*Just thought to revive this story* L.S
Alonso looked through the menu presented to him, his indecisiveness causing his brows to knit into worry lines. For the most part, he enjoyed his independence and the new experience of living alone, but times like this, when he had to choose from a menu, he missed the comfort of living with Anselm. The house had a live-in chef, who prepared all the meals and always knew just what combination to serve. The choices were made for him there, so he never had to bother about what to eat, with independence came the nagging question of what to eat.
Then again, wasn't that what he had been trying to escape? Choices being made for him. He ought to celebrate his current state of indecisiveness. It was progress.
"You should pick the fifth option, tastes like heaven"
At this point, even her perfume was all the alert he needed.
Alonso stiffened, when he heard Victoria next to him. He could have sworn he had successfully ditched her some hours ago, except she had a tracker on him, he couldn't fathom how she found him. He had been thankful that he didn't have to work alongside her in their takedown of Anselm, but Victoria was nothing if not relentless. She kept using their age proximity to defend her insistence on keeping him company, but Alonso couldn't say if she really believed that, or if it was just a ploy. He had thought for certain that Victor leaving her out of the plans, meant he wouldn't have to see much of her, but how wrong he was.
"You shouldn't be here." he said.
"Well, I needed to tell someone what I had recently found, and my dad would lose his mind if he knew I was investigating Anselm..."
"You're doing what?!" Alonso asked in disbelief, as he finally turned his gaze on her sharply. He had told himself he would avoid looking at her, in a bid to avoid getting aroused by her, but if she was saying what he thought she was saying, that rule would have to sit aside for a while.
She had the gall to look surprised by his reaction, "What? You thought I wouldn't run my own investigation? I know you men like to think you have it all in the bag, but I have skills none of you do."
Alonso grabbed her by the arm and pulled her along, to a less busy corner of the shop, "Why the fuck are you hanging anywhere close to my uncle? Weren't you the one who said he was dangerous?" He shot at her. Anselm had always told him that youth was deceitful; young people always acted with more balls than they actually had, and ended up dead or maimed for their foolishness. He had thought Victoria was smarter, but it seemed her youth was her hubris still.
She pulled her arm out of his hold, "Neither you nor my dad would bring me in..."
"For a reason..."
"A silly, misogyny-inspired reason"
Alonso scoffed in disbelief. How had Victor kept this girl out of the public eye for so long? She couldn't seem to sit still.
"I was able to use a software to infiltrate his devices. I learnt his devices are connected to those of his workers, so, he knows what they get up to, so, I sent one of said workers, a bugged mail. Once he opened it, I got access to his files and documents, I could trace his calls and messages. I've been gathering intel for a little over a week..."
"One week? You've been tracking Anselm for a week?" She was more fucked than she realised. There was no way Anselm hadn't caught on to the existence of a spy in his system. His uncle was no techwiz, but he had enough people in his employ to alert him if something was off.
"Do you want the information I have or would you rather discuss how I set it up?"
Alonso groaned softly, "We have to leave, now" he stated firmly. He couldn't allow Victoria continue on this path. He would take her to her father and have him set her straight, because he didn't trust himself to do it right. Alonso was man enough to admit that Victoria made him weak, and not just in the knees. He didn't trust himself around her and if Victor knew he had the hots for his daughter, he wouldn't trust him around her either. It was the reason he wanted so much to keep himself away from her, because the last thing this plan needed, was anyone's feelings muddling things up.
He opened up the door, not even budging slightly at her attempt to wiggle her way out of his hold. As soon as they stepped out though, Alonso felt a shift in the air.
Something was wrong. He turned to the left, just in time to see a gun slip out the window of a black SUV.
Shit!
He just barely wrapped Victoria in a protective embrace, his back to the streets, when the sound of gunfire rented the air. He blocked out the sound of screaming people as he felt what had to be pebbles, pelting his skin. The drive-by was quick, which meant, it was only supposed to serve as a warning, but what a fatal warning it could very well have turned out to be....
