Callie wasn't a gentle woman; she wasn't soft or kind.

She was violent and cruel and dangerous, deadly.

She had been one of the girls at her main club.

Callie had watched her for a little while, bringing drinks to tables, tending to the bar, and talking to patrons.

She had leaned over to Valencia. "That one." She nodded at the woman. "Have her bring me a... Martini. Extra Dry."

She had brought her the martini, and Callie had memorized her face.

She made sure that she always brought her her drinks, or food she ordered from the kitchen... and then she asked to take her to dinner.

And she was aware there was a power dynamic here, but she had said yes and well... Callie never claimed she was a good woman. She never claimed to be kind.

She'd taken her to dinner. Then again. And again.

Every Tuesday, she took her to dinner.

Every Friday, Saturday and Sunday, she spent her nights at the club, making people come to her for business just so she could have her bring her drinks.

She bought her things, dresses and makeup and jewelry, asking her to wear the gifts to dinner.

She took her on lavish trips, to Malorca, to Paris, to Rome and Venice and Athens.

She asked her to move in not long after.

Callie would ask her to come with her to meetings, and wrap her arm around her, sometimes pulling her into her lap for meetings.

She made it clear, she was her Queen. Hands off, or lose the hands.

She doted on her.

She gave her the best of everything, every comfort and every luxury she could, everything her love desired; she would bring to her.

But then Valencia had approached her when she was alone at the club one Wednesday, and put a folder in front of her.

She'd raised an eyebrow.

"What is this, Valencia?"

"It's about your girl." Callie pursed her lips and opened the folder, then immediately slammed it shut.

"What the fuck is this?" She hissed.

"Proof. She's feeding information to the enemy, and I thought you'd want to know." Valencia walked out.

Callie sat there, completely silent, staring at the folder in front of her.

Betrayal.

She hated betrayal more than anything else.

She got up and silently walked out.

She didn't say anything as she walked out to her car and silently drove home, anger brewing with every minute she spent behind the wheel.

She parked and got out, walking into the dark house.

"Lock down." She spoke as she passed the security at the front door, continuing to walk as the whirr of locks and alarms engaging filled her ears.

She knew where she would be.

She loved the balcony off the master bedroom. Callie had gotten her a swing on the balcony specifically because of how much she loved it out there.

She opened the sliding door.

She was wearing things Callie had bought her.

She stepped out and leaned against the railing.

"I saw some interesting things today." She hummed, staring out at the water. "So. You're talking to Horner."