Alejandro Vargas x Reader

Eighteen

The bullet was in the wall behind you, not a finger's breadth from your ear.

A shrill ringing filled your head. You could feel a thin streak of red running down the side of your face, across your neck and into the collar of your shirt.

Although you had foolishly gambled with your life, you had gotten away. And you had gained something.

The fear in Diego's eyes.

"Is that all?", you asked suddenly, your voice audibly unimpressed, perhaps even a little bored.

It would not have been wise to be arrogant but at that moment the old you returned. The urge to gamble for everything crept up your throat.

A smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth. Even though this was a life and death situation you couldn't help but mock him.

Still Diego tried to refuse to show weakness.

But you could smell his insecurity. It was as visible as the sweat dripping down his forehead, as obvious as the dark shadow in his eyes, the nervous shake of his hands.

He knew the wild animal. Now it was time for him to get to know the one the people couldn't even put a face to.

Chuckling, you raised your gun and fired a shot as well. Just one, to return his courtesy.

The bullet hit right between his feet. A small cloud of dust filled the air.

Surprised, Diego backed away, far too quickly and obviously too frightened to be recognised as a respectable leader. Wildly, he waved his weapon in the air.

"Open fire, you fucking idiots!", he shouted to the other cars. "She doesn't want any dead!"

Gritting his teeth, he took cover while the rest of the narcos raised their weapons.

But they all hesitated. Uncertainly, they looked at each other.

"Shoot, damn it!", Diego roared. "Or I'll have you all killed!"

Amused, you picked up your rifle to check once more that everything was ready. Your fingers closed around the familiar feel of the grip.

An old darkness grew inside you, the desire to give in and return to the monster you had once been.

It wouldn't be so bad, would it?

After all, these were not innocents you were killing. They were criminals, murderers. Some of them had certainly committed acts that cast doubt on their humanity.

Taking a deep breath, you bring your eyes back to look at Diego one last time. He had to swallow hard, but refused to show it in front of his men.

"Anyone who wants to live should drop his gun and go.", you said, your eyes harder than they had been for years. "Everyone else will die here today. Just like them."

You pointed to the corpses decorating the ground in front of your house. Their wounds had already stopped bleeding, their bodies had nothing left to give. The ground was muddy.

Every breath smelled of iron and raw flesh.

Gripped by their reason, two of the dozen armed men backed away. But they did not get far.

Without flinching, Diego drew his pistol and put a bullet in each of them.

One of them did not die immediately. The shot hit him in the pit of the stomach, blood gushing out. Screaming in pain, he doubled over and collapsed to the ground, his hand pressed to the wound.

Fear burned in his eyes. Shaking and drenched in cold sweat, the man crawled away from Diego, trying to make his way up the stairs to the door.

You had no intention of helping him.

That he had been here, that day, to get you, had been his unfortunate coincidence. All his decisions had led to him scratching at your door like a wild animal, his nails digging into the wood, begging for his life.

You listened to his screams while your eyes wandered over the other narcos.

Every single one of them had known what it meant to work for the cartel. But at that moment they seemed to realise it. Before they could make their own divisions, they would have to give their lives.

A snort escaped you.

"Only the cruel survive in this constellation.", you raised your rifle, the pleading cries of the man in your ears. "And you are nothing more than a few cockroaches. Vermin like the likes of you was never more than trash to me."

Your finger pressed down the trigger and you opened fire.

Surprised by the sudden offensive, the narcos scattered. Screaming angrily, they jumped behind the cars for cover and started shooting at the house without a head.

Glass and wood shattered under the hail of bullets.

Reflexively you let yourself fall to the ground, taking everything you needed with you.

Bullets clinked as they hit the ground. They bounced off the tiles like golden sparks, creating a melody of war.

It recalled days gone by. Familiar days that seemed like a gift at that moment.

A gunshot grazed your cheek. It burned, felt like the skin was melting off your face.

But at that moment you had no time to give in to the pain.

On all fours you crawled across the floor to the sink, your grip tight around the rifle. Adrenaline rushed through your veins.

How familiar it all felt.

As if after a long journey you had arrived back where you belonged, even though you didn't want to be there.

Maybe it was time to accept your fate.

"It has been a beautiful dream.", you whispered with a smile and recovered to pull yourself over the edge of the worktop out of the window.

Two shots were enough to take out the first one that came dangerously close to your house.

It was raining bullets. Like heralds of death, they smashed into the walls, splintering tiles and tearing curtains.

With one eye closed, you managed to take out another shooter before one of the countless indiscriminate shots managed to hit you in the lower arm.

Caught by the force, you fell back, blood splattering across the floor.

"Shit!", gritting your teeth, you sought shelter again and pushed up your sleeve to examine the wound.

The bullet was still in your flesh, not deep, but hot. Every movement hurt. But you had no time to take care of it.

The narcos came closer.