Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mike ran down the narrow alleyway. He needed to get as far away from whoever was on his tail. The heavy duffle bag was weighing him down, but he kept a strong grip on it. The worst thing he could do was let it go and into the wrong hands. The last time someone fucked up that bad was a nightmare. He surely was not going to follow in their footsteps.

His tennis shoes were slouched in whatever liquid waste was lining the dingy spaces, but he kept a solid pace. The footsteps behind seemed to be disappearing, that had to be a good sign. Still, he forced himself to go faster. If he continued like this he’d make it to his destination in minutes.

Something made him lose balance. Before he realized what was happening his body was tumbling onto the dirty ground. With a loud thud, he made contact with the wet concrete. Mike lifted himself on his hands, ready to dart any which way, but something stopped him. It was cold and positioned just on the back of his skull. Nothing would have prepared him for this moment. He swallowed a lump in his throat and thought about the only girl he ever loved.

Then it happened. The trigger was pulled but no sound emanated from that narrow space. Mike dropped to the ground once more, but this time he would not get back up. Squeaky boots walked around his body, kicking the deceased man on the side. The unknown figure laughed and dropped a lighter by the motionless body. With one more kick, he left the area.

________________________________ 

New York City, the lively city, was home to just about any individual who valued diversity. People moved, ran away, and stayed there in hopes of making it someday. The fluorescent lights, billboards, and towering skyscrapers made the city all the more desirable. Yet, there was a part of town that was not as pleasant as one would hope. Many streets, homes, and even businesses held dark secrets. These secrets were not the type that friend’s gossiped about on the playground, no, they were the types that cost you your life.

Someone who knew very well about the misfortunes of the city was Chief Hatchet. It had been twelve years since he was given the title, and he made sure to do it justice. There were too many corrupt officials around the city, and his team was not about to go down with them. The name Hatchet stirred a bit of fright in individuals as they knew who he was and what he was capable of. He liked it that way. 

It was a Friday when he was woken up by the on-call phone in the middle of the night. Groaning as he pushed himself out of bed, Chief Hatchet, reached for the blaring phone.

“Hatchet.” He said into it.

“Sorry to wake you. We have a bit of a situation down on 6th Street.”

“I’m on my way.”

Chief Hatchet clicked the end button as he threaded toward his closet. Once dressed he stopped by his kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee before meeting the team on 6th Street.

Nothing about the scene in front of him was new to him. He had grown used to the blood, the odor, and in general the trauma that it left behind. A normal person would go to the in-office psychologist, but not Chief Hatchet. He had seen worse in war. 

The coffee he sipped burned down his throat as Detective Don filled him in on everything they were able to put together. A young male, possibly around 20 years of age, was subject to a horrific death. The only injury to the body was the open wound in his skull and a bruise on his ribcage. Upon further inspection, three pieces of evidence were collected: a lighter, a duffle bag filled with cash, and a note. 

It was odd that the duffle bag was left, which could only mean one thing. This was not a normal robbery gone wrong, it was personal. Someone wanted this individual dead. Pictures and samples were taken from the scene before the body was removed and taken for an autopsy. Chief Hatchet followed Detective Don to the station to question the poor fellow who found the body behind his apartment building. 

There wasn’t much they could work with. The man, who begged to remain anonymous, stated he had simply looked out his window and noticed the body. He called authorities immediately and waited for everyone to show up. The team had gone through the measures of requesting any video surveillance from nearby buildings, but none had gotten back just yet. 

While they waited for any leads, Chief Hatchet took the time to review the evidence. The gloved snapped around his wrists as he tugged them on before picking up the lighter. There were no engravings to indicate who it could belong to, but there was a symbol. An ear. That was odd. He moved on to the next piece, the note. The writing was hard to distinguish as the words were either covered in muke or running from the damp moisture it was laying in. Chief Hatchet used the nearby magnifying spectrum to get a better look. 

Nostri Affari, watch your back. Dorado Salva… 

The rest of the note was unreadable, but one thing stood clear. This was a matter that needed a bigger force involved. 

“Someone get Mayor McLean on the line. Now! ”

_________________________________

By morning all of New York City knew what had happened. The television was playing in the living room while the Rosales family ate their breakfast.

“Authorities have stated the evidence left behind gives the notion of this homicide being a personal vendetta. I, Mayor McLean, will not rest until this investigation is thoroughly completed and the culprits are behind bars. Chief Hatchet, would you like to say any words?”

The camera cut to the towering man, who with a nod to his head spoke into the mini microphone on the podium. 

“Whoever committed this crime knows something about this city. They mentioned two rivalry mafias, who are supposed to be long gone. The Nostri Affari and Dorado Salva’s.”

The sound of silverware clicking down on the glass table was heard. The voice on the television continued.

“It seems that they are indeed still running major drug trafficking and extortion throughout the city. I will catch every single member and put them behind bars, including this new body.”

There was an uncomfortable silence across the family as the tv was turned off. At the head of the table sat Mr. Rosales, also known as Mateo. He was a buff man with a chiseled jaw, grey eyes, and dark hair, though some gray strands were starting to appear. His attire alone showed he took himself seriously with his nicely pressed button-up and dress pants, and that was exactly what he was. Serious. Mateo Rosales was originally from El Salvador, a poor country that he was able to come out of by following the family’s footsteps in Dorado Salva’s, the Golden Saves. 

At nineteen years old he met and fell in love with his now wife, Elena, who was eighteen at the time. They moved to the United States when Elena became pregnant with their firstborn, Alejandro, a few months later. Of course, that had caused a commotion, so Mateo did what any respectable man would. He married by the age of twenty. A year later he welcomed his second and last child, Courtney. Now, still upholding the family name and legacy, Mateo was in charge of recruiting and sending new members to New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and California. 

Although he was el Jefe, which entailed him dealing with gruesome events and making hard decisions, he still expected his family life to be poised and proper. For this reason, he pushed religion onto his children. They attended the best catholic schools in the Upper East Side region, and you could find the four members of the family in Church every Sunday. Up until this moment in their lives Alejandro and Courtney had received four of their Sacraments and were at the age where marriage was going to have to be a topic of discussion. 

To the outside world Mateo was the Managing Investor of Rosales Incorporation. This position had given him the opportunity to partner up with every bank on his side of the city. People respected him, trusted him, and also feared him. Only top Latino business partners knew of his other profession, and Mateo was more than willing to help them out in exchange for a loyal member. After all, he had multiple underground businesses to run. 

