cap 🧢

The apartment was quiet, the late Bogotá sun leaking through the blinds in fractured streaks. You’d been making dinner, hummming softly to yourself, comforted by the thought that Javier was staying behind the desk for a while. For once, you could breathe. For once, the ache of worry in your chest didn’t sit so heavy.

He had promised you. Sworn to you, in that low, gravelly voice of his, that he’d stay away from the dangerous cases. That he’d keep to paperwork, interviews, the safer side of DEA work. You believed himbecause you needed to.

But Javier Peña had a dangerous habit of lying to himself just as much as to the people he loved.

And Escobar didn’t care that you had nothing to do with it.

The first sign was the soft click of your lock turning, a sound so foreign it froze you in place, wooden spoon slipping from your hand into the pot of simmering sauce. You turned just as the door swung open, and a man you’d never seen stepped inside like he owned the place. His smile was wrong. Too confident.

“Señorita,” he said, looking you up and down. His accent was thick, his presence heavy. “You must be Javier’s little girlfriend.”

Your blood ran cold.

Befo re you could reach for the phone, another man appeared, shutting the door behind him. One of them stepped closer, brushing his hand over the back of your chair, his eyes never leaving you.

“You know, Peña has been… very busy. Busy where he doesn’t belong.” His gaze swept over you like a threat. “Men like him, they should understand—there are consequences.”

Your hands trembled, but you stood your ground. “He’s not here. You need to leave.”

They laughed. A cruel, sharp sound. One of them leaned in close, close enough you could smell smoke and cheap cologne. His fingers grazed a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear like he had any right. L

“You’re pretty,” he murmured. “Too pretty for a man like Peña. Maybe he doesn’t deserve you.”

Your phone rang then, hung up against the wall beside you. The man smirked, snatched it up, and answered without hesitation.

“Javier Peña,” he greeted, mocking. Then, looking straight at you, he held the phone out so Javier’s voice carried through the line.

“Who the fuck is this? ” Javier’s tone was sharp, suspicious.

The man grinned wider. “Relax, amigo. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m standing in your apartment… with your girl.”

Your breath hitched, and you knew Javier heard it.

The man trailed his fingers along your jaw, deliberately slow. “She’s even prettier in person than the files say.” He tilted the phone toward your face. “Say hello to Javier.”

You swallowed hard, fighting the tears burning at the corners of your eyes. “Javi…”

“What do you want?” His voice was cold.

The men laughed again, their shadows stretching long in the fading light.

“I think you’ll know exactly what we want. Maybe the name itself might help .” The man then narrowed his eyes on you.

“Are you familiar with Escobar..?” Your heart sunk. By the fear that grew in your eyes the man knew just how familiar you were with his name and smiled.

In that moment, you realized the promise Javier had made wasn’t just broken. It was shattered—and now, it wasn’t just his life on the line.

Javier’s grip on the phone was so tight the plastic creaked. His other hand was braced on the desk, knuckles white, his pulse hammering so hard it made his vision blur. He could hear you breathing, quick and uneven, the muffled sounds of movement on the other end.

And then the bastard spoke.

“She has such soft skin, Peña,” the man drawled, his voice lazy, taunting. There was a rustle, a shift, and Javier’s blood ran molten. “Especially here—” He chuckled darkly. “Her neck. So delicate. I can feel her pulse racing under my thumb.”

“Javi…” Your voice cracked as the man’s thumb dragged along your cheekbone, mocking Javier with every deliberate touch.

On the other end of the line, you heard the scrape of Javier’s chair, the sharp clatter of his phone being adjusted in his hand. His voice came through ragged, furious.

“If you do anything to her, Escobar is gonna be the least of your worries” Javier responded while motioning for Stephen to give him a pen. Quickly he wrote on a paper and handed it back to him. It read “they’re in my apartment”. Stephen immediately requested back up.

The man ignored him, clearly enjoying every second. “You know what’s interesting? She shivers when I run my hand down her arm. She’s trembling right now. She doesn’t like me touching her, but God, does she react.” His words dripped with venom, every syllable designed to cut.

Javier’s chest heaved. His vision tunneled, all he could picture was you, pressed back against the counter with some piece of shit’s hands on you. His gut twisted with fury and helplessness—he was miles away, chained to this fucking phone when he should have been there tearing them apart.

“Get your fucking hands off her!” Javier roared, the sound feral enough to turn heads in the office around him. He didn’t care. His jaw clenched so hard it ached, veins straining in his temple.

The man just laughed softly, smug. “You must love her, Peña. The way you’re losing your mind… makes me want to tell you more.”

Javi slammed his fist against the desk, the sharp crack echoing. Papers scattered, a pen rolled off the edge, but he didn’t even notice. His throat burned with the sheer force of the rage tearing out of him.

Javier’s pulse was a drum in his ears, drowning out everything except your shaky breaths and the bastard’s voice.

The man pressed the phone against his chest, muffling Javi’s words. His partner chuckled from the doorway, keeping watch like this was nothing more than a game.

“Do you feel that?” the man asked, leaning closer until his breath hit your ear. “That fear in your chest? That’s because of him. Because that man of yours doesn’t know when to quit.”

Your stomach twisted, panic threatening to take over. But even through your fear, you shot him a glare. “You think he won’t find you?”

That earned another laugh. “Oh, he’ll try. But by then…” He let the implication hang, fingers trailing down your arm, making your skin crawl when he suddenly grabbed a chunk of your hair and yanked it making you squeal.

And then Javier’s voice cut back through, sharp and unrelenting: “I’m coming. You hear me?” He spoke in between breaths, ignoring the request of the team to stay behind. Who the hell were they kidding?

