Red Assassin ~ Pietro Maximoff x OC

"Dead Girl Walking" - Preview

#ShamelessSelfPromotion This particular story, Dead Girl Walking, has been a brainchild of mine for a few years, and I've finally gotten the chance to work on it after reaching a standstill. While you wait for RACW to update, check out Dead Girl Walking and don't forget to follow/friend me on Snap and Insta!

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Alonso Solace is broken.

After his younger sister Cordelia's death, Alonso nearly lost his will to go on. Everywhere he looks, he sees Corey, and every time someone looks at him, they always refer to him as "the dead girl's brother." What Alonso gained is his thirst for revenge: to find Cordelia's killer and bring them to justice.

His drive is only deepened by his visions of his sister and the gruesome murder of his father. In his visions, his sister is alive and unharmed, and she speaks to him as if she was right next to him. Alonso isn't seeing ghosts...is he?

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My eyes fly open and I shoot into an upright position, sweat running down my face and my back. It was a dream. The sirens were just my alarm clock.

Cordelia, why? Why are you gone?

"Hey, champ," Mom says, knocking on my door frame. "You awake for school?"

I rub sleep from my eyes. "No, I'm not. I don't want to go to school, Mom. I can't deal with being the dead girl's brother."

"It'll be fine," Mom coaxes, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Everybody misses her. Not just you."

"But they don't miss her like I do," I say.

"And you don't miss her like I do," Mom retorts. "Honey, you need to move on. Do you think your sister would want you to ignore the rest of what life has to offer?"

I shake my head. "It just hurts. And I don't feel ready for everybody to ask me questions about her and everything."

"You don't have to answer them. But Alonso, live your life. If not for yourself, then for Lia. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. Now, get dressed. There's pancakes and bacon downstairs." Mom smiles, ruffles my hair, and heads back downstairs.

Pancakes and bacon was Cordelia's favorite breakfast. She used to always spread Nutella on her pancakes in the shape of mustaches before smacking the pancake to her upper lip so she'd have a Nutella mustache. I should have been making Nutella mustaches with her. I still can't believe she's gone. Not only was Cordelia Elizabeth Solace my little sister, she was also my best friend.

My eyes land on a framed picture by my bed. It was taken on the first day of school last year. She was a freshman, and me, a sophomore. She'd jumped onto my back and being the kind older brother I am, I'd wrapped my arms under her legs, like I was giving her a piggyback ride. Her hair was swept to one side and her cheek was against my jaw. She had her trademarked ear-to-ear devilish grin on her face, and I have a similar grin on my face as well. Except with her, when she smiled, you could never be sure if she was going to tell you a joke or drop a firecracker down your shirt and light the fuse. It's hard to believe that that picture was taken a year and a half ago. Cordelia disappeared that February, a week after second semester started. She'd been gone for a year before her body was found six weeks ago. I'll never forget it. I never saw the stab wound, but I remember her lying in a pool of blood when she was found. I remember the NCIS agents swarming the area while Dad, Gunnery Sergeant Anthony Solace, tried to hold himself together as he was questioned. I refused to talk to them. And the bastards still haven't solved her case.

Whoever this psycho is, I'm going to find him. I'm going to find him and kill him so fast, he won't know it until his dead body hits the ground.

Dad's a Marine. Why couldn't he protect her?

Angry at NCIS for not solving Corey's case, angry at Mom for making me go to school, angry at Dad for not protecting Corey, and angry at Corey for running away in the first place, I yank my Star Wars pajama pants off and throw them across the room before punching the wall hard. When I pull my hand away from the wall, my knuckles are bruised and there's a dent where they'd come in contact. But I don't care. Corey should be here, playing fire alarm sounds to get me to move faster so I wouldn't be late for school.

"Hell of a punch there, Private," Dad says, standing in my doorway.

"I know, Gunny. That's why I threw it," I snap back.

"They'll find whoever did this, Alonso," he says.

"They've already had a month and a half. How much longer do they need before this guy strikes again, huh? How long?" I shout.

He doesn't reply. He just picks up the framed Journey poster that must have fallen over when I punched the wall and stares at me. "Son. I know Special Agent Parker personally. We served in Kuwait together, and he took a bullet for me. They will find her killer. Just give it time."

"Agent Pisser's had time. I could solve the case better myself with my laptop than this crackhead and his team can at the rate he's going. Do they even have something to go on?"

Reluctantly, Dad shakes his head. "Cold case."

"That's what I thought. But hey, Semper Fi, right, soldier?"