Towards Redemption [HIATUS]

14. |Dead-man Alive|

Here's the update I promised you guys! 

love,

ceelia. [with an extra, extra short author's note]

*************** 

"Good morning, peanut." The first thing Esame hears when she wakes up the following morning is the warm voice of Matthew. The curtains were already drawn so that she wouldn't be blinded by the glare of the morning sun, the rays entering the all-white room through the peach curtains gave the whole room a dreamlike effect. As disarming it would have been to anyone else, Esmae only felt a pang of sadness and slight anger at her plight.

"Morning Papa." Esmae smiles as the huge man leans over and places a tray on her lap while simultaneously dropping a kiss to her forehead.

"The doctor just came in with your report. She says the condition of your lungs appear fine in the reports, but she wants you under watch for a couple of days, just to be sure," Matthew says as he sits down on the chair next to Esmae's bed. She pulls at the straw and inserts it inside her orange juice, careful not to topple the tray. It was hard to eat with all the tubes shoved inside her although the worst of it was gone. The tube going above her upper lips and supplying oxygen from a cylinder directly into her nostrils proved especially a nuisance. 

"She wants you to go slow, just fluids, nothing too hard." Matthew says and Esmae nods, she had heard the conversation so many times. She sits up on the bed with some help and glazes towards the window,, admiring how the small breeze coming from the windows sent the curtains into a slow dance. 

She just wished Grimm was here.

**************

Vince wakes up that morning in a rather pleasing way; to a woman's, soft lush curves pressed to his hard muscled body. The warmth doing nothing to help with his morning wood nor the seemingly oblivious siren curled into his side, muttering in her sleep and snuggling further into him when Vince moves to fully face her.

Beth looked nothing like the spitfire she was when awake. Her blonde hair was tousled in wild abandon, her skin had red spots here and there, proof of his claim on her and she was gloriously naked and achingly female underneath the sheets.

Vince runs a finger around her covered nipples, as though in a trance and Beth shivers and lets out a low moan in her sleep. Vince pauses, one fine eyebrow raises itself into a perfect arch as a rare, caught off guard expression molds itself into Vince's chiseled features. Beth snuggles further into him and mumbles something about assholes and fúcking big dicks.

Vince chortles in an effort to right out laugh, his little dove was as vulgar as ever, even in her sleep. Vince's eyes fall to where the sheets have slipped of her chest to reveal a breast covered in hickeys and instantly, Vince's eyes take on a predatory glint. He pulls the sheet completely off his sleeping little dove and slides down her body to indulge himself in the most sensual of feasts.

He doesn't reappear out of his private quarters until much, much later.

***********

Grimm wakes up leaning next to a wall in the shooting ring, Rosie laid by his side, utterly spent and he felt as empty as she was. A lot more composed and thinking more rationally than he was when he entered the shooting ring, Grimm reloads Rosie, filling her up before he makes his was out. He needed a fúcking shower before he let's Vince gnaw his head off.

And for the first time in weeks, Grimm forgets to check his phone for Esmae's message. 

To: Grimm

From: Esmae

Good morning! Hope you had breakfast...

I miss you.

*****************

When Grimm enters Vince's office, the silver eyed man is on the phone, barking words through the speaker in quick succession in what Grimm assumed was Italian. Vince doesn't bother turning around to address Grimm, he just holds out a finger in a silent command to give him a minute.

When Vince finally hangs up, he does it with a sign. "Gregory is a fúcking pain." He says, the normal silver eyes filled with mirth were cold and distant as they regarded Grimm. Gregory was the oldest of the Morettila brothers. Although Grimm didn't know much about the infamous older brother, Gregory used to be an assassin, whose name was spoken at an international level with fear. Grimm was nothing compared to what the oldest of the Morettila's had seen and done. Gregory's reputation was legendary and many controversies had arisen, rumors adding wood to the fire when he finally stopped. No one but the brother's knew why and Grimm didn't give a fúck.

"Drew's awake," Vince says as he grabs the suit hanging from the back of his chair and strides towards the door. "'Bout fúcking time." Grimm mutters as he follows the ringmaster. 

******************

"It was a warning shot." Drew says as he practically inhales a cigarette, Vince narrows his eyes. If Drew sees the steely glaze directed at him, he doesn't bother acknowledging it. "My guess would be that whoever was controlling Pete, wanted me dead as a warning to you." Drew's eyes slide over to Vince before flickering towards Grimm, both men share a look.

"Pete never died," Drew blows a cloud of smoke into the air, "It was a setup. And we all fell for it like blink fools." Grimm snarls. "However, I see no reason why Pete would attack the family, if he even managed to escape death." Vince says.

Grimm doesn't say a word, but Vince knows Grimm was his man in the statement. "Pete has no motive," Drew drawls lazily, "But even saints can be persuaded with the right tools." The words hang in the air, both Vince and Grimm knew how easy it was to turn saints into devil's henchmen; they were after all, masters at that particular game.

"Whoever Pete was before," Vince says, his eyes hardening, "He died that night. The man who shot you may resemble our dead friend, but he has made a grave mistake by poking at the lions." 

"But," Drew says as he takes another drag, "He shoots quite well for a presumably dead man with an prosthetic arm." 

When Vince and Grimm leave the room, a nurse enters, she was a lush woman with curly hair and dark mocha skin. "Sir! You can't smoke in here! And especially not in your condition." She snaps and manages to pull the cigarette from right between Drew's lips.

But before she can crush it in the ashtray by the bed, she freezes, Drew is holding a pistol, it's safety off and barrel pointed right at her head. "You know, people often loose their lives for not thinking before they act." He says, his silver eyes are sure ice, perhaps even colder than Vince's and were slightly crazed. 

"I..." The woman stammers, her skin breaking out in cold sweat. She never finishes her sentence. One of the men standing behind her shoots, the bang echoing through the quiet room. "That was not necessary Carsto," Drew sighs, and places his pistol down on the mattress, suddenly feeling quite tired.

"Cleanup the mess." Drew sighs at the woman. Carsto nods at the men who immediately rush to do as their King ordered. Carsto moves towards Drew and picks up the pistol, immediately noticing the absence of it's ammo clip. 

*************

That's a wrap!