His Territory

10

I left the bathroom with my hair wrapped in a towel and another one securely fastened around my body. The fabric clung tightly to my skin, an attempt to shield myself from Cristian's gaze.

Just going to take a quick peek to make sure he hasn't stolen anything, I thought, wincing internally at how low my thoughts had sunk. But the logical part of my brain kicked in—he is, after all, still a stranger. And a dangerous one.

I poked my head into the living room. The couch was empty. My heart rate spiked, and I craned my neck to check the kitchen. There, I found him sitting on the counter, his back to me, furiously typing away on his phone, completely unaware of my presence.

"I made dinner for you. It's in the fridge if you want to heat it up." My voice broke the silence, and he startled, nearly leaping off the counter before quickly regaining his composure. He glanced at me briefly, then relaxed.

"You cooked for me?" he asked, walking over to the fridge and pulling out the container. He opened it, inhaling deeply, his eyes closing for a second as if savoring the aroma.

"Claro que sí." I shrugged. "Panza llena, corazón contento."

As I walked back toward my bedroom to get dressed, I heard him open the microwave, followed by a loud, almost exaggerated moan of approval.

"I swear it, chulita, I'll make you my wife for this food alone!" he shouted, his voice full of playful energy.

I chuckled to myself as I slipped into clothes. When I returned to the kitchen, I found Cristian shoveling the chicken into his mouth, devouring it with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn't eaten in days. He reached out with his free hand, wiggling his fingers to beckon me closer.

"I haven't had food like this in a long time," he said, his voice suddenly flat, devoid of the teasing tone he'd had moments before. "Thank you for thinking of me."

"What do you mean? You haven't had good chicken?"

"No," he said, shaking his head, "I haven't had a home-cooked meal."

A heavy silence settled between us. I nodded, unsure of what to say. He looked up from the plate and forced a smile, flashing his bright white teeth. It felt like a mask. I smiled back, letting out a light giggle as I moved to grab a glass of water.

"I want to apologize again for earlier," he said, sliding off the counter and standing beside me.

"You don't need to. It's fine," I replied. "It's not like you attacked me."

He stepped in front of me, gently grabbing my hand, his fingers wrapping around mine with unexpected softness. "I just want to do this right," he said, his voice low, a hint of something vulnerable beneath the surface. "You have the whole world ahead of you, and I don't want to be the reason it disappears."

I sipped my water, holding his gaze. His face flickered with emotions I couldn't quite decipher—regret, guilt, longing. I wasn't sure.

"In reality, you're still a stranger to me," I said softly, trying to keep my tone neutral. "I've only known you for a few hours, right?"

His face fell, and for a brief second, he looked devastated. But before I could say anything else, I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Right now, we need to focus on the guy from the store—and on making sure Adrián isn't here. We need to keep your guys safe."

Cristian shook his head. "No, we don't," he said, his voice firm as he gestured between us. "I need to keep you safe. And I'll protect my guys."

I dropped my hand from his shoulder, a slight pang of hurt settling in my chest. "How is that fair? Why am I your responsibility, but you're not mine?"

His eyes softened, and he stepped closer, brushing his fingers against mine. "I chose this life," he said quietly. "You didn't. I won't let you choose it for yourself."

His words stung, like tiny needles pricking at my defenses. I wasn't sure if I was angry at him for making decisions for me or grateful that he wanted to protect me.

"I'm not making a choice," I replied, backing away slightly, leaning against the opposite counter. "I see the situation for what it is. You can't shield me from everything like I'm some child."

"You're right," he admitted, taking another step closer. "I just want to make sure you stay safe."

He moved toward me again, his hand slipping behind my neck, gently pulling me in. His lips pressed against my forehead in a tender kiss, and for a second, I let myself enjoy the warmth of his touch. But I quickly pulled away, scrunching my face in confusion.

"You need to tell me about the guy from the market today."

Cristian sighed heavily and motioned for me to sit on the couch. I settled in, watching as he paced back and forth across the living room, his fingers rubbing his temple as if trying to work out how to explain.

"I'm going to tell you as little as possible," he said finally, his voice low. "Just what you need to know."

I nodded, waiting.

"You saw the yellow bandana, right?" I nodded again.

"That's the Benditos' color. We've always hated each other—it's been that way since the beginning. We protect people. They prey on them. My dad always called them animales incivilizados."

I listened in silence, absorbing every word.

"The guy you saw was Jadiel. We grew up together, went to the same elementary school. Played whiffle ball in the streets," he said, his voice softening as he pointed out the window.

"Sophomore year, his cousins pulled him into the Benditos. He started hanging with them, cut off contact with me and the rest of the boys. He knew we couldn't stay friends once we became men—once we picked sides. You can't ignore decades-old beef."

"In June of that year, on the last day of school, he showed up with a gold halo tattooed on his neck. That's when we knew he was gone for good."

I raised my hand, interrupting him. "Wait, what does the tattoo mean?"

"It's their mark. Benditos think they're God's chosen. They get a halo after completing initiation."

"Is that like your cross tattoo?" I asked, gesturing to the ink on his exposed skin.

Cristian looked down at it, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "No. That was my choice. This..." He pointed to his head, referring to his shaved scalp. "That wasn't."

I smirked. "For what it's worth, I think the short hair suits you."

He gave a half-hearted nod, clearly not in the mood for compliments. "My dad found out Jadiel crossed over, and he told me it was my time to do the same—for the Reyes. I didn't fight it. Two weeks later, I was initiated."

Cristian stopped pacing, his face darkening as the weight of his next words settled in.

"Jadiel got word and pulled up the day after I crossed. I was walking home with my older sister after getting ice cream."

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat.

"He earned those wings the same day my sister gained hers."

Cristian's voice broke slightly as he spoke, and the silence that followed felt heavier than anything he'd said before. I didn't know what to say, how to respond to the unimaginable pain behind his words. All I could do was sit there, feeling the sorrow in the air between us.

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Claro que si papi. Panza llena, corozón lleno- Of course, papi. Full belly, full heart.

chulita, te haré mi esposa solo por esta comida!- Girl, I will marry you just for this food!

Elgí esta vida. No dejaré que elijas esto por ti.- I chose this life. I will not you chose this for yourself.

Benditos- Blessed ones

Animales incivilizados- Uncivilized animals