" and then that one with the
knife kink—maximillian. don't
even look him in the eyes . "

i. Di-psycho

         BEING SENT ON A MISSION TO RECRUIT SOME HARMLESS BOY wasn't exactly on Idalia's to-do list. In fact, she hadn't planned on dealing with it at all—until she was ordered to. Now, she found herself out here, on a mission with a group of others she didn't care to remember—except for Saya.

   "Lure him in," Saya commanded, her tone sharp.

   "Yeah, do that lil' thing," Willie added, pointing vaguely. "That thing you be doin' with the guys."

   Willie was talking about that thing—which, in reality, was nothing more than Idalia looking at them. She didn't have to do much; a glance from her was enough. She never put in any real effort, and somehow, that made it worse for them.

   "And throw in a princess twirl while you're at it. Maybe you'll put him in a trance," Willie joked, clearing his throat when Idalia gave him her signature blank stare. But, as usual, she'd do it anyway. She would lure him in—just like always.

The boy was already unhinged, sprinting blindly through the streets. But he came to an abrupt halt, distracted by Maria twirling in the distance. His focus, however, shifted the moment Idalia stepped into view.

Her hand waved lazily, fingers twinkling as she flashed him a smile. She moved closer, trailing a finger across his chest before turning away, knowing his eyes would be glued to her. Willie stepped in to take over, just as the boy started running from the cops again. Idalia glanced back, catching sight of Maria slicing through the back of a police officer.

Without hesitation, Idalia sprinted after the boy, only to be cut off by Saya pulling up on her motorcycle.

"Get on!" Saya barked.

Idalia didn't hesitate. She jumped onto the bike despite the inconvenience of her dress, and they sped off, chasing the boy through the night.
When they finally caught up, Saya skidded to a halt in front of him. Before they could act, police officers swarmed them, guns raised. "Police! Don't move!" they shouted, their voices echoing in the dark alley.

   Idalia sighed, dismounting the bike alongside Saya. They raised their hands, playing the part of surrender as two officers approached with cuffs.

Almost in sync, the girls struck. Idalia twisted the man's arm behind his back, flipping him and delivering a sharp kick. With a flick of her wrist, a blade slipped from her sleeve, and she slashed across his face without a second thought.

   Nearby, Saya hurled something at the streetlight-Idalia barely registered it before the light exploded, plunging the scene into darkness. It gave them just enough time to move through the officers, one by one. Saya's moves were precise, calculated, almost effortless.
But Idalia was brutal. She didn't stop at a takedown.

Punch after punch, bones cracked, blood splattered. It was almost as if she enjoyed the violence, drawing satisfaction from the chaos.
As the girls wreaked havoc, the boys took their cue, managing to get ahold of Marcus and throwing a bag over his head.

By the time they had Marcus secured to a chair, Idalia's appearance had drastically changed. Gone was the pretty pink dress; she now wore black leather pants, a cropped black shirt, and a matching leather biker jacket and gloves. Her transformation was striking, her new look more fitting for a rebel than a debutante. She stood with the others, her gaze fixed on Marcus with a cold intensity.

   "Don't look like much of a psychopath to me," Willie remarked, studying the bound boy.

   "Can't judge a book by its cover," Saya replied flatly.

   "But you can judge by its smell!" Billy chimed in with a grin.

   "He smells like shit," Idalia added matter-of-factly, her tone as devoid of emotion as ever. Willie yanked the bag off Marcus's head, revealing the entire group to him. Idalia stood between Saya and Maria, her eyes locked on him with the same predatory look she had used to lure him in.

   "He's cute," Maria commented.

   "Yeah, total 'Hobo Fancy' cover boy material," Billy agreed.

   Idalia tilted her head slightly, observing Marcus with quiet scrutiny. "What you say, Mad Dog?" Willie taunted. "You the psycho who did the boys' home massacre?"

   "Pretty tough barking at a guy tied to a chair," Marcus replied, his voice rough.

   "Big mouth for someone strapped down," Idalia shot back quickly.

   "So, you're a girl?" Marcus asked, his tone laced with contempt. It was an insult Idalia found infuriating; she prided herself on her appearance and wasn't afraid to show it. She scoffed and moved toward him, her hand raising. Saya intervened, pulling her back by the waist.

   "Untie this punk-ass bitch," Willie ordered, gesturing toward Marcus.

   "Alright," Billy said, pulling out a pocket knife and flipping it open with a few practiced flicks. "But my money's on Hepatitis Harry," he added with a smirk.

