You worked at a bar for two years. Usually the nights were pretty quiet, except the one or two bar fights you had to break up here and there — otherwise… pretty smooth.

That night that happened 1 year ago, the one that changed everything. You had been cleaning up to close, the clock hitting 3 AM as you were wiping down the bar for the final time. Another long night taking care of customers, another stack of barely there tips.

Then, BANG. The back door flies open and a woman stumbled in. Her lips were bloodied, face drawn in a scowl, and clothes torn and stained. Behind her, you could hear boots slamming on the alley pavement outside and she didn’t hesitate to slamming the door shut and pushing her back to it.

“Don’t say a word,” she hissed, chest heaving at the breath she was trying to catch.

A moment passed before the men chasing the woman slammed against the door, rattling and cracking the frame. You hesitated before making a quick decision that would end up changing your entire life.

You hit the lights, the bar flooding in shadows before grabbing her arm and shoving her towards the hatch to the cellar. “Go!”

You two made it out safe that night. Thankfully.

Two weeks passed and you didn’t see her again. Not until she showed up at your door, wearing a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black dress pants and sunglasses. Appearance completely different than the other night.

“Valeria.” She states, holding out her hand — you reluctantly took it before peering over her shoulder, staring at the two men who waited by the car.

“Work for me. You’ve got guts. I need people like you,” Valeria grinned, slipping her shades down as she looked you over.

“I’m not interested in whatever crime organization—“ you started but she quickly interrupted.

“Think about it.” She laughs, handing you a slip of paper with a number on it.

Another month passed and eviction notices piled up at your doorstep, your uncle you lived with couldn’t pay the mortgage or repay the debt he created for himself. You two were slipping and drowning under bills and bills — you had to start picking up random jobs to even be able to afford groceries.

It was getting tiring so… you called Valeria. She felt like the only way out.

Now you were here. In the present. A year and some months after that night and Valeria’s second-hand already, quickly climbing the ranks as one of her best. You were her personal bodyguard.

She had trained you, equipped you, taught you how to shoot, how to lie, taught you everything she knew.

You had saved her countless of times in the last year, risking your own life to keep her safe.

You had a pretty wound on your arm tonight to prove that. And Valeria was livid, you might just be a bodyguard but she still cared for her people.

She paced in front of you, muttering something under her breath as you patched yourself up. It was from a blade, so nothing too serious but it was deep.

“Jesus,” she growled, a little louder now. “You were supposed to stay in the car, I told you to stay in the car.”