It was an early morning for Francisco. Everyone was downstairs, while Francisco remained in his room, thinking. Ever since meeting with Yasmine yesterday, he has been unable to keep his mind at bay. Since the moment he had first seen her in the soft embrace of those convertible’s headlights, he had gotten a sense of deja vu. There was something about her that induced these feelings of remembrance, yet he was not able to connect them, twisting Francisco’s head. Yesterday, though, he finally realized what it was that made him feel so weird. It was not the way she acted or her general appearance. Rather, it was the way she seemed that day that reminded him of Yasmine. Seeing Yasmine, Francisco finally connected with how that cursed woman felt. He realized the feelings of the woman he hated from the bottom of his heart. She was a person to whom Francisco had grown attached—someone he had loved. It was his third girlfriend and his first wife, the woman he had killed with his own hands and the unborn child in her.

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7 years ago, in Los Angeles, California.

It was a quiet night where the moon shone and the stars danced. Yet everything below them was hell. In a small warehouse outside of the city were Francisco and some of his trusted men.

Deep marks sat under Francisco’s eyes as he sat down. In front of him was a short figure, their faces covered in a bag. He was also sat down, however, he was tied to the chair he was sitting on, tightly keeping him in place. He was seemingly unconscious; the way their heads bent proved so.

In front of the unconscious figure, Francisco stared deeply at them, with a gun in one hand and nothing in the other. Francisco was clean shaven, had a clean haircut, and was wearing a crisp suit that contrasted sharply with the dark and dingy room.

Next to the two was a young Javier, who was on the phone with someone. His face was stressed, wrinkled the way he frowned so deeply. Moments after Francisco looked at him, Javier hung the phone up and looked at him, a smile now plastered onto his once saddened face.

“What did they say?”

“They agreed!”

Francisco smiled lightly as his baggy eyes seemed alleviated. During this, though, the bagged figure in front of him began moving around, attempting to escape. Francisco stood up from his chair and walked over to them. Then he pulled the bag on top of his head off and looked straight into their eyes, just as they did the same. The boy had a nappy head, similar to his father’s. He looked at Francisco with hate in his eyes as he continued to struggle.

“Stop. We’ve come to an agreement with your father. You’ll live another day, boy.”

The young boy looked at Francisco suspiciously, speculating on what he said.

“Why’d you do this anyway!? If you have a problem with my father, take it up with him.”

Francisco smiled at the boy’s question, internally thinking about what a smart child this was.

"Usually, I’d agree. However, your father took something from me, so I took something from him in return.”

“What…?”

“Just be lucky I’m returning you alive. Wait and be quiet; they’ll be here soon.”

Francisco finished speaking before walking towards the entrance of the warehouse.

“Prepare yourselves; who knows whether he’s lying?”

Everyone in the warehouse was in a sour mood after hearing what Francisco had said about their situation. Without knowing the future, anyone would assume they would end up in a gunfight. And knowing Francisco, it would not be out of the question for them to all die here. Everyone could feel cold sweat falling down their backs as chills formed.

Thirty minutes after that fateful phone call, multiple cars pulled into the warehouse. Each one had blasting headlights, illuminating the dark, clear night as Francisco walked out with the rest of his gang.

“Pull the boy out!”

With that said, multiple men went back inside before coming out with the boy in tow.

As this happened, multiple people from the opposing side stepped out of their vehicles. Some with dreads, others with waves, and some with box cuts walked towards Francisco and his group. Moments later, a noteworthy figure stepped out as well. It was a man in his mid-thirties, yet even though he was not that old, he had shallow wrinkles that lay on his forehead. The stress of this job was immense, aging one to the limit.

However, Francisco did not care about the man much; what he wanted still did not step out.

“Where is she, Amir?”

Amir walked towards the rest of his men before looking at Francisco with a deep rage in his eyes.

“Show me my son first.”

Francisco hesitated but accepted it in the end.

