Antonio

"Here's her profiling files." Mateo - Gabriel's assistant handed me the files on Valentina. From the last we spoke on the subject, of Val's knowledge about blades and guns, I was plied with curiosity. Los Zetas syndicate had closely monitored anyone trained in weapons and self-defense. Val's name never came up.

Mateo stood in front of me. With a body built to tackle any carnivore, emerald eyes that could pierce even through lead, he awaited my instructions. Tossing a glance at the plastic green folder labelled Val, I nodded at him.

He moved between chairs, placing himself on the opposite side of my table and opening the folder.

Gabriel had trained Mateo to be the guard and the assistant during his absence, mostly when he travelled to take care of our business. Just like my grim reaper Alejandro, Gabriel understood his absence would leave us vulnerable. So he employed Mateo.

He spread documents on my table while running his narration. "She's trained since her childhood."

My brows bridged, "but Ramon Ramirez was crippled!"

An untimely bullet to his lower abdomen rendered him useless to fight and seek the help of a metal hip. How was it possible for him to train his daughter on self-defense techniques when he couldn't support himself?

"It's not Ramon," Mateo said, looking up. The twinkling in his eye was evidence of him having discovered something. "It was his brother, Rodrigo who trained Val."

He placed photos of the deceased man, the lethal yet kind Rodrigo Ramirez who was once in charge of the Ramirez business. I looked at the French-beard donning, smiling photo of his, standing next to Ramon and little Val. The famous cartel head who was shot and killed by men still at large - now assumed to be American agents.

Mateo slid back on the chair, sighing. "When Rodrigo died, Val's training stopped and she never registered herself as a combat expert."

Our cartel ensured all family members in possession of fighting abilities were registered with us. It was not only a means to keep a check on someone going rogue but also as a record used to employ people during fights and ally aggressions.

Knowing how Ramon had already lost his brother and his wife and had to bear the tragedy while taking care of a young daughter, I understood his action to save his daughter from being enlisted. He was protecting her.

It was also this untimely understanding towards Valentina's father that had me worried. Why was I playing lenient on her? Had it been anyone else, they would have been six feet under by now for not abiding by our rules. Nobody dared to flaunt the cartel rules.

Mateo's words played me out of my thoughts. "Gabriel says that her training is coming out well. She's quick in learning new techniques and her target precision is really good."

I looked over at the photos of her laying across my table, of a little girl barely five or six in age with a gun in her hand. It was trained at the same age, clay ready to be molded.

"Are they still at practice?" I asked. Mateo nodded and peeled off the chair reluctantly. Though he was loyal, he was lazy too.

We walked together to the basement training room. The voices from inside echoed like surround sound even before we began our walk down the hallway.

The dark hallway resembled the dungeons we used for things that needed hiding from the daylight. The old mansion bestowed from our great forefathers underwent no structural changes except for coats of newer paint. The basement and structures beneath it never made an appearance in any of the blueprints, providing a haven for our activities.

We walked through the long, cold ally that replayed our footsteps, merging it with the booming sounds emerging from the training arena.

Walking into a well-lit room, my eyes blinked, adjusting to the brightness. Mateo dimmed the lights in the viewing area; longer shadows provided us with their company. The room where we stood was partitioned with one-sided-viewing glass panels separating us from the training arena on the other side.

The training room was larger, soundproofed and embedded with moving targets. Those pale peeling walls on the other end had witnessed quite a lot of failures before our refinement to the men we were today.

Leaning against the glass pane, I reminisced over our practice. I was barely six years old when imbibed with a sense of responsibility towards cartel member's protection, towards the syndicate's future. My brothers were unaware of their surroundings when our father put us all in training. From learning the difference between shotguns and assault rifles to their usage, we grew up with machines than friends. We forged a bond with targets than training wheels.

In this room, we learnt about life and survival when kids that age played with friends. We accepted death as our lover than an enemy and understood that sometimes to rule, one had to be ruthless.