When he cleared his throat he addressed his oldest child, Alejandro.

“Tell me, what else is being said about this?”

Alejandro quickly took his phone out to see what other news channels and popular media sites were coming up with. Almost immediately new articles, videos, and questionnaires were brought to the top search bar. He quickly skimmed through the top results to give his Papá a proper answer.

Right before Alejandro opened his mouth a knock on the front door was heard. Nobody moved as Mateo excused himself and disappeared into the grand hallway leading to the double doors. Alejandro looked over to his Mamá but her gaze was on the uneaten food in front of her. He shifted his gaze to his left where his younger sister, Courtney, sat. She too was looking down, but where their Mamá was motionless, Courtney was fiddling with her fingers. It was something she did when she was stressed or anxious. Alejandro nudged her causing Courtney's hands to rest on her lap then looked up. 

“Everything’s going to be okay.” He assured her, causing her to let go of a deep breath.

Elena chose to interject, hissing over the glass table to her children, “Do not speak on matters you know nothing of!”

“I know enough!” Alejandro hissed back at his Mamá.

All of his life Alejandro had been on his Papá’s hip. He knew the family business was serious and not to be handled lightly. When he was ten years old he witnessed his first murder. Apparently, that was old enough to see such things. His cousins had practically saved his ass that day, telling him his Papá would know if he had looked away. So, a ten-year-old Alejandro watched as a scrawny man, no older than thirty, was pummeled and ultimately shot right in between his eyebrows. He threw up immediately.

From that moment Alejandro knew what type of man he would have to be. It was fine, he always wanted to grow up to be just like his Papá. Plus, only the bad guys were being punished, right? 

His train of thought was brought to an end when Mateo walked back into the room, their family friend, Jose, trailing behind him. Jose annoyed Alejandro, he was always trying to involve himself too deeply in family affairs, when it was he who would continue leading after his Papá, not Jose. Regardless, he kept his irritation to himself as Jose was his elder. The number one rule in the Rosales household was to always respect your elders; they held authority.

Mateo cleared his throat, all eyes on him as he spoke his next words. 

“We’re setting up a meeting with Drew Robustelli, head of the Nostri Affari.”

________________________________

Mateo and Alejandro traveled to the Lower West Side of New York City. It vastly differed from what the two were used to. Still, it was the territory that belong to the second most well-known mafia group, their own being the first of course.

The car pulled into a secluded lot with an underground parking garage. Driving carefully and aware of their surroundings, Mateo and Alejandro made their way toward the single spot specifically reserved for them. 

In reality, it was odd. Never had opposing mafias come to a mutual understanding that something needed to be done. Given the circumstances, what with the law enforcement and heavy media influence, it was safe to say the two head members needed to share a few words. 

“Are you sure we can trust them?”

Alejandro’s voice broke into the silent car. Mateo pushed the engine button off and looked over at his son. Without saying a word he moved his blazer to the side to reveal a pistol securely strapped to his belt. There was a silencer on the end to ensure nobody would hear if something were to happen. 

“We only trust our own, mijo.”

Mateo buttoned his blazer and stepped out of the car, waiting for his son. Alejandro took a deep breath before exiting and following his Papá to an elevator just to the side of them. Once inside the only thing between them and a 50/50 chance of war was the changing numbers above them to indicate what floors they were passing.

15.

The elevator doors slowly opened into a dimly lit hallway. The walls were lined with portraits of past Bosses, each becoming younger than the one before. It was a great shame knowing a family’s head was cut short due to laziness. The Robustelli family had gone through many troubles to get to where they were now. 

When they reached the end of the hall they faced two large mahogany doors with gold knobs. Alejandro reached out, twisting the knob and pushing before he and Mateo were standing in a new room. Its walls were accompanied by windows overlooking the city, and in the middle of the room was a single desk with a woman waiting patiently for them. Her eyes reflected against the city lights, giving them a sparkle as she rose from her spot. Long slender legs wrapped in grey tights until mid-thigh where her tight pencil skirt hugged the curve of her hip caught Alejandro’s attention immediately. His eyes traveled north, catching the small rise and fall of her chest, then higher to her pursed red lips. If his Papá hadn’t cleared his throat to introduce himself he would have stood there gawking. 

The woman approached them, her hips swaying almost purposely to torture him, as her lips pulled into a smirk. 

“Mr. Robustelli has been expecting you, Mr. Rosales.” Her dark eyes scanned over to Alejandro, “He was expecting you to come alone.”

Mateo took his hand and firmly grabbed Alejandro on the shoulder. “My son will not be a bother.”

The woman eyed both parties before nodding her head and escorting them past her desk to the single door. She pulled out a card and held it up to the keypad. With a click, she, Mateo, and Alejandro walked into the grand office. Like the previous room, the windows overlooked the city, but there were thick curtains on either side. A large marble desk was placed on the far left, leaving the middle of the room a space for deals, conversations, and plans. Two dark leather couches faced one another with a glass table between, Old fashioned alcohol containers were placed on top of the table, the brown liquid sitting inside. 

Mateo scanned the area one more time, “Where is Drew?”

The woman looked over her shoulder as she poured glasses of the thick liquor. She motioned for the two to sit, handing them each a glass. 

“He will be in momentarily. Make yourself comfortable.”

Alejandro immediately sat down, sipping the warm drink and coughing slightly at the burning sensation. Mateo narrowed his eyes at the boy. Clearly, he was infatuated with this woman, but that was certainly not going to happen. He would never allow his son, his own blood, to fall for such a lower being. He was a Rosales, he deserved the best. And the best was not someone who worked for his biggest rival.

As Mateo opened his mouth to say he would come back when Drew was unoccupied the door was pushed open. 

“Thank you, Heather. You may go on with your day now.” A rough voice said from behind.

Mateo and Alejandro turned their heads to see a man in his mid-forties enter the room. His face was pale, accompanied by dark eyes and the clear indication of stubble around his jaw. His dark hair was gelled back, and his stature was healthy. A well-defined man with large hands, strong arms, and a good amount of scars around his neck. This was Drew Robustelli, Boss of the Nostri Affari. Just as Drew was going to introduce himself the door clicked again. This time another man joined him. He had a smirk plastered on his face, and a faint remark from Heather was heard as the door shut.

