Act III – Chapter 9: "Great"
Gwen woke up first.
Morning light slipped through the curtains, cutting pale rectangles across the sheets. Leo was still asleep, lying on his side, one arm draped around her without even realizing it.
She stayed there for a few seconds just watching him, peaceful, almost vulnerable.
His breathing was calm. Nothing like the kid from the slums who used to fight just to eat. He'd grown, filled out, but in his sleep his expression still held something of the boy who tried to protect everyone.
"Good morning, my prince," she murmured, snuggling a little closer.
He shifted, grunted, opened one eye.
"Mm… What time is it?" he asked, voice still rough.
"Time for you to tell me you love me," Gwen replied with a smile.
He stared at her, then smiled back, half awake.
"I love you, then," he said.
She slid against him, pressing her forehead to his chest. They traded a few words, a few kisses, the kind of soft gestures that settle in when crises become rare.
Weeks had gone by without a hitch.
No ambush, no purge, no Gwen meltdown, no breakup. Just clean missions, shared nights, and that dangerous feeling that maybe, just maybe, things could actually "go well" for once.
"What've you got planned today?" Gwen asked, playing with one of his dreads.
"Don Javier wants to see me in his office, noon sharp," Leo answered.
Gwen's mouth curled into a little smirk.
"Grandpa needs his favorite enforcer to clean up his mess, huh?" she said in a teasing tone.
Leo snorted.
"Yeah, something like that. Gotta keep taking care of my little rabid wolf," he replied, the innuendo crystal clear.
She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks colored just a bit.
"Your little rabid wolf appreciates it," she said, leaning in to kiss him.
After a few seconds, he pulled back gently.
"And you?" he asked. "What's on the schedule for our resident professional killer today?"
"Me, I've got a guy to keep an eye on," she replied, stretching. "A cop who might turn into a problem."
She shrugged like it was nothing.
"Probably some dirty cop who owes money, or who's digging where he shouldn't."
"Careful anyway," Leo said. "Cops—crooked or not—know how to bite."
"Don't worry," she replied with a smile. "If they bite too hard, I bite harder."
She leaned in for one last, longer kiss, then got out of bed.
"See you tonight," she said.
"Yeah. Tonight."
They left the room a few minutes apart, taking different paths down the hallway.
Leo reached Don Javier's office in a good mood.
He knocked twice and walked in without waiting for an answer.
Emilio Javier was in the middle of signing contracts, pen in hand, glasses on his nose. Files lay scattered all over the desk. An assistant stood beside him with a tablet.
"Boss, you wanted—" Leo started.
Javier immediately raised a finger, still not looking at him, asking for a second of silence.
"Mhm, mhm… two seconds, kid," he said.
He finished signing and handed the file to the assistant.
"File that for me, sweetheart. And tell Paulo to stop sending me thirty‑page PDFs, I didn't sign up to read novels," he said, waving her away.
The assistant smiled and left, closing the door behind her.
Emilio sank back into his chair, folded his hands, then looked up at Leo with a huge smile.
Leo remained standing.
Silence.
Javier just kept staring at him, smile glued to his face, like he was waiting for something.
The silence grew awkward.
Leo glanced left, then right, like he was checking if he'd missed a joke.
"You good?" Javier finally asked.
"Uh… yeah," Leo replied. "Why?"
"Great," Javier said, delighted.
Silence again.
Leo shifted a little, not sure if he was supposed to talk business, ask about a job, or just keep waiting.
"What do you eat, anyway?" Don Javier suddenly asked.
"Huh?" Leo said.
"You more Italian or Chinese?" Javier went on, as if the question made perfect sense. "Pizza, pasta, noodles, rice… Or are you one of those guys who eat weird salads with seeds and stuff?"
Leo blinked, completely lost.
"I… I dunno," he said. "I like pasta."
"Italian, then," Javier declared, jumping to his feet. "Alright, let's go."
"What? Now?" Leo blurted.
"Yes, now," Javier replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "What'd you think, I called you here to sign your report card? Come on, move it. You're not gonna die this time… I think. Hm."
Leo stayed there for a second, watching him walk past toward the door.
He had no idea what was going on exactly, but that wasn't new—around Javier, he was often half a step behind the script.
"What are you waiting for?" the mob boss called from the hallway. "Want me to hold your hand?"
Leo sighed, but a small smile escaped him anyway.
"I'm coming," he said, catching up.
Emilio, as usual, looked like he didn't care about anything… except that for once, what he wanted wasn't a mission, an ambush, or a loyalty test. It was just a moment with his son.
The Italian restaurant was one of the most renowned in Las Vegas.
Marble floors, spotless white tablecloths, waiters in black shirts weaving between tables with trays of wine and steaming dishes. The lights were low, the conversations hushed.
Leo followed behind Javier, a bit stiff, not really feeling like he belonged there.
They were seated at a table by a large bay window.
The waiter left with their menus, promising bread and water.
Don Javier scanned the room, then turned to Leo with a grimace.
"First time here, huh?"
Leo hesitated.
"Yeah," he admitted.
Javier raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.
"You do know I pay you very well, right?" he asked. "What do you usually eat?"
Leo shrugged.
"Instant noodles," he said simply.
Emilio stared at him for a second, then let out a short laugh.
"You really put yourself in monk mode, huh. You need to loosen up a bit. You're way too serious for your own good."
Leo didn't answer, but looked away, slightly embarrassed.