   Before Billy could make a move, Master Lin entered the room, a cup of tea in hand. "Forgive my students," he said calmly, surveying the scene with a raised eyebrow. Billy sheathed his knife, and the group stepped aside to make room for the master. "They forgot that viciousness only serves to make them look weak," Master Lin said as he approached. "Billy, if you'd be so kind."

Billy stepped forward, knife in hand, and swiftly cut the ties binding Marcus. Master Lin took a seat directly in front of Marcus, while the students loomed behind him, their gazes fixed on the boy. "Are you satisfied with your life?" Master Lin asked.

"Me?" Marcus replied, rubbing his sore wrists. "Yeah." He nodded with a sarcastic edge. "I eat trash and sleep in piss. Everything's going according to plan."

"Speak to Master Lin with respect," Saya warned, attempting to approach Marcus. She was halted by a gentle but firm grip from Willie, who held her back.

"Master Lin can eat my shit," Marcus said dismissively.

Idalia grinned, finding his way of speaking amusing. "His mouth needs a good washing," she remarked calmly.

"Who the hell are you people?" Marcus finally demanded, his voice rising from a whisper.

"What's important is that we know who you are, Marcus," Master Lin continued, unperturbed by Marcus's attitude. "And that we know what you've done. You're a killer. Few value this particular proficiency, but I do." He leaned in slightly. "What if I told you there's a place for people like you? A school where you'd be surrounded by your peers."

"Only what? I dress up like a Viking so you can take tasteful pictures of me?" Marcus said with a shaky grin.

"I'm offering you a chance to harness that fire inside you," Master Lin responded, holding his tea and plate with calm authority. "To master the deadly arts."

"The deadly arts?" Marcus echoed, his skepticism evident. "Yeah, that uh—sounds great." He hoisted his backpack. "You know, this all seems really sane and normal. And you all look like a fun bunch, but, uh... whatever this is..." He didn't finish his sentence, simply walking past them with a quick stride. "Later, days," he said dismissively as he headed for the door.

Master Lin sipped his tea with an air of quiet satisfaction. "That son of a bitch stole my wallet," Willie said, patting his pockets in disbelief. Idalia's grin widened as she watched the scene unfold.

Even when Marcus refused, Idalia found a way to handle the dirty work for everyone else. After he stormed off, she trailed him quietly, from the filthy place he chose to sleep to the high ledge where he stood, contemplating a jump. Idalia watched from a distance, her arms folded, her eyes fixed on the boy. "Well?" she said suddenly, startling him.

"Jesus Christ!" Marcus exclaimed, whipping around to face her.

"I was a pussy, years ago. Hesitated and missed my chance. Don't be a pussy, Marcus. Jump," she said, her tone calm as she tilted her head, her gaze unflinching.

"What the hell?" Marcus responded, bewildered.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt... whatever this is." Idalia shrugged nonchalantly. "But seriously, I can't let you jump. Master Lin wants you back. It would put me in a shitty situation if you fell from this building. It would be very disappointing."

"Yeah, well, you and Lin are going to be very disappointed," Marcus said, staring down at the street below.

Idalia pushed herself off the wall she'd been leaning against and approached him with deliberate steps. "If you go back, Master Lin can protect you from the cops," she said, her tone soothing yet firm. "And once he's done with you, you'll be able to protect yourself from anyone."

Marcus's gaze flickered to her as she drew nearer. Her voice softened, almost a whisper in the night air. "Not to be a complete asshole, but what do you have to lose?"

He sighed, his eyes still fixed on the ground. "Nothing," he murmured, starting to step forward. Idalia's eyes widened, and she sprang into action, grabbing his collar to pull him back.

"Marcus!" Idalia's voice cracked, the first sign of real emotion breaking through her usually calm demeanor. "Look." She let him go, her expression shifting to one of genuine concern. "I know it's hard. I know what you're thinking—"

Marcus looked up, his eyes searching hers. "What do you know?"

"I know you don't have anyone. No one cares if you disappear." Her voice was quiet, raw. "No one noticed me either," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the ground. "No one cared." Her voice wavered, a rare flicker of vulnerability showing through her usual detachment. "Which is why I was once standing on top of a building, ready to jump."

Their eyes locked, a mirror of shared despair. Idalia's hand reached out, finding Marcus's in the dim light. They moved closer, their breaths mingling in the cold air. Idalia's fingers intertwined with his, and their faces were just inches apart. "You don't have to stand there. You have a choice," she said softly.

