She was everything they never expected.
Regal and mysterious, Callaia Sosa was more than they bargained for when they accepted the job of protecting her. Little was told of the heiress and there was even less to find.
They expected someone spoiled...
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WARNING ⚠️ THE PROTAGONIST IS A SMOKER AND IS OF LEGAL AGE. DO NOT TAKE THIS AS A COOL HABIT TO COPY OR TRY. I AM IN NO WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM CONDONING SMOKING CIGARETTES. TAKE IT FROM SOMEONE WHO FUCKED UP AND CAN'T QUIT. NOT WORTH IT.
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"Alpha, this is Gamma speaking. The Commander is ready to rumble. I repeat, the Commander is ready to rumble. Gamma is observing, out of sight, out of mind."
"Thank you Gamma, Alpha on standby. Keep me posted on The Commander's progress."
"Roger that, Alpha."
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ＤｏｗｎｔｏｗｎＳａｖａｎｎａｈ
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚀𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚝 𝙱𝚊𝚛 & 𝙶𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕
𝟹:𝟹𝟶 𝚙.𝚖.
I lean against the brick wall in the narrow alley beside The Quartet Bar & Grill. My legs are crossed at the ankles, standing over a foot away from the wall which causes my back to arch. My left hand holds my right wrist, a lit cigarette hanging limply from the fingers.
"Do you copy, Commander?" Alec whispers in my left ear piece.
My lips slowly pull into a smirk. Completely at ease, I slowly lift the cigarette to my lips and take a hit. The mint smoke caresses my tongue on the way in and kisses my lips seductively on the way out.
"Stop calling me that, Alec." I say huskily, eyes watching the people walk by the opening to the alley without sparing me a glance.
"You know the drill. Code names for personal use, military for missions. You're The Commander," Alec recites diplomatically.
