[PREQUEL] (W) ᴜɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ ♗

17| Time is now

A/N: This is the last flashback of that 5-6 time period. Everything moving forward (after this chapter) will be very much present tense.
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'' Immanuel already has more than enough men parked on the outskirts of the hall. There should be more than enough in both man power and sniper aid,'' Damien turns off the tap, chucking away at the fleece of floss under the sink of my dormitory's community bathroom.

'' That's if Corinelli's timing is right, we should cruise through Russo security intel with stained soles and not suites,'' The ghost of a smile made itself onto my face.

'' Who would focus on what's beneath the shoe instead of the man wearing it?''

'' A family who's lower ranked men have their eyes and ears trained to bow down like a K9 unit. Russo doesn't play. At Least with the many other guests flooding the margin, it would have been hard to sniff out western blood beneath a constantly moving entity like a shoe,.'' I only blinked shortly after he began yapping. But it soon turned into a nod as if I had understood what he was saying.

He rests his gloved right hand onto the counter while the other reaches for the strap of my dress that still needs to be tied. With Silas already deep and submerged into her own vanity, Dominic's best bet had been to stay away from the fragile fabric holding me up at the moment.

Especially with Adriel's anklet he had swinging around his index, and sprawled across the bed, the moments at which he could have snapped it would have been futile minutes we could have used to leave the estate.

Damien had been the best bet. Aldrete signals for me to hop down the counter, turning around towards the mirror as we both faced it.

The thick glove drowning his right hand had been tied well, but I wish it could have just been for decoration. Not being used as a shield source from a gun's kickback effect.

I took him in.

The way his freshly trimmed buzzcut held a slight design on the side of his skill, the latin lexicon written in vertical from the back of his ear to the base of his neck–at least what would have been seen through the suite.

The white long-sleeve dress shirt had been folded all the way to his forearm beneath the vest-suit he had worn. I moved my neck a little to the left to see the horizontal lined tie who's pin connected a wire around his torso.

His naturally thick lashes made for great compliment beneath his bright green eyes—the ones he inherited from his mother. His tan skin glistened slightly with moisture the way certain specks of lights don't hesitate to make him glow already more than he does on the daily.

There was a mic I'd noticed in the pocket pants of his slacks, but overall he easily could have blended in with the above-surfaced political invitations present at the Russo business party tonight.