In a moment of connection, their lips met in a brief but tender kiss, an intimate exchange that spoke of understanding and shared pain. Idalia pulled away, her eyes locked on Marcus's with a lingering intensity. It wasn't long before they were on the move again. Given her biker friend and her own leather-clad look, it should've been obvious she had a bike. Marcus sat behind her, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist as she roared through the streets.

The rain pattered on them as they disembark  and walked down a grimy street to a nondescript meat shop. Inside, Idalia continued her briefing. "Master Lin has a basic code of conduct. There's one thing you absolutely cannot do," she said with a steely gaze. "You can't give up our location. If you do, we'll kill you," she added bluntly, leading him further into the shop.

Billy, leaning against the entrance and puffing away on a cigarette, chimed in. "Like, full-on 'Conan the Barbarian' style," he said with a smirk. "You'll be eviscerated. Lin's family has been slicing people up for centuries. They really get a kick out of it."

Willie, joining the group, nodded. "Lin don't flex. Got a worldwide reputation to maintain."

As they moved into the back room, Idalia glanced back at Marcus. "The rest of the rules are simple. No disobedience. No drugs. No sex," she listed off, her tone matter-of-fact. Inside the room, Maria and Saya lounged together.

Maria flicked her hair and commented, "We find ways around the last one."

Idalia rolled her eyes, the last part of her response coming in Italian. "Trust me, we know, Puttana," she said, the word "slut" hanging in the air with a bite. She knew Maria didn't understand the exact term but grasped the sentiment.

"Well, hopefully not in here," Marcus muttered, surveying the group with growing apprehension.

All eyes turned to him as he took in the room, the tension palpable. "What is this?" he asked. Just then, a back door creaked open, and a figure in a black hooded cloak entered.

Idalia turned to Marcus with her trademark, almost predatory smile. "Welcome... to King's Dominion." Marcus, now more wary than ever, followed the hooded figure down the stairs.

After Marcus disappeared down the stairs, Saya broke the silence. "You're staring," she noted dryly, glancing between Idalia and Maria. "Your boyfriends don't like it when you stare," she added, her tone devoid of warmth.

Idalia raised an eyebrow and replied coolly, "Victor's not my boyfriend." She then turned to Maria with a smirk, a subtle tilt of her head that suggested she knew Maria's relationship status. The girls were "friends", but their "playful" competition over Marcus was evident. Idalia might not have cared much, but a part of her did, if only to keep things interesting.

★

Marcus stood in the hallway as Saya strode past him with a dismissive air, her focus entirely elsewhere. Idalia followed closely behind, books clutched in her arms, with Victor trailing after her. Marcus, blocking her path almost by accident, met Idalia's gaze. Her expression was an emotionless void, as though she didn't even recognize him.

"Fresh meat," Victor remarked behind her, casually draping an arm over Idalia's shoulder and guiding her past Marcus. Idalia, barely acknowledging him, glanced back at Marcus with a fleeting look of curiosity before continuing on.

Though Idalia was usually silent, adhering to the unspoken rules of her affiliation, she couldn't help but watch Marcus's every misstep. She remained quiet but observant, until she saw Chico advance on Marcus, delivering a rough punch to his stomach. Idalia pushed off from the wall, brushing past Victor, who looked on with a mix of confusion and interest.

Chico brandished a blade in front of Marcus's face, lifting him up with a menacing grip.
"Chico," Idalia called out, her tone calm but firm. She moved in, taking Chico's hand and nudging the knife away. Chico's eyes flicked from Idalia to Marcus with a begrudging respect.

"Not here," one of Chico's associates muttered, and Chico, reluctantly, lowered the knife.

"Blondie," Chico said, turning his gaze to Idalia before focusing on Marcus, "You know better than anyone when to keep your mouth shut, right?" He smiled coldly, soon turning to Marcus. "Tonight, you and l are going on a date. Wear something nice. We'll bury you in it." He shoved Billy, who was passing by, grabbing his cup and splashing juice over Marcus's head. Idalia stepped back, avoiding the cascade of liquid as Chico threw the cup aside and pulled Maria along with him.

Idalia locked eyes with Maria briefly before stepping in front of Marcus. "You've got better things to do than mess with Maria. It's not worth it, fresh meat," she said, her tone a blend of cool detachment and subtle warning. As she began to withdraw, Viktor appeared, grabbing her arm.

"Dalia, what the hell are you doing?" Victor demanded, dragging her away.

