#anyway this is just a fun lil' challenge for myself !!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coolwyous · 2 months ago

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┈─★ 𝘵𝘶𝘺𝘰 ( 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴. )

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿? 𝗼𝗵 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝘁. contract killer megan skiendiel is trying to earn the favor of her boss, the most notorious cartel lord in the country. to prove herself, he tasks her with guarding his most prized possession— his daughter, daniela avanzini, who has a reputation for being the biggest fucking brat the world has seen.

ˎˊ˗ 🔪 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ୭˚. ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

➴ pairing: 𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘪 — bodyguard!megan x cartel princess!daniela.

➴ genre + wc: 21k, cartel/mafia!au, bodyguard!au, speedrunning enemies to lovers, forced proximity, bonnie and clyde, guard dog megan and her princess dani, they both are psychos just in different ways 🥀, lwk also hades and persephone while im at it!!

➴ you might want to tune in...: tuyo- rodrigo amarante. ♫ full playlist can be heard here.

┈─★ a/n: MY FIRST MEMBER X MEMBER FIC RAHHHHH this is a wayyyy diff direction than most of my kats fics but i had so so so much fun challenging myself w it, hoping you guys enjoy something a lil less fluffy from me <3

cw:// violence, descriptions of blood, deaths, implied torture, guns, suggestive scenes, there's a scene w mild choking i think, also bloodplay kinda? but in like a pg-13 way not a nc-17 way, i don't think but gonna warn anyways!

megan’s sneaker taps anxiously against the terra cotta tile of the luxury mansion home. she’s in her boss’s office, one she’s only been in a handful of times, trying to avoid eye contact with the man as he blows puffs of cigar smoke in her face.

“skelly,” he says simply, leaning forward across his desk. “can i trust you?”

megan can hear the irritated huff of his henchmen behind her, guarding the door. she hears sophia, there as his witness, quickly shush them, and megan breathes a silent sigh of gratitude to the elder guardian angel, always looking out for her.

it was no secret that megan and sophia were anomalies in the ranks of the avanzini cartel. it rubbed many people the wrong way that these two young girls could work their way up so easily through the ranks, but their work spoke louder than unhappy grumbles from lazy mobsters ever would.

“absolutely, sir,” megan nods, her throat dry.

“i have a job for you. anything happens, and it’s you, and everything you’ve ever cared about. do you understand?” he leans his head down to try and catch megan’s gaze, grunting in displeasure. “look at me skelly.”

megan grimaces but meets his eyes nonetheless. “i won’t let you down, boss.”

“you don’t have a choice,” he laughs. “go. the driveway. i’ll meet you.”

megan and sophia quickly make their way out of his office, following orders.

“megan,” sophia says, her voice stern. “this goes well, and you could move up.”

that’s the goal, megan thinks to herself, breathing nervously, as the two find themselves outside and face to face with a gorgeous classic cadillac.

“that’s my car?” megan asks in disbelief.

“reinforced glass, steel plated,” sophia smiles, tapping the roof. “extra machinery in the backseat, enough clips to last you into your next lifetime.”

“what am i transporting?” megan asks, feeling herself grow only more eager to prove herself.

“my greatest treasure,” don avanzini beams, emerging from the door. he ashes his cigar beneath his foot, peering around as if he’s seeking someone. “you and daniela have met, no?”

“daniela?” megan’s brows knit together in confusion. “what?”

“what’d you think?” he squints at her. “i was going to have you in an armored truck hauling coke across state lines?”

“uh…” megan scratches at the back of her neck awkwardly.

“there’s a deal going down this week, and i just want insurance that my baby girl is safe somewhere else in case these russians want to play dirty. i have places for her to stay, down in miami. get her there by sunday, keep her busy at the beach, lay low, wait until things have cleared up here,” he instructs, as if she’s babysitting his pet. not his literal daughter.

“sir—” she protests, but she isn’t brave enough to argue even if the point is there.

megan panics. she’s a hitman. good at killing, good at subduing. she isn’t built to be a bodyguard— attentive, caring, gentle. she’s lost all notions of human connection long, long ago. it’s what makes her so good at her job. she is a robot, with one intention. end a life, at all costs.

“you have a broad skillset, don’t you? keep her safe, keep her happy.” he says simply. “that’s your job. do you understand?”

megan grits her teeth, realizing she won’t be getting out of this. “of course, sir.”

“you’d bring less attention to her than having my guys trail her everywhere,” he says, as if the rationale is obvious. he tilts his head down to meet megan’s eyes, his gaze steely. “do i make myself clear, skelly?”

“crystal, sir,” megan breathes, trying to erase any hints of irritation. what is she supposed to do?

“skelly, i mean it. a single hair off of her head, and i’ll kill you,” he reiterates, his tone going cold. “do whatever you have to do to keep her unharmed.”

megan nods, her jaw grinding tensely. “i’ve got it, sir.”

they’re caught in a staring contest, one that megan fears she won’t win, but before they can get too much further into it, there’s the sharp crack of the front door slamming open.

megan hears her before she sees her— the grating, shrieking voice that cuts through the sticky atlanta summer morning, disturbing the peace of the secluded avanzini residence. the curly haired girl barrels past the front entrance, a man hurriedly behind her, looking panicked as she rages on.

“the next time you stick me with a fucking idiot, can you at least make sure they’re literate?” she berates him, storming past. “how many times can i spell elf bar before it fucking clicks?”

“they don’t sell those here any more,” the man sighs, stumbling behind her. “the other ones are just as good—”

“not my problem,” she snaps, cutting him off. “i want the fucking elf bar.”

“daniela, my angel,” don avanzini beams, reaching out to her.

megan gulps down the lump in her throat.

“see you in two weeks, hermosa.” he presses a kiss to the top of her curls, and she recoils in irritation.

her eyes instantly snap up to meet megan’s.

“shut up,” the girl groans. “i’m stuck with you in miami?”

megan says nothing.

“oh perfect, i always wanted a silent fucking baboso following me around,” she snaps irritatedly, waving her hand in front of megan’s face. “what’s this one called?”

“you’ll be riding with skelly,” sophia says, smirking knowingly at megan.

“fucking kill me,” daniela groans. “papi, why can’t we just take the jet?”

“there was a crash at the private hangar,” sophia cuts in. “we think it has the russians tied to it.”

don avanzini nods in approval.

“whatever.” daniela rolls her eyes. “my bag is inside, gustavo is bringing it. start the fucking car.”

megan blinks in shock at the girl’s demands, but nobody else seems surprised by her attitude, so the girl complies. sophia waves them off and after their bags are loaded up, megan pulls the car out and onto the street.

daniela, whose skin fills the car with sweet pear and vanilla musk, has her head tossed back against the headrest with a scowl on her face that hasn’t dropped. megan, who has never been good at small talk, stays awkwardly silent as the curly-haired girl simply seethes in the passenger’s seat.

“how long is the drive?”

megan blinks. daniela is staring at her expectantly, brows arched in clear irritation.

megan knows the answer is 10 hours, but the response gets caught in her throat. maybe she’ll be best off staying silent.

“if i wanted to talk to a wall, i would have gotten high before this,” daniela snips back, clearly unhappy with this silent treatment.

megan is too focused on the road to figure out something to say, which only seems to infuriate the princess even further.

“i’ve gotten every single person before you fired,” daniela says matter of factly, examining her manicured nails. “each of them.”

megan swallows back a beat of hesitation, hoping to not let the threats crack her. it’s a bad habit, needing to think this hard and this long before she speaks, but daniela seems less than eager to wait her out.

“talk. speak. say woof or something.” daniela leans over the center console to examine the bodyguard, poking at her with her index finger as if she’s imagining her. “c’mon, skelly.”

megan blinks in disbelief. what is this girl’s problem?

“you’re annoying me,” daniela grits, slumping back into her seat. “and i’m not very pleasant when i’m annoyed.”

you’re not very pleasant, period, megan has half a mind to say.

irritated by the lack of response, daniela sticks her hand out of the window, before getting an idea.

she unbuckles her seatbelt and sticks her head out, before moving on to her entire torso. within seconds, she’s halfway out the car window, a shit-eating grin on her face as megan’s eyes go wide. they’re going rather fast on the freeway, and a poorly timed lane change could easily crush the heiress between another car.

“don’t do that,” megan grits, reaching for her.

“you can talk,” daniela beams, her bid for getting her way working exactly how she hoped it would. she slumps back into her seat. “good dog.”

the bodyguard furrows her brows at the insult. “don’t call me that.”

“you want me to drive 10 hours in silence? i’d rather kill myself,” daniela groans, reaching out an expectant hand. “give me the aux.”

megan complies, as if to just grant herself a brief reprieve from daniela’s incessant whining.

daniela eyes megan curiously, before her eyes come back to the phone screen as she selects a new playlist.

“you’re supposed to be my bodyguard? you’re not even scary.”

megan feels her brow twitch.

i’m a hitman actually. i hate this whole bodyguard shit. i’m so, so much better just killing people instead of being stuck with your fucking bratty entitled ass. if you knew the kind of shit i could do to people— oh, and i’m fucking good at it too. i’m a good fucking hitman.

she lets out a quiet, even breath.

“i bring less attention to you,” she says simply.

“i guess,” daniela snorts. “until a dude twice your size is beating your ass.”

megan wants to crack a smile, but she won’t give daniela the satisfaction.

“that won’t happen,” she says, and leaves it at that. daniela rolls her eyes and turns the music up even louder, scrolling further on her phone.

they stop somewhere outside of atlanta to fuel up before the gas stations become sparse, and if their introduction wasn’t rocky enough, megan realizes daniela has no intentions of being easy to work with.

megan steps out of the car to refuel it, when she spots daniela swinging the passenger door open.

“where are you going?” megan asks, her eyes widening.

“i want to go buy a new pen,” daniela says simply, holding up her vape in megan’s face.

megan wrinkles her nose and swats it away. “i can do that for you. you need to stay in the car.”

“i want to do it by myself,” daniela argues back instantly. megan feels her eye twitch.

“i can’t let you out of my sight, i’m sorry.”

“i’m your boss. not the other way around. if i don’t want to do something, i’m not doing it,” daniela snaps, shoving past the bodyguard. “get out of my way.”

“avanzini, please. you can’t be that far from me,” megan pleads, glancing around to assess the area. she curses silently for whoever thought they’d be a good match. “i don’t want to have to do this.”

“yeah, not scared of you,” daniela laughs, walking off towards the gas station. “like at all.”

megan takes another quick glance around. nobody visible within blocks. she lets out a silent prayer and realizes this is more of a brute force scenario than any attempt at rationalizing. don avanzini’s words echo in megan’s ears, the threat of anything happening and the risks she can’t manage to take.

before daniela can take another step forward, megan rushes over and swoops her up in her powerful grasp. daniela’s body tenses in shock, and megan uses the brief moment to overpower her and lift her up, throwing the heiress over her shoulder. it’s embarrassing, to be carrying a fully grown woman like a caveman, but her job is to keep her as safe as possible at all costs, and there’s few places safer for a mafia boss’s daughter than a bulletproof car full of weapons.

“put me the fuck down!” daniela instantly screeches, wriggling to try and get out of the hold.

but megan has a firm arm wrapped around her legs, her free hand pressing daniela’s back into her shoulder to stabilize her, and the heiress seems to realize she’s truly about to be hauled back into the car by brute force.

“i’m sorry,” megan says quietly.

“you’re fucking dead,” daniela seethes.

“i feel alright about my chances,” megan mumbles under her breath, thankful daniela can’t see the shit-eating grin on her face lest it piss off the princess any further.

another two hours trickle by in the car, and megan is grateful that daniela’s too pissed off to say anything else to her.

megan’s training lets her stay focused throughout anything, but she can acknowledge that the silence is feels like a gift. they’ve only known each other a few short hours, but megan dreads the idea of just how much worse daniela may get the more comfortable she feels.

she’s not cut out for this bodyguard shit— on her usual missions, it’s days spent alone, trailing a target, taking down information, watching their patterns and their habits. it’s solitude, patience, waiting for the perfect moment to set something up and make it look like an accident, to frame someone else, to make someone disappear. megan bites her tongue. she’s spent so long thriving as this killing machine, she’s not even sure what it’s like to be human any more.

her thoughts are broken by the heiress finally piping up. she points a manicured finger at the next exit, motioning to the giant rest stop sign.

“stop here,” she demands.

“no,” megan denies her instantly. “we have a deadline.”

daniela grits her teeth so harshly, it makes an audible noise.

“i have to fucking pee, skelly.”

she looks over, and daniela’s arms are crossed angrily over her chest, shooting daggers at the bodyguard with her gaze alone.

“okay,” megan relents, letting out a huff.

the car drifts to a stop in the closest parking spot possible to the rest stop facilities. daniela swings the door open irritatedly and megan is quick to unbuckle to follow behind.

“can i not pee by myself?” daniela snaps, motioning to the empty parking lot surrounding them. “there’s clearly nobody here.”

megan pauses to assess. they’re the only car parked, and the freeway itself is quiet. the likelihood of someone knowing where they are and following them without a vehicle in sight is slim to none.

the bodyguard lets out a quiet breath, turning to wait outside the door of the restroom. “you have 2 minutes.”

daniela furrows her brows in protest. “i drank a lot of—”

“2 minutes,” megan says firmly, motioning for her to go. “time starts now.”

if daniela were to roll her eyes any harder, it’s quite possible they’d scrape her eye sockets clean, but she complies nonetheless and steps into the bathroom. megan walks back towards the car and sits on the hood, looking down at her watch to start counting— 120 seconds, not a moment more.

she wonders if maybe she’s overdoing it, or maybe being too rigid in her expectations. she tries to put herself in daniela’s shoes, trying to get into her head. she wonders if don avanzini explained the circumstances to her, if she thinks it’s just a joyride or if she knows that her life is truly in danger, if that might explain her irritation with everything—

megan freezes as she realizes she didn’t check the bathrooms themselves. rookie fucking mistake. she looks up immediately and spots a figure running out of the back entrance, feeling her pulse race as she reaches down for the holster of her gun.

a blink. she realizes the running figure has dark, curly hair, pulled half up.