“Duncan. How many times must I tell you?” Drew said in an irritated voice, “If you’re going to be late don’t bother coming at all.”

Duncan only moved past Drew to pick up his own glass of bourbon. Mateo studied the young man, who looked to be Alejandro’s age. He looked almost identical to Drew, though his hair was darker and for some reason, streaks of green were seen throughout. He too had scars, but most were covered by various tattoos along his arms and neck. His eyes were an electric blue, something he must have inherited from his mother. This had to be one of Drew’s sons. 

“Drew,” Mateo said, the attention in the room moving back to him.

“Mateo.”

The two stood facing each other. Neither reached their hand out as they moved to sit across one another.

The tension in the room was thick.

Duncan whistled causing Alejandro to look his way. “Tough room today, huh buddy?”

“I’m not your buddy.”

Duncan downed the rest of the alcohol in his glass before responding. Alejandro held back his disgust.

“Right, because my actual buddy was found face down covered in his own blood this morning.” 

Drew cleared his throat, “Duncan, do not start.”

But Duncan continued, ignoring his father’s request and hitting a major button for the Rosales men. 

“Know anything about that? That's why you’re here? So we don’t go after you now?”

“Enough!”

Drew’s voice echoed around the room. Mateo securely held his hand to his side, Alejandro knew exactly what for. Duncan looked over at his father, a scowl on his face before slouching down against the couch.

Drew sighed and straightened his back before addressing Mateo. Alejandro paid attention to the discourse between the two. Duncan could not have been bothered. The two were very different, that was obvious. 

“You expect me to believe there is another group out there? What for?”

Mateo laughed, whoever this group was, was clearly doing their job correctly. “To have us go against each other.”

It was no secrete that the Nostri Affari and Dorado Salvas were rivals, but the two had an understanding. Never, under any circumstances, go against one another. It was a risky business and if the two could stick to that one rule they would never butt heads, and never cross paths. 

“So what do you suggest we do?” 

The murder of Mike was one thing, but another mafia running around was another. Who were these people, what did they want, and most importantly why were they so comfortable in both territories? 

Mateo looked over at Alejandro, he had not discussed this idea with his son prior. He prayed for forgiveness and guidance as the words left his mouth. 

“A switch.”

Chapter Text

A tight fist covered in black ink slammed down on the marble countertop, “This is bullshit!”

The men had finished their little meeting almost an hour ago and Duncan was not taking the following arrangements with ease. 

Drew stayed seated on one of the many barstools along the long island. He took a slow sip of his alcohol before setting the glass down and filling it back up without looking at his son.

“You don’t have to like it, but you damn sure will follow my orders.”

Duncan reached across the island, taking the newly filled glass away from his father’s reach. 

“The hell I will! Why don’t you ask Derek or Damian?” He spat back.

“Your brothers are married and out of his house. You are the next best thing.”

“Oh really, since when old man?” Duncan downed the liquor in the glass without hesitation. 

Drew kept his composure as Duncan continued to throw useless excuses as to why he was not about to partake in this little exchange. Once the room fell silent Drew got up, making his way over to his son whose chest was puffing up and down from his little outburst. 

“For once in your life— do something useful for this family.” He turned from Duncan and walked into the hallway, only shouting that there’d be a family meeting in two hours before disappearing from view.

Duncan’s nostrils flared as he gripped the glass. Without realizing, or caring for the matter, it shattered in his hand. He hissed as he quickly moved toward the sink and plucked the shards out of his open palm. The blood dripped down into it as he worked before another voice came from behind.

“Honey, you have to be more careful!” A woman's voice echoed through the kitchen. 

Duncan scoffed as he reached for the first aid kit just under the sink. He bit the inside of his cheek as the alcohol burned away any infection before wrapping his hand tightly to stop the bleeding. He finally turned to the person approaching him.

“I’m sure you’re happy I’ll be out of the house soon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re still my baby.” His mother, Miranda said as she placed a warm hand on his cheek. Duncan pulled himself away.

“Ma, what would the twins say?” 

“Oh, knock it off. You know I love you all unconditionally.”

“You might be the only one.” He looked past her into the empty hallway before adding, “At least when it comes to me.”

“Your father loves you in his own way.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

________________________

Courtney flinched at the sound of her Mamá crying in the other room. She too shed a few tears at everything that would change within a few days. No, she was not technically supposed to hear what was happening, but that never stopped her from idly passing by to hear bits and pieces. Today was different though. Courtney knew whatever was discussed in the meeting with the Nostri Affari was a big deal. Part of her wished her Papá would respect her enough to involve her in these family discussions, she was twenty-one for crying out loud. She was no stranger to the work he ran and certainly was mature enough to be a valuable voice in said discussions. 

She heard the faint click of heels against the marble floors which was her cue to keep walking ahead. Courtney quickly made her way down the hall and into the first door that led into the grand library. This was her safe space. The neverending shelves of books, the stained glass windows, and the dim lighting made her feel like she was in her very own castle. She made her way to the farthest nook that had a single mahogany table big enough to scatter books across, a leather chair, and a cushioned window seat along the long stained glass that depicted the night sky. This one was her favorite as it reminded her that within the deep indigo sky was an untold story that must be just as beautiful.  

Her current read, a story of magical beings, sat on the cushioned seat. The tips of the pages were slightly creased as she placed them facedown in order to keep her reading spot. Courtney sighed as she tried to smooth them over with her fingertips. A cough brought her attention to the small dome entrance she had walked through a few minutes ago. Her brother, Alejandro, stood there.

“May I sit?”

She nodded and moved over so he could take the empty spot beside her. He frowned at the illustration on the cover of the book she now had on her lap. “You know, those books won’t teach you anything.”

“They teach me to never give up, and that dreams are important.” Courtney retorted. She read all genres, not everything had to be a textbook. Alejandro rolled his eyes before slouching a bit.

“So, how much of that discussion did you hear?”

Courtney glanced at him as she closed her book, one finger staying within the pages. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

He kept a steady gaze on her before she sighed in defeat. Nothing got past her brother as he was the one who taught her how to casually eavesdrop. Courtney hated that term, she preferred just overhearing a loud conversation as she made her way to the library. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“You shouldn’t have to leave for something that pertains to grown adults.” She whispered.

“Unless you’ve forgotten, hermanita, I am a grown adult.”