The toughest to break was Agustin, the soft soul. Maria's favorite and the boy who hated bullet sounds, Agustin suffered most at the hands of our father. Alejandro and I were privileged to possess tougher skins, boys who never flinching upon seeing blood. But our youngest sibling required breaking to accept the reality of his birth duty.

Eventually, training got to him, surgically removing kindness and replacing it with a rock for a heart.

The butcher, Agustin was now as feared a name as was Al, the reaper.

Something struck on the glass shield, loud enough for me to be moved away from my thoughts. It was Valentina, tossing herself on walls for support as the automated rifle registered her moves and fired. Her moves were swift, hands and legs coordinated faster to escape the rubber bullets travelling at thirty miles an hour.

She ducked and skid on the floors, moved behind shields and tracked the moving rifle that hid upon detection. From the outside, I could trace everything. From the inside, where she stood, it was hard to track the machine. Yet she tried, hiding and running.

My sight roamed over to the higher bunker where Alejandro sat, watching Val's practice. He had something in his hand, blurred from my sight into which he spoke before walking out of the room. I lowered my gaze to check on Valentina. She was in hiding, even from me. As the machine emerged slowly out from its hiding, searching for heat signals, I heard a loud clank.

Valentina stood behind it. Fuming, sparks released from the machine. She had wires dangling from her hand, the machine's organs ripped. I walked back to the recorder to see how she managed to fool the heat signals.

As Mateo re-winded the recording, I saw a blurred version of Val grappling onto the pipes. With her heels crossed and fingers intertwined, she slid towards the corner. The machine scanned the areas around but never overhead. Val exploited its weakness, dropping behind the whirling rifle and quickly chocked the processing unit with a metal rod, ripping off cords to end the electric supply.

My mouth dried up, my eyes remained glued to the pale, glitching screens. After a few more rewinds, I walked nearer to the glass pane. Her heroic practice deserved appreciation but my ego grappled with its emergence.

I saw Alejandra standing beside her. He was pointing to places, probable places that she needed working on. He was giving her pointers just like he did for Agustin during his training. The screens glitched again, florescent bulbs in the room flickered. I was filled with a strange sense of accomplishment.

Val's laughter resonated from outside, making me peer through the window.

Alejandro and Val grew closer after the day she proved her worth, slitting a man's artery. Since that day, she became his favorite sister amongst all our cousins.

I walked outside. Her preparedness for our mission unburdened my shoulder. I felt at ease in breathing. The rock seemed to have shifted off my chest, even if momentarily.

A voice called me out. It was Alejandro, walking towards me. We walked back outside in complete silence. Sun heated the place and warmed my insides. For long I had worried. Today, I could feel nature bestowing her warmth and care without troubles braiding at my spine.

Al nudged me, clearing his throat. "Her training is coming good." I remained quiet, waiting for him to finish. "I'd say she is a seven on ten in being prepared."

Al was a tough teacher. His best rating was a five. If he gave Val a seven, then she must be doing better than expected.

I peered at my brother. "She must be ready but are you?"

There was no doubt that my brother was prepared for our plan but like a mother hen, I needed confirmation of my sibling's wellbeing, of their readiness. The protective side of mine wanted to ensure my kin's safety. In a perfect world, I would have taken all this upon me, never letting the shadows of my work ever be cast upon them. But as was with perfect worlds that remained a distant dream.

Al nodded, a smirk decorated his face. I felt as if he was asking me, 'why I would bother asking such a question.' His nod assured me. His smile eased the knot in my stomach. He had the company of a woman who was considered good. Maybe the best.

We walked inside the house, greeted by Maria's voice echoing through the place followed by father. Preparations were in full swing for the celebration, for the day I was bred since long. The night when an older regime would pave way for newer generations to walk through.

The night when Los Zetas Cartel would welcome their new head. 

~

Eeehhsss

I can't wait for the next few chapters when Valentina and Antonio's relationship will take a new turn. Yes, it will be hot and heavy and would leave these two on the verge of decisions which would alter the course of their lives and marriage.

Stay tuned and let me know in the comments, your views on the book :)

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Love

S