A/N: I'm just ramping things up in this chapter. This is the fallout from the previous chapter, and it's only going to get crazier. No smut, this is all plot development. More notes at the end.
She's terrified. She can barely hold the bottle of body wash in her hands and winds up sinking to the floor, sobbing. James has to strip his clothes off and help her wash her hair and scrub down her body. She's a fucking mess. He brushes her hair for her and braids it before picking out some comfortable clothes for her to wear. She puts on one of his old NYU sweaters and a pair of leggings. They don't speak the entire time. He dries her tears and she lets him kiss her on the cheek. As devastated as she is and terrified that he's going to say something that will break her heart, she doesn't want to push him away. She needs someone right now.
With his help, it doesn't take her long to get ready. They hop in the car and drive toward Cedars Sinai where her aunt is currently in the ICU. Dahlia's fists are clenched. She can't lose the only family she has left. James is gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles are white.
Dahlia watches three dots pop up and then disappear again. Her stomach is in knots as she looks over at James. There's no music playing, but his hand is still on her thigh, as it it always is. She's not angry with him, but she needs answers, and it feels like James has been lying to her again. This relationship cannot work if it's solely based on lies.
"You'd better start talking," she says softly.
He takes a deep breath.
"I'm trying to figure out what to say."
"We don't have time for that, James!" Dahlia spits. "You said you had something to tell me, so you'd better start talking."
She's furious, grief-stricken, and scared. Rita's life is on the line, and if they both know who did it, one of them better say it out loud right now.
"I think Steve shot your aunt."
"Fuck," Dahlia whispers. She covers her face with her hands. Deep down, in her heart of hearts, she knew it was true. She was just hoping he would say something like that Wilson Fisk guy - someone who was separated from the two of them. Dahlia has had a bad feeling about Steve since the very beginning. He's been hot and cold toward her, and she's never liked the way he looked at her.
"Steve has a history... it started back when I was in college. Once he gets his hooks into someone, he becomes obsessed and he won't stop until he controls anything and everything about them."
"What do you mean?"
"He's killed women. For leaving him, and I have it on good authority that he's pissed off that you're going to inherit everything from the business and be my partner. He doesn't like to be pushed out, so he's trying to get to--"
Tears prick Dahlia's eyes and she shoves him in the chest.
"You knew this. You knew this and you didn't say anything to me?!"
"I thought that he had gotten help. He mentioned he was going to therapy—"
"James, I told you that I didn't want our relationship to be based on lies! You just put me in danger and this might have killed my fucking aunt!"
"He's never done anything like this before!" James snaps, looking over at her. His eyes are blazing. "I had no idea he would do something like this."
"Are you sure it's him?"
"Yes," James says softly. "I kept him close because I didn't want him to go after Rebecca, or anyone else I cared about. But he's never gone after the family of the woman I love." He breathes deeply. "When we were in college, he killed his ex-girlfriend... and then there were others. I covered for him, lied to the police, paid money, made it go away."
She can't fucking believe this, and in a way, she absolutely can. James has barely told her anything about his past, other than his father's abuse and the impact on the family.
He keeps talking and Dahlia feels like she might collapse.
"I helped him dump his ex-girlfriend's body. I made him promise to get help. The guy I was working for—"
"The mafia guy."
"Yeah, he told me that he would get Steve a psychiatrist, and he did, but the thing with... whatever is wrong with his mind is that he needs to be constantly monitored, and once Steve decided that he was fine, I guess things were secretly getting more and more out of control."
Dahlia is quiet, processing, and staring out the front window of the car. James squeezes her knee.
"Please, peach. Talk to me."
"I can't believe you didn't tell me this, and now Wanda?!"
James pulls into the hospital parking lot and hangs his head.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"What the fuck are we going to do?!" Dahlia asks. "We have to get Wanda away from him!"
"We can't do that right now."
"James, he could be hurting her!"
He leans over and grabs her face with both hands.
"If you start to lose control and make irrational decisions, and take Wanda away from him, then Steve is going to know something's going on. While she's still attached to him, she's safe."
Dahlia's eyes narrow. She's always trusted James, but she doesn't know if she can take his word for it when it comes to her family. Her eyes glisten with tears.
"James, you'd better not be lying to me. About any of this."
"I'm not," he breathes. "I swear to God, I'm not lying to you. The best way to keep Wanda and yourself safe is to leave things as they are. Steve is dangerous. Maybe more dangerous than me."
He sighs softly.
"I talked to Becs. She found emails to Fisk. Steve is getting money from him. He paid John Walker's debts to him. He's connected to the cops... maybe more than I am. I have no idea what he's been doing behind my back, but Becs said it started when you and I started seeing each other."
