Page 67 of The Deadly Candies

José lifted his haunted eyes.

"She has a plan to see abrujatomorrow. Magdalena."

Matteo felt like he’d been gut-punched.

His knees buckled. He knew of Magdalena. Even the men under his father sent their whores to her. Every scumbag in Harlem did. When girls got in trouble, they went to Magdalena. Some walked away, and some bled out in a bathtub.

The babies never made it.

José’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. "You did this to her! You!" He was shouting now, hands fisted, stepping forward like he might swing. "She is so scared, Matteo, I can’t stop her! Her father will murder her or send her away. And your family—your fucking family just keeps ruining lives!"

Matteo’s eyes burned.

He shook his head violently. "You’re a liar! She wouldn’t… she…" His voice cracked. He wanted to deny it—wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening.

José’s laugh was cold, bitter.

“Why wouldn’t she? Who would help her? You? You! What could you do to stop it? Nothing. You used her. You and your brother used them both. Now, I can’t stop her because she has no choice. Girls like her never have a choice, youpunta! Debbie’s life is ruined.” He shook his head, disgusted. "Tomorrow, she’s going to Magdalena. Last night, my sister had a dream. I heard her tell my mother. My sister’s dreams often come true. She said someone would die in blood and pain, a friend. She thinks she’s talking about one of her girlfriends, but she isn’t. She is talking about Debbie. I feel it. Something is going to go wrong. And I don’t even know why I’m telling you. But I’m desperate. I just wanted to help her. Somehow."

He turned toward the door.

"Wait."

Matteo’s voice was raw, pleading.

He collapsed onto the bed, pressing his hands into his face, fighting the rage, the grief, the helplessness.

He loved her. And now he was going to lose her forever.

Unless.

Slowly, Matteo looked up. His gaze locked on José.

"You want to help her?"

José hesitated. Then—"I’m here, aren’t I?"

Matteo’s lips curled. "Good. Because I know what we’re going to do."

José didn’t speak. He just listened.

By the time Matteo finished with his plan, it was clear to José that his life had officially changed. What Matteo proposed made them all winners or the biggest losers in Harlem. It was just how bargaining with the devil worked.

“You down?” Matteo asked.

José exhaled a deep, long breath. “Debbie won’t agree to this.”

“She’s my girl. She’ll do as I say because she doesn’t want this either. She wants me to protect her, and I’ll do that with my life and yours, José.”

José nodded. “Si, and mine. I agree.”

Harlem,1949

“Debbie?”

The voice was soft but carried the weight of a mother’s intuition. Debbie froze, her pencil slipping from her fingers as she shoved the half-written letter and notepad under her pillow. The door creaks open, and her mother, Claudia, peeks inside. Her face was warm but lined with the kind of weariness that came from years of working and doing domestic duties while dreaming bigger dreams for her children.

“Ma’am?” Debbie replied, her voice steady despite the knot in her stomach.

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