"Chill out," Idalia called back, her voice fading as they walked off, the two bickering as they disappeared down the corridor.

★

AP BLACK ARTS. Idalia sat in her calmly as the white blonde bigoted bitch got her face smacked in by Master Lin, the girls nose bleeding. Victor grinned quietly beside her and she only looked at the girl, holding her nose. The blood, having splattered her Marcus' face, he looked completely terrified, breathing out heavily. He wasn't used to it.

"Who would be the recipient of your rage?" Master Lin continued. "A thief, a child molester.." Marcus visibly looked around at everyone near him, his head turning to Idalia who seemed completely unfazed, before turning again. "A world leader? This one decision.. betrays all secrets and unveils true motive. Ask yourself, on that dark ledge, poised to strike, with clean opportunity. Would you kill?"

   Master Lin trailed off, "Your homework tonight, half your semester grade, will tell me who you really are. Use your training. Search the city for a worthy target. Someone you think deserves to die and kill them." He instructed.

The bell then rang, to which everyone started getting to up. "Discard the body, hide all evidence. Bring me proof." Master Lin said as they all stood and left, except for Marcus, leaving later on.

   Once night time hit, Idalia was gone within seconds.

   She turned the knife in her hand, the steel catching slivers of the alley's dim light, glinting like a warning. She didn't go for quick kills, not unless the job required it. No, she was the type to take her time, to draw out every ounce of fear and pain from those who had earned it. People who didn't deserve to walk the same streets as anyone decent. She slipped the knife down into her boot, the blade hidden.

   The neighborhood was silent, hiding behind layers of indifference. Everyone knew about that one house—the one with the woman and her kid. And her bastard of a husband. Everyone knew, and nobody cared. But for Idalia, knowing was enough.

   The asshats who made people suffer like that? They deserved to suffer in return.

   She moved like a shadow, her steps blending into the quiet of the night, until her eyes caught the window. A man's figure towered over the woman inside, his shadow cast long and dark in the narrow sliver of light. One second, he was still. The next, his hand struck her hard, sending her crashing down. Idalia's jaw tightened as the light inside blinked off, leaving her alone in the dark.

   People like him deserved to die.

★

   HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT. "When the Republic of Texas openly declared genocide, which Indian tribe survived for another forty years?" Ms. DeLuca asked, her voice slicing through the air as she faced the students seated on the worn mats, their white robes stark against the drab walls of the dojo.

   Willie broke the tense silence with a nervous chuckle. "They all got done in the end," he joked, but the laughter quickly died under the weight of Ms. DeLuca's cold glare. "Sorry, Ms. DeLuca," he mumbled, clearing his throat.

   Idalia, seated nearby, rolled her eyes at Willie's ill-timed humor before speaking up. "The Comanche tribe," she stated, her voice quiet yet resonant enough to fill the room.

   "Correct," Ms. DeLuca affirmed, glancing at Idalia, who received a few sidelong looks that she chose to ignore. "The fierce Comanche survived due only to strength and cunning." She stepped closer, her intensity palpable. "Remember, hand-wringing liberal ideals won't keep you safe. The world respects those who can protect themselves. Every opponent has a weakness. Pick a partner. Find theirs."

   Idalia's gaze drifted to Maria, who was eyeing Marcus with a mix of longing and determination. Calmly, Idalia shoved past Victor, who flashed a cheeky grin. "Playing hard to get again?" Victor quipped, but Idalia was already striding over to Nayeli.

   "Soberano." (Sovereign.) Nayeli shot back, a playful smirk creeping across her lips as they squared off, eyeing Victor and Amy as they teamed up beside them. Victor was too busy trying to charm Amy, who eventually slapped his arm, putting him in his place.

   "Ignore him," Idalia said to Nayeli, focusing on their practice. Nayeli's eyes widened as she watched Amy flip Victor with a surprising ease.

   "Idiota de mierda." (Fucking idiot.) Nayeli muttered under her breath, her focus sharpening as she and Idalia began their drills. The thuds of bodies hitting the mats echoed through the room, a rhythmic backdrop to their training.

   As Nayeli extended her hand to initiate a move, Idalia seized the opportunity, flipping her effortlessly. Victor turned his head, his finger flicking Idalia's chin up in a light gesture of praise, his grin brightening the dim space. Idalia rolled her eyes, her attention drifting to Marcus, who was watching them intently, while Maria whispered something to him, her eyes darting between them.

   With a quick move, Idalia grabbed Victor's wrist and flipped him onto the floor. "Go away, Victor," she commanded, leaving him groaning, clutching his chest.

