23 #2
"Don’t get it twisted, Irina," Alaska snaps, sharp-tongued. "We’re Vega and Alaska Vázquez. Your father didn’t give us his last name—he ditched us. We don’t want it now. And we’re going to do whatever the hell we want, okay? Starting with going home today."
The floor thunders under my soles. Alaska says it without a tremor. I lock up so I don’t move. I know what’s coming. You can smell the fight. I count from one to five on a loop so I don’t open my mouth.
"No way," Irina shuts it down. "Your address is already in a bunch of places. That door doesn’t open again without men out front. Period."
" Men out front? You’ve got to be kidding. Do you even know what having a life is? Going out without two goons eyeballing you from a car?" Alaska lets out a dry laugh.
"I know what it’s like to have someone try to break your life," Irina answers, face still. "And I know what it’s like to have someone torn from you at a stoplight. I’m not risking two girls who share my blood."
A muffled murmur from someone in the back. Vega shrinks more and reaches for her sister’s hand, groping. Alaska dodges it with a flick. I burn from the inside. My nails leave half-moons in my palm.
"I’m telling you again—you’re not locking us up." Alaska doesn’t lower her voice. "We’re not a trophy. You’re not my boss. You don’t know me."
"I know enough," Irina says. "Your face is everywhere. They’re already tracking you on social. Some people see two sisters and smell weakness. They’ll go for you."
Vega wets her lips, looks at Alaska with quiet panic. Irina eases a step, but doesn’t move aside. I realize I’m holding my breath and let it out in a rush. The laugh from before is gone.
Julia steps forward. She puts herself between them without lifting her chin. Voice soft, steady. Her pupils wide.
"Listen, honey. This isn’t a whim or a punishment. There’s real danger. I’m not talking cameras or pushy fans. I’m talking about people who hurt you. People who won’t hesitate."
"What people?" Alaska snaps, rough. "Give me names. Give me specifics. Because this all sounds like a story to keep us put."
"We can’t give you names right now," Rashel cuts in. "I can tell you there are warnings, weird movement near your front door, they’ve already tried to get into your calendar. We have proof. We can’t leave you alone for even an hour."
Alaska blinks, eyes red with bottled rage. Her nostrils flare. She looks at Vega. Her thumb trembling. A whisper slips out. Alaska’s stubbornness slides for a second. She looks back at Irina. Tightens her neck.
"And if I say no, then what?" she says, lowering her voice a little. "You going to send two guys to the bathroom with me? You going to lock the door?"
"I’m going to protect you. Even if you hate me. Even if you scream at me. Plenty of people already hate me for worse. I can handle one more."
A weird pocket of silence opens up. The hall clock strikes twice. The phone buzzes on the table and nobody looks. I want to put a hand on Alaska’s shoulder, pull her two steps aside, get her some air, make her listen. I freeze.
"Look, Irina," Alaska drops her voice half a notch, but she’s still all steel. "I didn’t come here so you could shove me into a car with some armed guy I don’t know.
I want to sleep in my bed. I want to shower in my bathroom.
I want to open my fridge and eat whatever the hell I want. Nonnegotiable."
"That bed isn’t safe anymore." Irina doesn’t waver. "Neither is that shower. That fridge, least of all. In two days, your house will be a circus. You’re not putting the neighbors at risk. That’s it."
Vega nods, very slowly. I watch her swallow her tears with dignity. Her hand doesn’t let go of Alaska’s. Julia takes a breath and drops her voice a little more, no sugarcoating.
"There’s a protocol, Alaska, honey. We’re not going to lock you up underground. We’ll give you rooms here, keys, space. As soon as we can, we’ll take you to get your things with an escort. We change routes, we change phones. And then you decide with a cool head. Not today."
Alaska runs her tongue over her teeth, furious. She folds her arms. She looks at each of them, one by one. Back to Irina.
"I don’t trust you."
"You don’t need to," Irina murmurs. "Trust that I won’t let anything happen to you two."
"You’re very smart," Alaska says. "It shows. But you don’t scare me."
Irina inclines her head a millimeter. Not another flicker. Julia lifts her hand and lays it on Alaska’s forearm, a light touch.
"Trust all of us," she says. "We’re not going to let anything happen to you two."
Alaska holds firm. She looks at Vega. Vega says something in her ear, a short line only they hear. Alaska closes her eyes for a second. Opens them. The slightest nod.
"One day," she spits. "One. I’ll stay one day. Then we talk."
Irina takes two seconds to answer. She takes them. She lets out her breath. The tension doesn’t ease, but it settles.
"One day. And first thing tomorrow morning, we talk it through calmly."
The living room gets a little sound back. A chair creaks. Someone coughs. I breathe out through my nose, slow. And I swallow the laugh that was bubbling up a minute ago. Because there’s nothing funny about this scene now. Here, everything can blow up with a single sentence.