His eyes followed the moving SUV, noting the plate number. It belonged to Anselm. Alonso had an odd hobby of memorizing plate numbers, his memory was so good, he had every plate number attached to the twenty cars in his uncle's garage ingrained in his head.
He growled softly. He had clearly laid low long enough. Anselm had a target on his back, and he'd be damned if he didn't return the favor.
"Alonso" the muffled voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and it was only then he returned to their current state; he still had Victoria pressed tightly against his chest, while the people around them continued to scream and run about.
He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her along to his parked car.
"Alonso" she called again, this time, her voice was laced with worry.
Alonso was so consumed by his need to get Victoria to safety, he didn't respond to her call. The last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt, not only because he feared what would become of him if Victor's daughter was hurt in his care, but also, because he feared what he would become, if Anselm hurt a hair on her head. Alonso didn't trust himself to not go berserk if she was hurt under his watch.
"Alonso!"
He reached the pick up truck he had gotten a few days ago to ease his movement, and unlocked the door.
"Alonso"
"What?" He asked, as he opened up the door, while turning to her.
He noticed the concern on her face, as she said two words he couldn't recall ever hearing his entire life, "You're bleeding."
****
(Victoria)
"Are you sure you're okay?"
The words filtered into my ears, dark eyes roaming over my face, as if outfitted with a polygraph to determine if I was telling a lie.
My father was shaken, his features were etched with a concern I had last seen when he had rescued myself and my mother from a rival gang that had kidnapped us. It was perhaps the one thing that stopped me from responding to him snarkily or with a practiced sarcasm I had started employing as an adolescent whenever he worried over me.
At various times in my life, I had held one thing or the other against my father. Home schooling me, causing me to have a dysfunctional social life as a teenager, preventing me from applying to NYU. I had always wondered why I had to suffer for the choices he made in life. Yet, the day's events had dragged me down to the reality of the life I often allowed myself forget about.
I was the daughter of a Mafia lord. It may not have been a life I chose, but it was the life I had, and my father was just looking out for me the best he could.
"I'm fine, dad." I responded softly, "It's just..." I looked away from my father's worry-laced face, towards the door of the study. Only minutes ago, the man who had saved my life had walked out through that door. The back of his light blue shirt was darkened with his blood, but those dark spots were concentrated on just a few points.
I was shaken all right...but not because someone had shot at me. No. I was shaken because Alonso had walked out of this room without assistance. He had driven us home without grimacing in pain. I had assumed he was so concentrated on getting us to safety in the car, hence he hadn't acknowledged the the bullets I thought tore into his skin.
There were holes in his shirt, but if bullets were lodged into his back, nothing in his movement suggested that...perhaps I was in shock. That had to be why my mind was playing out that scenario in that manner.
"You see now, why I keep you within this compound?" my father asked. His tone danced around a scolding one, but it wasn't quite as harsh. He let out a sigh, deciding he wouldn't let me vehemently defend my right to free movement, "I'm just thankful Alonso was with you when the attack happened. If he hadn't been there..."
I watched my father shiver at whatever horrible thought crossed his mind, and I reined in the Annalise Keating in me, just rearing to remind him adulthood gave me autonomy.
"It's been so long since I had to engage in a gang war with a lethal rival. I fear I may have underestimated the Soldado gang. I should have employed the protocol I used when you were much younger."
I sat up a bit straighter at those words. I could feel the palpitations in my heart, as memories of all the things my father had to do to keep me safe, crashed into me like the waves from a tsunami. When I was younger, I looked at it as a minor inconvenience. It wasn't like I went to a normal school and had friends I could miss, it wasn't like I would be getting enrolled in another school and be forced to deal with bullies like the movies depicted.
It was just going from one obnoxiously large cage to another obnoxiously large cage. I would hope whoever was assigned the job of my handler was amiable, easy to talk to, not a grouch. Aside that, I never concerned myself with anything else.