"Jesus Christ, James. You were supposed to tell me—"
"I just found this out. So, if a police officer asks you questions today, we can't mention Steve's name. Things could get much worse for us, and I can't afford to lose you, Dahlia. In any capacity."
"If he did—" Her face crumples and she wants to cry, but maintains her composure. "If you're fucking sure that he shot my aunt, I'm going to fucking kill him."
James takes a deep breath and presses his forehead to hers.
"Where you lead, I follow, Dahlia. I told you, I'd burn down the whole world for you, and I meant it." He tilts his head. "Can I kiss you?"
She nods. James presses his lips to hers. It's soft and sweet, his tongue gliding against hers. Dahlia sobs and clutches onto his suit jacket with everything she has. She never wants to let him go. She's so fucking angry at him, but right now, James is the only protector she has. All she can do is follow his lead.
He breaks the kiss and brushes her cheek with the backs of his knuckles.
"I'm going to find out who did it and together, we're going to make them fucking pay. Okay?"
"Even if it's your best friend?"
"Dahlia, if he's hurting the woman I love, he's not much of a friend, is he?"
She shakes her head.
"Everything is going to be fine. I promise, Dahlia. Let's go and see your aunt."
Dahlia nods and they get out of the car. James holds her hand the entire time. When they get to the desk, a nurse with a stern-looking face glances up at them.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm Dahlia Davies, my aunt was shot, and—"
"Lotta people get shot in this city, sweetheart. Do you have a name?"
James looks murderous standing beside her, staring the nurse down.
"Rita Martin."
The nurse types something in on her computer and looks up at her.
"She's in intensive care. She was brought in early this morning. I can—"
"Mr. Barnes! Dahlia!" Peter's voice calls from behind them.
He comes running down the hall, his eyes rimmed red and glossy with tears.
"Peter, what the hell are you doing here?"
"I'm the one who called it in," he tells them. "I dropped her off and I was about to drive away when I heard two pops, and— I should have gone inside with her, Mr. Barnes. I should have— Dahlia, I'm sorry, this is my fault."
"It's not your fault, Peter," Dahlia whispers. "You didn't know this was going to happen."
Peter bursts into tears and James reaches out and wraps his arms around him.
"Hey, shh. It's okay," James whispers as Peter sobs. "It's okay."
Dahlia rubs his back. She doesn't blame Peter for anything. It's not his fault. He was doing his job. They both soothe Peter and Dahlia gets angrier. He didn't deserve this. He's just a fucking kid.
"Miss Davies? Mr. Barnes?" A voice calls.
They look up to see a man with dark, slicked back hair, light blue eyes, and high cheekbones walking toward them. He's in a black suit with a white dress shirt and a dark blue tie. Peter sniffles as James lets him go.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm Detective Steve Kemp from the LAPD. Detective Boedecker called you earlier this morning?"
"Yes, where is he?" Dahlia asks.
"He got another call. Homicide. Dahlia, you're Rita's niece?"
"Yeah, she's kind of like my mom — is she okay?"
"She's in surgery," Detective Kemp tells them. "Has been for a few hours now. I already took a statement from Mr. Parker, but he told me that Rita had dinner at your house?"
"My house, yes," James confirms. "In Malibu."
Detective Kemp writes in a small black notebook.
"Do you know who did it?" Dahlia asks.
"We don't have any leads just yet. There's a spot we can wait just down the hall there. I'd like to ask you some more questions." He looks around. "In private."
"Of course," James whispers.
He grabs Dahlia's hand and they follow Detective Kemp and Peter down the hall to a small set of benches where they can sit down. Dahlia smells bleach and the unmistakable scent of a hospital. She hates it here. She spent too much time in them when she was a kid, watching her dad get patched up. Dahlia sat beside her mother, pretending to be the most well-behaved daughter in the world when in reality, she was seething. Her mother always followed her dad to the hospital to make sure he didn't tell the doctors a damn thing. It's not like they would have believed him anyway. Men being abused by their wives isn't something that's widely regarded as a "problem." It's so stigmatized. Her father was afraid that he would hear things like, "Why don't you just push her away?" "Why can't you defend yourself? You some kind of pussy?"
So, he said nothing, and hoped that it would get better.
"Dahlia, did your aunt have any enemies?" Detective Kemp asks as she sits between James and Peter, reaching out to hold James's hand.
"No," Dahlia says honestly. "She's a good person. She volunteers. She, uh, took me in after my dad died and my mom went to prison—"
"For?"
"Killing my dad."
Detective Kemp nods and scribbles in his notebook.
"Is your mother still incarcerated?"
"Yes."
