The city felt half-asleep under the rain. Streetlights flickered in and out, and puddles caught the reflections of passing cars like quick flashes of gold. Samira kept her head down and her hands in her jacket pockets, the small brown envelope pressed against her ribs. It was supposed to be an easy errand. Across the street, three men leaned on a dented sedan, voices low, laughter too deliberate. When she stepped into view, the laughter stopped. One of them straightened, eyes following her. She didn’t break stride, just listened to the echo of her own footsteps against the wet pavement. “Reggie’s sister,” someone called. The voice was smooth, too casual. “Come here a sec.” She didn’t. She kept walking. “Hey—” another one said, tone sharpening. “Don’t be rude.” The sound of their shoes behind her quickened. Her phone buzzed once in her pocket; she didn’t look. The air thickened, humid and electric. “Relax,” the first man said when she finally slowed. “We just wanna talk. Tell Rio he’s reachin’ too far. He don’t own this side anymore.” She turned her head slightly, enough for him to see the calm in her face. That quiet unsettled him more than anything she could’ve said. Then headlights swept across the street. A black SUV rolled up, tires hissing through shallow water. The men stepped back automatically. The driver’s window lowered halfway. Rio’s voice came out even and unhurried. “You done?” The man with the cigarette blinked. “Wasn’t doin’ nothin’, man. Just talkin’.” “Good,” Rio said. “Talk somewhere else.” They obeyed. The silence that followed felt heavy, final. “Get in,” Rio told her. She slid into the passenger seat without a word. Inside, it smelled faintly of smoke and rain-damp leather. The door shut, cutting off the noise of the street. For a while he didn’t say anything. He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping a slow rhythm on the console. “Don’t walk alone out here,” he said finally. His tone wasn’t harsh, just matter-of-fact. “People see that badge on your jacket, they see me. They get ideas.” She stayed quiet, watching the city pass in streaks of orange light. He glanced at her once, the corner of his mouth tightening. “You handled it, though. Didn’t panic. I can work with that.” The rest of the drive was quiet. The wipers moved in a slow, steady beat, and somewhere under the sound of the engine he hummed a few bars of a song she didn’t recognize. When they reached her building, he stopped but didn’t turn toward her. “Stay inside for a few days,” he said. “I’ll let you know when it’s clear.” She opened the door, the cold air spilling in. He added, almost as an afterthought, “Your brother’d be glad you keep your head the way you do.” Samira stepped out without replying. The SUV pulled away, taillights fading into the mist until they disappeared around the corner. The rain was barely falling now, only a fine mist clinging to her hood. She stood there a long time, listening to the distant city noise, the envelope still pressed tight against her ribs.