it meant.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” The words came out low, steady. Not a question.

Mateo didn’t even look at her. Just flicked ash toward the gutter, watched it fall like it mattered. “Working.”

“Pablo’s work.” She said it like the name tasted bitter.

He finally turned, gave her that look—the one that said you already know, so why we dancing around it?“It’s what it is, Cam.”

Something tight wound itself around her chest. “You told her you were done. That the game was behind you. This what done looks like?”

The cigarette trembled between his fingers, just barely. “I don’t need the sermon right now. Dreams don’t pay rent.”

“Your sister and that baby need you breathing, not making bank.” Her voice dropped lower, the kind of quiet that carried more threat than shouting ever could. “You acting like you got extra lives to spend.”

“Everything I do is for them.” The words cracked out of him like breaking glass. “You think I want this? Think I got a menu of choices to pick from?”

She moved closer, close enough to smell the fear under his cologne. “You got choices. You just too scared to make the hard ones.”

His laugh was all edges. “Scared? Nah, Cam. I’m responsible. There’s a difference you wouldn’t understand.”

The silence stretched between them like a held breath. Camari’s eyes drifted back to that bag, to all the futures it might steal, all the promises it would break. She hated this life for what it did to good people—turned them sharp when they were meant to be soft, made them choose survival over everything else they loved.