"At least take your girlfriend here from time to time," Javier added, pouring himself some water.
Leo blinked.
"My… girlfriend?" he repeated.
"Yes, Gwen," Javier clarified in a neutral tone, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Leo stared at him, surprised.
"You knew?"
Javier rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, amused.
"Where do you think all the noise complaints end up, kid?" he asked with a chuckle.
Leo felt the heat rise in his cheeks.
"Wait… That's why you were smiling earlier?" he asked.
"Maybe," Javier replied, laughing. "I'm even thinking of giving you a more… isolated room. Upgrade you a little."
He kept laughing.
Leo stared at the table, mortified.
The waiter came back with bread and olive oil, took their order like nothing was out of the ordinary, then left again. Silence settled briefly between them.
Don Javier dabbed his mouth with his napkin, then leaned slightly toward Leo.
"I've got something for you," he said.
Leo looked at him, wary.
"If this is another joke about my private life, I—"
Emilio reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small plain box, which he set on the table.
"Oh, don't worry, I'm not proposing," he said with a grin.
Leo grimaced despite himself, then picked up the box.
He opened it.
Inside was a pendant.
His pendant. The one he'd lost by the pool, right before taking a bullet.
"You… kept it?" he asked, voice lower.
"Of course," Javier replied. "It's your mother's pendant, after all."
Leo looked up at him.
"You knew her?" he asked carefully.
A different light passed through Javier's eyes.
"Yes," he said. "She was a beautiful woman. Not very confident, but between us… she seriously underestimated herself."
He let out a small chuckle, more fond than mocking.
Leo closed his hand around the pendant.
"She worked for you, didn't she?" he asked, jaw tightening a little.
Emilio burst into a deep, genuine laugh.
"Oh, never," he said. "She was exactly the kind of woman you don't tame."
He shook his head, like just remembering her brought up equal parts pride and pain.
Leo lowered his eyes to the pendant.
At that same moment, a few kilometers away, a young woman pushed open the doors of the central precinct.
Rectangular glasses on her nose, perfectly fitted dark suit, dyed hair pulled into a strict ponytail. Only a few strands escaped, like a quiet confession that she couldn't completely hide who she was.
On her freshly laminated badge, it read: GWEN HARPER.
She paused for a second in the entrance hall and took a discreet breath. I was supposed to tail a guy, not join the police, she thought. That old fox tricked me… again.
She saw herself back in Don Javier's office a few days earlier, when he'd talked about "watching a cop" in a tone that was way too innocent. She'd imagined rooftops and night surveillance… not paperwork, a burnt‑smelling coffee machine, and coworkers in short‑sleeved shirts.
Harper… she thought with an internal grimace. He really picked the most boring, bland name possible. Sounds like a suburban accountant. Thanks, Javier. Very subtle.
The head of the crime unit, an old inspector with a weathered face, walked up, eyeing her from head to toe.
"So you're the new one?" he grunted. "Harper, right?"
"Yes, sir," Gwen answered, trying to stand like a model recruit.
The inspector's gaze lingered on her blue streaks.
"Don't see that kind of color much around here," he said. "It's… not exactly regulation."
Gwen raised an eyebrow.
"With all due respect, sir… it's 2028. Judging a woman by the color of her hair is a bit out of line, don't you think?" she said calmly.
The inspector stayed quiet for a second, then let out a long, tired sigh.
"Yeah… you're not wrong. I'm exhausted, not old‑fashioned. Sorry," he muttered.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Alright. Get familiar with the place. Your trainer will show up later."
Gwen looked around. Rows of desks, stacks of files, the static buzz of keyboards and muffled conversations. A flicker of anxiety rose.
Being surrounded by cops… that's exactly what I've always avoided.
Then she remembered something that calmed her instantly: the only real threat in this whole room… was her.
She walked to the coffee machine, slid a cup in, and pressed the button. Dark liquid started to pour.
I hope Leo doesn't get saddled with something too messy today… she thought, watching the stream of coffee. He looked fine this morning, but…
A stupid smile slipped out as she remembered his hands on her waist.
"You planning to move in front of the machine, or…?" a rough voice said behind her.
She jumped a little and turned.
A man about 1.85 meters stood just behind her, drawn features, deep eye bags, rumpled shirt, loosened tie. He looked about one bad day away from biting anyone who stood between him and his caffeine.
"Move," he added, not unkindly.
"Sorry!" Gwen said quickly, stepping aside.
She watched him take her place. Who the hell is this jerk? she thought. Great, someone I'm really not going to like.
While the machine hummed, Enzo glanced sideways. Cute, he admitted to himself.
The inspector, from the far end of the room, watched the scene without seeming to.
The new eighteen‑year‑old recruit, a bit tense, a bit mouthy. And Enzo Alvarez, twenty‑two, his best asset, completely unable to switch off.
Two problems, he thought. He made up his mind.
"ALVAREZ!" he shouted.
Enzo lifted his head, half in a daze.
"What now?" he grumbled.
"You are officially in charge of training Harper!" the inspector announced, pointing at Gwen. "She's under your wing."
Enzo turned toward her and really looked this time.
I was right… she actually is cute.
Gwen discreetly read his badge. Enzo Alvarez. That's him. The target.
She forced a polite, gentle, almost shy smile.
"Nice to meet you, Inspector Alvarez," she said aloud.
Inside, she was already thinking of all the ways to get rid of this problem… and go home to get cuddled by her Leo.