CUBAN HIRE (CARTEL GXG)

BLOODLINE BOUND

A/N!: There is a large portion of this scene between Carlos and Ezmeralda, but they only speak in Spanish with eachother, so to make it more of a pleasant read for the non Spanish speakers, ive made all the dialogue which would actually be in Spanish like this. 

Ezmeralda groaned herself awake, wincing as she shifted in bed, her hand instinctively clutching her aching side. The sharp, insistent yelps of Cookie echoed in her ears, making her brow furrow deeper. "Cállate," she muttered, her voice rough with discomfort. She could barely move without feeling a surge of pain, and Cookie's constant whining only made it worse. But even as she grumbled, the yapping persisted, growing more unbearable.

"Vale, vale, vamos," she finally sighed, lifting the edge of her blanket in reluctant surrender. Cookie wasted no time, jumping up onto the bed with a satisfied little mewl, curling up beside her as if he had won some battle.

At first, Ezmeralda thought the pain was caused by the noise, but as silence returned to the room, the burning in her side intensified. Slowly opening her eyes, she blinked against the brightness flooding through the windows, her head pounding, her muscles tight with soreness. Her body felt as though it had been dragged through gravel. She shifted, her head splitting and side throbbing with a sharp sting she couldn't place. Turning over to find Olivia, Ezmeralda frowned when she realized the bed was empty.

Pushing herself up, she winced as a new wave of pain flared up in her abdomen. She glanced down at her body, eyes narrowing at her disheveled state—her white tank top streaked with dried blood and mud, her skin bruised and scraped. What the hell happened last night?

Cursing under her breath, she rose to her feet, stumbling slightly as she made her way out of the bedroom. The eerie quiet of the house unsettled her, but the intense sunlight pouring in from the tall windows made her squint in discomfort. Cookie followed behind, his little nails clicking against the hardwood floors as they made their way to the kitchen.

The noon light illuminated the room as Ezmeralda walked in, searching for any signs of life. Her head spun, the memories from last night a jumbled mess, flashes of dancing and chaos in the club. Suddenly, Olivia's voice echoed through the kitchen, hoarse and groggy as she appeared from the hallway, rubbing her eyes.

"What the hell happened last night?" Olivia croaked, squinting at the harsh daylight as she stumbled toward Ezmeralda.

"I was just asking myself the same thing," Ezmeralda muttered, turning to face Olivia, noting her wife's disheveled appearance—her pajama shirt misbuttoned, her hair sticking out in all directions.

Olivia's hand dropped from her face as her eyes landed on Ezmeralda. Her jaw slackened, and she gasped in shock. "Wha—are you okay?!" she exclaimed, rushing over to Ezmeralda's side. Her eyes darted over the dried blood on Ezmeralda's tank top, the scratches on her face.

"I think so," Ezmeralda replied, though uncertainty laced her words. "It's just my stomach... it's killing me."

Without hesitation, Olivia lifted Ezmeralda's shirt, revealing a deep, dark bruise sprawled across her abdomen. "Well, now we know why," Olivia murmured, her face etched with concern as she examined the bruise more closely.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Olivia asked urgently, her hands gently inspecting Ezmeralda's skin, searching for more injuries. The intimacy of her touch went unnoticed in their worry, Olivia's focus too sharp to let awkwardness interfere. She pulled at the edges of Ezmeralda's clothes, revealing her chest and lower stomach as she scanned for any additional signs of harm.