A Waltz With Wolves (Book II in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Fix This

**

I never thought I would entertain the thought of watching someone get shot to death, but as  Claude aims his gun at Alejandro, I can't help but picture the scenario in my mind.

It's been a solid minute since Claude turned the safety on his gun off. My heart wants Alejandro dead for what he's done, but my brain is begging me to indulge in my logic and sense. Killing Alejandro wouldn't be smart - it would be deadly on our end, both metaphorically and literally. Still, I don't have the courage to tell Claude to put the gun down; it could be any second from now that Claude shoots Alejandro dead, and I'm just laying silently, watching Alejandro during this waiting game.

"If you would just let me explain," Alejandro says. Claude becomes more aggravated at the sound of his voice.

"It's too late to try and save your ass now," I breathe out, pushing myself up away from the glass and holding my aching nose.

"You know you can't kill me," he then says, in which Claude responds with taking another step, glass cracking beneath his loafers. Alejandro backs up until he hits my desk. Hands above his head, he pleads with us silently. I want to see him bleed, but I know the smart thing to do would be to let him speak.

"Claude," I mutter. "Lower the gun."

"I should have listened to you the first time you told me shit wasn't right," Claude confesses, the fearlessness in his eyes slowly giving away to guilt. "If Penny and I would have just listened to you -"

"Claude, just put the gun down." I dare touch the weapon myself. "Please."

Claude looks at me. I truly see the torment my cousin's demons are inflicting upon him. I was right - all three of us in this room know this. I was right about Alejandro all along. But now isn't the time to say 'I told you so.' Knowing the bind that Alejandro put me and Leslie in is destroying Claude; the fury in his eyes is animalistic.

But after asking a third time, he finally puts the gun down.

Alejandro doesn't want to visibly show it, but he's relieved. Slowly, his hands descend until they're at his side. Blood stains his face but he pays it no mind. I don't know what's more unsettling - the fact that I did that to his face or the fact that the pain doesn't faze him?

"Start talking, asshole," Claude orders, "my patience is wearing thin."

"I was hoping to catch you before you went to meet with Ramona and Garrett," Alejandro tells me, skipping any introduction.

"Why?" I ask him. "So you could try and feed us bullshit?"

"No," he says sternly, deeming it safe to take steps towards us. His eyebrows raise - a cue that he is truly unarmed. "I wanted to tell you the truth before they told you lies."

"And you expect us to believe you?" Claude says, his hand tightening around the grip on his weapon.

Alejandro rakes a hand through his hair. I don't know if this is an attempt for us to see him as more trustworthy when his eyes are completely exposed to us. Either way, his intentions are no longer masked when his hair is out of the way.

"I don't expect you to believe me." He laughs shortly. "You tried to kill me," his eyes land on mine, "twice in five minutes. But at least just let me explain. Let me explain, and then you can decide what you want to do with me."

Neither Claude nor I want to give this son of a bitch the simple luxury - the privilege - to explain himself. But to immediately believe every word that comes out of my father's mouth would paint me as the complete fool. So, even though Claude wants to completely ravage Alejandro into little Colombian pieces, I urge him to gather the will to listen.