   "Good. Saves me the work," Amy said, bouncing onto Victor's back, the two engaging in a playful wrestle reminiscent of children at recess.

   Nayeli stood back, raising an eyebrow as she observed the chaos unfold. The two girls resumed their practice, honing their skills amidst the commotion. "Rubia." (Blondie.) Nayeli called out in Spanish, drawing Idalia's attention. "Stop interfering with Chico." She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "No matter your soft spot, it's Chico. He'll squash you and the rat you're protecting."

   "I'm not protecting him," Idalia shot back, her tone steady. "Maria's the one trapping him. That's not his fault. Chico es un matón." (Chico's a bully.) She paused, her expression hardening. "I don't like bullies, no matter who they are."

    "Chico's practical," Nayeli replied, defending the boy. "Maria's his girl."

   "Tell Maria that." Idalia spoke dully, turning away as she started to walk off.

   "And what about you?" Nayeli called after her, a challenging edge to her voice.

   "What about me?" Idalia snapped back, turning to face her.

   "Victor's girl," Nayeli shot back, glancing over at Victor, who finally managed to shake Amy off and stood up, brushing himself off.

   "I like the sound of that," Victor grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

   Idalia scoffed, crossing her arms defiantly. "No one's girl." She shot a look at Victor. "Not even yours." With that, she walked away, leaving a charged silence.

★

   LUNCH. Idalia's favorite time of day—except today, her appetite was nowhere to be found. She and a few of her crew strolled into the lunchroom late, the atmosphere buzzing with tension. Just as they entered, Maximillian—a striking figure with school paint smeared across his face—slammed a knife into the table right in front of Viktor. The blade sank deep, and Viktor jumped slightly, a few heads snapping in their direction. It was a warning. A warning that was never missed.

   Idalia stood next to Maximillian, a grin creeping onto her face, but it fell away just as quickly as it appeared. "умереть." (Die.) The word sliced through the air, cold and clear.

   "Her," Marcus said, pointing at Idalia, but Billy quickly slapped his hand down, panic flickering in his eyes.

   "Are you crazy? Those are the Sovereigns," Billy hissed, nearly breathless. "One of the top of the food chain." He gestured dramatically, twirling his finger near the top of his head. "Crazy dude. Like, batshit crazy. All European. They're the elite, man—the cream of the crop. Their connections run deep—money, power, influence—you name it, they've got it. They don't just play the game; they own the board." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Idalia DiMarzio, aka 'Di-psycho.' Her dad's a mobster. She's the leader, clinically insane, or so I've heard."

   "Rich European mobsters. Killing machines," Billy leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "She's allied with the Cartel. Not friends, but—I've heard she's killed for Chico. That one." He nodded toward Viktor. "Victor, not Viktor. Ex-boyfriend. Killed the last guy that tried to mess with her."

   "And then that one with the knife kink—Maximillian. Don't even look him in the eyes," Billy warned, his tone laced with urgency. "All I gotta say, dude, there's a reason everyone calls them royalty. Don't mess with them—they'll take you out, bro. You have a better chance running from Chico than you do from Di-psycho." He glanced back at Idalia, who had turned to look at them, her gaze sharp as a blade.

   Marcus attempted to wave, but Billy slapped his hand down again, his eyes wide with fear. Billy cleared his throat and nodded towards Idalia, his body language pleading.

   "Stop looking at her or i'll gut your eyeballs out," Victor ordered, his tone icy as they slowly walked by. Billy immediately ducked his head, the weight of the moment settling heavily on his shoulders.

   They walked over to their table, sliding into their seats like shadows at dusk. Victor settled right beside Idalia, who leaned in to whisper to Leona, her eyes flicking toward Marcus as he stood up with Billy and sauntered out of the cafeteria. Idalia twirled her pocket knife absentmindedly, her gaze locked on Marcus, frustration simmering beneath her calm exterior. With a heavy sigh, she fell into silence again.

The rest of the lunch hour dragged on in oppressive quiet. Any banter among the table fell, leaving Idalia isolated in her thoughts. It was evident she was miles away, lost in a world of her own. The rhythmic tapping of her knife against the table punctuated the stillness, a metronome for her racing mind. Her gaze drifted off into space, her responses to anyone brave enough to speak to her barely registering as half-hearted murmurs.

