Falling With Grace

The walls crawled with dark shadows as we moved down the dilapidated hall. The concrete walls crumbled with overuse.

The men followed behind us, Javier’s hand tightened around my arm, his hulking frame hunched so as not to skim the ceiling.

My body screamed and ached as he marched me toward the end of the hall and into a large expanse equipped with tables, chairs, and a couch at the furthest side.

Five rugged men huddled around a worn table, their young but weathered faces etched with lines of hardship and determination. Guns, holstered with an air of authority, adorned their hips, serving as both a warning and a testament to their dangerous lives.

Each glance, each movement, carried a hint of latent violence, a constant reminder of the world they inhabited, and now so do I.

Another figure stood out—a man of refined taste, seated in a cushioned chair that contrasted with the harsh surroundings. His posture exuded an air of calculated control, his hands hanging between his legs, his elbows braced on his thighs. It was as if he held himself in a poised stance, ready to seize any opportunity.

The card players halted their game, their gazes locking onto my path. Tension crackled in the air, accentuated by the murmurs of contention.

“El Jefe.”One of the men gestured towards me.”She’s here.”

The Boss glanced at the man sitting at the table and gave him a look that had him hunching his shoulders and turning back to his cards.

How oblivious would he have to be to not see five people walking into a bunker?

The Bossstood on an exhale, his gaze flicking from me to Javier. “She’s a tiny thing, isn’t she?” he said in Spanish.

“That’s how he likes them.” Javier grinned

Andrés had a type. Petite and young—so he could train us to do exactly what he wanted.

“What happened to her face?”

“Ximén, I think.”

He sighed and cocked his head to the side, his gaze trailing over every part of me with a pulsing jaw. “What’s your name?”

“G-grace.” My voice trembled, and my hand shook by my side.

“Grace.” He stepped forward, my name likehoney on his tongue. He reached out and touched a tendril of hair pressed against my cheek. “Have a seat.”

He motioned towards the green dingy couch as Javier’s hand came away from my arm.

I sidestepped them both and sat on the far end. My side cuddled up against the armrest that should have had padding inside.

“Andrés…” A chill crossed my flesh.

The Boss’s eyes darted toward the goosebumps on my exposed arm, and a slight smirk appeared. “He’s a mysterious man.” His gaze found mine again, his chest moving with regulated breaths. “Not many people have met him, much less escaped him. Why don’t you tell me what you know about him?”

How could I describe a ruthless man who’d haunt my nightmares until my dying day? He embodied darkness incarnate, a figure whose mere thought invoked a shiver down my spine, an echo of fear reverberating through my mind.

He emerged as a specter in my nightmares, his every movement calculated and deliberate, haunting the shadows with a maleficent grace. The memory of his deeds, etched with vivid clarity, seared into my psyche like an indomitable scar, forever tainting my perception of the world.

“There’s not much to tell.”

“No?” He cocked his head to the side as he sat and adjusted his suit jacket, his legs braced wide, taking up the space around him.

I shook my head and swallowed a hard lump growing in my throat.

“Then it seems they brought you all this way for nothing.” He nodded and waved his hand.

Javier swiped his hand behind his back and reemerged with a black pistol.

My heart plowed through my chest, my pulse punching against my temples as he raised the hollow end to my head.