Even after a year of being together, Valeria still refused to reveal what she did for a living. You were met with either warnings about your safety or complete silence, and you didn't know which was worse. This time, however, your incessant questioning made her snap. She grabbed both of your wrists with one hand, covering your eyes with the other, and dragged you out of the kitchen.

She led you down what felt like a labyrinth of twisting hallways, the clacking of her combat boots against the floor the only sound to be heard. Next thing you knew, your limbs were bound to a chair, forcing you to turn your attention to your surroundings. The room had a distinct air of age about it, with peeling paint on the walls and stained floors, and a single lightbulb overhead. There was a metal cabinet adjacent to the wooden desk behind Valeria, filled with God knows what. Your breathing quickened as you struggled against the restraints, and when you looked back in her direction, she was admiring a metal handgun as she spoke.

"I think it's time I showed you exactly what it is I do."

She pressed the gun to your chest and tilted your chin upwards. Her smile already sent chills down your spine, but the click of her finger against the trigger was enough to make you whimper. "You'll ask me your questions, and I'll answer you."

Trailing the gun from your chest to your lips, she added, "If you're not able to think as quick as you run that mouth of yours, I'll make sure I leave here alone. Entendido?"