**

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.

"Fine," I say. "You answer every one of our questions."

"Every single fucking one," Claude adds. Alejandro tilts his head and purses his lips at our conditions, but doesn't openly oppose them.

I ask the first question.

"Why aren't you in Colombia?"

"Salvador asked me to come back. We retaliated against or enemies in Bogota for the bombing in Medellin."

"But you told Leslie that you wouldn't be back until after October?"

Alejandro sighs. "I...yes. But only because I thought I was going to stay longer."

"For what reason?" Claude asks, but Alejandro doesn't answer immediately.

"It's...it's complicated," Alejandro manages to say.

"Then don't make it complicated," I tell him. "What was the reason?"

"I'm not going to -"

"What was the fucking reason?!" Claude shouts, and when he threatens to shoot him for his secrecy, Alejandro finally tells us the reason:

His mother.

I would be lying if I said that this didn't change things - it changes everything, down to the fucking letter. Even Claude breaks his demeanor down when the humble confession leaves Alejandro's mouth. But Claude and I don't want to believe him.

I shake my head, pacing around the couch, "You're lying."

"That's the reason for this - for all of this shit. She's out there somewhere and I...I've been looking - "

"Bullshit," Claude growls.

Alejandro laughs, finally wiping the blood away from his mouth. "What did Garrett tell you? That I did this for money? Power? Vengence?"

"It's not hard to believe," I point out. "You're a murderer. A liar. A fucking criminal who expects us to believe that you did all of this shit for your mother?"

"Because it's the truth!" he shouts; pleads.

The sincerity in his eyes is convincing. But I think of what he's done to Leslie and change my mind on how genuine he is; on his intentions.

"This is about Leslie, isn't it?" he then says to me. "You're upset about what I did to her." He tries to get near me, but Claude intercepts before he can get too close. "I-I didn't have a choice."

"You always have a choice!" I feel the anger rising in me; months of deception that Leslie is completely ignorant about. "You chose to fuck her for money or power or whatever my father promised you." It becomes harder for the words to leave my mouth. "Taking...pictures? O-of her of me I mean, what the fuck is wrong with you!?"

"He promised," he says menacingly. "If I took those pictures and if I...if I seduced her - 'the woman in the pictures,' he would help me find my mother. Salvador wasn't going to help me; he used me for years dangling this lie of giving me her location just so I would do what he wanted: infiltrate. Steal. Launder. Kill. I did it all but he still didn't tell me where she was; he told me he'd kill her if I tried to get out and find her myself. So, when your dad came to me with his proposition it was hard for me to refuse."

"And you believed him?" I can't help but laugh. "Even I can see through my dad's bullshit."

"Your father actually gave me a lead," Alejandro then says. "A small village in Ecuador near the sea. I was close; I knew she was there. I figured after killing those putos in Bogota I could try and make it to the border before my uncle found out. I convinced him to let me stay in Colombia longer so I could reach her, but Salvador knew what I was doing and got her out of Ecuador and us out of Colombia the minute Paisa and I made it to the border. Now, I don't know where she is."

His last words left his mouth quietly and achingly. Even in the darkened state of my office, I could see his jaw tick and his pained features. It's hard to remember that this son of a bitch is still human, no matter how inhuman his actions are.

"What about Ramona Malatova?" I ask him. "She says you were working with her, too."

"The Malatovas and Quintanillas are...close friends. She knew what I was doing for Garrett and used me to meet Leslie for the first time when she found out Leslie knew about Genina; this was around the time Garrett told me about my mother's location. Ramona was the one that made sure that the location was legitimate"

"But now Garrett has left you out high and dry? Why else would you be here?"

Claude waits for his accusation to be proven true, but the opposite is said from Alejandro.

"No. I'm here because I quit. And his way of retaliating against me for quitting is to tell you everything I've done. Had I agreed to the rest of his demands, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"I don't understand," I tell him.

"When Leslie told me that we needed to take a break, I was on a plane back to California, thinking that I could find my way back to Colombia to finish what I started. But I couldn't do that without Garrett's help. No 'relationship' with Leslie? No help from Garrett. So, once she told me she didn't want to talk to me for a while, Garrett demanded I try and get her back in order to fulfill my contract and come back to find my mother."

"But?"

"But I...I couldn't. I didn't want to do that to Leslie anymore."