“fucking daniela,” megan hisses, getting out of the car, realizing the princess is making a run for it.

megan is athletic enough to catch up, and without a single word, she scoops daniela up once more, swinging the girl’s body up over her shoulder effortlessly. daniela goes limp, like a cat caught trying to run out the door, clearly irritated that her attempt to escape was foiled.

“we have to stop meeting like this,” daniela deadpans, rolling her eyes.

“i’m literally begging you, avanzini,” megan huffs, lugging her, for the second stupid time that day, over her shoulder.

“you’re so annoying, skelly,” the princess bites back, saying her name like it’s an insult.

“do you get that it’s your life on the line?” megan questions as she hauls the heiress back to the car. “a lot of people would pay a lot of money to have you.”

“oh, i’m so aware,” daniela snaps back wickedly.

megan feels her cheeks flush, daniela’s tone catching her off guard. she sets her down quickly but is sure to block her in against the car, just to keep her from trying to run off once more.

“sorry, i didn’t mean–” she starts, but the brunette cuts her off, slumping into the passenger’s seat with a sigh of defeat.

“just drive the stupid fucking car.”

the rest of the drive goes on in relative silence. by the time they’ve made it past the florida border, the sun is already setting. megan feels herself exhale in relief. daniela made their first day hellish, but she’s out in one piece.

megan is ready to drive them to the motel they’re staying at, mentally prepared to hear the princess whine about how it isn’t a 5 star luxury villa, but instead, the brunette surprises her as she sits up.

“i want to go dancing,” she says out of nowhere, rolling the windows down.

megan listens, and she can hear it— the quiet thud of latin music coming from somewhere in the neighborhood. megan had never let herself listen to music on the job, the fear of getting distracted was much too big of a risk to take.

“not happening. too dangerous. you heard your dad,” megan shakes her head.

“and where is my dad?” dani questions challengingly, motioning around them.

megan’s caught off guard, stammering to try and come up with an answer, but daniela quickly raises a finger to cut her off.

“you got your first orders from him, but now, you work for me,” she says, “and i want to go dancing. i’m not even saying by myself, you can be there or whatever.”

“i-“ megan starts, but daniela presses on.

“you’re making a terrible first impression, skelly, and you’re pissing me off,” the brunette goes on, before batting her eyes devilishly at the bodyguard. “you don’t want me to give my dad a bad review of you, do you? you want him to like you?”

megan bites back on her jaw, feeling backed into a corner, before she finally relents.

“if we go, you stay in my sight the entire time, and we leave at 9.”

daniela’s eyes light up.

“11.”

“10:15.”

“fine,” the heiress sighs sharply, but her eyes light up in excitement. she unbuckles herself and climbs into the backseat, and megan quickly realizes the girl is undressing.

“w-what are you doing?” megan coughs, trying to avert her gaze from daniela’s increasingly naked body in the rearview mirror.

“not going to waste my time making us pull over just so i can change. my bag is literally right here,” the brunette rolls her eyes, as if it’s obvious. “don’t let me catch you peeking, skelly.”

megan clears her throat and does her best to focus on the road as daniela changes in the backseat, feeling her cheeks flush.

megan isn’t going to make the same mistake twice, and does a quick lap around the building to get the layout before they enter the latin bar. daniela, in a impossibly short dress and too-tall heels, her hair pinned up, brings an undeniable amount of attention to herself just by existing. megan can feel the eyes sizing the heiress up as they enter the doorway— no wonder don avanzini wanted a protection detail that’d be a little more subtle… daniela turns heads easily enough on her own.

the bodyguard watches each step of the bartender mixing daniela’s drink, constantly scanning the room, constantly assessing. daniela goes off to dance, as she had demanded, but makes it a point to stay in megan’s line of sight, waving annoyedly at megan every so often as if to acknowledge she’s there. megan wonders if they’ll finally be able to coexist without killing each other, maybe all she’ll have to do is a few compromises here and there to keep the princess happy.

if megan will give the brat anything to her credit, it’s that daniela holds her end of the bargain, and as soon as the clock strikes 10:15, megan nods at her and daniela rolls her eyes but complies nonetheless.

they drive to the motel in silence, daniela complying (finally) with staying in the car while megan checks them in. the breeze is warm, comforting, and the hum of the neon motel signs are enough to numb megan’s brain into a sense of calm. they’ve ended the day in one piece, and megan is comfortable enough to think that maybe she’ll get the hang of this bodyguard thing in no time.

“next time, can you not stare me down like i’m some sort of prey animal? you were scaring off all my dance partners,” daniela complains, getting out of the car as megan parks them near their room.

“i thought you said i wasn’t even scary?” the taller girl quickly reminds her, getting out of the drivers seat.

“shut up, so annoying,” daniela rolls her eyes, and megan grins to herself at getting one over the princess.

“i’ll take your bag,” she says, although daniela is already walking towards the door, clearly assuming it was implied. megan rolls her eyes. maybe she was too hopeful about daniela being a decent person she’d be able to tolerate.

“my shoes are hurting me,” the heiress whines, starting to limp after a few moments of walking in silence, nothing but the crunch of gravel beneath both their feet.

“shouldn’t have worn such crazy heels then,” megan answers simply.

“shouldn’t have worn those heels— kiss my ass,” dani mocks irritatedly.

megan grimaces as she sees the way daniela’s limp worsens, and they’ve still got quite a way to go before they get to the room. “you’re going to give yourself a blister,” she warns.

daniela stops in her tracks, turning around to face the bodyguard.

they’re face to face, close enough that megan can see the subtle smear of dani’s makeup from the sweat of dancing, she can see the glitter reflecting light off her cheekbones, she can smell the pear and vanilla radiating off of her body. megan feels her breath catch in her throat— she nearly goes dizzy from the proximity.

daniela blinks once, twice, at how close they are, but then re-focuses, reaching up both arms shamelessly towards megan.

“carry me.”

“what?” megan balks, nose scrunching in confusion.

“i’m tipsy, my feet fucking hurt, and you’re strong enough, i know you are. you’ve thrown me over your shoulder like i’m nothing,” daniela insists, closing and opening her fingers like a child asking to be picked up by their parent. she grins, the face of a girl clearly used to getting her way. “up, now, bodyguard.”

megan knows the obvious answer is to say no, but something in her pulls to the princess like a magnet. before she can think to deny her, dani is blinking up at her again, batting her eyes eagerly, and in a flash she’s wrapping her arms around megan’s shoulders. the bodyguard shifts the bag and easily scoops up daniela’s slim body bridal-style without a second thought, walking them both towards their room.

“thank youuu,” dani drawls, pleased to have been accommodated. she breathes out a sigh of relief, peering down at her feet as they dangle and bounce with each step megan takes. “for the record, skelly, i like this better than how you usually choose to carry me. i’m a fucking lady, mind you.”

“the way you fight me is very un-ladylike,” megan argues back, rolling her eyes. “i can carry you nicely when you behave.”

they enter the room and megan sets daniela gently on one of the two beds, doing a quick sweep of the room to ensure it’s safe.

“i’m going to shower,” the brunette announces, kicking her shoes off carelessly. megan huffs and picks the shoes up, placing them neatly by the door. when she looks up, daniela has already slipped the dress off her shoulders, megan’s eyes briefly meeting bare skin once more before she spins around and covers her gaze with her hand, her cheeks burning red again.

“you don’t even want to try and peek?” daniela questions teasingly, clearly entertained by the bodyguard’s consistent reaction.

“no thank you,” megan feels the back of her neck burn.

“whatever,” the brunette groans, slipping into the bathroom. “guess you’re one of the good ones.”

megan looks down at her hands as she hears the door close and the water turn on.

i’m really not, she thinks to herself.

daniela sleeps through the night without issue, and megan is able to get a few hours of rest in from the chair in the corner where she stands guard. she orders a simple breakfast delivered to the front door, and keeps an eye on the window as she notices daniela stir from her sleep.

“this is for you.” megan offers the brunette the platter of food.

“thanks,” daniela hums, and megan thinks it might be the first time since they’ve met that she’s actually sincerely thanked her. the brunette rubs her eyes, yawning. “i want a coffee.”

“we can get one on the road,” megan assures her, offering daniela her bag. “i can give you 10 minutes to get ready, but we have to leave by then.”

the princess complies by some miracle, and soon enough, they’re back in the car for the rest of the drive to miami.

“do you speak spanish?” daniela asks, once again on aux as they drive through miles of the freeway.

“i barely understand it,” megan admits.

“you’ll want to learn if you want to keep working for my dad,” daniela tells her, and megan hates that she has a point. even if they’re based in the US, megan knows the avanzini cartel is rooted in cuban and venezuelan trading. sophia has always been good at learning enough phrases to ger her by and translate on behalf of the both of them.

plus, megan didn’t usually do much talking in her role working for don avanzini. there isn’t much to say to a hitman that the hitman has to answer back to.

“i’m bad at new languages,” megan wrinkles her nose.

“you’ll figure it out,” daniela waves her off. the bodyguard can feel the hazel eyes on her, examining her, curiosity evident. “where’s skelly from?”

“i don’t think your dad can pronounce my last name,” megan admits a little too quickly, immediately hoping daniela doesn’t take offense.

but daniela simply lets out a snort, resting her head back against the headrest.

“i bet he can’t, that moron. what’s your last name?” she asks.

“skiendiel,” megan tells her. “he called me skeleton for a while. skelly just ended up sticking, i guess.”

“he’s so stupid. your name’s not that hard. he’s just lazy,” daniela shakes her head, before her voice softens in the slightest. “what’s your name name?”

megan peeks over at the passenger, and daniela has her head resting in her hand, eyes fixed on megan, her expression soft and curious. it’s the longest she’s ever seen dani off her phone, but most of all, it’s the most attentive to something other than herself that megan has ever seen.

“you don’t need to know that,” the bodyguard says quietly, eyes back on the road. “i just work for you.”

daniela furrows her brows and leans in closer to megan. “i want to know. tell me.”

“no,” megan pushes back, more firmly this time.

the heiress huffs irritatedly and leans back in her seat. “you’re going to regret saying no to me, skelly.”

megan, feeling perhaps a bit too brave for her own good, pushes back once more.

“not used to it, avanzini?” she teases. “i’ll say it in spanish. no.”

“smartass,” daniela rolls her eyes, but the air is light between them. daniela plays another one of her playlists and lets the air fill with music as the cadillac blasts down the freeway.

megan stays alert, but she can feel her body relaxing. maybe daniela isn’t too bad after all.

daniela convinces her to stop at a restaurant, and unfortunately, the way they bicker over every little thing at the table eats up nearly half their afternoon. they’re nearly no closer to miami than they were when they set out that morning, and the sun is already going down. megan is briefly worried that don avanzini will have her head for being less than timely with delivering daniela to miami, but she hopes that keeping her in one piece is enough for him to be satisfied with her work.

megan, unsure of what possesses her, peels her eyes from the road to sneak a quick look at the heiress in the passenger seat. daniela has her legs folded and tucked under her, rambling about something on her instagram feed, and the voice that yesterday morning was impossibly aggravating has smoothed out into something more manageable.

daniela keeps sticking her phone in megan’s face as the bodyguard drives, trying to show her the newest bikini she’s interested in or another concert she’s missed and is aggravated by, and megan doesn’t quite mind their ride being filled by dani’s unhinged rambles. megan is trained to notice details, but she’s certain her training didn’t teach her to focus on the slope of daniela’s nose, the charming little freckle above her eyebrow, the smooth curves of her jaw and how the skin that meets her neck feels like a trap for megan, stuck staring.

“eyes.”

“w-what?” megan shakes her head, caught off guard by the random statement.

“skelly, eyes on the fucking road!” daniela shrieks, pushing back in her seat as megan turns to realize there’s a giant truck stopped in their lane, hazards on.

the bodyguard reaches out instinctively to block daniela from flying forward as she swerves quickly out of the way, pulse racing at the near-miss.

“you can’t keep sticking your phone in my face and expecting me to be able to focus on two things at once,” megan gripes, releasing dani from her grip.

“you weren’t looking at my phone,” daniela says quickly, too quickly, and megan feels the back of her ears burn. the stupid brat has the audacity to grin, shiny white teeth bright enough to distract her again, but megan won’t make the same mistake twice and get caught staring again.

before megan can defend herself, daniela has already moved on.

“i want to go dancing again,” she says, turning away to scan the road. “you either stop at the next city, or i sneak out of our room at night and you get in trouble. you pick.”

“no,” megan denies her simply.

“wrong answer,” daniela tsks in disappointment, before rolling the window down and cupping her hands around her mouth.

before megan can even ask what she’s doing, daniela starts screaming “help!” at the top of her lungs, waving her arms wildly.

“daniela,” megan barks, reaching over with her free hand to yank her back into the car.

“you should have seen your face,” the brunette laughs, slumping back against the passenger’s seat breathlessly.