Viktor kept a watchful eye on her throughout the day. Eventually, Idalia found her escape in an empty classroom, a place often claimed by the Sovereigns for clandestine getaways. It was quiet, a sanctuary from the chaos of the day, the air heavy with the scent of dust and old secrets.

Propping her legs on a nearby desk, Idalia took a long drag from her cigarette, watching the smoke curl and dissolve into the stale air like her patience. She kicked her feet down with a huff and stubbed out the cigarette on the edge of the table, the ember dying with a soft hiss.

With a sense of relief, she walked over to the door, pushing it open. But as she stepped through, she misjudged her exit and stubbed her toe on the doorframe. The sound that escaped her lips was a shriek, high-pitched and uncharacteristic. "Shit! fottuta porta stupida!" (Fucking stupid door!) she groaned, the annoyance bubbling over as she hopped on one foot, glaring back at the offending door as if it were to blame for her misfortune.

Idalia groaned, rolling her eyes as she yanked her foot free. She turned to leave, but a hand shot out and grabbed her arm. Without hesitation, she whipped around, shoving the intruder hard against the wall. Her hand pressed to his throat, pinning him there before she realized it was Marcus.

Her eyes narrowed as she stared him down. "Don't just sneak up on people like that," she spat, releasing him. She turned to leave, but he grabbed her again. She growled, yanking her arm away, and turned back to face him, both of them now locked in a quiet, tense struggle. Finally, he managed to push her back into the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded, eyes blazing.

"I need to talk to you," Marcus replied, his voice low but steady. "I need your help with something."

Idalia's gaze dropped to his chest, watching his steady breathing. "Chico isn't my problem to deal with."

"Look—"

She cut him off. "You're the one who stepped to him."

"He was choking Maria," he said, his tone defensive.

Idalia scoffed. "So... just a normal day?"

"You're her friend, right? Why don't you help her?" he asked, his voice rising.

"Friend? Help? Maria?" She let out a dry laugh, almost disbelieving. "Look, I get it. You see a damsel in distress, you want to save her. But you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped." She leaned in, voice cold. "I know you're messed up, Marcus, but stop acting on impulse, like some wannabe psycho."

She turned, ready to walk away again, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Would you just listen to me?" he pleaded.

"If you'd stop touching me, sure." She yanked her arm free, brushing off the spot where he'd grabbed her.

Marcus sighed, his expression darkening. "I'm not... I'm not a psychopath. I'm not crazy. I'm not—" He paused, seeming to gather himself. "When I was nine, my dad... and my mom. They died. Right in front of me."

Idalia said nothing, her face impassive as she listened.

"Court sent me to a boys' home," he continued. "Place was hell—just a sweatshop, really. They tortured us... they did a lot of bad shit. And yeah, when I escaped, I hurt a few guards. But I didn't kill those kids," he finished, a trace of desperation creeping into his voice, as if he needed her to believe him.

"Really?" she said flatly. "And what about the newspapers? The cops?" She stepped closer, eyes narrowing.

"They got it all wrong," he said, looking directly at her. "And that's not the point. I'm not what you think I am." His voice grew louder, tinged with frustration. "I'm not like you. I don't kill and threaten people for fun."

Idalia scoffed, arms crossed. "Then why are you here, Marcus? If it's all just misunderstandings and bullshit, why did you come?"

"You told me to," he said, his voice rising. He stepped closer. "You kissed me." The accusation hung heavy in the air, and Idalia instinctively took a step back.

"Marcus," she started, a forced indifference in her voice. "That was an assignment. If I'd failed to bring you in, Lin would've flunked me." She shrugged, trying to look unbothered. "Thought that was obvious."

"It was obvious when I saw you walk down the hall with some other guy." His voice was tight. "Look, you told me I didn't have to be alone."

She held his gaze, silent, then finally sighed. "Fine. Maybe I did. But that doesn't mean you get to waltz in here and start shit with the damn cartel."

"I didn't know," he muttered, looking away.

She rolled her eyes. "Didn't know what? That the tatted-up vato was a legitimate killer who'd cut your pito up without a second thought, not some wannabe theatre kid?" She gestured around, exasperated. "Look around you, Marcus. Do you even know where the hell you are right now?"

"That's why I'm asking you for help," he said softly, stepping closer.

Idalia's face hardened. She'd made alliances for her own survival, her own safety. Breaking that meant risking everything—not just for her, but for everyone in her inner circle. And all for what? For some kid who stumbled into this place by sheer bad luck?

Chico was her ally. Not Marcus.

Right?

She looked down, a slight frown crossing her face. "He's going to kill you," she said finally, her voice flat.