“You’d be correct if you actually stood up to Papá and lived your own life.”

Alejandro flinched and Courtney regretted her words the second they left her mouth. She knew their parents had complete control of their lives no matter their age. She sighed as she leaned back, “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right.” Alejandro leaned back with her, kicking his feet up on the table across from them. “It’s complicated. You will understand one day.”

“Alejandro, I’m sick of everyone treating me like a baby. I do understand, if not more actually.”

“That’s selfish of you to say.” He laughed, “All you have to worry about is completing your degree and eating dinner with a smile on your face. You have no worries and never have to ask for anything.”

“Only because nobody respects me when I speak. I’m always shut up and never taken seriously.”

“We respect you,” Alejandro confirmed, or at least tried to. Courtney laughed as she shook her head.

“You might, but Papá and Mamá?”

“They just want to protect you.”

“And what about you? Should they not want to protect their only son?”

“It’s different.” His jaw locked at his sudden irritation. If there was one thing Courtney was gifted in, it was debating a topic with anyone. “And the main reason as to why I must go.” 

“You don’t have to go anywhere.”

“I must. It’s a sign of respect, and as their only son I will abide by it.”

“What, what if you don’t come back.”

Alejandro looked over at his sister as her voice trembled. No matter the wall she built for herself, it could not conceal the worry in her voice. She was scared and all he could do was assure her everything would be okay. 

“I promise I will.”

Quickly, he changed the subject. Alejandro did not need to explain to anyone why Courtney was a crying mess. She was still the baby of the family so they’d let him hear it for sure. 

“Now, tell me about this…” He pulled the book out of her hand, causing her to lose her spot. “A Sea of Crystals and Sand?”

________________________

His Papá only gave him three days to accept his new reality and pack. There were only two rules; one, absolutely no weapons of any kind, and two, no harm was to come to either son. Rule one did not stop Alejandro from sticking a pocket knife into a small slit in his suitcase. He’d surely go down with a fight if need be. 

A black rolls-royce with completely tinted windows was waiting for Alejandro, he was sure an identical one was waiting for Duncan as well. After saying his goodbye Alejandro loaded the trunk and was waiting in the backseat before the chauffeur pulled out of the circular driveway. 

The ride gave Alejandro enough time to go over everything his Papá has discussed with him. He was to blend in with the Nostri Affari as much as he could. He was to not bring attention to himself and always keep his third eye open. Alejandro still had access to his cellphone and if anything went south he was to contact Jose immediately. Jose would then inform his Papá.

Within two hours Alejandro was pulling into the familiar building, just from the front entrance. It was extremely different from his home. The circle driveway was lined with expensive cars that he was sure no one drove. As he made his way up the stairs he noticed the same woman from the office meeting, Heather. Her hair was pinned into a bun which brought attention to her long neck and collarbone. He swallowed as he greeted her and moved past her into the mansion. 

There were two staircases the second he stepped in. One on the left, the other to his right.

“Your bedroom is up the left staircase. First door to your right.” Heather’s sultry voice said from behind him. 

“Thank you. Do you live here as well?”

Her eyes found his as her tongue traced her lip slightly, “I do.”

He thanked God for his tanned skin as he knew his cheeks were burning a darker shade. 

“How come?” The back of his neck burned from the intrusive question. Heather only smirked at him, “That’s a conversation for another time. My room is two doors past yours… if you ever need me.”

All Alejandro could do was nod as she made her way past him disappearing into the home. As he turned to make his way up the stairs he heard someone come down the opposite steps. 

“Oh, welcome! You must be Alejandro Rosales.” A middle-aged woman said with a smile on her face.

She had blonde hair cut short to her shoulders and her eyes were the sharpest blue, Duncan’s mother for sure. 

“Thank you for making accommodations for me so abruptly, Mrs. Robustelli.” Respect your elders. It was engraved in him ever since he was old enough to speak. She gushed at him, a bit of red coming across her cheeks as she came face to face with him. 

“No need for such formalities, call me Miranda. If you need anything don’t be shy to ask. You’re also welcome to anything in the kitchen.”

Alejandro nodded, not knowing what else to say at the moment. Miranda patted his shoulder before continuing deeper into the home. He took a deep breath before heading upstairs and finding his room.

Adjusting was somewhat awkward for him. There was no set dinner time, or set time for anything really. He introduced himself to the twins, Demetri and Daniel, who seemed to warm up to him after a few jokes. Drew Robustelli only nodded to him as he walked by with a few of his members before disappearing into an elevator. Alejandro guessed it lead to his office.

Around midnight Alejandro heard a faint knock on his door. Being used to everyone being in bed by eleven he was shocked at the noise. He threw the duvet over his legs and made his way over to open the door.

Heather stood smiling at him in a way that made him swallow a lump forming in his throat. She took notice of his attire, a pair of sweatpants that were held by a simple knot. 

“Heather.” Alejandro kept his eyes from wandering over her, but it was easy to tell she was only in a silky nightie that reached midthigh. The hair she had so perfectly pulled back earlier was now cascading down her shoulders and back. 

“In bed already? Do you have a bedtime back home?”

His eyes narrowed, “I’m a grown man, of course not. I just respect my parents' rules.”

“Your parents aren't here.”

There was an awkward silence between the two. As if her comment insinuated so much more. This was dangerous territory, his Papá warned him about this. He needed to change the subject. 

“You walk around the house like that?”

“I have a robe, dumbass.”

“You don’t have it now.” Alejandro snapped back. He certainly was not expecting that, but then again he barely knew Heather.

“Aren’t you observant.”

Heather’s eye roll had him irritated now, and those snide remarks rubbed him the wrong way. Still, he found himself keeping the conversation going. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

His eyes scanned her as she moved all her weight onto her right leg, causing the fabric around her thighs to inch up a bit higher. Alejandro averted his eyes before he got carried away, this was wrong. His Papá would disown him if he were to see what was going on. Yes, he had seen far more skin on a woman before but that was under completely different circumstances. Those circumstances would never reach back to his Papá, ever.

“I wanted to make sure you survived your first day.”

“I’m adjusting.”

“Just keep your eyes up around here.”

What was that supposed to mean? Before he could ask, Heather was already making her way toward her room. She gave him one last look over her shoulder before stepping out of view behind the door.