“not funny,” megan seethes, but by this point, she knows the routine and is relenting without a second argument. if there’s anything about the avanzini cartel heir, it’s that she’s ridiculously stubborn, annoyingly so.

roll the windows down, follow the music, and let daniela get changed in the backseat. it’s inconvenient, sure, but not exactly a deal breaker. she figures she’ll survive.

by the time they pull up to the next club, the sun is setting. megan, always underdressed in baggy jeans and a loose hoodie, broken-in converse, looks the picture opposite of daniela, excitedly racing into the club in her barely-there top and skimpy shorts. megan pulls her hood over her head and assesses the environment, feeling her brain shift into high alert at how packed this club is compared to the one from the night before.

daniela doesn’t seem the slightest bit concerned, ordering her drinks and disappearing into the crowd to dance the night away.

megan, back to a wall with her arms crossed over her chest, watches over from a distance, scanning constantly to assess the night. she keeps dani in her sight at all times, watching the girl lose herself to the music, care-free smile on her face as she moves between strangers and trades partners over and over.

she’s not sure how much time has passed before daniela’s gaze meets hers, and megan feels herself flushing red again. she curses under her breath as daniela grins and starts making her way towards her. she’d love to avoid another tease of being caught staring again— after all, it is her job to look out for this girl, but luckily, daniela seems focused elsewhere.

“skelly,” she greets, drawling out the nickname on her lips.

“avanzini,” the bodyguard nods politely. “having fun?”

“i want you to dance with me, or a stranger does,” daniela says quickly, catching megan off guard. her body tenses, but dani simply reaches her hand out expectantly. “i think i’m safer with you, right?”

megan wants to argue. rationally, she can keep a better eye on her from a distance, not swarmed by the bodies of other people, and not raise any flags from tailing her too closely. but daniela is staring at her, with those sharp hazel eyes, issuing a silent challenge. megan feels her resolve slip. since when was it getting so hard to say no to this entitled, spoiled brat?

“i don’t know how to do this,” she mumbles frustratedly, her eyes scanning over daniela’s shoulder as daniela takes her hands in her own.

“it’s not that hard,” the brunette shakes her head, trying to get megan to step in time with her to the pulsing salsa music. she brings her hand up to tap on megan’s cheek, a playful slap. “loosen up. you move like you have a stick in your ass.”

“hey,” megan whines, furrowing her brows.

“oh my god, she’s not a robot,” daniela laughs, draping one arm over megan’s shoulder, bringing their bodies closer. “finally, you’re letting loose. good dog.”

“enough,” the taller girl warns, avoiding daniela’s gaze as she continues to scan the area around them. but between daniela’s swaying body leading the tempo and the trance of the music, megan finds it easier than expected to keep up. her right hand holds dani’s own hand, and her left remains respectfully between her shoulder blades, but her body starts to make sense of the rhythm in due time, and within moments, she feels daniela’s gaze fixing up on her, the intensity of her stare feeling like red-hot heat on her skin.

“i thought you said you didn’t know how?” daniela arches a brow at megan’s surprising competence on the dance floor.

“i needed a second to catch up,” the bodyguard says simply.

“fast learner,” daniela says, eyeing her partner.

“you’re very good,” megan compliments, reaching out to let dani do a spin. the brunette spins elegantly, and when she comes back into megan’s grasp, she’s pressing their bodies together, their cheeks nearly touching. it makes it easier to hear each other over the music, sure, but megan’s skin burns at the newfound proximity, feeling the heat radiating off of daniela’s exposed skin.

“i would have loved to have been a dancer,” the heiress confesses after a moment, her voice softer. “but not much you can do when your dad is shipping you off every month. ‘hey guys, sorry, have to stop touring for a week ‘cause my dad pissed off the italian mafia and i have to go into witness protection again.’”

megan frowns as they continue to move in sync. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s whatever,” daniela shakes her head. she lets out a breath. “he’s so stupid. i don’t get why people worship him.”

“he’s a genius,” megan pushes back gently.

“he’s greedy, and he’s controlling,” daniela furrows her brows. “why have a kid when you’re just going to make them a puppet the whole time?”

“i can’t imagine,” megan says simply.

daniela’s mouth opens to say something, but instead, she simply rests her forehead against megan’s shoulder. the gesture is tender, unexpectedly intimate, and megan feels her stomach lurch at the moment they’re sharing. she can’t remember the last time she had even hugged another person, much less danced with them, felt their weight against her, comforted them.

“thanks for listening to me,” daniela says, her voice soft. “and for dancing with me. haven’t had a good dance partner in a while.”

megan feels the words get stuck in her throat. what can she even offer? what could she possibly say?

the bodyguard gets stuck on her own words, and without thinking, rubs her hand in gentle circles on daniela’s back. the skin is soft under her fingers, and megan nearly recoils out of fear, worried she’ll hurt the girl somehow with her touch, but the gentle sigh that daniela lets out feels like confirmation to go on.

“and thanks for putting up with me,” daniela adds.

megan’s mouth opens to say something, before she can even think, but in the same breath, her ears pick up on mumbling. she’s honed in on listening to anything out of the ordinary, among them, the word “avanzini” is easy to pick up, even over the loud music.

“hey,” megan says quietly, feeling her pulse race as she realizes what might be happening. she shifts, feeling herself steel at the thought of an ambush. “i’m going to spin you. i need your help.”

she feels daniela tense beneath her body. even with megan’s voice being calm and even, daniela can sense that something is off, but megan stays focused.

“is that spanish?” she asks quickly, turning her and daniela to the side to let daniela get a better earshot. she dips daniela down ever so slightly, making a casual effort to get them closer to two men eyeing them too intensely for megan’s liking, mumbling to each other.

dani comes back up from the dip, her eyes wide. she shakes her head. “no. they’re not speaking spanish. sounds european.”

“then we need to leave,” megan says firmly, her eyes fixed on the two men and how they seem to notice the girls’ change in demeanor. one man starts making his way towards them, and megan immediately springs into action. “we’re moving, now.”

the bodyguard grabs a tight grip on daniela’s wrist, quickly pulling her into the cramped hallway of the bathrooms in search of a back exit before the first man can get to them. she feels bad, nearly dragging dani behind her, but this is why she’s here, to keep the heiress safe at all costs, and she’s never been one to half-ass a single thing she does.

they make it out the back exit, and megan can hear dani’s breaths quickening by the second. she’s reaching for the keys in her pocket, but within seconds, megan is spinning around at the slightest noise behind them, spotting one of the men cornering them. he must have come out from the front exit and raced to the alleyway while the other man followed them through the club. the bodyguard instinctively reaches to push daniela backwards behind her, before racing forwards to engage the man as she sees him reach for his belt.

megan’s pulse quickens, but she knows it isn’t fear. she feels the switch click, the way her body knows exactly what to do. her brain shuts off, and her body moves without thinking, swift and purposeful, lethally effective. this part, unfortunately, is what she’s very good at.

“avanzini—” the man starts, but megan is quick to disarm him, smashing his wrist into her knee and swiping the gun out of his hand in one fluid motion.

and before daniela can even react, megan tightens the silencer and unloads two shots into his chest, one in his forehead, dropping the clip before throwing the gun besides his now-lifeless body.

“oh my god,” dani breathes in horror, her eyes going wide instantly as the blood pools beneath the man’s body.

“move, to the car. now,” megan instructs, her voice cold and even. she pushes daniela forward, out of the way of the pooling blood, and points to the car. “russians always work in two. his partner is looking for us somewhere.”

“skelly-” dani starts, her body frozen in place.

“i’ve got us,” megan nods reassuringly, pulling her own gun out from her waistband holster. she pushes daniela forward once more, gently this time, to get her momentum going. “move.”

the two run quickly into the parking lot, megan scanning around like a hawk to ensure there’s no more unexpected appearances. she curses silently. how the hell did the russian mafia get wind of where they were?

“where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” daniela questions, her face pale and eyes still wide as they get into the car.

“been training for a while,” megan answers curtly, scanning the car to make sure nothing has been tampered with. she reaches under the back seat, and as promised by sophia, she can feel the outlines of much heavier duty “machinery” if needed.

“you’re literally my age,” dani balks in disbelief.

“little younger,” megan corrects quickly, getting the engine kicked on and rumbling.

“how the fuck do you know how to do all that?” daniela’s voice is shaky now, staring at megan in complete disbelief. “what’s your deal?”

“just go to sleep.” megan reaches behind to grip the headrest as she pulls out of the parking lot. she knows daniela is probably about to crash from all the adrenaline, and the last thing she needs is the princess having a panic attack mid-ambush if there are more people tailing them. “we’re going to skip the hotel tonight. we need to be moving right now, and not in a straight line to miami. i might have us make a detour to throw them off.”

“aren’t you tired?” dani questions.

“don’t worry about me. you sleep.” megan nods, reaching into the backseat to hand daniela one of her hoodies to drape over herself. “i’ll wake you when we get to where we need to be.”

daniela stares at her, a stare that asks a million questions at once, but unlike megan, daniela doesn’t struggle to get the words out. her voice is low, still shaky, eyes uncertain as she takes in the bodyguard as if she’s seeing her for the very first time.

“who are you?”

megan can hear it in dani’s voice, and it makes her stomach churn— fear.

“skelly, who are you?” daniela doubles down, leaning closer, as if the proximity will somehow answer more questions or get her more information. “how many people have you killed? why was it so easy for you?”

megan bites down on her back molars. they’re all fair questions, but she can’t find the words to answer them in a way that will soothe the clearly panicked girl.

“go to sleep,” she says quietly, eyes fixed on the road.

daniela goes silent, turning away from her for the rest of the car ride, and megan lets out a low breath as she focuses on getting them the hell out of there.

she calls sophia and debriefs her on the incident once she hears daniela’s breathing even out. sophia redirects them to a different city for the night, booking the motel under a different name and swearing to get to the bottom of how the fuck another cartel had figured out that they were moving daniela.

by the time they make it to the motel, it’s nearly 3 in the morning, and megan has been alone in silence for the entire drive there. she’s gotten good at it, functioning on little to no sleep, keeping sharp even when exhaustion would threaten any other person. she parks, and checks in quickly, keeping an eye on the car the entire time.

megan gets their things out of the car and bites her tongue as she sees daniela’s peaceful expression in her sleep, curled in a ball in the passenger’s seat. she can’t bear to wake the sleeping girl, knowing the stress her body is probably still under after what she had to witness. so megan makes a choice.

gingerly as she can manage, she scoops daniela out of the car and makes their way up to the room. daniela sleepily wraps her arms around megan’s neck and rests her head against the bodyguard’s chest, a quiet mumble of protest as she doses in and out. megan figures out the door with one hand, kicking it open, but she’s surprised by daniela’s voice in her ear as soon as they’re in the room.

“i’ve never seen it happen in front of me before. someone dying.”

“i’m sorry,” megan grimaces. daniela sounds sleepy, yes, but her voice carries something else with it. something hollow, something haunted. megan wonders when it stopped affecting her.

she tries to set daniela down on the bed, but the brunette tightens her grip around megan’s neck, locking herself in place. megan tries again to no avail, but before she can pull dani off of her, the girl’s voice breaks their silence.

“please stay,” dani whispers, her voice small and quaking. “i’m scared, skelly.”

“okay.” megan nods slowly. she owes the girl this much, she figures, letting herself melt into the bed, keeping daniela’s curled up body firmly in her grasp. “just go to sleep.”

daniela takes in a shaky breath and keeps her face hidden in megan’s chest. megan can feel the race of daniela’s pulse against her body, counting the beats to soothe herself, feeling her body eventually relax again, her breathing going even. she tries to shift out from under her, but every time she attempts it, the girl lets out a sleepy protest, curling up even tighter on megan’s chest.

megan relents, her head propped up against the headboard, and lets her eyes rest. she doesn’t deserve the comfort that daniela’s body brings, the way the proximity warms her bones, the way it makes her feel almost close to being human again.

and maybe it’s selfish, but megan lets herself enjoy it, locking her arms around the brunette’s frame as she drifts off to sleep. she could swear she feels dani’s body relaxing once her arms wrap around her body, but she writes it off as a sleep twitch, and promises herself she won’t let this proximity become a regular thing as she drifts off for an hour or two of rest.

megan’s body works on an internal clock, no matter how sleep deprived she may be, and when her eyes flutter open to see an empty bed, her stomach immediately drops in panic. she wakes up before sunrise on most days, and daniela didn’t exactly strike her as the early rising type.

but before she can panic, the brunette emerges from the bathroom, scrunching her wet curls with a towel. megan realizes she’s wearing her hoodie, the one she had offered her in the car, and feels a bizarre sense of warmth at the sight. she shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the distraction, refocusing instead on how daniela managed to get up from being literally asleep on top of her without megan noticing.

“how long have you been awake?” megan asks hurriedly.

“a minute. you talk in your sleep,” daniela says, matter of factly.

“oh,” the bodyguard wrinkles her nose. “sorry.”

“i’m a heavy sleeper, so it’s fine,” the brunette waves her off, before handing her a burrito, clearly not from the hotel. “i got you breakfast.”

“daniela,” megan warns, realizing the girl had likely driven herself out and about. “you can’t be leaving the room by yourself like that. how did i not hear you?”

“it’s fine,” daniela rolls her eyes, digging in her bag for her desired outfit. “we have 5 hours til miami. let me drive, you must be exhausted.”

“i’m fine to drive,” megan insists, getting up. “you can have aux.”

“fine,” daniela huffs, going on her phone to occupy herself while megan gets ready.

they make their way back to the car and start the last stretch of their journey. the air feels heavier after last night, a reminder that they’re not just two girls on a road trip. the incident was too close of a call for megan’s comfort, a sobering reminder that daniela is a wanted woman, that plenty of people would love to use her to send a message to don avanzini and his cartel, and the only thing standing in their way was an assassin parading around as a bodyguard. megan swallows. she needs to stay focused, to make sure daniela makes it out safe and sound. no more mistakes.