“Show him.”

Some of Francisco’s men walked out from behind him with the boy. Once the child had gotten used to the bright headlights, he looked around the crowd of men and saw his father as tears poured out of his eyes.

“Pa!”

Amir looked at him with many unnoticeable emotions in his eyes before he looked back towards Francisco.

At the same time, Francisco nodded to his men, who pulled the boy back from their reach, surprising him.

“Show me my wife, Amir.”

“…”

“In the end, if it has to go that way, we can at least get another of what we lose, right?”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Francisco smiled chillingly as Amir clenched his fists.

“Bring her out!”

As he said that, men from Amir’s side walked back towards a vehicle before out came Francisco’s wife.

Relief filled his being the moment he saw her. Although he had spoken of replacements, he knew that she was his soulmate for life. She was someone he would never betray.

It was not time to celebrate just yet, though, as they still had to exchange the two hostages.

Francisco looked at her deeply before looking back towards his men, who were bringing the boy up. Seeing that, he looked back at Amir before stepping closer.

“Alright, let’s exchange.”

Amir nodded as the two hostages walked past each other. Francisco grasped onto his soulmate as she looked back at him.

“Baby, I’m sorry I let this happen to you.”

She looked at him with deep love as she embraced him.

“It’s okay; all that matters is that I’m with you once again.”

Francisco nodded as they hugged. Moments later, he let go and looked towards Amir. From what he saw, they were also reuniting with each other before they finished.

“Amir, let’s ensure this does not happen again.”

“I agree.”

Francisco turned around, ready to leave, before he heard Amir speak.

“I’ll make sure this does not happen again.”

Francisco did not think much of his words, taking them as a sign of promise. However, from behind, as Francisco’s wife was walking back, she kneeled down for no apparent reason. Many walked towards her in worry, thinking Amir may have hurt her. And from the ground, she discreetly lifted her pants sleeve before pulling out a small handgun. At the next moment, she jumped up and aimed it directly at Francisco, his loving gaze gone, exchanged for a cold, cunning one.

Instantly, a large bang resounded through the surroundings as Francisco jolted forward slightly from the hit.

Extreme pain radiated from his back as he grasped where he was shot, pulling his hand back to see a dark pool of blood.

At the next moment, multiple people ran over to the two of them as more shots rang, not from his wife but from Amir’s men.

Francisco staggered as men on both sides engaged in a battle.

Francisco’s head hurt as he struggled to stand. But it was not due to the physical pain; rather, it was due to the emotional pain. He looked back towards her with shattered eyes as multiple of his men grabbed onto her, stopping her from firing again.

At first, he felt disbelief. He could not believe she would have done this or why. However, he soon came to terms, realizing it had happened. Then he questioned everything. How long had she been working for him? The whole time? Maybe for only a short time, but why…

Soon after these questions, he stopped questioning things and regained himself. His men were dying while he was bleeding out.

Other than the pain, he felt rage. It boiled in him, originating from his shot, until it flooded through his head, stopping his reasoning.

He staggered for a moment before standing tall, his once shattered eyes replaced with rage. She also noticed this and smiled lightly.

“Hahaha!! Look at you!”

Francisco frowned deeply before walking towards her. Each step he took enhanced and fired his rage to a boiling point. And before he could think, he pulled out his gun and aimed it at her.

They both looked at each other with immense hate as his wife continued smiling, having seemingly no regret. Instead, it seemed as though she was euphoric, as though she were high.

With shaking hands, Francisco struggled as reason, love, and rage battled in his mind. From the first shot she took, her fate was sealed, and she noticed it too. But instead of being scared of her eventual demise, she smiled, ready to face it. She no longer held any value in her life, letting everything go. She was no longer held by the confines of this world. Although she would have preferred to kill him, seeing his face this way was a good alternative.

Finally, through their hate-filled gaze, Francisco’s hate ruled over as he fired a deep shot into her chest.