Once he heard the click indicating her door was now locked, he closed his own door. Alejandro would just have to deal with Heather’s eerie comment tomorrow. As he laid back down he could only hope everything at home had gone smoothly because, from his own observations, he knew Duncan would have a lot to get used to.

________________________

Duncan glared at the extremely tanned man waiting by the glass doors. Could Mateo Rosales not lift a finger for himself? What a pussy. The more Duncan thought about it, the more he realized this man could not have killed one of his father’s members. Not unless he ordered someone else to do it and take all the credit, which he had denied.

He barely heard Mateo say the man, whose name was Jose, would show him to his room and respective areas of the home, or mansion for better words. Duncan tuned the man out as he described the historical meaning behind certain paintings, statues, and archways. He only nodded his head when the word bedroom reached his ears. 

The pair walked up the grand staircase that you could probably carry a piano up with no issue. There were three floors but the two stopped on the second floor. There was a large open area that was designated for lounging around. A massive flat-screen television hung from the wall with speakers installed into the walls. He wouldn’t mind testing out how loud they could be with a good old slasher movie. Jose cleared his throat as he turned them to the right where a hallway of five rooms appeared. He wondered briefly what was on the left side.

Jose walked him up to the first door within the hallway. The heavy door with gold handles was pushed open to reveal a large king-sized bed with grey sheets and pillows in the middle of the room. Duncan looked to his right first and noticed a leather chair with an ottoman next to a small bookshelf. He rolled his eyes, as if he’d use this time to crack open a book. His eyes scanned the rest of the room. Two spacious dresser drawers, a closet with velvet hangers, a full-length mirror, and two floor-length windows with thick curtains he was sure would leave the room pitchback if closed, well if he didn’t have the built-in lights along the wall. 

Duncan didn’t thank or confirm his invitation to dinner that Jose offered him. When the door clicked shut Duncan sat on the edge of his new bed and gripped the covers hard enough to leave wrinkles. This was such a shit idea. 

As predicted, Duncan did not join the family for dinner. He didn’t care if he was being rude to his gracious host, fuck him. Maybe he could sleep for three months straight and then forget this was ever a thing. He just hoped his father and Mateo actually worked together and figured out who was messing with them. The quicker the better, and if not? If not he was right in his enemy's hands. Duncan opened his duffle bag and emptied his clothes into the open drawer, not caring if it was folded or not. A small thud was heard as he shook the last of his clothes into the space. 

He laughed as he picked up the small gun with a clip of seven rounds next to it. Maybe his father was ready for a fight after all. 

It was near midnight when his stomach made the loudest sound he’d ever heard. Maybe starving himself to avoid any of the Rosales wasn’t the smartest idea. When his head started to pound he groaned and pushed himself out of the room not bothering to put a shirt on.

Did the great Mateo Rosales believe in leftovers? He was about to find out. 

Finding the kitchen was a lot harder than he expected. It was at the very end of the first floor behind a sliding door in the dining room. He took in his surroundings before opening to double doors of the fridge. Duncan’s mouth almost watered at the glass containers that held seasoned chicken, rice, vegetables, and potatoes. He made a plate within minutes and scarfed down everything before filling a glass with whatever alcohol he could find. 

He cursed at himself at the sudden cramp on his side from eating too quickly. As he made his way back to the stairs he heard faint footsteps behind him. He turned quickly and came face to face with possibly the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

Courtney stood a few feet away from him, frozen in place. She was positive no one was awake before heading downstairs to grab a new book. The expression on the man’s face, who she assumed was this Duncan fellow her parents mentioned, turned from shock to amusement within a split second. 

“Hey there, Princess.” His rough voice echoed along the empty hallway.

Courtney tightened the grip on her book at the way his words flowed out toward her. She did not know him and here they were, alone. Her eyes scanned him over briefly, taking in the hundreds of tattoos that lined his bare arms, neck, and chest. That wasn’t the only thing she noticed as his hair was gelled back with hints of green. She straightened herself before he noticed her eye movements and glared at the choice of name he picked for her. 

“One, that’s not my name. Two, what are you doing up?”

Her voice snapped at him and for some reason, he liked the way her nose scrunched up in questioning him. Duncan studied her a bit more. Her brunette hair was pulled back though a few strands still framed her face. She had a full set of lashes and lips so plump he could only imagine how they’d feel against him or around him. The clothes she wore hugged her curves and if he knew any better he’d say the back of her looked just as nice. Who was she?

Her nails taping against the hardcover of her book brought his attention back to her face. How long had he zoned out?

“Didn’t you get the memo?” She tilted her head before he continued, “Princesses don’t need to read. They have people to do it for them.”

Courtney opened her mouth but a low growl rumbled around them. Duncan looked over his shoulder and almost fell to the ground at what was staring at him with angry eyes. A fucking tiger. A fucking tiger was coming down the steps to where Duncan was and he quickly stumbled back almost knocking whoever this woman was over. The tiger was huge, its orange fur was lined with thick black stripes. Some white fur was around its face that did not make it look less intimidating with those huge yellow eyes and sharp teeth. Duncan didn't even bother looking down at its paws. He should have tucked his gun into his belt. 

Courtney stepped in front of him sighing, “Duchess, relax. Duncan is a guest in our home.”

Two things; how the fuck did she know his name, and what the actual fuck was going on?

“Our– You’re a Rosales?”

“Who else would I be?” She asked nonchalantly as she turned to face him. 

Duncan could not believe what he was seeing. This chick was turning her back to a wild animal, willingly! He dared look at Duchess before regretting his decision and looking literally anywhere else. 

“You should have that beast on a leash, no, a chain actually.” He snapped.

Duchess huffed, if tigers could even do so before Courtney moved her hand to pet her behind the ear, “I will do no such thing. Duchess is a sweetheart.”

This chick was crazy. Yet it did not stop Duncan from imagining that nonexistent chain on him, with her holding the other end. He smirked, causing her to raise an eyebrow up in confusion. A few months with this princess within his vicinity? This could be fun.

Chapter Text

New York’s investigative department was not as pristine as television made it out to be. In reality, the building was packed with caffeine-addicted middle-aged officers who definitely needed a good night's rest. Suppose you needed to compare the stuffy place with anything; it would more appropriately be considered a morgue. The constant smell of Clorox bleach lingered on the walls that were always accompanied by something else. Maybe it was everyone’s nerves, or maybe it was the stench of every possible suspect that walked through the doors.

