𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐞

01

THIRD PERSON POV

A chill breeze blew moving Sloan's inky black hair away from her face, almost as if it had heard her thoughts.

She typed away hastily on the phone in her tattooed hands, scowling at the incompetents of her employees as she walked down the steps of her private jet.

No matter how many she fired and threatened they all still managed to make the same stupid mistakes.

Walking to the already opened car door, she nodded at the man that held it open, eyes never leaving the screen of her phone. The man visibly shivered as she walked by, her radiating aura intense and formidable.

Even after working for her for so long, her intangible presence scared him out of his wits every time. Though for all he feared, he respected just as equally with no bias or judgment.

"Warehouse please." she said calmly as she finally looked to the revue mirror, from the backseat of the car.

"Yes boss." He said deftly, eyes never meeting hers but staying glued to the road before him.

Looking out the window, Sloan admired the scenery of Spain. that always seized her attention wholeheartedly. The many buildings flourished in the late evening some as they passed, some she owned, some she didn't. This was her home, her domain.

Even after seeing and travelling to so many countries, no new attractions or resorts could ever capture her attention or outdo her love for Spain.

Even though Sloan lived on her own she had to go back to her foster parents occasionally to make sure they didn't kill themselves with drugs. If they died it would only result in her going back into foster care and she only had some months again until she turned eighteen.

Them being high most of the time worked out well because they never noticed when she would be gone for long periods of time. Her life as a mafia boss and business owner meant that she had to travel a lot. Being adopted again if they died would be a huge inconvenience to that, her being gone for days sometimes weeks would obviously be noticed, unless they were drug addicts as well.

Every so often, maybe after a long trip, she would always make sure to check up on them only to make sure they are alive. The number of times she had to call her doctor to revive them to proper living condition was uncountable.

Stopping outside the warehouse that was unpleasing to look at, Sloan got out the car eyes scanning the abandoned area for trespassers. Though the building looked rundown on the outside, that was not the case for the inside. The dark wood flooring and a subtle grey lining the walls throughout, matched Sloan's being.

"Thank you." She said, closing the door behind her.

The room was quiet as Sloan walked through the building to her office. Even though she was known to be reasonably calm, that only made when she was angry worse. Her few unspoken rules and orders were known to never be broken by terrifying past situations.

Readily, she nodded to the few people she passed on her way to the large double doors at the end of the hall. Upon opening the doors, she stopped at the sight before her.

Ambrose, her underboss and friend sat back in her desk chair, relaxed as ever. His feet on the top of the desk as he watched a football match on the flat screen TV, that was placed strategically on the wall to avoid glare.

Clearing her throat loudly she left the door open behind her, walking to the desk. He jumped, startled by her sudden presence, his feet landing on the floor instantly.

'Didn't he hear the door?'

"Oh, Sloan you're here." He stated. Getting up from the chair and organizing the few papers on the desk.

She hummed in response, staring as he rearranged everything in the wrong place.

"Just leave." She said exasperated, grabbing the folder from his hand.

"My TV isn't this big and I really wanted to see it on a large screen." He explained sheepishly. She only stared at him, her eyes averting to the door once, silently telling him to leave.

"Okay, okay I'm going." He muttered defeatedly. Muttering incoherent things on his way out making sure to close the door quietly behind him. 'The bullet that missed me last time was not unintentional.'

-

Sloan watched as the children laughed and played with their family in the park as she walked by. Their joyous laughter reaching her eyes but never registering in her mind. She herself could not member the last time she was so happy, to laugh like that and smile so unconsciously.

Why didn't she have a family like that to laugh with or to smile at she thought sometimes. Not to say that she longed for it though because you can't want something that you never had.

Her freedom that she was granted nine years ago, though joyous was often haunted by 'him'. He made her who she was today, so cold and guarded. She overcame his abuse and punishment because the present was happening and future was worth looking forward to, dwelling in the past would lead nowhere.

Stopping in her track outside the house, she took in the two police cars parked on the curb. 'Either they overdosed for good this time or someone killed them'.

The two police officers turned around as they heard the wooden front door shut. "Sloan Alvarez?" The tall man with the shiny bald head asked.

"Si," she answered, they must've been new because the entire police department already knew her. Not for being locked up but because she basically controlled it.
(Yes)

"Tenemos que llevarte a la comisaría. Debemos hacer algunas llamadas a nuestros superiores." The short woman to the left says.
(We have to take you to the police station. We must make some calls to ours superiors.)

"Okay." She answered undisturbed, following them out to the car.

The drive to the station was quiet, besides the radio bringing in some occasional reports. When they arrived at the station, they lead her to a room and asked her to sit and wait. She complied reluctantly only to get the inevitable over with.

For 20 long minutes she sat there staring at the beige walls, unmoving before the man and another woman walked in.

"Tus padres adoptivos han muerto, lamentamos tu pérdida. Hoy temprano recibimos un informe del vecino diciendo que escucharon alguna actividad sospechosa desde adentro. ¿Dónde estabas?" The man said when he was sat in the chair opposite hers.
(Your foster parents have died, we're sorry for your loss. Earlier today we got a report from the neighbour saying that they heard some suspicious activity from inside. Where were you?)

"En la casa de un amigo," she answers smoothly. They nodded in acceptance really just wanting to get to why the woman was really here.

"Hola Sloan soy su trabajadora social y quiero hacer una prueba de DNA antes de tomar una decisión sobre el cuidado de crianza," the tall American woman says fluently.
(Hello Sloan I am your social worker and I want to do a DNA test before I make a decision about foster care.)"

She nodded in response, knowing she had no family, well not that she knew of anyway. She didn't even have a surname until she was adopted by those two, that was the only good thing they did that 'he' didn't.

When they were finished with whatever they had to do, they sent her home to get any clothes she needed because either way she would be leaving that house.

The first thing the American woman said as soon as Sloan came back would change things forever, "Hemos encontrado a tu familia," she said excitedly.
(We have found your family)

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