Marcus swallowed. "So... what do I do?"

She shrugged, her face cold. "You're you, Marcus. There's only one thing you can do in this situation." She drew in a breath. "Run." She gave him one last look before turning and slipping out the door, leaving him alone in the room.

Idalia wasn't the type to run. Hell, she didn't run from anyone or anything, not even Chico. What did she look like, bolting out of fear? No. That wasn't her style. She'd stare danger in the face and, if necessary, take it to the grave—she'd brag from the afterlife if she had to. But Marcus? He wasn't her. He was an orphan, a kid with bad luck tattooed on his soul, barely able to stand up to a strong gust, let alone a street-hardened killer. He wasn't ready for this.

When she'd told him to run, it wasn't advice for herself—it was for him. Because they were nothing alike.

She charged headlong into chaos, grinned at the mess, got her hands dirty. Marcus? He'd probably end up a bloody smear if he didn't take her advice. But still, as she walked down the hallway, something nagged at her. Was he really going to listen? Or was he still standing there, confused, too stubborn—or too stupid—to move?

Precautions didn't hurt. Not anyone she cared about, anyway.

Idalia stopped mid-stride, glanced down at the cracked tile beneath her boots, and made a split-second decision. She spun on her heel and sprinted back down the hall, her heart pounding with adrenaline. The next thing she knew, she was slamming Lin's office door open.

"Lin," she barked, without a hint of hesitation. One second, she was Chico's ally, loyal as a knife at his side. The next, she was spilling her demands, her voice edged with urgency she barely recognized. Moments later, she found herself standing beside Lin at the top of the steps, looking down at Marcus, who was pinned beneath Chico, a knife hovering dangerously close to his throat.

Her instincts had been dead-on.

"Enough!" Lin's voice cut through the tension, snapping everyone's attention to him. Chico, along with his crew, turned to look up. Idalia, cold and unreadable, watched him let Marcus go. Chico adjusted his shirt as if it were all just a casual scuffle, like nothing had happened.

"Good. You're learning," he said, his eyes shifting to Idalia with a smirk that only she could read. His gaze lingered, sending a silent message up the staircase before he turned back to Marcus, slapping his cheek with a mocking gentleness, his voice just loud enough for all to hear. "Get some rest, Marcus. We'll finish this later." His tone dripped with menace, the unspoken promise of more to come.

Chico spat blood onto the floor, his eyes locking with Idalia's one last time. He raised his hand in a small salute, the kind only she would understand—a gesture laced with intent.

"Vámonos," he commanded, and his crew fell in line, leaving Marcus to collect himself.

Idalia watched as Marcus grabbed his bag, his face a blend of anger and exhaustion, muttering under his breath as he trudged away.

"Fuck this place," he said, his voice low but laced with rebellion as he disappeared down the hallway.

★

Idalia stood beside Victor, both of them casting long shadows on the cracked pavement as they stared down the darkened street. The night air was thick with tension, and Victor lowered his head slightly, his voice a whisper, "Are we going to talk about this... cretino?" (Asshole.)

Idalia turned to him, her expression dull and almost oblivious. "The one we're about to kill?" she asked, her tone flat. "What more is there to talk about?" She focused intently on the road ahead, her mind a whirl of thoughts.

"I'm talking about the one you keep protecting," Victor shot back, meeting her gaze with a challenging stare. Idalia turned her head slowly, a flicker of danger in her eyes. Victor cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. "I know we're not a thing—"

"You're definitely right about that," she interrupted, her voice cutting like glass. Victor shot her a side glance, his expression caught between amusement and annoyance.

"But," he pressed on, his tone harsh, "you should stay away from him. If I weren't dumb, I'd say he's bad luck." He shrugged, the gesture casual but loaded with meaning. "You know what your dad says about bad luck."

Idalia exhaled a slow breath, her voice calm yet firm, "Chi ha la sfortuna di avere il destino contro, può solo fumare e aspettare la fine." Her accent flowed perfectly, a subtle reminder of her heritage.

"He who has the misfortune of fate against him can only smoke and wait for the end," Victor translated, his voice smooth as he repeated her words. "And he does exactly that." His expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing his features.

"I'm not protecting him. I'm being smart," Idalia shot back, her intensity unwavering. "He's a raging maniac, right? We ally ourselves with raging maniacs." She turned to Victor, locking eyes with him. "Exhibit A." The words were playful, yet laced with truth. Victor scoffed, amusement flickering across his face.