“are you okay?” she asks quietly, the silence bearable but obviously thick with tension. “after last night?”

daniela takes a beat, and pivots in a different direction, her eyes sharp as they study megan’s face. “i’m not scared of you.”

“i wouldn’t blame you if you were,” the girl reassures her quickly.

daniela shakes her head, taking another beat to scan over megan’s features, before turning to face the road.

“i trust you.”

megan feels her brows arch. “you shouldn’t, really.”

she knows that as her bodyguard, there’s a certain level of trust that has to be involved, but it’d be in dani’s best interest to be distrustful of everyone. with the exception of maybe sophia, megan had operated on that basis, trusting no-one, and it’s kept her in one piece all these years despite her extremely dangerous career choice.

daniela’s fingertips tap against the dashboard, something else clearly pressing on her mind. before megan can encourage her, dani is beating her to it, asking without hesitation.

“how many?”

she doesn’t have to specify. megan lets out a quiet breath. she knows what the girl is asking.

“too many,” megan answers simply, and it’s true. enough to have lost any reaction to seeing it happen in front of her. daniela’s crisis was enough to remind her that she’s lost her humanity long, long ago.

“are you good at it?” the brunette asks.

her voice is low, but confident, like she’s trying to tread lightly to avoid megan shutting down, but still eager to sate her curiosity. she asks like she’s approaching a venomous creature, rattling its tail— confident, as to not make herself small enough to seem like prey, but with the healthy knowledge that the danger is right there, sharing a roof with her.

megan’s jaw tenses. “very.”

“they picked you to guard me?”

“yes.”

“so i’m in good hands,” daniela says, and megan is surprised that that’s what she derives from the whole conversation.

“i’m sorry for scaring you,” megan tells her, gently, hoping to not leave her on edge for the rest of their contracted time together. “i hope you know i won’t let anything happen to you. you don’t have to trust me. but i’ll do a good job of protecting you.”

daniela scans over her face once more. megan wonders what she sees.

“i’m safe with you?” the brunette questions.

megan nods.

“i trust you,” dani repeats, her eyes back on the road. “i trust you, skelly.”

as it turns out, either daniela is delusional or extremely resilient, and megan has half a mind to assume both, because just an hour after their weighted conversation, the girl is back to waving her phone in megan’s face, showing her tik toks, random photos of her vacations to europe, and now most recently, trying to train her in speaking spanish.

megan wrinkles her nose, trying to remember how the pronunciation works.

“yo llevo las drogas?” she tries poorly, certain she’s butchering each word.

“i’ve got the drugs,” daniela translates, shrieking with laughter. the sound makes megan feel fuzzy, but she bites back a smile. “you’ll just copy anything i tell you?”

“okay, dani, you’re supposed to be teaching me, i’m trusting you. don’t teach me to sound even stupider than i already do,” megan complains, groaning.

daniela laughs again, nearly uncontrollably, and insists that they keep going with the spanish lesson. megan, for whatever reason, can’t bring herself to deny the brunette.

“matar, to kill,” daniela tells her, tapping her arm with a challenge. “tell me it in past tense, masculine.”

“uh, lo mato,” megan guesses, trying to remember what she’d hear other of don avanzini’s henchmen say amongst themselves.

“that’s ‘i’m killing him.’ past tense,” daniela corrects. “i killed him.”

“lo maté?” megan tries again.

“there you go,” dani grins, pinching megan’s cheek teasingly. “you’re keeping up, skelly.”

“don’t patronize me,” megan rolls her eyes, trying to pull away from the heiress’s touch.

“you know the words for drugs, kill, run, grab,” daniela laughs. “all the cartel essentials.”

“i don’t know grab,” megan shakes her head.

“try. you know more than you think,” dani encourages.

“te cojo?” megan guesses.

megan knows she got it wrong, but the way daniela’s face lights up with something devilish makes her worried she’s gotten it extremely wrong. and unfortunately, the way the brunette smirks and tilts her head only confirms her theory.

“so, you’re not wrong, but in lots of places, it also means to fuck,” the girl grins, and megan wonders if her voice has always been so temptingly raspy. “so you just said, you’ll fuck me.”

the bodyguard feels her whole body ignite, skin flushing painfully without her wanting. “oh.”

“careful with that one,” daniela teases, and before megan can defend herself, the two are cut off by the buzzing of megan’s phone. they look at the caller id, and megan feels her pulse stop.

don avanzini.

she tries to compose herself, not wanting any questions about why she sounds so flustered, and clears her throat before bringing the phone to her ear.

“skelly,” he says immediately, before she can even greet him. “where are you?”

“uh, about to hit orlando, sir,” she answers, in complete disbelief. her boss, the head of this cartel, is calling her directly?

“skelly, put daniela on the phone.”

megan winces. that makes much, much more sense. she looks over at daniela, whose demeanor already indicates she’s entirely pissed off at the unexpected call.

“um, it’s your dad,” megan says awkwardly, and daniela immediately takes the phone.

“papi,” daniela greets, though with the irritation in her tone, it’s more an acknowledgement than a greeting. “what the fuck do you want?”

that’s the last bit of english that occurs for the rest of the call. for the next 10 minutes, daniela goes on a tirade back and forth with her father, and she sounds even angrier in spanish. megan can guess that “ignorar” is pretty close to ignore, but the rest is lost upon her. she awkwardly focuses on the road as she hears the two go back and forth. part of her wants to laugh— don avanzini, a man who strikes terror in the hearts of everyone who’s even heard of him, stuck bickering with his stubborn, headstrong brat of a daughter, the only person who his power doesn’t work on.

daniela drops megan’s phone back into her lap at what she assumes is the end of their call, and lets out an aggravated scream.

“he wants us to stop here, for the night,” she tells megan, crossing her arms over her chest.

“you guys okay?”

“he’s just mad that i haven’t been replying to him,” the brunette rolls her eyes.

“why haven’t you been replying to him?” megan asks curiously.

“he pissed me off,” daniels shakes her head. “the fuckhead was being weird to my mom.”

“oh,” megan says simply, caught off guard by the simplistic answer she’d be receiving.

“the guy owns an entire drug empire and yet he still can’t keep that woman happy. i’m not going to fucking side with him. if he pisses her off, he pisses me off too,” daniela huffs, bringing her knees to her chest to hug herself.

“that’s loyal of you,” megan tells her.

“one of us has to be,” daniela mumbles, pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation.

megan bites her tongue. she had seen her boss with plenty of women that weren’t mrs. avanzini and never thought twice about it. she forgets that while her boss is a cartel lord in her eyes, and her hero, to daniela, he’s supposed to be a father figure.

“i’ve always known he was a sack of shit,” daniela goes on, clearly caught up in her frustrations. “since i was a kid, i knew he was the worst. he loves me ‘cause i’m his only one, his baby or his princess or whatever, but he hates that i call him out for being a shitty dad.”

megan lets out a quiet breath, hoping her silence allows daniela to get out all her feelings in one place. she might not know the perfect thing to say, but she’s learned that the girl appreciates a listening ear just as much.

“what were you like as a kid?” daniela asks out of nowhere, pivoting the conversation quickly. “or were you born this grown ass killing machine with a baby face?”

megan cracks a smile, but the premise of sharing more admittedly makes her uncomfortable. “maybe i’ll tell you another time.”

daniela leans back in the seat, eyeing the bodyguard curiously. if megan knows anything about her, it’s that she’ll figure out some way to get her way, even if she has to get creative, and getting information out of megan seems to be no exception to this rule.

“you and sophia are close,” she says knowingly, arching her brow.

“we are…” megan nods slowly.

“my dad loves sophia.”

“she’s so smart,” megan agrees, realizing she’s falling into the trap, but figuring she’ll know when to reel back if daniela digs too deeply. “she’s always had my back. her mentor, ex-military, taught me everything i know. when sophia started working for your dad, she took me with her.”

“he wants to promote her. she’s young, and she gets his vision. i heard him talk about her.”

“she’d deserve it.”

daniela blinks curiously, leaning her elbow on the center console to rest her head in her hand, looking up at the side of megan’s face as the bodyguard focuses on the road.

“what would you do, skelly? if megan helped you move up?” she asks.

“i’d like to keep doing what i do, but for your dad directly.” megan dances around the subject. how does she possibly say ‘i want to keep killing people’ and make it sound flowery? she pauses, before adding a quiet thought. “i like focusing on my work.”

“you’re very focused,” daniela nods.

megan shrugs, not expecting the half-compliment. “i try to be.”

there’s a quick pause as daniela calculates her next move, but then the question comes, quick and earnest, curious and prodding all at once.

“do you get lonely, skelly?”

megan blinks. she’s never given it thought before, the premise— do monsters get lonely?

“sometimes,” she confesses quietly, after a beat.

daniela’s eyes stay fixed on the bodyguard, forever curious. “how do you handle it?”

“i just take one day at a time.” megan shrugs, as if the answer is enough.

“hm,” daniela replies simply.

megan doesn’t know what possesses her, but something comes over her, the same thing that possessed her to hug daniela that night as they danced, the thing that sought somehow to comfort her, to know her.

“what do you want?” she asks quietly, her hands fixed on the steering wheel. “out of all of this?”

“it doesn’t matter what i want,” daniela shakes her head, the answer coming too easily. her voice drops. “i don’t have a choice.”

“i’m sure you do.”

“i don’t,” daniela doubles down. “my dad wants me to take over. either that, or i marry off to a cartel boy so i can strengthen his trades.”

“that’s not fair,” megan furrows her brows.

daniela laughs sharply. “life’s not fair.”

“i know,” megan reassures her, and the two sit in a heavy silence for a few moments.

daniela breaks it, her voice shifting.

“nobody has ever asked me what i want. not once.”

“that’s fucked,” megan furrows her brows. she looks over, and daniela is looking at her, and the way their gazes meet feels like a collision. daniela studies her for a second, and before long, a gentle smile is on her lips, as if she’s picturing something.

“i’d love to be on a beach, by the ocean. someone who’s absolutely crazy about me there by my side, bringing me a fresh coconut with a straw and one of those little paper umbrellas,” she confesses, and the illustration helps megan paint a perfect mental picture of what the heiress dreams of. “i’d get to go dancing every night, listen to music every second of the day. that’s all i want.”

megan thinks about it. the carefree joy in her face whenever they go dancing, the way daniela so eagerly bookmarks pictures of all these islands and beach getaways, envying people who can pick a spot and stay there. she sees it, the way daniela is eager for consistency, for something predictable, something she can rely on.

before she can think further on it, daniela’s reaching out to tap megan’s arm, and even through the fabric, the contact makes megan’s skin tingle.

“what do you want?” the brunette asks, her voice gentle and sincere.

“nothing,” megan says too quickly, her mind blanking.

daniela shakes her head, not buying the answer.

“do you want to do this forever? work for a narco? kill people?”

megan grimaces at how plainly daniela puts it, the way the girl refuses to dance around the topic. “people don’t exactly wake up and dream of having blood on their hands.”

daniela scans over the bodyguard once more. in a move that shocks her, she reaches over and pulls the corner of megan’s hoodie aside, exposing her neck.

there, by her collarbone, daniela’s fingertip traces against the giant pink scar along megan’s skin. megan recoils at the touch— she doesn’t know how dani had ever known about that scar, much less seen it, and even less, been brave enough to touch it.

the scars on megan’s body have never once been seen by another set of living eyes. anyone who had left a scar was dead. that was her rule. it was what made her so, so effective at her job. and now, daniela avanzini is not just looking, but caressing, tracing it, letting the smooth skin slip under her fingertip as if she knew they had never known the touch of another hand. megan feels like a cornered animal in front of a car, floodlights blinding her, her body freezing in response.

“maybe you don’t dream any more ‘cause you don’t like yourself,” daniela says simply, her voice quiet, her eyes fixed on the scar.

megan says nothing, keeping her focus on the road. she feels her chest tighten with something sickening.

daniela’s hand wraps gently around the back of megan’s neck, rubbing back and forth gently, her thumb brushing against the scar every few strokes. the gesture is painfully intimate, the moment so tender it makes megan feel like she might burn under the other girl’s touch, like she doesn’t deserve the comfort that daniela’s reassuring touch brings her.

“i like you, skelly,” daniela says simply, quietly, as if it’s enough, her hand never leaving the back of megan’s neck for the rest of the drive to orlando as they sit in silence, immersing themselves in the comfort of other’s company, the hum of the radio filling the air for them.

megan decides it then, when daniela was brave enough to seek the most gnarled parts of her without flinching: she, megan skiendiel, unlovable, no longer human, and broken at every junction, has a home. and if that home is guarding daniela avanzini, so be it.

it’s a home like a dog chained outside has a home, snarling at everyone who passes by the fence, never to see the warmth beyond the door, but still eager to protect at all costs, even if only to be cast away by the end of it all.

but nonetheless, a home, and megan feels a strange sense of belonging, like this is where she’s meant to be.

by the time they get to the area of the new motel they’re supposed to be at, megan realizes that daniela has been uncharacteristically quiet. whether it was the call with her dad that threw her off, or their conversation afterwards, the girl’s more subdued energy is almost uncomfortable for megan, who immediately regrets ever wishing the girl would stop talking. here she is, keeping her thoughts to herself, and much to megan’s surprise, it’s admittedly extremely distressing.

so, she takes it upon herself to extend a hand, gently tapping daniela’s wrist to get her attention and ensure she’s not asleep. the girl stirs, blinking at the bodyguard, but awake nonetheless.