Chief Hatchet had just finished interrogating the poor man who called in the report. Did he believe he had anything to do with the crime? Not necessarily, but he was still the only witness. Now, sitting in an empty room Chief Hatchet squinted at the only surveillance of any use. He watched as the victim ran down the shady alleyway as someone followed him. The suspect was completely covered from head to toe, their height being the only viable description. Whoever it was was tall and moved too quickly before they were out of shot. 

This was useless. Behind closed doors, Mayor McLean had demanded this investigation be over with as soon as possible due to the city’s nerves. To hell with anybody's nerves. This was a serious case that needed time and effort. If it ran for months, so be it; at the end of the day, Chief Hatchet would have dozens of people incarcerated.

The click of the door had him pause the video. Don walked in with two cups of coffee before sitting beside him. His face gave him away before he even opened his mouth.

“What’s the bad news?” Chief Hatchet grumbled.

Don sighed as he opened a folder for the two of them to scan through. “No fingerprints were found on the lighter.”

“What about the letter?”

“It’s impossible to determine without writing samples.”

The silence in the room was uneasy. Don was certain Chief Hatchet was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. How could he not? The mention of two very known Mafia’s, two very dangerous ones at that, and no leads? Whoever was toying with them knew how to cover their tracks. 

A black pickup truck rumbled on the road. Dirt and debris kicked up into the air from the pressure of the tires. Angry honks and break lights screamed as the man driving zigzagged through traffic. His windows were down as music blasted through the speakers, and he chucked out a cigarette bud before turning onto a dirt road. 

The road was uneven, but it did not phase the man. He was used to the sharp turns, bumps, and occasional wildlife scurrying about. He slowed down as he approached a large cabin just a few miles deep in the forest. It was not some extravagant penthouse or mansion, but it was home. The man parked and made his way up the wooden stairs; the light on the wraparound porch flickered on and off as he kicked his boots off before stepping inside.

“Any news?” A voice called out as the man made his way towards the stairs.

“Seems like the Dorado Salva and Nostri Affari are working together.” He replied in a nonchalant voice, his accent thick. 

“Do they suspect us?”

“Not a chance.” He laughed.

“Good. Dinner is in the fridge, have at it.”

The man didn’t respond as he continued up the stairs. His steps caused the floorboards to squeak as he pushed one door open. A light switched on to reveal his room; a large bed was in the middle with dark covers, two wooden dressers were just to the side, and another door was to his right. He walked toward it and was in his own bathroom within seconds. He stopped at the mirror and looked back at himself for a few seconds.

His red hair was tied back tightly to keep out of his face. He huffed as he reached back and pulled the band out, letting his hair fall past his shoulders. Gray-blue eyes searched for scissors on the messy countertop before attacking his hair. Once it was at the length he wanted, he took clippers out to style his sides.

Now, looking at himself again, he felt lighter. It had been a week since he finally joined the family business, a week since he decided his own fate, and a week since he murdered that rival member.

He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat from thinking about it before turning to the shower. He stripped the clothes that clung to him from his own sweat and turned the cold water on blast as he stepped in. His eyes watched as a mixture of dirt and red hairs washed down the drain until it became clear. Then he washed himself.

Dinner consisted of steak and potatoes and the only unopened beer left in the fridge. He chewed on his food as the sounds of heavy footsteps came from behind him. He swallowed.

“You need to get over it, Scott.”

The man, Scott Hayes, turned from his seat. He looked at his uncle, Ron, with tired eyes. Get over it. How could he possibly get over his first kill? It wasn’t even one he could be proud of. Yes, he had successfully ended a rival member's life, but the member was blindsided. Pathetic is what it was. If he had it his way, he’d seek out a lousy bastard who actually could put up a fight. 

“You did what was needed. Soon the majority of those Latino and Italian scum will be behind bars, and the most important members under the ground.”

Scott said nothing as his uncle Ron rambled on. Instead, he focused on the memories of the life he had before taking the dive. His parents were never around while he was a young boy, and when he heard about their accidental deaths he did not shed a single tear. They were reckless and that cost them their lives. 

A congested cough pulled him out of his thoughts. Ron hunched over as he hacked up a disgusting amount of muscle mixed with what looked like tar. Scott shook his head, Ron was always putting his health last. It was selfish of him, really. To not give a shit if he lived or died, to be okay with leaving Scott on his own. It wasn’t that Scott needed his uncle there for him, but he was the only family he had left. 

“Would yah go to the damn doctor for that already?!” He snapped and Ron laughed as he wiped his mouth.

“I’ll survive.”

Courtney wasn’t sure how to feel about her family’s new guest. The man practically alluded to arrogance and if it weren’t for Duchess scaring him, which he was still trying to deny, Courtney was sure she would have stepped on his foot. Repeatedly. Maybe she would have demonstrated what she learned in her self defense classes too, just to rough him up a bit.

She had had a mental conversation with herself regarding Duncan’s arrival. Stay focused, stay composed, and remember: nobody can throw you off your game. This arrangement will be over before you know it. The sudden change was quickly proving to be a disaster. 

Not only had Duncan disrespected her Papá by not coming to dinner but he had successfully gotten on her bad side the second he stated Duchess needed to be on a leash. As if she would be that cruel. They had run into each other every night since then. Each interaction only made her blood boil a little more. Courtney was never one to outwardly say how she felt, unless pushed to that breaking point. But her facial expressions always gave her away. 

Her Mamá would tsk at her, warning her that one day her face would permanently stay like that if she didn’t get a better handle on her emotions. That advice had not gone in vain as Courtney truly did catch herself in certain situations. That was, of course, until she met Duncan Robustelli.

God knew she tried her best. Every first interaction with Courtney Rosales was nothing but pleasant. What a nice young lady was among her favorite compliments she’d overheard. So imagine her surprise when the son of her family’s rival gang waltzed in with his sarcastic mouth and equally annoying demeanor. 

Princess. He had coined such a childish nickname for her simply because her family took care of her. As if he knew anything about her true self. Courtney had expected Duncan to comply with his family’s request; it was only the smart thing to do as he was literally in enemy territory. But no. He had made himself right at home in five days tops. 

Duncan had already been reprimanded by Jose, through her Papá’s orders of course. Did that make him seem to care? Not in the slightest. He still continued to show up late to family dinners— if he even bothered to show up at all for the matter. Then there was the issue of his manners; apparently shirts were optional in the Robustelli’s household. And like clockwork, Duncan was always popping up when she was up in the middle of the night. 

