Starglow Basin We don't wanna go home

soto is under no pretense; he knows he’s not a good man. to offer her freedom — a carrot dangled on a stick — after niño had dragged her, drugged her, and now brainwashed her. soto did not do these things individually, but he’d abided it. he’d seen niño drag her into camp, the new flame for all eyes to toy with. 

she does not leave. marciela’s sobs fade from hearing, replaced now by sangre’s audible tremors. 

we’re all dead, she says. a cracked grin breaks soto’s solemn face, illuminating his one good eye in a mad gleam. algún día, si. ahora no.

but now his patience for softer things wanes; niño and juárez have fallen eerily silent and marciela is mercifully back in her crypt. 

there is no room for apology in the cartel. soto turns his gaze back to the simmering keep in the distance, and does not speak again.