“do you want to go dancing?” megan asks quietly, pointing at the giant neon sign in front of them that flashes with the words ‘LATIN SALSA CLUB.’

daniela looks up and realizes what megan is suggesting, her face lighting up immediately. that reaction alone makes it completely worth it to megan.

“you’re inviting me?” she asks excitedly.

“i can’t exactly take you to disney world,” megan shrugs. “plus, i know you’re going to be annoying and ask anyways.”

“i’ve trained you well,” daniela beams. “good dog.”

“quit calling me that,” megan laughs.

daniela smiles at megan for an extra moment and leaps into the backseat, starting her routine once more of undressing hurriedly and seeking out a new outfit. megan stares down at her hands, and without meaning to, finds herself smiling.

daniela takes the bodyguard by the hand and leads her into the building, and for once, megan lets herself be led. she doesn’t let her guard down, assessing the exits and the bodies around them, but she does it all while daniela drags her, the two never once separating.

“take a shot with me?” daniela pleads, motioning for the bartender to pour two shots of tequila out for them. “just one?”

“i can’t.” megan eyes the shot glass suspiciously, but pushes it in dani’s direction, offering it to her instead. “i have to stay focused.”

“you’re the most focused person i’ve ever met. one won’t hurt you,” daniela groans. “please, skelly?”

“can’t risk getting distracted,” megan shrugs, and she can see the way dani’s face falls at being denied. something about seeing daniela like that, seeing her disappointed, stirs something in her, something deeply troubling and even more deeply moving, like a call to action. she figures out what she can offer instead.

“megan,” she says awkwardly, leaning forward so that daniela is hopefully the only one who hears.

“what?” daniela wrinkles her nose, clearly caught off guard by the random statement.

the taller girl laughs at the confused look on the heiress’s face. she feels her hands tremble ever so slightly— this is the first time she’s told someone this much about herself in years.

“megan,” the bodyguard repeats, saying it slower this time. “my name is megan.”

there’s a beat as dani processes what she’s being told, but within seconds, she breaks out into a smile so wide, it threatens to split her face in half.

“that’s so cute. megan. you’re like a normal girl,” daniela beams giddily.

“i liked dancing too, when i was a kid,” megan goes on, her palms sweaty at just how naked she feels sharing all this about herself, but the way daniela’s eyes light up makes it so, so worth it. “and i liked making people smile.”

“how does something so innocent turn into this?” the brunette questions, tilting her head.

“bad luck,” megan laughs humorlessly, before shooing her off, feeling too exposed for her own liking. maybe she’ll muster up the courage for more later. “go dance.”

“come with,” daniela pleads, reaching her hand out.

“in a second,” megan reassures her, before pointing up at the second story windows that surround them. “i need to get a good feel for the windows. they make me nervous.”

daniela lets out a dramatic sigh, but complies nonetheless, slipping into the swarm of bodies to lose herself in the music. megan stays seated on the barstool, eyes never once leaving the curly-haired brunette.

she doesn’t realize she’s smiling until someone clears their throat, immediately refocusing her. her face drops, and she mentally curses at the distraction.

“hi,” a stranger greets, smiling widely. she stands expectantly in front of megan, leaning against the bar.

megan nods, not wanting to be impolite. “you can sit here if you’d like. i was just getting up.”

“stay,” the stranger insists, waving megan off before flagging down the bartender. “what are you drinking?”

“i’m not.” megan shakes her head.

“well, then what can i get you?” the girl smiles, reaching out gently to brush her hand against megan’s elbow. she realizes it then, that this stranger has approached her with a mission, and the sooner she gets away from her, the sooner she can go back to just focusing on—

“hi.”

megan’s thoughts are quickly interrupted by the much too familiar voice.

she turns to see daniela, who had somehow emerged directly in front of them, inserting herself in between megan and the stranger. she eyes the other girl suspiciously, brow arching. “who are you?”

and more to megan’s surprise, daniela quickly reaches to pull megan’s arm back, out of reach of the girl, severing the contact between them.

“are you-” the girl starts, but daniela has clearly heard enough, and cuts her off without a second thought. megan is bewildered by how fast the interaction is unfolding before her very eyes.

“go away,” dani says simply, flashing a quick, forced smile before reaching for megan’s hand. megan shoots daniela a sharp look, but the brunette is too locked in on staring down this stranger that she doesn’t notice megan’s warning.

“i can talk to her if i want,” the stranger scoffs. “free country.”

“no the fuck you cannot,” dani answers immediately, before emphasizing: “go away.”

“who even are you?” the other girl asks in disbelief, before turning to seek some sort of explanation from megan. “do you even know this chick?”

dani’s gaze narrows sharply, and megan feels herself wince. oh, the princess did not like that.

“don’t talk to her,” she snaps, turning to clamp firmly onto megan’s hand with her own, her back facing the stranger. “we’re going.”

“you-” the girl tries again, but megan sees that daniela has no problem doubling down.

“she’s coming home with me,” the brunette all but growls, before quickly yanking megan towards the dance floor. “you can tell her.”

with that permission, megan shakes her head, going along with it. “i’m going home with her.”

daniela breaks out in a self-satisfied grin and pulls megan along. the bodyguard follows, offering a final apologetic glance to the bewildered girl who clearly is trying to process what just happened.

when they finally make it to the middle of the dance floor, daniela grabs megan’s hands and guides them both to her waist, anchoring them firmly, before bringing her own hands up to wrap around the bodyguard’s neck. megan has been close to daniela before, but never touched her quite like this before, and she feels her skin light up as she realizes her fingertips are gripping daniela’s hips much tighter than what is probably necessary. but daniela doesn’t seem to mind, holding an equally tight grip against megan’s neck, the proximity dizzying the taller girl.

“what was that?” she laughs, trying to make sense of the entire episode.

daniela shakes her head, clearly still irritated by the interaction. “can’t have you losing focus.”

“oh, now you understand,” megan rolls her eyes. “your attitude fucking sucks, avanzini.”

“you like it,” daniela teases back.

“i definitely do not,” megan laughs. “you’re delusional.”

daniela takes a moment, before her fingers start to play in megan’s hair, stroking through the hairs at the base of her neck. she blinks a few times, biting her lip in contemplation, but before megan can ask anything further, daniela is already there, pushing boundaries unapologetically.

“maybe i got jealous,” the brunette confesses, looking up at megan with slow, calculated blinks. she looks down at the collar of megan’s hoodie, playing with the drawstring. “i like being the center of your attention.”

megan, despite knowing exactly what daniela was going to do, is still caught off guard, her head spinning and her mouth going dry. “ah.”

daniela’s gaze locks onto megan’s, dangerously sharp, dangerously intense.

“megan,” the name rolls languidly off her tongue, sending a shiver up the bodyguard’s spine, “tell me you’re still focused.”

“i am,” the taller girl mumbles quietly.

“on me?” daniela bats her eyes, but the question seems rhetorical. they both seem to already know the answer.

“always,” megan murmurs, and it sounds like a promise leaving her lips. the rest of the world has disappeared. all she sees is a tunnel vision— nothing but hazel eyes locking in on her, nothing but sweet pear and vanilla, nothing but perfect skin and wild brown curls and a devilish white smile.

dani notices the contemplation behind her gaze, her mind going elsewhere, and regains her attention however she can manage. megan swallows thickly as daniela’s nails dig into the skin of her neck, catching the taller girl off guard with her next question.

“did you ever fuck sophia?”

“w-what?” the bodyguard chokes back a laugh, wrinkling her nose. she tries to pull away. “daniela, what kind of a question is-”

but dani won’t let her, hyperfixating, locking her hands around the back of megan’s neck, her face serious. “answer me.”

“of course not,” megan shakes her head. “she’s like my sister.”

the heiress presses on without missing a beat, like a predator cornering it’s prey, moving with frightening precision, asking with unquestionable confidence.

“have you ever wanted to fuck anyone you’ve worked with?”

megan stays silent for a beat too long, and that seals her fate. “i-”

“i want to leave.” daniela pulls away quickly, something shifting in her eyes, motioning for megan to follow behind her. she grabs her by the wrist, and the motion feels like they’ve moved together for lifetimes. “i’m over it here.”

megan nods, dumbfounded, under some kind of spell, reaching for the keys in her pocket.

“let’s go.”

daniela makes way too much of a ruckus in the backseat as they drive back to the hotel, and by the time she climbs into the front seat, megan realizes she’s changed into nothing but a swimsuit and a simple coverup. it’s not insane, they’re in florida after all, people will walk around and run errands in much, much less, but it doesn’t help the gnawing feeling inside megan’s chest that races whenever she catches a mere glimpse of daniela’s perfect, smooth skin— and that much of it, confidently on display.

she doesn’t protest when dani makes them go straight to the motel pool instead of the room. daniela doesn’t ask so much as tell, leading megan by the hand, always guiding her, the bodyguard’s careful eyes scanning all around them. the night is dead with the exception of a few radio hums playing from neighboring houses, crickets and frogs harmonizing to fill the hot summer air.

megan has her back turned for just a few moments to scope out the area, ensuring there’s nobody else around, and when she turns back, her breath catches in her throat. daniela looks gorgeous illuminated in the blue glow of the pool. the tips of her dark curls are soaking in the water, before she quickly scoops her hair up and secures it into a bun with a clip. the younger girl knows she should look away, but she can’t, and part of her has a feeling daniela likes it that way.

“are you okay?” the heiress asks quietly, noting the bodyguard’s silence.

“don’t worry about me,” megan shakes her head. she sits at the edge of the pool, eyeing the water cautiously.

dani stretches a hand out to reach for her, beckoning with the curl of her fingers. “join me.”

“i can’t,” megan says simply.

“i want you to,” daniela presses, her voice softer than it’s been before, but still insistent as it’s always been. “please.”

megan simply blinks back at her, shaking her head once more.

“megan,” dani says once more, folding her arms over the edge of the pool to rest her chin on her wrist, batting her eyes up at the bodyguard as she continues to negotiate. “get in the pool.”

the taller girl simply smiles, humored by dani’s insistence. “i don’t have a swimsuit.”

“it’s just us.” daniela reminds her, motioning around them at the eerie stillness of the evening. “nobody will care. nothing’s gonna happen, your gun will be right there.”

megan opens her mouth to protest, but daniela’s gaze has her frozen in place. she shakes her head, but quickly realizes she’s losing this battle. the idea of disappointing this girl has somehow become an unbearable thought, and within moments, she’s standing up and unzipping her jeans, tucking her gun away in the neat pile of clothes she leaves behind. she does exactly what daniela asks, no further questions: she strips down to her underwear and sports bra and gets in the pool.

megan cleans her own wounds after fights, megan tends to herself after dangerous situations, and megan hasn't let herself get close to anyone in years. having eyes on her already makes her uncomfortable— having daniela’s eyes on this much of her feels like she’s being burned alive.

“can’t lose focus,” megan reminds her simply, her eyes locked on her gun just to give her somewhere to look.

but daniela is smiling, clearly pleased to have gotten her way, and the way she flashes her teeth makes megan’s pulse race. dani keeps a fair distance between them as megan submerges herself into the water, but with each step into the water, daniela takes one step closer to the bodyguard.

“focus on me, then.”

“i can’t focus on anything else,” megan says breathily, but she realizes it sounds like a confession. daniela’s eyes feel like they’re eating her alive, and the truth is it makes her skin crawl.

she wonders if the princess can see any of the other scars littered along megan’s body, if she’s making up stories for them, if they’re frightening her somehow. she wonders if daniela is regretting everything she’s shared, if she’s regaining fear, if anything is changing for her.

and almost as if she can read megan’s mind, daniela’s gaze softens on her.

“you’re my favorite,” daniela tells her quietly, as if to soothe her.

megan’s head is spinning uncomfortably. she feels herself spiralling and tries to grasp at any conversation point that can make some sense of it all.

“why did you care if i fucked sophia?” she blurts, and the question catches both of them off guard.

“what?” daniela squints at her, wading forward through the water to move even closer.

“what would you do?” megan presses once more. she feels lightheaded, aware of all her surroundings and yet fuzzy enough to still be reeling from the proximity, from the exposure, from daniela’s presence altogether.

“did you lie to me, skelly?” the heiress tilts her head, her voice low and flat.

“no,” megan quickly reassures her, but for whatever reason, the question is eating away at her, like acid against her bones. “but what would you do?”

daniela perceives it then, in an instant. she looks over megan with a sharpness, a quick glance to take her in, to assess the state of her, the turmoil she’s in. she moves forward slowly, as if she’s scared to make any movement too sudden and scare megan off, but within moments they’re face to face. daniela’s arms snake around megan’s neck too easily, too comfortably, with too much familiarity.

“i won’t share you,” she says simply, quietly.

“you wouldn’t have to,” megan reassures her quickly.

“i want you to myself,” daniela says back, self-assuredly, not an ounce of hesitation in her voice. she’s gripping the back of megan’s neck with her hands, fingers interlaced to lock her in place.

“you don’t want me,” megan shakes her head, trying to look away, face tensing.

“i do,” daniela insists, dipping her head to meet megan’s gaze regardless of where she tries to avert it. she makes herself inescapable, and it makes megan’s stomach flip.

“look at me,” daniela presses once more, and megan’s head is spinning. “do you want me?”

she stops thinking, and reaches forward to take daniela’s cheek in her own hand.