At this point all Courtney wanted to do was sew his mouth shut. A taunting— and impulsive— voice laughed in her thoughts. He’d probably enjoy that. 

Courtney jumped back slightly when a hand waved in front of her face.

“Uh, everything okay?” Someone asked. 

Shoot. She had zoned out mid conversation. This wasn’t like her. Courtney Rosales always stayed on topic, she was the one who even initiated the conversation. It had to be the lack of sleep; she wasn't losing hours of it but Duncan’s late night interruptions were clearly adding up. It was almost impossible for her to grab a new book and go back to her room without running into him. 

“Yes, sorry.” She apologized, “Do you think you can give me a ride home today?”

Jose had been the one to give her a ride these days. And if she was speaking freely, which she was in the comfort of her own mind, Jose annoyed her. He just didn’t seem to have a backbone and was constantly following her Papá around like a puppy. That, and she hadn’t been blind to the way he belittled Alejandro. So she silently thanked God when he informed her he wouldn’t be making it that evening. 

“Isn’t Alejandro picking you up?” A blonde woman asked. 

She had soft features, inviting ones you might say. Her thick blonde hair was almost always pulled out of her face, and the look of concern in her expression made Courtney relax her shoulders. 

Bridgette, who was her best friend since they were in diapers, didn’t know what was going on. On a normal day Courtney would confide in her, but outright saying, Alejandro is currently staying with our rivals because some other gang is trying to pit us against each other, oh and it’s a fair trade because their son is now staying with us and he has been nothing but a pain in my ass for the past week, would be a little too much. And given the fact Courtney had recently found out some very disturbing news regarding her brother and best friend didn’t help. 

The thought still creeped her out, and Alejandro had definitely heard words from her. 

You slept with my best friend? She has a boyfriend! 

They were on a break.

Stay away from her.

Believe me, it was a one time thing.

Fingers snapping in her face drawled her out of the awkward memory, “Hello? Earth to Courtney?” 

“Sorry. No, he’s out of town for a bit.” She needed to get it together. 

Worried hazel eyes and a slight frown appeared on Bridgett’s face, “Sure, but are you sure you’re okay?”

Courtney decided to change the topic of conversation. To be honest she was very on edge with everything going on. And to make matters worse she was getting paranoid that everything she did was being monitored— more so than usual. Right now, actually. Courtney could feel eyes on her, even after observing her and Bridgette’s surroundings, twice! Still, she’d hate to subject Bridgette to her worries over some paranoia, her brother, and about a certain tattooed asshole. It just wasn’t ideal. Her friend always seemed to think Courtney needed time to unwind, specifically with someone who’d keep her on her toes; Bridgette would love to hear about Duncan. And the thought of herself and Duncan together almost made her gag.

“How's Geoff by the way?” She asked, putting a fake smile on her face. 

Honestly, she was asking her this for two reasons. One, to change the subject and two, to see if whatever the hell happened between Bridgette and Alejandro was indeed a one time thing. 

“He’s great!” Bridgette’s voice sounded genuine, “He’s having a party next weekend if you can convince your parents to let you out.”

Courtney laughed, now that was a rich idea. Even though her parents liked Bridgette, that didn’t mean she was free to goof around with her. Some appropriate hour brunches, sometimes dinners, were acceptable. A party that would surely continue into the following morning was definitely not. Yes, she was twenty-one— but she still lived under her parents roof. A small part of her was envious of Alejandro at this very moment but she refused to dwell on it. 

As the duo continued to conversate a rolling engine could be heard from afar. Whoever it was needed to seriously get a grip— a university parking lot wasn’t the time to race. The sound only became louder which indicated the moving car had to be making its way toward them at the end of the spiraling lot. Courtney was fully prepared to give the deadliest of stares to whoever ended up speeding by. 

That was until a familiar Rolls Royce flew towards them.

“I thought you said Alejandro wasn’t picking you up?” 

Bridgette’s eyes darted from the car to Courtney. Clearly alarmed by the speed of whoever was driving was going; it definitely wasn’t Alejandro, and Jose would never drive so erratically. She’d only ever witnessed that same car driving with that speed once, when her Papá rushed her to the hospital after hitting her head against one of the marble pillars at the age of five. 

“He’s not.”

Courtney fully intended on getting a ride home from Bridgette that evening, but maybe her Papá had decided to swing by. It was odd, but the thought of him taking the time to do so made her happy. But why was he driving so aggressively? Courtney’s mind began to race. Has something happened? Was she about to receive news she wasn’t prepared for? 

Her thoughts were getting the best of her before the car abruptly stopped in front of the duo and the engine cut off. The man who stepped out of said car was most definitely not her Papá. The anxiousness in her face wiped off as no one other than Duncan strolled up. 

The bored look on his face changed as he noticed how bothered Courtney became. His heavy boots squished the grass under him as he used the campus lawn to cut across the grounds instead of the pavement right next to him. She had to be having a nightmare. 

“Come on, Princess.” He said with a fake smile. 

Duncan pretended to not notice the look of horror on her face as a blonde woman gawked at him. 

“Why are you here?”

Courtney’s fists balled at her sides and she ignored the slight sting. She was positive there were mini crescent moon shaped cuts along her palm. Not telling Bridgette about Duncan was one thing; it didn’t hurt anyone involved. But now she felt like a deer caught in headlights— and she hadn’t even done anything! 

“How come you’re always asking me why I’m doing something?”

Bridgette looked between the two, clearly confused and a little concerned as the man in front of them was heavily tattooed and pierced. Everything he was wearing was black. Black pants, boots, leather jacket, and a stupid shirt that gripped onto his skin as if he’d just climbed out of a pool. His tattoos poked up from the V-neck and wrapped around his throat that led to his smug face plastered in metal. 

“Court.” She gulped, “Who is this?”

“He’s nobody.” Courtney snapped with a glare. 

Duncan’s tongue poked out slightly, pierced and now running along another piercing on his bottom lip. He huffed and laughed, “Ouch, you’d say that even after our lovely midnight rendezvous?”

“Midnight rendezvous?” Bridgette choked out, Courtney was already seeing red. “He’s been in your house?”

Courtney didn’t immediately answer her because her mind was too preoccupied with different ways of killing Duncan without getting caught. 

