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❝ i saw mikael. ❞
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ENOLA HAD BOUNDARIES. They had nothing to do with whether or not she loved someone. They are not judgements, punishments, or betrayals. They are a purely peaceable thing; the basic principles she identifies for herself that define those behaviors that she will tolerate from others, as well as the responses she will have to said behaviors. Boundaries taught people how to treat her and they taught her how to respect herself.
Francesca Correa had crossed multiple boundaries when bombing the bayou. It wasn't that hard to figure out. She ran the very casino that the suicide bomber owed money to. That begged the question why. What did she get out of bombing the bayou other than a severed alliance?
Francesca returned home to find Enola seated on the porch. She wasn't all too concerned. She had a bodyguard to ensure that nothing bad would happen to her. Though she was unaware of just how dangerous an angry hormonal pregnant woman could get. She had spent a lifetime underestimating those around her. Tonight was no different. Tonight her enemy was human. A weak and fragile human. It nearly made her laugh as she turned to face her adversary with a wide smile.
"Enola," Francesca greeted. "To what do I owe the pleasure? I'm guessing you're not here because you want to make a new friend."
"I don't count terrorists as friends," Enola shot back, slowly rising to her feet.
"Wow. I've been accused of everything from grand larceny to blackmail." Francesca chuckled in faux amusement. "But terrorist, that's new."
"A human pulled up to our home in the bayou on a motorcycle and blew himself up," Enola informed.
"I heard. Awful." Francesca drawled. "Good night."
Francesca held a hand out and the bodyguard dropped the keys to her house in her palm. She proceeded to walk around Enola who was quick to follow. She stuck the key into the hole as the bodyguard blocked Enola from getting closer. However, the moment the bodyguard touched Enola, he was on the ground with a knot the size of a golf ball on the side of his head.
"I would get an upgrade in security if I were you," Enola noted before getting back on track. "Word on the street is the suicide bomber owed one hundred grand to the Palace Royale Casino and then after he died, the debt was erased. Just like magic."
"Jeff was a fixture at my Roulette table. Sometimes he was up. Sometimes he was down. I absolved his family of the debt he owed out of the goodness of my heart. Feel free to sniff around. My hands are clean." Francesca answered, eyes flickering to the unconscious bodyguard. "And I'd advise you to mind your manners."