"You're better off with Chico than him. Chico might be a flake, but he's no loser." Victor grinned, the charm oozing from him. "That would mean he's not your type, because I'm nothing like him. You're gonna ruin my reputation."

Idalia rolled her eyes, exhaling an exaggerated sigh to signal for him to cut the banter.

Victor silenced for a moment, his attention caught by a figure moving down the street—the man they'd been waiting for. "Don't fall in love with the bad luck," he quipped as he began to walk toward the stranger, leaving Idalia no chance to respond. She fell in step behind him.

"Hey, excuse me," Victor called out to the man, forcing a smile that was more menacing than welcoming. "Do you think you could help me with my car?"

"Me and my fiancée... we're kind of stranded," he continued, his tone dripping with false sincerity.

The older man shook his head, "No. Sorry," and continued past them without a second glance.

Idalia scoffed, "How rude." A spark ignited in her, a flash of something dark and primal. As the man walked on, Victor lunged forward from behind, shoving him into the nearby alleyway.

Victor shoved the man against the wall, the sound of flesh hitting brick echoing in the stillness of the night. Without wasting a moment, Idalia grabbed a long wooden stick that lay next to a dumpster. She wasted no time, swinging it mercilessly, each impact sending splinters flying as she brought it down onto him again and again, aiming for his head where the nails punctured through the wood.

Grunts escaped her lips as the blood sprayed, painting the alley a gruesome red. This wasn't her signature knife work, but it was raw and visceral, a brutal, careless act that felt almost personal.

Victor stood back, watching as Idalia's energy waned, the stick slipping from her fingers and hitting the ground with a dull thud.

"Messy," he remarked, stepping closer, his eyes on the man now crumpled on the ground. He glanced at Idalia, his expression shifting to something softer, almost affectionate. He leaned down and pecked her forehead—a simple gesture that felt loaded with meaning.

He knew how to trigger her, of course. After years of study, he'd learned to use her vulnerabilities against her, much like her father had done.

What a piece of shit.

★

Idalia spent the rest of the night replaying Victor's words in her head, as if he knew her better than she knew herself. Please. She scoffed at the thought.

Now, she stood on the rooftop, a wild party sprawling out beneath her, fires flickering like dying stars in the darkness. Red cups littered the ground, and the air was thick with smoke and laughter—kids losing themselves in the moment, oblivious to the chaos that lingered just beneath the surface.

Even those from her faction were caught up in the scene.

But for her? All she could do was think.

Sipping her drink slowly, she scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on Marcus and Maria. Even after her warnings, there he was, surrounded by death and danger as if he had a death wish. She stood apart, the weight of the moment pressing down on her, until Marcus's gaze found her.

Their eyes locked, the connection crackling in the air. His smile faltered, replaced by a shadow of concern.

This was all so ridiculous, she thought, shaking her head slightly to break the spell.

Just then, an arm slung over her shoulder, pulling her closer. She turned to see Victor, a grin plastered on his face as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. In that moment, she felt an unwelcome sense of obligation, and she kissed him back, her hand instinctively wrapping around his neck, drink clutched tightly in the other.

He pushed her against the wall, his body warm and a complete contrast to the cold air.

She needed to purge her mind of the mess it was making—of him, of Marcus. It felt like Marcus had reached inside her chest and grabbed hold of what was left of her heart, piecing it together like a shattered toy. She couldn't shake the feeling that her heart was being put in a headlock, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape.

And she could feel Marcus watching, his eyes burning into them, a storm brewing behind his calm facade. Watching Victor's hands roam with ease, all while she was caught in this ridiculous game.

⛧

authors note: hiiii. guys i'm gonna be honest i am so so sorry it took me to put chapter 1 out, i just lost motivation for it but like it's growing again so im here and ready and excited.

i just can't believe they ended up cancelling this show, it made me so upset because i had started it like a year ago, without even knowing it was cancelled and i was like what the literal fuck. Like i didn't expect it to be really good because, in all honestly, I started watching it after finding out my girl lana was in it and then i was getting into benjamin because of the whole harry potter fancasting and shit

and long story short, i was very upset. i also can't find a screenplay script anywhere— or at least one where it's obvious which characters are talking so it'll take me a while, to watch every episode over (kill me please) but im obsessed so i have to.

this is way longer than i expected. the thing was like 6k words, i was supposed to stop at 4-5k. so hopefully u enjoy it! but yeah!

anyways <3 love u! have a good night (if it's night for you) or morning, byeeee