“i-”

she barely starts before daniela is crushing their lips together, the two colliding into each other.

megan nearly recoils— there’s nails in her neck, gripping her close, an arm wrapping around her shoulders to pull her in, there’s teeth in her lip and warm breaths against her skin. every cell in her body wants to push back and do what she does best, fight, push, get away.

but she remembers that they’re daniela’s nails, connected to gentle fingers. it’s daniela’s arm, anchoring them together. it’s daniela’s teeth but also her soft, plump lips, her gasping breaths as megan lets herself be kissed, lets herself be touched, lets herself be wanted. as megan lets herself want, for a split second, her mind is nothing but thoughts of the princess, indulging in the kiss, letting her hand reach for daniela’s waist, letting her eyes flutter shut as she kisses back, with eagerness, with force.

her mind races, but her heart steadies in moments. daniela, this pain in her ass who somehow contains so much tenderness, so much gentleness, so much to give and nowhere to put it. megan isn’t worthy, but daniela doesn’t seem to mind, and has given her heart a home despite it all— despite all she’s seen, despite all she’s witnessed, and despite all she knows.

megan’s grip is gentle against daniela’s skin, scared to hurt her somehow, as if her touch would poison her. but the brunette grabs at her hands, gripping them in her own, anchoring megan as if she knows the bodyguard might run away at any moment. her head tilts and she deepens the kiss, her grip on megan’s wrists tightening, the water around them glowing against their bodies.

“come on,” daniela whispers, breaking their kiss for a brief moment before pressing her lips into megan’s jaw, megan’s chin, the hollow beneath megan’s ear. the bodyguard, her eyes clamped shut, knows daniela well enough at this point to know she wants to lead her. she lets herself be led, without question.

they’re out of the pool and back in the motel room before megan can even question it, and with far too much tenderness than what she deserves, daniela is kissing her again, unquestioning, fearlessly. her skin is wet and cold from the water, and megan worries that her touch is uncomfortable, but daniela reaches for her over and over, guiding megan’s hands over her, a silent plea to explore as the door closes behind them.

daniela has megan pushed back onto the bed, hovering over her with eyes so dark, they’re unreadable in the dimly-lit room. but megan can feel her pulse thudding against her skin, she can feel daniela’s breath against her neck, she’s all too aware of the way daniela is tracing gentle lines against the scars she sees.

“do you want me?” she repeats the question from earlier, reaching down to cup megan’s face in her hand, her eyes burning into the younger girl’s, her voice low and raspy in a way that sends shudders down megan’s spine. daniela’s fingers reach down to trace experimentally against megan’s stomach.

as much as megan wants to think she’s more than a stupid fucking mutt, with her neck exposed, her belly touched, a predator looking straight into her eyes, megan feels her instincts kick in.

she recoils, eyes screwing shut, gently but firmly flipping daniela off of her. she feels like she’s reverting, her brain malfunctioning. she’s not something or someone to be touched tenderly, to be let inside— she is a creature of habit, with one intention, which is to protect at all costs, even to the death.

“you’re my boss,” megan whispers, grimacing, trying to refocus but the smell of daniela still makes her so dizzy, the warmth of her lips fresh on her mind. she shakes her head, trying to empty her thoughts of all of this, pulling away. “i shouldn’t have done that. i shouldn’t be doing this.”

“megan-“ daniela tries, her voice gentle, reaching out for her, but the bodyguard is already throwing on her clothes and racing to the other side of the room, desperate to put as much space in between them as possible. she slips her gun into her waistband, reminded of her purpose.

she’s not a lapdog, for daniela to fall in love with and rehabilitate. she is a killer, put here for a sole mission.

“i’m supposed to protect you,” megan says out loud, as if to remind them both.

protect you from everything, even from myself.

“you didn’t-“ daniela tries again, something pained and vulnerable in her eyes, but megan isn’t listening.

“go to sleep.” the bodyguard avoids her gaze, slipping out the door and pulling a chair with her. “i’ll be outside.”

megan sleeps in quick, 10 minute intervals from her spot guarding the door. the motel is dead, not a single other person in sight besides maybe the housekeeper that shows up around 6am, but she still spends the entire night ridiculously on edge. she was supposed to protect daniela avanzini, not get attached to her, much less get herself involved with something as stupid as kissing her.

a buzz from her pocket snaps her out of her thoughts. she recoils, as if she’s been caught thinking about daniela’s lips, as if someone was listening to her thoughts and is here to reprimand her for what she’s done.

megan swallows thickly and lets out a sigh of relief at the caller as she picks up. “soph.”

“how far are you from miami?” the other girl wastes no time with greetings.

“we should get there by noon, if we leave now.”

there’s a quick pause, and megan’s stomach sinks. sophia is trying to break bad news.

“can you hold off until tonight?”

“are you serious?” megan groans. her hope was to drive in silence while daniela slept, and hope that miami keeps daniela busy enough to distract her from trying to talk to megan about absolutely anything for the rest of the time they’re stuck together. “soph, why can’t we get there now?”

“he doesn’t want her staying at a hotel, says he needs their yacht scoped out,” sophia explains. “i know you’re probably sick of it, but just keep her busy.”

“i’ve been keeping her busy this whole time,” megan reminds her frustratedly.

“then you’re doing your job,” sophia snaps back, never one to waste time empathizing. her voice softens slightly, clearly not wanting to leave her best friend without a few words of encouragement. “he trusts you. you’re doing great. stay focused.”

megan’s skin lights on fire at the memory of daniela saying those exact words to her the night before, and she can feel the ghost of the girl’s fingers all over her skin.

sophia hangs up, and the bodyguard clears her throat and nods, trying to reassure herself. “you’re almost done.”

she enters the room some time around 7am, after mentally preparing herself to avoid whatever conversation she knows is certain to come. but just as much as daniela can push a conversation, megan has the same power to pull away from a conversation, and if she’s not ready to talk about something, nothing can force her. not even the pleading, beautiful dark eyes of daniela avanzini.

and try she does. the moment the bodyguard enters the room, dani stirs from where she sits near the door, her eyes instantly softening when their gazes meet.

“megan–” she tries to start, but the bodyguard cuts her off, grabbing their bags and quickly rushing to escape the room, motioning for daniela to follow.

“we’re leaving. i need to show you something.”

they hit the road in silence, and megan takes them a few exits away to an empty field behind a trailer park. it’s secluded, it’s quiet, and theres nobody around for miles. megan feels herself wanting to laugh. just a few days ago, daniela would have taken this opportunity to try and run off, escaping megan’s protection. but here she is, staring in silence at the bodyguard, the weight of the night before heavy on both their shoulders.

daniela opens her mouth once more, but megan won’t let her.

“you need to learn how to use this,” the bodyguard quickly cuts her off. “should it ever come to that.”

megan presses the pistol into her palm, seeing daniela’s lips part ever so slightly in distress. she steps behind the shorter girl and points to a tree. she points to each part of the gun, watching as daniela’s hand starts to tremble at the realization that she’s holding the weapon.

“safety is there, you aim two inches above where you want it to go,” megan goes on, her voice harsh and firm. “brace your wrist, and don’t let your arm go floppy. this is what it feels like.”

she quickly reaches to overlap her hand over daniela’s, pulling the trigger a single time. the older girl recoils instantly as the weapon goes off, bullet lodging deep into the tree. megan wants to wince, knowing daniela isn’t calloused to all of this yet the way she is, but she’d rather be safe than sorry.

“if you have this in your hand, you don’t hesitate. if it ever comes to it,” megan insists, watching as daniela tries to recover from the ringing in her ears. “do you understand?”

“yes,” dani swallows thickly.

“if anything happens, ever, you run, and you don’t look back.” she stares down at the shorter girl, eyes widening to emphasize her point. “do you understand?”

daniela nods once more, biting her lip. the silence eats at megan.

“we can get to miami tonight,” she finally says, explaining the plan for the day. “they’re just asking we wait a little.”

daniela nods, realizing this means a few more hours together on the road.

“i don’t want to go dancing tonight,” she says quietly, her voice soft.

“that’s fine.” megan tries not to react to daniela’s clear distress, knowing her softness is a weakness. daniela’s hand is still shaking when she gives the gun back to megan, but the bodyguard tries not to acknowledge it. “i’ll find us another motel nearby.”

“thank you, skelly.”

megan says nothing as they head back to the car.

another motel, another trek upstairs in silence as megan carries their bags and daniela avoids looking at her. dani stays on her phone in her bed for the entirety of the day, and by the time the sun is setting and megan is ordering them dinner, daniela still hasn’t said a word. this is what she wanted, right? for things to be easier— for daniela to leave her alone, to be silent, to give her zero issues and have zero complaints, to say nothing about the night before, to stop making her job so damn difficult.

so then why does megan feel so suffocated?

she’s desperate to get some clarity of mind that by the time the sun is down, the bodyguard decides that she can spare a few moments to escape on a quick walk to the vending machines, hoping the walk clears her head. daniela is curled up in her own bed, facing away from mega, her breaths even and the younger girl assumes that she’s already fallen asleep. it’ll be easy enough to move her to the car once they can make it to miami, and the drive in silence will probably be just as easy as she’d hope. megan slips out the door, feeling the hot summer air on her skin, and prays things will be easier once they get to their final destination.

megan finds a vending machine, slides in two crumpled dollar bills, and watches as the vending machine stalls, her chips dangling temptingly.

on impulse, she punches it once, twice, before letting out a muffled yell and ramming her shoulder into the glass. it cracks under her force, and she slams it again and again until the chips have dropped. she feels a drip from her nose.

“fuck,” she mumbles, chips in one hand, free hand coming up to tend to her now bloody nose.

she slips back into the room as quietly as she can muster and sees the heiress’s figure curled up, facing away from her. megan peels her shirt off over her head and holds it to her nose, figuring it’s already ruined and there’s no need to dirty a towel, trying to walk quietly straight to the bathroom to rinse off.

“what happened?”

daniela’s voice cuts through the silence of the room. megan looks up and realizes that daniela is wide awake, turned over in her bed, brows knit together in concern as she sees megan’s bleeding nose.

“i thought you were asleep,” megan says quickly. she feels herself flush at daniela’s eyes and how they scan over her exposed torso.

“did someone do this to you?” daniela sits up on her knees, reaching out for megan’s face.

“no,” megan shakes her head, trying to get away from the touch. “i used to get nosebleeds like every day as a kid.”

especially when i was stressed, she thinks to add, but doesn’t go through with it.

“can i ask you something?” daniela hums.

megan says nothing. the both know she’ll end up doing whatever she wants regardless, but megan at least appreciates the pretense of asking.

“how’d you get this?” daniela asks curiously, her fingertips tracing along megan’s neck.

“car crash,” megan answers easily. she wonders if her honesty will get her out of it any sooner, get daniela’s hands off her skin, if she’ll be able to escape her eyes.

“this one?” daniela prods, fingers touching a scar directly above her hip.

“knife fight,” megan breathes. the answers feel like confessions to crimes she’s not eager to relive.

“did you win?” daniela asks softly.

megan can’t help but let out a laugh. “i’m here, aren’t i?”

daniela swallows at the implication, before tracing a scar along megan’s thumb.

“this one?”

“i got thrown through a table.”

“how’d that end?”

megan swallows, blinking back a desire to lie, but admits the truth nonetheless.

“i killed him,” she says quickly, almost too easily.

“that’s insane. i almost don’t believe you,” daniela shakes her head, examining megan’s hand, playing with her fingers. the intimacy burns megan’s skin but she stands there, trapped at daniela’s mercy. “i really don’t believe you. you’re so gentle.”

“with you,” megan points out quickly.

“with me,” dani echoes, eyes going elsewhere, contemplation behind her stony face. “you’d kill for me?”

“i’d protect you against anything,” megan dances around the question, staring down at daniela’s fingers exploring her collarbone.

“because you’re supposed to?” daniela presses quietly, feeling the dips of megan’s skin beneath her nails. “or because you want to?”

megan forces out a sharp breath and bites back on her molars, turning her head away. “you’re distracting me.”

“i want to stay one more night here. with you.” daniela pleads, her eyes round and gentle. “when we get to miami it’ll be hectic and then it’ll be over. it’s slow on the road. i like it.”

“but your dad wants us in miami tonight,” megan reminds the brunette, brows furrowing. the confession warms her, the way daniela seeks connection, eager to hold onto it, desperate to not lose it.

“you’re special to me,” daniela whispers, fingertips tracing gently against the curves of megan’s jaw, reaching up to her cheek bone, eyes seeking. “don’t be his weapon. be mine.”

another noise fills the room, breaking their focus on each other: the buzz of megan’s phone vibrating in her pocket. she pulls it out and sees the contact, her whole body tensing in realization. it’s not sophia.

“it’s him,” megan grimaces, answering the phone.

“skelly,” don avanzini’s voice is cold, unamused. “put daniela on the phone.”

megan’s eyes dart to daniela, who’s big hazel eyes are batting back up at her, temptingly. the brunette shakes her head, a silent plea.

“she’s asleep,” megan lies, too easily, after a brief pause.

“really?” he questions.

“yes sir.”

she gets the sense that he’s not buying it, and if getting to know daniela has taught her anything, it’s that the headstrong girl has probably given this man the run around more times than he’d care to admit. regardless, he pivots quickly, and megan lets out a breath of relief.

“you’ll still make it to miami tonight, right?” he questions.

megan’s eyes flash to the girl on the bed, their gazes locking. don avanzini has their location— he’ll know if they’re not moving, he’ll know if she lies to him, he’ll know if she tells him what he wants to hear and he’ll have her killed if she doesn’t keep her word.

but daniela. her mind dizzies with the thought of daniela’s disappointment, letting down this girl that has somehow felt like home.

“we can be in miami by the morning,” megan says slowly. but nothing happens as she lies, no earth splitting to swallow her up, no sniper coming up to take her out, accusing her of treason. “we’ll need one more night.”

daniela, realizing the compromise, lights up, leaning forward to move even closer to megan’s stilled body. forever tempting, she takes megan’s hand and wraps it around her own neck. megan’s mouth goes dry, feeling the soft skin, feeling daniela’s pulse against her thumb.