"Now  you grow a conscience?" I laugh at him mockingly.

"Yes," he snaps. "Because I'm in love with her; I love her more than I've ever loved anyone and I refuse to continue lying to her like this. So, if it takes me ten more months or even ten more years to find my mother on my own then I'm alright with that. But my love for Leslie has grown to the point of it becoming impossible for me to betray her anymore."

For once, Claude and I are silent. But for different reasons - Claude is silent because he's waiting on what I'm going to say; how I'm going to react to what Alejandro just said. But I can't react. I can't do anything. I just stare at Alejandro. I stare and stare at him like I'm waiting for something to happen.

"You're a fucking liar," I mutter out. "You don't even deserve to say her name and 'love' in the same goddamn sentence."

"I can't help what I feel for her -"

"You don't love her!" I scream at him, torturing my lungs. "If you loved her, you wouldn't have done this to her!"

"At first I didn't feel anything," he growls at me, finding the courage to stalk towards me; Claude is too shocked to stop him. "But after Spain, everything changed. And being in Colombia away from her has solidified all of my feelings for her even more."

"'After Spain,'" I repeat, laughing dryly. "After Spain. After the gifts and the dates. Your feelings changed after  you fucked her knowing it was recorded -"

"A camera you had put in the room!"

"To protect her from you!" I shout back. "And look how right I was? You aren't understanding how wrong you are!"

"Because you don't understand!" he yells. He then lowers his voice to say: "What would you have done if it was Gloria?"

Gloria. That name. That woman - the woman I force myself not to think about. The only person who loved me. The woman that's gone. Hearing someone else say her name aloud hits me differently than thinking about her. I shouldn't be surprised that Alejandro knows about her; my father must have told him about her. He also must have fed him lies about her to him - anything to control him. Claude walks slowly to the couch and sits down when Alejandro says her name. He puts the gun back in its holster, pulls out a cigarette and smokes as he stares off into oblivion. Maybe he understands Alejandro's motive more than I do and it's computing in his head, morphing the preassumptions already ingrained.

"You don't...you don't get to say her name," I whisper.

"What if Gloria was still alive?" Alejandro tells me. His voice isn't condescending or manipulative. It's honest - vulnerable. He's trying to break the wall that's surrounding my brain and protecting my emotions. "What if...what if she was somewhere in the world - someplace you don't know, but she's somewhere? She's alone and scared, not knowing if you're dead or alive. Wouldn't you do anything to find her, Sebastian?"

I am not this man. I refuse to relate myself to this man in any way. We aren't the same; his mother and my mo-Gloria, are not the same. I can recognize him as human, but he doesn't deserve the privilege of sympathy. He doesn't get a free pass for what he's done.

"It isn't the same thing," I tell him, staring straight into his eyes as I say it. "You're full of shit; scum. A sadist. You like manipulating people to get what you want right before you break their necks. That's exactly what you're doing to Leslie right now, isn't it?"

The animalistic nature - the wolf - is back in him. "No. It isn't. You're just blinded by your affections for Leslie that you can't see the truth."

"I know the truth, Alejandro. It isn't you."

"I love her. And she loves me."

And that's when I say it - I tell Alejandro that Leslie and I fucked. I tell him that we fucked right after she pulled the breaks on her relationship with him. I know it isn't the smartest thing to say to him, especially now, but I say it. I half expect him to break my neck or grab Claude's gun and shoot me right between my eyes; he never misses, right? But instead, he smiles. And after he smiles, he laughs. Cackles, even. Amidst his laughter, he spots a small table in the corner with a glass bottle of whiskey in it. He pours himself a glass and sips, his laughter simmering down to a chuckle.

"You're a fool," he finally says. "You're more emotional than I thought you were and believe me, I've always known you were a little sensitive."

"What are you -"

"You think because she had sex with you that she loves you?" Alejandro says. "Come on? I mean, come on, Sebastian? You should know more than anyone that sex doesn't equal love - you're the king of debauchery! You've fucked hundreds of women. Tell me, how many were you in love with? Because I can tell you right now how many women I loved that I've fucked: zero. Well, it would be one woman for me now, wouldn't it?"

"That's different."

"How? You think women don't have needs? You think they're all emotional beings dying for some feeling in their intimacy? Women like to fuck, too. You think it's a coincidence that she had sex with you after she and I had an argument? While I was in Colombia?"