She jumped lightly and looked down to her breast to see blood and smoke pouring out. Multiple men held onto her as she screamed from the pain. It filled her mind the same way it had for Francisco. However, after the pain subsided, she felt nothing but happiness; she was glad to die.

Francisco saw this and continued. He fired one more shot directly into her lungs, piercing through her body. She looked down and struggled to breathe, slowly suffocating from the lack of oxygen.

A moment later, Francisco fired another, and another, and another. Each bullet was directed towards her chest, as he avoided her head and stomach. He wanted her to experience that pain—the same pain he was experiencing right now. But no matter how many times he shot, her resolve never faltered. Instead, it steeled after every shot as she slowly lost her life.

After the fifth bullet entered her body, she finally passed away with a soft smile on her face.

His wife and his unborn child were dead. Each was killed with his own hands.

Tears fell down Francisco’s face as an unmovable amount of hate continued to circulate through his body. So he directed it towards Amir and his men.

He turned and looked towards the bloody battlefield as shots flew between the two groups. Men on both sides had died in heavy numbers, yet Francisco did not care. His rage consumed him as he fired at his opposition. Each shot he took killed someone. However, it did not diminish his rage in any way. Multiple people fell, yet he remained the same. The only way to lessen this crazed rage was to transfer it to Amir! He would transfer it by killing Amir’s child!

From the other side, Amir looked on, firing a couple of shots a minute, slowly backing up to his vehicle, not making any sudden movements. Many men surrounded the two as they continued, inching closer every second.

Closing in on their vehicle, Amir laughed and smiled, seeing that his plan was at least a half success. Although he would have liked for Francisco to die here, there was no way of getting to them with the heavy quantity of men. But saving his child meant he had at least succeeded partially, which was fine by him. He could save killing Francisco for another day; as for right now, they had to escape safely.

However, just as they were about to near their vehicle, a stray shot was fired towards one of the men protecting Amir’s child. Amir looked over towards where the shot came, scanning through the crowd swiftly to see Francisco! He had a deep smile on his face, with tears falling down his face. His eyes were filled with a rage Amir had never witnessed from him before.

A deep chill traveled through his body as he turned to his son, attempting to shield him. However, before he could dive towards him, another shot rang towards them. It traveled through everyone guarding them, hitting the boy on the head and coming out the other side.

“Nooo!!!”

Blood and brain matter poured out, splattering itself on Amir’s face as his child fell. The boy's eyes dimmed as his consciousness departed. One second after the boy was shot, he died.

Amir kneeled down and carried him into his embrace.

“Isaiah! Answer me, Isaiah!!”

No matter how much he screamed at the boy, he never awoke.

Amir’s eyes filled with the same rage as Francisco’s as he yelled.

“I’m going to kill that motherfucker!!!”

He pulled out his gun before attempting to run to the battlefield. Luckily, he was stopped by some of his close men, who advised him against it.

“Boss, we’re outnumbered here. If we stay any longer, we’ll die!”

However, no matter what anyone said, it passed over Amir’s head as he attempted to kill Francisco. Moments later, people dragged him to his vehicle and prepared to leave.

On the other side, Francisco shot at multiple people with a near-crazed look in his eyes. People from both sides fell; some were injured badly, while others were dead.

“Kill them all!! These fucks aren’t going to live another day!!!”

He fired multiple shots before Javier came behind him.

“Jefe! Your wound, we have to get it treated!”

Francisco looked down at his wound as his adrenaline wore off, submerging him in pain. He collapsed onto the ground before sweat fell from his forehead. With a sorrowful try, he attempted to gather himself but struggled to do so.

It was clear here that neither of them were going to die. However, in the future, it was nearly guaranteed that a full war was going to break out between the two, bringing one of them to death.

With increasing pain, Javier helped Francisco leave the blood-stained battlefield before he got him medical help. At the same time, Amir left his vehicle with heavy regrets hitting his soul.