“Don’t you let them break you. I’m on my way.” The sound of your scream making him blindly take off.

The men exchanged a look, smug and taunting, before one whispered something in Spanish you barely caught—about teaching Peña a lesson.

Minutes felt like hours, your heart thundering in your ears. The man with the phone kept circling you, every brush of his hand deliberate, meant to get under Javi’s skin as much as yours.

Then everything changed at once.

The door crashed open, wood splintering, Javier storming in with his gun drawn, he immediately spotted you before you ducked behind the counter. His jaw was tight, his eyes wild—raw fury and terror wrapped into one. Two shots cracked through the air, controlled but merciless, sending both men scrambling before one went down. The other barely made it out, disappearing into the night.

When silence finally fell, you were frozen on the ground covering your ears, your breath shuddering. Javier lowered the gun, rushing to you, hands grabbing at your arms, standing you up, touching your face, checking you like he didn’t believe you were really there.

“Baby, look at me. Are you hurt? Did they—”

You shoved him back. Hard.

His brows knitted in confusion, voice breaking. “Hey, it’s me. You’re safe now—”

“Safe?” The word came out sharp, bitter. “You promised me, Javi. You promised you wouldn’t do this anymore.”

He flinched, guilt written all over his face. “I had to take it, I didn’t have a choice—”

“Yes, you did!” Tears blurred your vision as you pulled away from him, heading for the bedroom. “And you dragged me into this. You made me a target!” Stephen and a few others walked in.

“Give us a damn minute” he snapped without looking their way.

He followed you, helpless, as you yanked open drawers, shoving clothes into a bag with trembling hands.

“Stop—what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?!” You snapped back without looking at him.

“You can’t leave, it isn’t safe-“

“I don’t care!” you screamed , panic flooding every word. “I can’t keep living like this, Javi. Waiting for the next time someone breaks through the door. Waiting to see your name in the paper because you couldn’t keep your promise.”

His voice cracked, raw. “Please—don’t do this. Don’t walk away, not like this. You’re all I’ve got.”

“No-“ your voice cracked rushing past him but he surged forward, catching your wrists mid-motion. “You can’t just take off on your own, it’s not safe!”

The contact made you flinch, your panic boiling over. You ripped your hands free with a sharp jerk, glaring at him through a blur of tears. “Don’t! Don’t touch me, Javi. Don’t tell me what’s safe—you don’t get to decide that for me anymore.”

The words landed like blows. He stood there, chest heaving, watching you cram another handful of clothes into the bag while your whole body shook. His throat worked, but no words came out—just the crushing weight of guilt settling deeper with every second.

Because this—your fear, your trembling hands, the anger in your eyes—this was all on him.

You tried to turn, to get away, but he stepped in front of you, desperate, crowding your space. His hands caught yours, not rough this time, but trembling, pleading.

“Javi…” Your voice cracked, equal parts anger and heartbreak. “They were here. They touched me. Because of you. I’ll never feel safe again.”

His face twisted, eyes shutting tight for a moment like the words gutted him. When they opened again, they burned with desperation. He pressed your knuckles to his lips, voice hoarse.

“Cariño. I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll spend the rest of my life making this right if you let me. Just—don’t leave me.”

You tried to pull back, but he held tighter, the words tumbling out now like he couldn’t stop them.

“…please.” His voice broke on that last word, raw and guttural. “Yell at me, hate me, whatever you need to do. But don’t walk out that door. You are everything to me. Todo.”

Your body shook, your breaths coming too fast, panic spilling out of you in harsh sobs. You shook your head in tears.

“This isn’t fair” you cried.

“I know-“

“No, you don’t get it-“ you panted.

“This isn’t what I wanted, this wasn’t how it was suppose to be, this wasn’t how I wanted to tell you-“ his expression changing curiously as you looked away, his eyes studying every detail.

“Tell me what” he spoke delicately.

“It’s not just about us anymore, Javi” you whispered looking down.

“What are you saying?”

“Javi, dammit….I’m pregnant” you blurt out. Had you been looking up at him, you would’ve seen the color drain from his face. He was silent, in shock, still trying to wrap his mind around what you just said.

“I was gonna tell you tonight but when you called and said you’d be late I just. I was very upset, you’ve been coming home late a lot lately with this stupid case I’m guessing”

Guilt flickered in his eyes, sharp and heavy, before his expression hardened.

“We’re leaving tomorrow.”

Your head snapped up, brows knitting in confusion.

“I can’t keep you here,” he muttered, almost tripping over the words. “You’re pregnant—” His breath hitched, and he repeated it softer, like he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “Jesús… you’re pregnant.”

He stepped back, hands braced on his hips as his gaze darted around the room, searching for a plan that wasn’t there. Panic edged his voice when he finally looked at you again.

“I have to get you out of here. That’s all that matters now.”

Escobar, the case, the endless chase—it all fell away. None of it mattered anymore.

“Perdóname,” Javier said again, voice low and rough with desperation. “Just… forgive me. I swear to you, nothing like this will ever happen again. Your safety—our safety—it’ll never be threatened, not while I’m breathing.”

He meant every word he said.

“Nunca más, you hear me? I’ll never let this happen again.”

You wanted to believe him, but hesitation sat heavy in your chest. You loved him—God, you loved him—but fear was there too, curling in the pit of your stomach. He saw it in your eyes, and the realization cut him deeper than anything ever could. The fact that he was the reason you knew this kind of fear—it was something he couldn’t forgive himself for.

Without warning, his hand moved, resting carefully, almost reverently, against your stomach. The touch made your heart stutter. His gaze locked onto yours, steady, unflinching now.