"That isn't true," I say. I don't want to sound pathetic, but it's hard not to when he as a point. And Claude is no guidance at the moment; he's still staring off into oblivion.

"Has she ever told you that she loved you?" Alejandro asks me softly. And when I can't give him an answer, he sighs. "Me neither," he adds before setting his glass down. "Mierda. I guess we're both fools, then."

I'm no fool. I want to prove this to him. Christ, Sebastian. Think. Leslie's told me she's loved me before or at least told me that she's had feelings for me. It's somewhere in my memory, I know it is. I just can't find it.

Maybe because the memory just doesn't exist.

Alejandro watches me rack my brain, my chest slowly collapsing in on itself.

"It doesn't feel good," Alejandro says seriously. "Now, after all those years of fucking around, you know how it feels. I guess I do, too."

"Stop changing the goddamn subject." After his extended silence, Claude is finally speaking. I guess his stare-off into the abyss gave him some insight. "You end this shit with Leslie the next time you see Leslie. You tell her everything."

Alejandro thinks I'm joking. "I'm already going to tell her everything. I just need some time -"

"You tell her or I will," I assert before adding slowly, "You tell her, or I will."

"We had a deal, Sebastian." Alejandro's nostrils flare. "Remember what we talked about months ago? About keeping Leslie out of this?"

"That was before I knew that you were dating her because my father employed you!"

"We had a deal!" He shuts his eyes, stopping himself from snapping. "And if you break our deal - if you tell Leslie - I promise you that you will regret it."

"You're in no position to make threats," Claude warns him. But it's the vagueness of his statement that's more haunting than the art of him threatening me. Killing me? Sure. That's an idea. Hurting someone close to me? Another idea. There are countless more. What if he leaks the photos? Tells Leslie about the fucking cameras?

"I'm going to tell her," Alejandro says to us. "I just need time. All I need is time."

What can I say to that? Nothing. Neither can Claude. Alejandro is untouchable, but my fingers are twitching, aching to wrap around his neck like I did when I opened the door. Feeling so powerless; what's new? I'm a puppet, tied to countless people's strings, performing aimlessly to protect someone who probably only sees me as an outlet for their loneliness; someone I love. There's risk in telling Leslie, but there's risk in not telling her. Stillness is the only thing keeping anyone safe. Any movements paint a target on me and everyone else close to me. So I remain still as Alejandro leaves the room. I don't move nor do I speak; he's untouchable. I let him go. I'm screaming inside, amazed at how lost I am.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. A message from Sarah that says "smart move, Sebastian," with an attachment - a photo of Leslie and I from Claire's birthday party. The same photo Leslie told me was a mistake to pose for. The photo of my hand 'dangerously' close to her ass.

"Sebastian Harrison Poses for Photo with Mysterious Beauty at Girlfriend's B-Day Party," the headline in the photo says. Then Sarah sends me another attachment seconds after I read the first one - "Sebastian Harrison and Publicist's 'Innocent' Photo-Op Raises Questions."

"I'm going to fix this," Claude assures me, but his encouraging words seem to deafen as I look at the angry messages pouring in from Sarah, headline after headline after fucking headline. This leak was a warning; a 'taste' of the real thing should I disobey my father and Ramona.

I hope you realize how fucked you and Les are, Sebastian, Sarah says.

Claude grabs my arm. "I'm going to fix this, Sebastian."

My hand tightens around my phone, body tense then relaxed. "Fix it," I tell him. "But don't do it my way."

Claude removes his hand from my arm. "What do you mean?"

"Fix it your way, Claude."

Claude looks into my eyes, asking if I'm serious. Sarah, furious, continues sending me the articles, making me believe that I'm more than serious. My phone burns in my hand from Sarah's fury, fueling my own.

"Fix this, Claude," I tell him one more time. Nearly begging him. "Please."

Claude - my cousin. My family. He removes the restraint I told him and Penny to have; I don't even know why I tried to convince myself that the both of them were capable of remaining caged forever. The evil and hunger in Claude's eyes is one I've never seen in him before, but it's almost comforting - the only hope in the shitstorm that's my life. Claude - my cousin. My fucking cousin. This sick son of a bitch.

"I'm going to fix this," he says to me for the last time, only this time, he means it.

**