The afternoon sun was slowly sinking over Arcelia, painting the dusty streets with golden hues and long shadows. The scorching heat of midday had eased somewhat, leaving a dense and quiet atmosphere in the air, as if the entire town were taking a breath before nightfall.

It was an unusually peaceful day.

Vendors in the plaza were calmly packing up their goods, while a few women chatted under the arches, lazily fanning themselves with the edge of their aprons. A couple of kids played near the kiosk fountain, tossing pebbles and giggling in whispers, careful not to disturb the peace too much.

Even the cantina “El Jilguero,” usually filled with murmurs and raucous laughter, had its door slightly ajar, with no one seeming to want to go in or out. The regulars were probably still sleeping off last night’s drinks, leaving the inside in an odd stillness.

Giovanni, leaning against the doorway of the station, watched the scene with his arms crossed. There was something strange about the day’s stillness. As if the whole town were holding its breath, waiting for something to shatter it.

But what truly unsettled him wasn’t the silence around him—it was his own.

Because his mind, against his will, kept drifting back to Nil.

It was exasperating.

He had seen him leave that morning, five days ago now, with Noé, heading to San Bartolo, and yet… here he was, nerves tense, waiting for him to return without wanting to admit it.

He frowned and ran a hand through his hair, feeling the sweat on his nape. He didn’t even know if it was from the heat or from sheer nerves. He exhaled in frustration.

It wasn’t the first time his thoughts wandered to Nil. But what really had him in a foul mood wasn’t thinking about him—it was what he felt when he did.

Because every time Nil crossed his mind, he brought with him those damn sensations Giovanni couldn’t shake off.

The touches. That stare. The heat.

The way Nil’s fingers had slid across his skin with maddening calm, the way he pressed, explored, as if he enjoyed watching Giovanni react.

And his body had reacted. Oh, it had reacted—and he hated to admit it.

He’d felt every touch, every brush. Nil had caught him off guard, made him shiver. And the worst part? Nil had noticed.

If it had been anyone else touching him like that, he would’ve shoved them off instantly—maybe even punched them. But with Nil… he hadn’t been able to.

With Nil, his body didn’t respond the way it should’ve.

He felt trapped in those damn blue eyes, hypnotized without wanting to be. A few seconds more and he wouldn’t have even remembered how to breathe.

That thought infuriated him. And as if that wasn’t enough, he vividly imagined Nil’s hands torturously slow, gliding over his body. He could feel how Nil leaned against his back, the warmth of his breath brushing his neck, the tips of his fingers trailing slowly across his abdomen.

But it wasn’t Nil.

It was his mind.

Giovanni tried to push the image out of his head.

But Nil didn’t let him. He imagined that bastard rising onto the tips of his boots to reach his ear from behind. Unconsciously, Giovanni let his head tilt back slightly, as if trying to help Nil reach him more easily. Nil’s voice slithered through his mind like a wicked whisper.

Warm. Teasing. Torturous. Sensual.

—So, you do think about me, sheriff?

Giovanni tensed immediately.

No. No. No.

He wasn’t going to fall for this.

But his imagination had no mercy.

Because he could feel it.

He could feel the way Nil rubbed against his back, the warmth of his breath brushing his ear, the fingertips trailing slowly down his abdomen until they reached the edge of his belt.

—Mmm... what an honor. —Nil whispered in his mind, with that sly tone that made his blood boil.

His hands—damn them—drew a lazy path from his waist up to his chest.

Every touch was deliberate.

Every caress, a damn provocation.

—So tell me, Giovanni... —Nil raised his head to lean even closer to his ear.

His voice trapped him in an invisible snare Giovanni didn’t want to escape.

—At what point do you start cursing me for this… and where do you decide it doesn’t bother you that much?

Giovanni opened his eyes abruptly.

His nape, which had tilted slightly back, straightened at once, as if he’d been caught with his hands in the fire. A gasp of pleasure got stuck in his throat. Then, he huffed in frustration and spat on the ground, as if he could expel the discomfort from his own body that way.

It made no sense. No logic. No explanation.

And that was what bothered him most.

