The Girl Who Feared Nothing
1028 Words
Mila Torres had learned early that fear was a luxury.
People who grew up safe could afford to be afraid. They could hesitate, second-guess themselves, wait for help to arrive. Mila had never had that privilege. When your mother worked double shifts and your rent was always late, fear became useless. You learned to move anyway.
So Mila moved through life with her head high and her shoulders squared.
Even when she was tired.
Even when she was broke.
Even when the world tried to remind her that she was small and alone.
The morning started the way most of her mornings did — with her alarm screaming at six a.m. and her landlord pounding on the door.
“Miss Torres!” Mr. Hanley’s voice echoed through the thin walls of her apartment. “Your rent was due last week!”
Mila groaned, pulling a pillow over her head.
“Yeah, and my paycheck was due yesterday,” she shouted back. “We’re both disappointed.”
There was a pause.
Then a huff.
Then retreating footsteps.
She smiled faintly into the pillow.
Victory.
She dragged herself out of bed, pulled on jeans and a hoodie, and tied her dark hair into a messy bun. The mirror in her bathroom was cracked, but it still reflected the sharpness in her eyes. She splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth while mentally planning her day.
Design studio until four.
Bar shift from six until midnight.
Somewhere in between, she’d figure out groceries.
She grabbed a piece of toast on her way out and jogged down the stairs, nearly colliding with Mrs. Alvarez from the second floor.
“Slow down, niña,” the old woman scolded.
Mila grinned. “If I slow down, I’ll be late.”
Mrs. Alvarez shook her head fondly. “You work too hard.”
Mila shrugged. “Bills don’t pay themselves.”
Outside, the city was already alive. Vendors set up carts. Buses hissed to stops. People moved in tired waves toward jobs they barely tolerated.
Mila slipped on her headphones and let music fill her ears as she walked.
She loved this part of the day.
The city before it fully woke up.
At the design studio, Mila spent hours hunched over her computer, refining layouts and correcting fonts while her boss paced behind her.
“Can you make it pop more?” he asked for the fifth time.
She didn’t look up. “If it pops any more, it’ll explode.”
He frowned.
She sighed and adjusted the colors anyway.
Her coworkers liked Mila. She was blunt, funny, and always willing to help. She also had a reputation for speaking her mind to clients who treated interns like furniture.
At lunch, her friend Jasmine slid into the chair beside her.
“You look dead.”
Mila took a sip of coffee. “I feel worse.”
Jasmine leaned closer. “Did you hear about the warehouse shooting last night?”
Mila shrugged. “No.”
“Two guys found executed. People say Adrian Black was involved.”
Mila snorted. “People say a lot of things.”
Jasmine stared at her. “You’re not scared?”
Mila raised an eyebrow. “Should I be?”
“That man is a monster.”
“Then he and I have something in common,” Mila said dryly.
Jasmine laughed. “You’re impossible.”
“Yet lovable.”
After work, Mila headed straight to the bar.
The Rusted Crown was a narrow place with flickering lights and sticky floors, but it paid in cash and didn’t ask questions. Mila tied on her apron and stepped behind the counter like she owned it.
She flirted for tips, shut down creeps with sharp smiles, and remembered regulars’ drinks.
Halfway through her shift, a group of suited men entered the bar.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Conversations lowered. Bodies stiffened.
Everyone knew those men.
Adrian Black’s people.
They didn’t cause trouble. They didn’t raise their voices.
They didn’t have to.
Mila poured drinks without staring.
One of the men approached the counter.
“Whiskey,” he said.
She poured it and slid it across.
“That’ll be twelve.”
He blinked. “Put it on Black’s tab.”
Mila shook her head. “Not how we do things.”
He frowned. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”
She met his eyes calmly.
“Yeah. A guy who owes me twelve dollars.”
The bar went silent.
The man stared at her like she’d lost her mind.
Then, slowly, he reached into his pocket and placed cash on the counter.
Mila handed him his drink.
“Enjoy,” she said sweetly.
Behind her, the bartender whispered, “You have a death wish.”
Mila shrugged. “If I die, I die.”
Later that night, walking home alone, Mila took a shortcut through a side street.
Two men stepped out of the shadows.
Her body went still.
“Hey, beautiful,” one said.
She rolled her eyes. “Try again.”
They moved closer.
Mila adjusted her grip on her keys.
Before anything could happen, headlights flooded the alley.
A black SUV rolled to a stop.
The men froze.
One whispered, “Shit.”
They backed away quickly and disappeared.
The SUV drove off without slowing.
Mila stood there for a moment, heart pounding.
She didn’t know it yet.
But Adrian Black had been inside that vehicle.
He had seen her.
The way she stood her ground.
The way she didn’t beg.
The way she lifted her chin even when afraid.
He hadn’t planned to intervene.
He simply had.
Mila continued home, unaware she had just entered the orbit of the city’s most dangerous man.
She unlocked her apartment and collapsed onto her bed, exhaustion finally catching up to her.
She stared at the ceiling, thinking about nothing and everything.
She didn’t believe in fate.
She believed in choices.
But some encounters change everything whether you want them to or not.
Some loves begin in shadows.
And Mila Torres, stubborn and fearless, had just caught the attention of a devil who swore he would never feel again.
- Writer
