The thunderclap made the rowhouse tremble, and for a moment, Banny was blinded by a sheet of rain bouncing off his windshield and into his view. His grip tightened on his umbrella’s handle, knuckles whitening, then slowly, reluctantly, he forced his feet forward, toward that dimly glowing doorway. The silhouette was there — small, hunched, vulnerable — yet something about its familiarity made his pulse accelerate.

He paused at the bottom step, rain bouncing off his shoulders, washing down his back. The silhouette didn’t move — just stood there in silence, a barrier between the two worlds that had kept them separate for nearly a decade.

He drew a shaky breath. “Peggy…?” His voice was quieter than he meant it to be, raw. “Are you there…?

The silhouette stirred, then slowly stepped forward into the glow of the porch light. The rain glimmered against her lashes, turning drops into small shimmering tears. It was her — Peggy — the woman he hadn’t been able to erase from his mind or his heart. Her face was thinner, her skin a little more weary, but the softness in her gaze remained.

“Banny… I—I hoped you’d come.” Her voice was thick with nervousness and something much greater — regret. “We need to talk… about Max.”

He nodded, reluctantly closing his umbrella and folding it at his side, ignoring the rain that fell down his collar. “Where is he? Is Max… is he all right?”

“He’s… he’s fine.” She paused, turning slightly, reluctantly. “He’s worried… worried about me. This isn’t easy for him, for us.” Her grip tightened on the doorknob, knuckles turning white. “He’s just a kid… a kid caught in something much bigger than he should ever have to carry.”

Banny forced himself forward, up the first step, then the second, until he stood just a few feet from her — close enough to see the fine lines that years of stress had left on her face, close enough to remember the softness of her skin. “Whatever it is… I want to make it right. Let me… please… tell me the truth. Is Max… mine?

She nodded reluctantly, closing her eyes briefly. “He’s… not.” Her voice faltered. “He’s… he’s… someone else's. I’m sorry, Banny. I lied, I let you believe something that was… convenient. I was afraid… I was afraid you’d take him away… or destroy us both. So I kept up the lie. All these years.”

He drew back a step, disbelief battling understanding in his mind. “Not mine…? So… all this… I… I… held on to something that was… a fantasy?”

Peggy pressed forward just a bit, extending a shaking hand toward him, then faltering. “Banny… I made a mess of everything. All I wanted was for Max to be safe… for him to grow up without danger… without chaos. But now… now… we’re all in danger. And I’m afraid I can’t protect him much longer.”

He fell silent, wrestling with the rush of emotions — relief, resentment, regret — until he turned his face up toward the thunderous clouds. The rain fell faster, bouncing off his lashes, washing away the trail of tears he hadn’t even noticed were there. “Who’s putting you in danger, Peg? Tell me. I'll destroy them if I need to. I'll do whatever it takes.”

“That’s just it, Banny.” She turned back toward the warmth of the rowhouse’s interior, reluctantly opening the storm door. “He’s already closing in. We’re not safe here much longer. We’ve been forced into a corner… and we’re running out of time.”

He pressed forward, following her across the threshold. Inside, the rowhouse was a mess — cardboard boxes were stacked against the walls, furniture was covered in sheets, the power was out. The only light came from a small battery-powered lantern sitting on the kitchen table. The glow cast dramatic shadows across the room.

“Who, Peg? Who’s closing in?”

She turned to face him. “Victor Salazar.”

Banny’s jaw tightened at the mention of the name — the man whose reach seemed to seep into every corner of their lives. The man who held the power to destroy them all. “Salazar.” The word fell from his lips with a mixture of rage and disbelief. “He’s alive… and he’s looking for you… for Max… for me… I thought we finished him.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” She pressed a piece of paper into his hand — a hotel room keycard. “Meet me there — 304 — The Harper Inn — at midnight. I'll tell you everything. I'll show you something you’re not supposed to know.”

He tightened his grip on the keycard, its edges cutting into his skin. “I’m not going to let him win… I’m not going to let him destroy us.”

“That’s what I’m afraid you can’t avoid.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “He’s already made his move.”

A heavy silence fell. The thunder grew quieter, but the rain fell faster, bouncing against the windows in a rhythmic beat — a clock counting down to something none of them could see or control.

Banny turned toward the doorway, reluctantly putting up his umbrella. “Midnight, Harper Inn, room 304.” His pulse pounded in his ears. “I’ll be there. Whatever it costs… whatever it takes.”

He stepped back into the rain — a solitary silhouette against the thunderous heavens — a man wrestling with his past, his future, and a danger that was closing in faster by the minute.

Banny stood in the rain, just a few feet from that small rowhouse, his pulse thumping in his ears. The thunder crackled, casting a fleeting blue glow across the doorway. The silhouette there remained still — a shadow against the weak glow from within — until it slowly began to move forward.

He tightened his grip on his umbrella, knuckles whitening. His breath came faster, a rush of nervous energy battling years of resentment and regret. Was it Peggy? Was it someone else?

He forced a step forward. His shoe fell into a puddle, sending ripples across its surface, disturbing the reflection of nearby city lights. The rain fell faster now — a heavy downpour — turning his view into a shimmering mess. The thunder rumbled again, much closer this time, adding a raw soundtrack to their reunion.

He called out quietly, “Peggy…?” His voice was firm, but not without a tremor. “It’s me. I’m here… just like you asked.”

For a moment, everything fell silent except for the rain bouncing off the pavement. The silhouette lingered in the doorway, then slowly receded, turning back into the shadows. The main door opened just a bit more — a sliver of warmth and yellow glow fell upon the wet step.

He drew in a shaky breath and walked forward, closing his umbrella. The rain drops fell directly on him now — washing away a bit of the past, drop by drop.

He placed his hand on the railing and started up the two small steps toward the doorway. His pulse pounded faster with each movement, his senses screaming that something was afoot — something more than just a simple meeting with someone he hadn’t seen in years.

He paused at the threshold. “Peggy?” he said quietly. “Are you there? Please… say something…”

Instead of a voice, something fell to the floor from just inside — a piece of paper, a corner peeking out into the rain-soaked entry. His heart jumped as he knelt down to retrieve it. The paper was folded in half, slightly damp, its edges smeared by rainwater. His initials were there — “B.C.” — in shaky handwriting that made his stomach knot.

He opened it with careful, somewhat nervous fingers. Inside was a short note:

> Banny —

I’m sorry.

I lied.

I’m in danger.

Max is in danger.

We need your help.

Come alone.

11th and Harper — abandoned warehouse.

Tonight — midnight.

Please… you’re the only one I can trust.

— P.W.

He pressed the note against his damp chest. His mind darted through a mess of memories — promises made, promises broken, promises that might soon be kept. The abandoned warehouse on 11th and Harper. Max in danger. Peggy trusting him when nobody else would. This was a turning point — a moment that could redeem him or destroy him. Whatever he chose to do from here would affect not just him, but the future of everyone involved.

He turned back toward his car. His grip tightened on his wet phone, knuckles turning white. His finger hovered over Carmen’s number — he wanted to call her, to let her know something was going down — but he forced himself to wait. This was something he had to do on his own first.

He slid into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and let the engine growl to life. His headlights glimmered through the rain as he turned down Harper Street, following its path toward whatever fate was waiting for him in that abandoned warehouse — the showdown that might bring him peace… or destroy him completely.

As Banny turned down Harper Street, the rain fell faster and faster, nearly blurring his view. His phone suddenly buzzed with a text — a single word from an unknown number:

> “Don’t come alone.”