Alejandro Vargas x Reader

Thirty-One

Tense, you moved with Alejandro and Soap across a backyard towards a house of white stone with a red tiled roof. It was right at the edge of the mountain, the largest around.

Dust filled the air with every step as Alejandro made his way to the back door and got into position. You wanted to stay back, but he did a gesture with his head to get you to his side.

Soap approached the door with his gun raised. Ghost followed.

"All Victors, stand back and secure the area.", Alejandro called over the coms. "Me and a unit will go in. Stand ready."

"Roger that, colonel.", Rudy replied. "We're in support position."

"Good.", the eyes of your husband briefly jumped to you before looking at Soap and giving a silent command.

With a nod, Soap approached and fired a shot into the door. The force of the close shot shattered the lock from the bullet. Splinters and metal scattered across the floor.

"This is where they are hiding Hassan.", Alejandro breathed in his restrained, hushed voice. "Expect resistance. Soap on me."

"Right behind you.", Soap assured as he exchanged a glance with Ghost.

The two seemed to be a good team as well. Maybe not as good as Alejandro and Rudy, but good enough to be considered a suitable fit for cooperation missions.

Although this was not the right time, your eyes searched for those of your husband. Once again your gazes crossed, as they had so often in recent times, without words being spoken. And yet it didn't take a plea from his mouth to understand that he wanted you by his side.

Taking a deep breath, you tightened your shoulders, your grip on the weapon tightened and you nodded.

"I got your back.", you whispered.

Only when you had given him confirmation did his attention return to Soap. With a smoke grenade in his hand, he waited.

On cue, the Scot kicked the door in.

Clattering, the tattered wood swung open, just far enough for Alejandro to become the grenade into the room from cover.

Not a second too late, the first narcos had already positioned themselves behind the sofas to open fire under cover of the narrow walls.

Smoke filled the hallway.

Taking advantage of the invisibility, you pushed past your husband and pushed into the house while aiming at the shadows in the mist through clenched teeth.

Bullets whizzed past your head. One grazed you directly on the cheek. It was as if a hand of fire was placed on your face. The smell of iron filled your nose as blood flowed over your (S/C) skin.

Adrenaline rushed through your veins as you gunned down the first man. Your body moved on its own, your finger refusing to let go of the trigger. How familiar it felt that the recoil pressed the shoulder piece of your weapon against your bones.

At the same moment as you thought you had reconnected with a part of your old self, you became careless.

All at once a narco leapt out of the thinning smoke. He pointed the barrel of his gun directly at you, his finger already squeezing the trigger.

At that very second, time seemed to freeze.

Eyes wide, surprise written all over your face, you stared down the barrel of the gun. Your breath hitched. All the hairs on your body stood up.

You didn't know why you remembered it at that exact moment, but you had been in a situation like this before.

Back then. With her.

As if your muscles remembered that day, you ducked under the gun. Your hand jumped to the belt on which you carried a knife. With one swift movement you pulled it out, flipped the blade with two fingers and rammed it full force into the air.

Polished metal dug through flesh and bone, from the throat to the neck and up to the ming where the tip stuck in the hard flesh of the palate.

It was over before you even realised what had happened.

Eyes wide, mouth twisted into a silent scream, the man looked you straight in the eye while your blade stuck in his throat and the lower part of his head. Blood poured from his split tongue, over his lips and the knife to your hands.

Wordlessly you returned his gaze. No emotion could be read on your face as you pulled the blade out with a jerk.

Blood splattered across the floor, onto the dusty fabric of the sofa and onto the wall behind it.

Gasping and gulping, the man fell backwards to the floor while blood poured from all his wounds. It took him several minutes to choke on his blood and stop moving.

The sight touched nothing in you. The sticking of his blood on your hands was something that caused annoyance in you instead of remorse.

In that moment you were once more Sin Rosto, the faceless one. For never had anything human been visible on your face when you had killed. It had always been like a mask.

"(Y/N)!", the rough voice of Alejandro suddenly yelled through the house.

Torn from your thoughts, you blinked. From the corner of your eyes you managed to see him approach. Quickly, you turned away from the dead body and wiped the blade clean on one of your trousers legs.

"I'm here.", you replied and joined him and Soap at the stairs.

With his eyebrows drawn together, your husband eyed you for a moment. He seemed to be at loss for words, both confused yet startled.

Confused, you raised one eyebrow.

"Nothing.", he finally said, swallowing hard, and made his way up the stairs. "Stay alerted."

You wanted to follow as second. But suddenly Soap grabbed you by the shoulder and gently pushed past to him first.

"You're covered in blood, mate.", he said with an equally irritated look on his face. "You should stay back."

He rushed up the stairs as well.

Confused, you looked after them but did not argue with the request and instead let Ghost go third before you made your way to the second floor as well. As he passed you he seemed to have a strange expression in his eyes.

All of a sudden it occurred to you that this had not been the military way of defending yourself. You had killed the man like a narco, roughness and brutal. He had suffered. Something that the military was not a fan of.