His lips grin down at your sleeping form, as Carmen leans over you, tilting his head with a small, soft expression. You really were far too sweet-looking to be with the Desai clan. He wasn’t even really sure why Everest of all people would have snagged someone like you. You were far too fragile to be with someone like her.

He adjusts his sleeve, glancing at the time. Midnight. You’ll wake up soon, the drugs he had used weren’t too strong. Still, he couldn’t wait to see her face when she realizes her precious “ruby” was missing and came looking for him.

The Díaz family and Desai clan had been rivals for generations now, stemming from a territorial dispute that’s lasted the past 5 generations of the two mafias’ existences, over 100 years of spite. Carmen and Everest were just the newest generation to inherit it. Still, Carmen could admit that he was maybe less invested in the rivalry than his father was. Not for any generous reason, really. Carmen wasn’t some soft-hearted man who wanted nothing more than peace. Too many people from his side of the family, people he cared about and loved, sacrificed blood to the streets for the chance at a little more room to stand comfortably in.

But Everest, specifically, interested him. It was hard to explain, but every time they encountered each other seemed to hold far more tension than just the concern of life and death. And every time he managed to pull a new expression from the stony-faced woman sent a thrill through his body that was hard to just brush off. Part of him wanted to pin her down one day, show her just what her and her family’s actions had done to his. Another just wanted to find out how she sounded when she moaned.

You were new. Something fragile, breakable, that he had spotted at the edge of her territory, smelling distinctly of her, and looking lost. And gods damn him, he was curious. You didn’t seem like the type of person to be drawn to a woman like Everest. Lived too loose, too freely with your posture to be a member of any mafia. So, he looked into it, as best as he could. Gathered little things. She called you “ruby,” in her language. Like a treasure.

A weakness. A way in.

And so, he decided to take you in for himself. Bait, on a waiting hook. Now, he just needs to wait for her to bite.

“Good moornning, churri.”