“My building is not a shelter.”
“I know.”
“You know everything, Miguel, but you still do whatever brings trouble to my door.”
Behind him, Canela gave another low growl, and Don Ernesto’s expression hardened with immediate disgust.
“Out,” he said. “Tonight.”
Lupita stood up slowly, still holding the pale puppy against her chest.
“Don Ernesto, please,” she said. “Give us until morning. They won’t survive outside.”
“That is not my problem.”
The sentence landed flatly, without cruelty in the voice, which somehow made it worse.
Miguel felt Lupita’s eyes on him, but he kept looking at the landlord’s keys.
There were three choices in front of him, and none of them felt clean.
If he argued, they could lose the apartment completely.
If he obeyed, Canela and the puppies might d!e before sunrise.
If he called someone official, the bracelet might become something bigger than all of them.
“Give me two hours,” Miguel said.
Don Ernesto laughed once, without humor.
“For what? To make another excuse?”
“To find somewhere safe,” Miguel said. “For the dog. For all of them.”
Don Ernesto looked at Lupita, at the puppy hidden in her sweater, and something tired crossed his face.