“skelly,” her boss’s voice is terrifying, devoid of emotion, snapping her back to her reality. “you’re not lying to me, are you? you work for me, i’d like to remind you.”

daniela reaches up with a manicured hand, wiping at the still-wet blood on megan’s upper lip. she dips a finger into the stain, then, too slowly, too deliberately, brings it to her mouth, finger darting out experimentally to taste it.

as if to tell her— i choose you, as you are.

megan feels a horrible bark rumble in the back of her throat, and makes her decision.

“no, sir,” she says simply, and it answers everything.

“don’t make me regret choosing you, skelly,” he says simply, buying the charade.

“of course not, sir,” megan swallows heavily.

the line goes dead, and as soon as megan drops the phone, daniela is leaping over to push her down onto the bed and straddle her. the bodyguard is too dazed to protest, her skin tingling, her pulse racing, her lips twitching.

“you keep thinking you’re too fucked up for me to get involved with you.” daniela takes her face in both hands, her voice hoarse and breathy with sheer intensity. “i see you and i think you’re perfect.”

“i don’t want to ruin you,” megan breathes, her fingers shakily brushing a curl out of daniela’s face. is she capable of it? can a monster be capable of being tender?

“you’re so obsessed with protecting me from everything, including yourself,” daniela pushes back, snatching megan’s hand to press a kiss into her thumb. “i don’t need protecting from you. you have no idea how bad i want all of you.”

“good, bad, who gives a fuck?” daniela goes on, shaking her head. “who gives a fuck when you belong to someone?”

megan reaches out first to kiss her, hungrily. she doesn’t recoil when daniela kisses her back, tongue swiping against her upper lip, tasting her own blood in their kiss, or when daniela brings megan’s grip to her waistband, guiding her hands eagerly, pushing her down by the shoulders until megan’s head hits a pillow, trapped fully under the heiress and her wandering hands.

and for the first time in nearly as long as she can remember, megan lets herself be wanted, and lets herself want, ignoring whatever guilt ate away at her to tell her she wasn’t worthy.

the car ride the next morning is lighter, somehow. daniela refuses to spend a single second longer without some kind of touch against megan’s skin, some mark of ownership.

megan doesn’t fight it. she’ll even admit she’s comforted by the way daniela insists on holding her hand the whole car drive as they finally reach miami. daniela doesn’t change much— she’s still bratty, still insistent, still eagerly seeking human connection. but she’s warmer now, more open. they drive around the city, daniela pointing out different places she’s visited or enjoyed, and each time megan offers to get out of the car, daniela shakes her head and insists that they keep driving.

megan feels her staring longer, allowing her to trace mindless circles into her arm as she drives, and instead of punctuating each conversation with irritation, daniela reaches over and kisses her. she kisses her over and over, each time the whim strikes her, and megan lets her.

she doesn’t mind. she doesn’t mind one bit.

“we could run away together,” daniela suggests, wide smile as megan carries her on her back after they’ve danced for hours at daniela’s favorite miami latin club. “stay on the road forever.”

“you’re crazy,” the bodyguard laughs simply, carrying the girl’s heels in her hand.

“you’d want that though, right?” daniela presses, her eyes eagerly seeking something in megan’s face, her arms tight around her neck as to not fall, but megan’s grip on her legs is enough to anchor her in place, like a backpack. “doesn’t it sound nice? nobody to take orders from any more.”

“you’d boss me around,” megan points out playfully. “with your brat ass.”

“maybe,” daniela flashes her teeth back in response, pressing her lips quickly into megan’s neck to mark her skin with her lipstick, as if the two hadn’t spent the whole night kissing in between dances. “you’d let me.”

“i’d let you,” megan echoes, her voice softening as she realizes she’s smiling.

“you’re still focused on me?” daniela asks.

megan nods. “i think i’m stuck focusing on you.”

“you’re unreal,” dani shakes her head, burying her face into megan’s shoulder as they keep walking through the parking lot towards their car. “you’d kill for me?”

“i could,” megan assures her quietly, eyes forever cautious as she scans their surroundings. “too easily.”

daniela’s eyes widen, warm and round. “would you, if i asked you to?”

“you’d just have to ask,” megan tells her softly, leaning her head to the side to press their foreheads together. the act of tenderness makes her bones hurt, but the warmth it brings her feels like a furnace within her chest, defrosting her from the inside out.

“so fucking romantic,” daniela purrs. “for me?”

“i’d do it all for you,” megan blurts.

they’re finally at the car, but instead of helping her into the passenger’s seat, megan simply sets dani down on the hood of the cadillac, admiring the girl in the dim glow of the neon lights around them. she lets herself finally admit it, finally take it in— daniela is beautiful, undeniably so, and the way she stares back at megan with those warm dark eyes makes the girl absolutely melt.

“yeah?” dani grins, white teeth glowing in the light.

“yes,” megan says, too eager, too willing. “easily.”

“who takes care of you?” daniela hums, looking up into megan’s eyes as she reaches up to brush her bangs out of her face. “who tells you you’ve done a good job? who cleans you up after it’s all said and done?”

megan keeps her eyes fixed on the girl in front of her, lips parted as she breathes out quietly. “no-one.”

“you’re perfect,” daniela shakes her head, arms wrapping around megan’s neck. she presses their foreheads together, the intensity of their proximity making megan almost dizzy. “i’m obsessed with you.”

before she can answer, megan can sense a presence behind them. her hand instinctively reaches for the gun in her waistband, but daniela is pressing a firm hand against her shoulders, keeping her locked in their embrace, unbothered by the presence.

“take it home, you fucking freaks,” the stranger yells, kicking a can in their direction, but does nothing else. megan’s body tenses, briefly, but she looks to dani, who seems completely unphased, completely unthreatened by his heckling.

megan knows she’s overreacting, and daniela is probably in the right to just ignore him. but an idea comes to her, one that sickens her as much as it makes her eager, eager to prove herself to daniela, eager to please.

“d’you want to see what i could do?” megan asks quietly, their foreheads still pressed together. “you’d just have to ask.”

she sees the way daniela’s eyes darken and flood. the premise of power.

“seriously?” dani asks in disbelief.

“at your mercy,” megan breathes. “just ask.”

“do it.” daniela’s voice is shaky, and it reminds megan of how shaky her hand was when they practiced shooting her gun. but the shakiness only sends her adrenaline pumping further, her muscles tensing, her heart pounding. she wants to be told that she’s good. she wants daniela to know she’s a good one.

megan presses a quick kiss into daniela’s temple before she walks straight up to the man. in several swift movements, she takes two strikes to his stomach, a strike to his back, and a third one to his throat to have him gasping for air on the ground. her gun is long forgotten in favor of her preferred weapons, her fists, and the brutal sound of each punch as megan leans over the man and lands two sharp blows to his face.

she looks up, and daniela’s chest is visibly rising and falling, watching with wide eyes in front of them. megan feels her stomach flip— daniela nods in approval, her eyes dark and hooded.

“again,” dani whispers, and megan obliges in seconds, the man barely able to protest before she’s ramming bruising fists against his cheek once more, each blow leaving more blood behind than the last.

“again.”

megan does as she’s told. it feels too natural, too automatic, too detached. if his crime was simply harassing a few girls in the street, then maybe this punishment isn’t all that fair, for megan to practically smash his face in. but she can feel the way daniela’s eyes never leave her, the way she realizes what megan has been trying to explain all along— that ultimately, she is a weapon, and she’ll bend to daniela’s every last whim.

“dani, last one,” megan warns, seeing the man teeter on sputtering breaths.

“do you want it?” daniela asks, her eyes wide, a crazed look taking over.

“i want whatever you want,” megan says back easily, too easily.

daniela blinks, as if in disbelief, before the word leaves her mouth. “go.”

megan, without question, winds her fist back and prepares to land a final blow.

“stop.”

her fist freezes mere inches above the man’s face. megan can feel it, as much as she had tried to avoid admitting it to herself. it feels good to do exactly what daniela wants.

“oh, i have got to be fucking in love with you,” dani gasps, throwing herself off the hood and wrapping her arms around megan’s neck to pull her away and press fevered kisses into her jaw, megan’s eyes fixed on the man laying flat on the floor. “take me home, please.”

megan says nothing, but the way daniela reaches for her bloodied hand and grips it in hers says everything. they leave the man on the ground, sparing him, and get into their car to drive to the yacht.

what more is there to possibly say? that her devotion would blindly take her to the ends of the earth for this girl? megan, robotic and single-minded, has always thrived with an assignment, a mission, something to check off one by one.

but maybe, to devote her life to whatever this girl wanted, could be not just a mission, but a purpose.

miami becomes a little too easy. dani spends her days lounging on the beach, megan watching carefully from behind her. every morning, she’ll bring her breakfast, and every afternoon, she’ll bring her a coconut. every evening, they go dancing, and every night, they fall asleep in each other’s arms. the routine becomes painfully comfortable. megan wonders if it could really be this easy.

their fingers interlace whenever they walk into a new nightclub, megan’s eyes always scanning, daniela’s eyes fixed only on megan.

“you talk so much about nothing at all,” daniela laughs, throwing back another shot, trying to speak up over the music.

“oh, sorry, sorry,” megan’s face burns.

“no, i fucking love it,” daniela shakes her head. “you tried being so quiet when we met.”

“i just say the stupidest shit, so it’s just better to not say anything sometimes,” megan smiles.

“you’re perfect,” daniela coos, spinning around to press her back into megan’s chest and wrap the bodyguard’s arms around herself like a jacket, “obsessed with you.”

megan has a thought to push back— you barely know me.

but daniela knows all she needs to. she knows the ugliest parts that megan would try to keep away, and still chooses to press forward. it’s like they’ve done this backwards, shown each other the worst of themselves and slowly revealed the good. instead of putting their best foot forward, they’ve seen each other at their lowest and decided it was worth it. megan feels herself rationalizing it. isn’t it better this way? no illusion of perfection, no shattered reality when something goes wrong? wouldn’t it only, ever, really keep going up from here?

it dizzies megan sometimes, daniela’s intensity, but she has no complaints. it gives her somewhere to be, something to think about, someone to answer to, all without expectation. perfect might be an exaggeration, but megan starts to let herself picture daniela in everything, and each picture feels like something she doesn’t deserve, but will claw eagerly to hold onto.

sophia’s phone call interrupts their evening, daniela barely able to make it through the entry of the cabin before she’s leaping onto megan, but megan doesn’t mind.

“all good, skelly?” sophia asks, checking in on the bodyguard.

“all good,” megan breathes, swallowing down gasps as daniela kisses down her chest.

“i think you guys can make your way back to atlanta tonight, actually. it looks clear on our end,” sophia tells the bodyguard.

“yeah?” megan questions, stifling a moan as the brunette’s hot tongue explores the divots of her stomach. “back to atlanta so soon?”

“isn’t that what you were waiting for?” sophia asks, and megan can sense the judgement in her voice.

megan arches a brow at daniela, who simply shakes her head and mouths ‘no’ back up at megan.

“i think we may do tonight here, soph,” megan says quickly, much to daniela’s pleasure as the girl resumes her kisses along megan’s hips. “we’ll leave in the morning."

“hm,” sophia says, as if she can sense something. “boss wants to make sure you’re taking good care of her.”

“she is,” daniela grins, stealing the phone, having heard sophia’s last words and clearly over the conversation. “bye now, you’re distracting her.”

“so impatient,” megan teases.

“will you keep guarding me even if my dad wants to promote you?” daniela asks hurriedly, the question seeming to press against her skin. “when we’re back in atlanta.”

“if you’ll have me,” megan tells her gently, reaching forward to trace her fingers through dani’s scalp, playing with her hair.

“i’ll tell my dad he’ll have to pick a different guard dog,” daniela grins, “‘cause this one is mine.”

megan wakes to the sound of rustling from above them.

her first instinct is to wonder if daniela got up and is smoking on the top of the boat, enjoying the waves on her own as she has before, but she feels the older girl’s arms still wrapped firmly around her neck. daniela’s face is buried in between megan’s shoulder blades, her quiet breaths tickling the bare skin. megan hates the idea of waking her, she always has, but the moment she hears additional footsteps, she leaps out of the bed and throws on the nearest set of clothes, gently throwing daniela her own. they have exactly 90 seconds before whoever is up there figures out how to open the door and get down into the residential cabin of the yacht.

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. megan let herself get distracted.

“dani,” she whispers quietly, reaching underneath the night stand to pull out a second pistol, tucking it into her waistband. “you need to get up.”

“what?” daniela’s voice is groggy, so, so endearing, and megan’s heart thuds at the sight of her. she complies, dazed and confused, with getting some clothes on, but stays gripping onto megan’s wrist.

“go. hide,” megan whispers quickly, motioning to the window leading out to the hull of the boat, but most importantly, leading to the dock where daniela can make an escape.

“no.” the princess’s eyebrows furrow across her forehead as she realizes what megan is implying. “where are you going? i’m not leaving you.”

“go hide. i’ll find you,” megan instructs her again, hearing the footsteps growing increasingly closer. “i promise.”

she looks up, and feels her stomach twist. daniela is shaking, as she has before, her eyes wide and pleading. her lip trembles as she tightens her grip around megan’s wrist, her voice quaking. “be safe. please.”