“Way to go!” Bridgette praised as she elbowed her friend in the ribs and Courtney’s oof only made her laugh. 

“It’s not like that!” She protested as Duncan just stood there looking bored.

She’d be damned if she’d let Bridgette think anything of that short was going on. Before she got the chance to properly explain anything Duncan took another step forward, grabbing Courtney’s bag and swinging it over his shoulder. 

“Yeah, the Princess only wishes I’d give her that type of attention.”

Now she scoffed, “Is that supposed to offend me?” Reaching up and snatching her bag back, Courtney stood with pride, “You’re not my type.”

“And you make me sick.” He said with a shrug, “Now let’s go.”

Courtney stood firmly in place. Like hell she’d go anywhere with him, let alone a moving vehicle. Duncan groaned, knowing he’d have to explain himself; why couldn’t she just listen? “That one guy was supposed to come get you but got… caught up.” 

“My Papá gave you permission to use his car?” Her head cocked slightly, mouth curling into a hesitant pout, as if she was torn between annoyance and curiosity. A  few strands of hair fell in front of her face as she waited for his response. Damn, she looked nice. Annoying, but nice.

“Your Papá doesn’t know I left, so let’s get moving.”

Realizing this was now jeopardizing the entire plan Courtney moved her feet. She could not believe Duncan was reckless enough to put an even bigger target on his back. If her Papá realized Duncan was gone he’d surely rough him up a bit and in turn, Alejandro would suffer the same if not more once the Nostri Affari caught wind of it. 

Courtney gave Bridgette a we’ll talk later look before whispering her goodbye. As she walked up to the car she was surprised when Duncan opened the door for her. 

“What? Ma taught me some things.” 

“Thank you.” She painfully forced out; Duncan shook his head in annoyance. “Just get in, I feel like we’re being watched.” 

Part of her genuinely wanted to discuss that but she wasn’t about to give Duncan any satisfaction with her agreeableness. Instead, Courtney laughed and turned around to where Bridgette continued to stare in disbelief. 

“That tends to happen when you pull up all high and mighty to a university filled with chismosos.”

His blue eyes narrowed at her as if he knew she was bluffing, he leaned down slightly and whispered as if they weren’t already a respectable distance from being overheard. 

“Don’t be stupid, Princess.”

Before she could give him a piece of her mind he slammed the door shut. She gasped at the sudden movement and narrowed her eyes as he casually walked to the drivers side. He smiled innocently at her as he cut the engine on and hightailed them out of there. 

Life at the Robustelli residence wasn’t as bad as Alejandro had thought. Nobody had given him any issues and as the days came and went he started to feel a weight lift off his shoulders. Everything was so strict back home; the time he woke up, ate, slept. He was surprised his parents hadn’t built in a security system for the interior part of the mansion sometimes. 

His Papá was nothing but the embodiment of seriousness. Everything in his life was planned, structured, and perfect. There was no room for disappointment, even if it meant controlling just about everything. Alejandro hadn’t realized how toxic that type of environment was until he stepped outside of it. He wondered if his sister would ever get the chance to experience this feeling. 

At the current moment, Alejandro was scoping his surroundings. Although he was adjusting accordingly the one thing he didn’t want to do was get comfortable. That’s when the worst of things happened. Anyone could stab him in the back if he felt safe. 

Strolling down the massive hallway he tried not to eavesdrop on the numerous conversations going on. The home always had traction, whether it be from the twins' friends or members of the gang, there was never a quiet moment. 

Alejandro continued to walk, he headed towards the sitting area in the living room . He was neither interested in all the conversations nor did he care if he overheard anything. The more nonchalant he made himself the better. He sat down just as two other voices whispered down the hall. They were walking up towards him, but given the way he was sitting could not see him. 

“You’ve been away for a while.” Heather hissed in annoyance. 

A short laugh came from whoever she was speaking to. 

“Tends to happen when you’re on your honeymoon.” 

Derek Robustelli. Alejandro had spoken to him briefly but his voice was unmistakable. The man had a sort of rasp that could pinpoint him in a dark room. 

“Right. Honeymoon.”

Heather forced out. Why did she sound so… off? If Alejandro knew any better he’d guess the two had some type of history. He cleared his throat and instantly wanted to pull his hair out. Whatever they had or hadn’t done was none of his business. Though it still didn’t seem to matter to his subconscious as Heather and Derek now noticed him. 

Derek nodded towards Alejandro. He simply raised his hand in welcome before turning his gaze on Heather. Tension emanated between them instantly. Reading the room, the Robustelli man dismissed himself. 

“Always a pleasure, Heather.” Derek said before heading out.

Heather kept a fake smile on her lips until he was out those large doors. Turning around and gracefully plopping herself down by Alejandro she poured herself a small glass of wine. It seemed like every countertop had some sort of alcohol ready for consumption.  

Other members came and went. A subtle nod here and there when they noticed Alejandro, but then there were a few too many glances at Heather. She ignored them and Alejandro tried his best not to notice the smooth skin of her thighs when Heather angled herself towards him. Or the way the wine stained her lips; it almost dripped down the corner of her mouth before her tongue shot out to catch it. 

He was Adam, and she was Eve. Avoiding her at all costs needed to be at the top of his priority list. Yet here they were, watching members of the Nostri Affari walk in and out of the family home without notice or care. 

“You’ve,” Alejandro struggled to find a decent word, “been with these men?” He finally spat out.

“Jealous?” Her sultry voice teased him.

Alejandro narrowed his eyes on her. He wasn’t jealous, he barely knew Heather. Yet a nagging voice dared her to give him the answer he most certainly did not want to hear. 

“No, I haven’t.”

“What about Der-” he stopped mid sentence when he noticed her move. 

Heather stood, letting her nails run along the back of the leather couch where Alejandro now sat alone. It was almost like she was inching her way towards his head to his hair. Part of him cursed at himself for wanting to feel those fingers running through his long hair— and oh God, she did. 

The rumble that escaped his throat as those bloodred nails scratched a specific part of his head surprised him. If Heather noticed she did not say a word. That same hand that was just in his hair traced down his neck and rested on his shoulder, and before he knew what was happening she was whispering in his ear.

“Goodnight.”

Her lips were so close to his ear he felt blood rush everywhere. Alejandro let out a breath as he heard Heather retreat to her room. 

I’m Adam, she’s Eve. He repeated the sentence to himself.