He forced himself to focus on what was in front of him—the unusual calm in the town, the orange light beginning to bathe the tiled rooftops, anything but Nil and the effect he had on him.

But his peace didn’t last long.

Because then he heard the sound of a cart approaching, rolling over the dusty earth.

From the far end of the main road, a familiar figure appeared, riding a cart moving at a steady pace. And on the driver’s seat, a man dressed in navy blue held the reins with the confidence of someone used to traveling without fear of what might lie ahead.

Giovanni didn’t need more to recognize him.

Sheriff Roberto had arrived.

Giovanni watched him approach from the station doorway, hands resting on his hips.

It wasn’t the first time he dealt with him; Roberto was a dry, pragmatic man with a sharp nose for hunting criminals. He didn’t beat around the bush and didn’t waste time on idle talk. —Giovanni.

Roberto climbed down from the cart with a slight nod. —Roberto. What brings you here?

The man brushed the dust off his vest before leaning against one of the support beams at the entrance. —The roads are getting worse. Bandits attacking stagecoaches, robbing merchants, leaving ruin in their wake. My town’s not the only one in trouble… Arcelia isn’t safe either.

Giovanni nodded. He had already received reports of nearby robberies, but what Roberto said next made him clench his jaw. —I’ve been following a trail. A name that keeps popping up in the rumors. —Roberto lowered his voice—. The Black Specter.

Giovanni held Roberto’s gaze for a moment, silently assessing him. If Roberto had come all the way to Arcelia, it meant he had something important.

With a nod of his head, he gestured toward the station door.

—Come in. We’ll talk inside.

Roberto nodded and followed him inside. The warm afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting long shadows over the wooden furniture. Giovanni’s office smelled of leather, gunpowder, and tobacco—a familiar blend for any sheriff who had spent more time solving problems than resting.

Giovanni walked around his desk and sat down, motioning with a small wave of his hand toward the chair in front of him.

—If you made the trip all the way here, I imagine you’ve got something concrete. —Roberto pulled out a bundle of papers from an inner pocket of his vest. Giovanni took them and flipped through them carefully—. How much have you managed to find out about the Black Specter?

Roberto settled into the chair and pulled a cigarette from his vest, lighting it calmly before speaking.

—More than people think... but less than I’d like.

He exhaled the smoke slowly, watching Giovanni with a serious expression.

—They say the Black Specter is a ghost, that he appears and disappears without a trace. But there are no ghosts in this world, Giovanni. Just men with sharp instincts and a well-executed plan.

Giovanni didn’t reply right away. He’d read enough in the reports to know that beyond the rumors, this mercenary wasn’t like the rest.

—How does he operate? —he asked at last.

Roberto smiled wryly, as if he’d been expecting that question.

—Unlike common gangs, this man leaves no loose ends. No witnesses who can describe him clearly, no fixed base from where he operates. But the most interesting part is that he doesn’t kill unless he has to.

Giovanni raised an eyebrow.

—That makes him more dangerous?

Roberto rested an elbow on the armrest and nodded.

—Yes. Because it means he’s calculating. He doesn’t act on impulse or revenge like other bandits. He only makes a move when there’s a good reason.

Giovanni drummed his fingers on the desk, processing the information.

—Any pattern in his crimes?

Roberto pulled out another document and slid it across the table.

—Bank heists, money transports, and certain officials. But here’s the curious part… he doesn’t always take everything. In more than one case, he’s left part of the loot behind.

Giovanni narrowed his eyes.

—A mercenary with scruples?

Roberto let out a dry chuckle.

—Or with a code.

The sheriff of Arcelia reviewed the list of crimes in the report, noting the information was far too precise to be mere speculation.

—How did you get this?

Roberto offered a faint smile.

—I have my sources. There’s a man in Zirándaro who swears he saw him up close. But the most interesting part isn’t what he says about the Black Specter...

Giovanni looked up.

—Then what is it?

Roberto leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk.

—That he saw him with the Zanates.

The silence that followed was heavy.

The Zanates.

This wasn’t just any gang. It was an organization that operated from the shadows, with mercenaries and spies for hire—men who sold their talents to the highest bidder.

If the Black Specter had ties to them, then Giovanni wasn’t just dealing with another outlaw.