“i will,” megan reassures her, pressing a gentle kiss onto her forehead before peeling her grip off of her and guiding her back towards the window. “now, go hide.”

daniela takes one more hesitant look in megan’s direction before complying, slipping out the window, into the night.

megan squares her jaw and reloads her gun, remembering her mission. not a single hair off her head.

it’s easy, to start picking them off one by one. megan isn’t made to be a bodyguard, sure, she’ll admit it. but she’s made to kill, to kill easily and efficiently, and each time a new henchman appears in her line of sight, it’s merely seconds before she’s picking them off, her gunshots alerting the rest of them as they all fall into the same trap of trying to run after her, only to become her next victim. she knows it’s ugly, borderline brutal the way she can end life after life without a second thought, but this is what she does best, and now, she has an even more powerful drive to protect.

she’s on the hull of the boat, counting off in her head after each gunshot rings out and each new henchman drops to their knees. she knows she’s running dangerously low on bullets, and don avanzini keeps magazines hidden in all sorts of random spots. she formulates a game plan. search for a reload, kill off the rest of the idiots on the boat, go find dani, get back to atlanta and keep her safe.

(but what she doesn’t calculate for is daniela avanzini, stubborn, strong willed, and loyal to a fault, who didn’t run like she was told.)

“megan!”

the scream is visceral, unexpected enough that it catches the bodyguard off balance as she turns instantly to seek where it’s coming from.

“dani?”

once again, she loses focus, and there’s a dangerous price.

there’s a violent thud of the butt of a pistol against megan’s temple from behind that sends her reeling to the ground. she grimaces— this is the first time she’s ever been caught off guard like this, and it’s all the more reason to regret losing her focus on what she’s supposed to be doing.

her vision is hazy from the impact, but someone is instantly stepping on her wrist, pinning her down, causing her to lose her grip on her gun. she winces at the sheer pain in her arm, the throb in her head, the way she fades in and out of consciousness as her legs won’t respond to her trying to get up.

“found the brat,” she hears a voice say, and within moments, she’s looking up to see a man walking daniela up the pier. the girl is resisting, doing her best to fight him off, but she’s no match as he pins her arms behind her back and throws her to her knees besides megan.

“you were supposed to run away,” megan breathes in disbelief. so fucking stubborn, daniela is.

daniela’s chest is heaving, and the scratches on the man are a clear sign that she wasn’t caught without putting up a fight. “i wasn’t going to leave you.”

one of the henchmen shoves a phone in daniela’s face, grabbing her chin to force her to stare at him. he glares down at her menacingly. “put me on the phone with don avanzini. tell me the numbers. go.”

daniela looks up with that defiant stare that used to exasperate megan. still on her knees, the brunette turns quickly to sink her teeth into the man’s wrist, causing him to scream out in pain and drop the phone, yanking his arm back. she spits in his face, her lips curled to bare her teeth angrily. “fuck you, you fucking moron.”

“you little bitch—” the man starts, but is quickly cut off.

“you didn’t put down the bodyguard,” another man, clearly their leader, says in disappointment, stepping in between the first henchman and daniela. he smirks at megan, before landing a sharp kick to her ribs with his heel. “some guard dog you are. you took out most of my team and yet all it took was some brat to throw you off your game.”

megan’s throat burns at the impact, the wind getting knocked out of her. she looks up and sees daniela with tears in her eyes, and her chest sinks. she must look so fucking pathetic, curled up on the floor, fading in and out of consciousness, helpless. megan clamps her eyes shut in anticipation of what comes next. this is her price: she let herself get distracted.

she hears the man click his tongue, and realizes there’s no gunshot that’s gone off yet. he takes a second to contemplate, before motioning to the other remaining henchmen.

“take them both. one of them is bound to talk.”

“don’t touch her,” megan growls, rising to her hands and knees, but the boss quickly lands another sharp kick to her stomach. she muffles a scream and collapses once more, where he presses his foot between her shoulderblades, trapping her to the floor.

“she’s worth more to us in one piece. we won’t hurt the little princess,” he says, leaning down to mumble quietly next to megan’s ear. “can’t say the same for you, however.”

megan steels herself. she’s prepared for anything they might do. but what she quickly realizes is that daniela is not. she looks up at the heiress, whose wide eyes and trembling lip are already speaking volumes.

“don’t say anything,” megan quickly hushes her, hoping she can calm her before she cracks as the men make quick work of picking them up and dragging them away to their waiting cars.

“meg-“ daniela starts, but the bodyguard quickly shakes her head.

“don’t,” she says sharply, before a hood drops over her head and everything goes dark.

megan isn’t thrilled to be poked, prodded, or strapped into the chair by zip ties, but she won’t let these half-rate mobsters know that. with each attempt to get her to talk, megan stays silent, biting her tongue, keeping her composure, counting the seconds as they leave new marks on her skin in an attempt to get her to do anything. she doesn’t let them get under her skin.

what does get to her is the way daniela winces each time the man does something new to megan, each new instrument he pulls out, each new promise of marking her skin permanently.

megan wants to comfort her, to reassure her that this isn’t anything she can’t handle, but this seems to be exactly their game: they hurt megan, and leave daniela untouched, but make her watch, and with each increasingly painful attempt to get megan to break, daniela reacts more and more emotionally. megan isn’t even close to cracking, but she’s afraid that daniela, with feelings too big for her own body, might be teetering on the edge of what she can handle seeing.

“she’s going to fucking destroy you,” daniela spits in between sobs at the man in charge of the torture, trying to kick free from her own restraints as she’s forced to watch.

“stubborn little bastard,” the man mumbles, ignoring daniela’s threat and grabbing megan by the jaw to examining her face. “you’ll crack sooner or later. nobody’s that good.”

megan realizes that behind him, daniela’s wild flailing has loosened the zip ties around her wrist, enough to free her hands. she blinks once, spotting the man’s holster hung up neatly next to daniela’s chair, and her eyes dart to it, hoping daniela can realize it.

she does, blinking slowly, realizing her hands come free and following megan’s gaze. her fingers shakily reach for the weapon, hoping the man stays turned facing megan.

the younger girl lets out a shaky breath and closes her eyes, just in case daniela’s aim leaves something to be desired.

there’s a bang, and then the sound of a slump, and in moments, megan feels the weight of the man fall forward onto her.

daniela gets up hurriedly from the chair, mascara smeared as she cries uncontrollably, hands are still shaking, the smoke from the gun still fresh.

“go,” megan instructs hurriedly, trying to push the man’s now-lifeless body away, watching as daniela searches the room before picking up some pliers to cut megan free from her restraints. “leave before they come looking.”

“no,” dani shakes her head, making quick work of the ties in between her shaky breaths. the moment megan is completely free, dani quickly wraps her arms around her and crushes her in a vice grip of a hug, her body trembling uncontrollably. “you’re coming with me.”

“daniela, not this again,” megan growls, rubbing at her wrists, pushing the shorter girl away firmly. “this almost got you killed last time. you need to listen to me.”

megan’s chest aches at where they’ve ended up. daniela, the girl who couldn’t bear to sleep alone after seeing her first dead body, now with blood on her hands.

“i wasn’t going to leave you behind,” daniela mumbles shakily, her eyes seeking something in megan’s face. she looks over megan’s body and grimaces, seeing the new marks left behind by their attempts to torture her.

“you should have,” megan presses back forcefully, her voice harsher, angry at their situation. angry at what she’s forced daniela into instead of sparing her from it all. “you could have gotten out so easily.”

“you’re not fucking expendable, megan,” daniela’s voice sharpens, sounding more like herself, more determined. she grabs the taller girl by the wrist, forcing her to look at her. “i just got you. i’m not losing you.”

“i’m a piece in a game, dani,” megan feels herself raising her voice, but she can’t control it at this point. her temperature rises as she tries to get it through daniela’s skull that this isn’t the way she wanted things to go. “there’s another hundred people eager to take my place for the right amount. i’m a hitman for hire that works for a cartel lord that could kill me if i even look at him wrong. i am the definition of fucking expendable.”

there’s a brief pause, and in an ideal world, megan would see the lightbulb go off in daniela’s head. she’d stop, turn away, and escape wherever the fuck they are, calling up her dad and getting rescued in an instant. megan would be a casualty, easily forgotten, and that would be the end of their story.

but of course, daniela has other plans than to let things be just quite that easy.

“not to me,” daniela breathes, her hand reaching up to stroke against megan’s cheek gently. megan recoils, but the brunette insists, keeping her hand steady, her dark eyes piercing into megan with a pleading intensity. “you protect me, but who’s going to protect you?”

megan stays silent, her eyes screwing shut. her chest aches from the inside out— something beckons for her to come home.

“i told you, you’re mine,” dani softens her voice, bringing her other hand to cup megan’s face with unimaginable tenderness. “i’m not letting you go that easily.”

“i don’t want you to see what i’m about to do,” megan breathes, bringing up a hand to hold onto daniela’s, a silent confession, her eyes hesitantly meeting the hazel ones waiting on her. “i don’t want you to have to see this. i don’t want to scare you any more.”

megan bites back on her jaw. this is what she was made for. she’d move mountains to protect daniela.

“i trust you, and i don’t trust anybody,” the girl smiles gently, nodding shakily. “do it.”

megan lets out a trapped breath, nodding in confirmation. “okay.”

she notices daniela’s eyes going down her body, the marks on her skin left behind, future scars. megan sees daniela immediately start to tremble at the sight of it, but before she can reassure her that she’ll be fine, something goes dark in daniela’s gaze. intense, crazed, like the night that man in the alley made the mistake of bothering them.

“i don’t want a single one of them left,” daniela presses, eyes widening, her voice dropping into a low, dark tone. “you can do that, can’t you?”

megan feels it. her muzzle being taken off, her leash being dropped. the full trust of a girl who puts her life in her hands. the adrenaline starts to flood her, her hands quaking, her throat drying.

(she hates to admit it— it’s not fear, it’s anticipation. she’s growing eager.)

“close your eyes.”

“megan—” daniela starts, but megan simply takes her hands and holds them in her own, as softly as she can manage.

“close them, and cover your ears, please,” she insists, keeping her voice gentle. goosebumps start to line her skin as the adrenaline begins to pump through her, mentally preparing for what she’s about to do. “you can look when i come back.”

“but you’ll come back?” daniela looks up at her with pleading eyes.

megan feels something stir inside of her, and reaches forward to press a soft kiss onto daniela’s forehead, trying to soothe the wrinkles from her worried arched brows.

“you’re the only thing i’ve ever wanted to come back to.”

daniela tries to hand her the gun, but megan presses it back into her hand.

“keep it, in case,” she nods, and the two reach a silent agreement. whatever is left between them they’ll address when megan gets back, because then that means she’ll have to come back.

megan looks over at the tool rack— machetes, tire irons, complex tools no doubt meant to leave permanent marks. she settles on where it all started for her, her first weapon from when she was a kid: a wooden baseball bat. with one final look over her shoulder to make sure daniela is tucked away safely in the corner of the room, megan pushes past the door and hardens her jaw as she makes her way into the first hallway. wherever she is, whatever mafia or gang found them, whoever was involved, she was certain of one thing— the only people walking out of that building alive would be herself and daniela avanzini.

she realizes she’s smiling, swinging the bat in eager anticipation. her head swirls with thoughts of daniela, thoughts of protecting her, thoughts of all that she’s about to destroy to get them out of here in one piece. each step takes her further along this warpath to complete this mission.

this is exactly what she’s built to do.

by the time she finds her back to the first room, fully certain she’s snuffed the life out of every body in every corner of every room in the building, she lets out a grateful breath at the realization that daniela is exactly where she left her, hiding in the corner.

“it’s me,” she announces as she comes through the door, dropping the now-splintered baseball bat on the ground to show she’s no danger. she looks around the room quickly, ensuring nobody had come in during her absence. “are you okay?”

“are you?” daniela asks, eyes widening at the sight in front of her. “that’s so much blood.”

megan can admit it. she probably looks something out of a horror movie, completely drenched in red from head to toe. her hair is soaked through, clinging to her skin, her clothes stuck to her and dripping in certain spots from where the blood is pooled.

the two stare at each other in silence for a few moments longer, daniela taking her in, megan realizing she looks every bit the monster she’s always knew she was.

“it’s not mine,” megan offers simply, to reassure her, as if that would somehow make it better.

daniela looks down at the baseball bat, now splitting down the middle from megan’s murderous rampage, looking back at the bodyguard she had once so confidently called gentle. the bodyguard who now, from head to toe, is dripping in blood that isn’t hers.

“oh,” is all she says in response.

megan can’t find the words. she can see it in daniela’s eyes, as she takes her in, the fear.

but daniela simply reaches up to wipe the blood off of megan’s mouth with her sleeve, before her lips are crushing feverishly against megan’s own, her arms wrapping around the taller girl’s neck as if they were made to rest there, as if they were made to anchor her in this life.

and megan lets her— no longer worried about ruining dani’s perfect skin with her own hands or horrifying her with this reality. they’re stuck in this world of dangerous horrors whether they want to be or not, but at the very least, she can be grateful that she’s stuck there with someone who makes it worth while.

“in love with you,” daniela mumbles hurriedly in between desperate kisses, gripping onto megan’s neck as if she’ll be suddenly pulled away at any point. “told you you were a good dog.”

“yours,” megan breathes in confirmation, finally allowing herself to give in to it all. the aching growl within her chest quiets as the girl’s fingers run along her skin, softly, knowingly, claiming ownership. “yours and yours only.”

megan’s bloodied fingers grip daniela by the waist, staining her clothes without concern. she holds her close, and kisses her back— feverishly, hungrily, and it feels like home.

#☆ﾟ coolwyous works.#☆ﾟ coolwyous - tuyo.#meizini #katseye imagines #megan x daniela #daniela x megan #daniela avanzini #megan skiendiel #katseye one shot

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