Prologue
There is a saying, a saying most wouldn't ignore if they were any smarter than a man's left hand. Be wary of old men in professions where men die young.
They'd say it isn't worth it. The food chain is clear and you should be quick to bite it, girl. Bite it good and you bite it hard, just in case you meet the wrong lion one day, because sometimes they like to play with their food.
The man with a gray streak in his hair is undoubtedly a lion, a lion with a quirked grin when she makes direct eye contact, a slowly raising brow. His coat is shiny here in the middle of his pride, in his den surrounded by his cubs.
Nadia wonders, as she looks back to Kyle with the silver spoon still dangling from his mouth, Kyle who still lives with his mother, handing over the roll of bills with twitching fingers, she wonders curiously.
She's never seen a man ripped apart by a lion before.
"They're fake."
The bald man sitting behind the low table pauses at her monotone, head tilting to catch her eyes as he pauses in counting the stack, thumb clenching over the fake bills. Kyle's an artist. There's a reason his balls have inflated large enough to think he can pull a fast one on the cartel. Not large enough to forgo hiring her though. And If she hadn't said anything, they probably would never have known.
"I-"
"Oh?" The lion perks up, dragging out his 'h' far too long as he sits up in his seat, attentive and humored as she meets his eyes once more, infallible. He hops out of his seat at that, prowling forward with a widening smirk, he's all hands and gestures, intrigued charisma for days beneath a crisply tailored dress shirt. "Do tell, señorita."
Nadia frowns. This is not what she had been expecting. Maybe the rumors about the cartel are just rumors, maybe this lion prefers to use his teeth rather than bullets.
Kyle spins to her as she opens her mouth, eyes wide and sweat pouring down his forehead, dripping off the tip of his nose. His hand, burrowed deep in his pocket outstretching-bang!
Her hand grips the outline of the gun in his pocket, the fat in her side gushes heat, barely a graze. Nadia rears, butting her forehead down into Kyle's face. It sends him sprawling and then she's whaling her first down over and over.
His head ricochets off the tile like a bowling ball's last strike, blood bubbles foaming out his mouth as she grabs a hefty clump of his hair and smashes and smashes and smashes-
Nadia coughs, spits, heaving herself away. Unrecognizable, half of his face turned to mush, grinded away to nothing. Not as interesting as a lion's teeth, far out.
The restaurant is quiet as she straightens herself out, chest heaving as her breathing regulates again.
The lion stares and then he laughs. He laughs loudly, and it's boastful, gleeful. He is a boy again staring at the mass of gifts under the christmas tree. "Well."
"I'm.. speechless, truly…" He laughs almost to himself while leaning in, blood splatter bright on his cheek, metal coating the back of her throat, probably everything else, too.
Nadia meets his gaze pointedly, blank. Target practice. "Am I done here, or not?"
"Oh, far, far from it." The lion purs. "Se-ño-ri-ta."
Nadia stares. Maybe she'll still get to see some teeth after all.