He was dealing with a professional.

Giovanni exhaled slowly, holding Roberto’s gaze.

—You said you had a witness.

—Yeah. A farmer who stumbled across an information exchange on the road. According to him, one of the men had colored eyes.

Again.

Another damn time.

—Eyes don’t prove anything. —he said calmly.

Roberto smiled slowly, taking a drag from his cigarette.

—No, but they get noticed.

The sheriff placed his cigarette in the ashtray and crossed his arms.

—Giovanni… I know Arcelia is a quiet town, but let me tell you something. —his tone grew serious—. If the Black Specter is in the area, it’s only a matter of time before he strikes here. And when that happens, there won’t be rest for you or your people.

The silence in the office grew heavy. Giovanni clenched his jaw, knowing Roberto was right.

If the Black Specter was nearby, it was only a matter of time before Arcelia became his next target.

Giovanni laid the documents on the desk and leaned back in his chair.

—I received two statements in the past few days. —he finally said—. One was a report about a gang assault, and the most recent one was from a woman named Guadalupe.

Roberto raised an eyebrow, interested.

—What did they say?

Giovanni opened a drawer and pulled out several papers, flipping through them until he found the correct reports.

—According to the first statement, the attackers had their faces covered, but the leader was different from the rest. He moved with confidence, like he’d done it a hundred times. He spoke calmly, gave precise orders, and never hesitated.

Roberto exhaled with a thoughtful look.

—That lines up with what I’ve heard.

—But there’s more. —Giovanni slid the report across the table—. One of the witnesses mentioned something peculiar…

Roberto took the document and read it under his breath.

—“The leader of the bandits didn’t shout like the others. He didn’t seem like a savage… more like someone who knew exactly what he was doing. But what I remember most were his eyes. They were light in color, almost like a demon’s.”

Roberto’s eyes narrowed.

—Colored eyes… again.

Giovanni nodded seriously.

—That detail caught my attention. It’s not common in this area.

Roberto placed the document on the desk and clasped his hands together.

—And the second report?

Giovanni slid the second document across the table.

—I handled that one personally. She’s a local, her name is Guadalupe.

Roberto picked up the papers while listening to the sheriff of Arcelia.

—She was visiting San Bartolo, a few hours from here. She mentioned that on her way back to Arcelia, some travelers stopped her. Apparently, it was a similar story.

—A gang had attacked them. No one was hurt, but the most important thing…

Roberto looked up from the pages and locked eyes with Giovanni.

—Colored eyes.

Giovanni nodded.

—Do you have suspects?

Giovanni shook his head.

—There’s no one in town who matches the description. But if the Black Specter is operating nearby, maybe someone’s seen him without realizing it.

—Were the travelers from Arcelia too? Where were they going? —the senior sheriff asked, noticing it wasn’t written in the report.

Giovanni tensed. He didn’t know. Roberto caught on immediately from his silence.

—You didn’t ask.

Giovanni looked away, frustrated. Roberto sighed in resignation.

—I want to speak to Guadalupe.

—She lives just a few blocks away. We can go now.

Giovanni headed for the door, and Roberto stood to follow him.

—Still green, kid, but it’s starting to take shape —murmured the visiting sheriff, adjusting his hat—. If we find the person with those colored eyes, we might be closer to the Black Specter than we think.

Giovanni didn’t say it out loud, but the same thought crossed his mind.

And deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the answers they were searching for were closer than either of them realized.

Roberto and Giovanni left the sheriff’s office, walking with firm steps through the streets of Arcelia.

The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the sky a deep orange. The lanterns were starting to light up, bathing the town in a warm dusk.

As they walked, curious glances followed them discreetly. It wasn’t every day that two sheriffs walked the streets with such seriousness.

Giovanni kept his eyes forward, focused on the task.

But Roberto scanned every corner with the gaze of a man who’d spent a lifetime chasing shadows.

When they turned the corner leading to the street by the clinic, the sound of hooves and wagon wheels caught their attention.

Giovanni stopped in his tracks.

Noé was in front, guiding the horse with a relaxed air, as if he hadn’t spent the last few days traveling.

Seated beside him on the wagon… was Nil.