"Does she know where your aunt lives?"
"Not to my knowledge. Nobody talks to her."
"Well, we both know that's not true," Detective Kemp replies. "I was doing some digging into you while I was waiting, and it seems that you went to visit your mother just a few days ago."
Dahlia swallows and James leans forward.
"Hey, Detective?" James snarls. "Watch the way you speak to my fiancé."
"How am I speaking to her?"
"I don't like your tone. You could have asked her that as a question, but instead you're sticking your nose into Dahlia's business."
"That's my job, Mr. Barnes."
"Okay, stop. Both of you," Dahlia snaps. "There's enough shit going on, I don't need to deal with any more. Yes, detective, I went to see my mother the other day. I went to see her to tell her that I wasn't going to sign this compassionate release form that she wanted me to sign. She has brain cancer. It's terminal."
"Does your mother have gang connections behind bars?" Kemp asks.
"I— I don't know. Do you think she could have done something like this?"
"To get back at you?" Kemp asks. "It's possible. Unless your fiancé has enemies."
"Too many to count," James mutters.
"What was that?"
"I said too many to count. You don't get to where I am in business without stabbing people in the back."
"Well, they say as many as 12% of CEOs are psychopaths," Kemp replies.
"Yeah? What's the percentage for cops?" James challenges, tilting his head. "How many of you beat your wives? Forty percent? I thought I read it was forty percent. Could be higher though, couldn't it? You guys do a pretty good job of silencing people."
Kemp stares at James, who refuses to take his eyes off of him. Dahlia puts her head in her hands and sighs softly.
"James, please."
She doesn't need this metaphorical dick measuring contest right now. Steve's jaw ticks the same way James's does. They look similar, but Steve's face looks more weighed down by something - work, exhaustion, she can't quite tell. His eyes are a little less blue, more grey. Clouded. He sighs.
"Okay. Mr. Barnes, would you be able to provide me with a list of potential people who might hold a grudge against you?"
"It's endless," James replies. "But I can give you some names."
Dahlia knows he won't give up Steve. He'll want to dispense his own form of justice for that, and if Steve has connections with the police and Wilson Fisk, Dahlia knows they'll have to play the long game.
"That would be a big help," Kemp says softly.
A door next to him opens and a doctor emerges with an exhausted and grim look on his face. He's young, with short brown hair and he's holding a surgical cap in his hands. Dahlia's eyes meet his and they well up with tears. He looks down at Kemp.
"Is she—"
Kemp points at Dahlia.
"Miss Davies? I'm Doctor Chris Beck." She's trembling and stares up at him. He smiles softly. She can't tell if he's about to deliver good news or bad news. "Your aunt is out of surgery."
She lets out a sob of relief and collapses on James.
"What happened to her?" James asks.
Doctor Beck clasps his hands in front of him.
"She took three bullets to the back, one of them punctured her lung, the other shattered her scapula, and one of them just missed her spinal cord. She's very lucky to be alive. It was touch and go on the table for a while. We almost lost her twice."
Dahlia can't stop crying. She's shaking as James holds her and runs a hand through her hair. She can hear Peter let out a soft sob of relief, and then Kemp's voice.
"I'd like those slugs you pulled out of her. Wanna run ballistics on them."
"Of course," Doctor Beck says softly. "We've put them aside for you. I'll have a nurse bring them out once we've finished cleanup."
"Thanks, Doctor."
"No problem."
Dahlia looks up, her eyes bright red and her vision still blurry from the tears.
"Can I see her? Can I see Rita?"
"She's in a medically induced coma for now to assist with the healing process. She hit her head when she went down. Badly. There's some swelling in her brain, so the coma assists with brain rest, but I don't see why you couldn't see her. It's going to be a very long road to recovery for her. It's possible that there's some brain damage or a concussion, but we won't know until we wake her up and we can run more tests."
Kemp stands up and tucks his notebook back into his pocket. He looks like he's leaving. Thank God. Dahlia can't handle a cop interrogating her while she's trying to hold her aunt's hand in the recovery room.
"When she wakes up, can you have someone call me? I'd like to ask her some questions about her assailant."
"Sure," Doctor Beck replies. "Not a problem. Ms. Davies? Right this way."
"Can I bring them with me? This is my fiancé and Peter is a family friend."
"Of course. Just make sure to be quiet in the recovery room."
Dahlia nods and they follow Doctor Beck into the recovery room. Rita is in a shared room and James looks around, frowning.
"I'll put down some money so that she can have a private room to recover in," he whispers. "Don't worry about her hospital bills."
"Tell her that," Dahlia says softly.
Doctor Beck walks them up to Rita's bed. She looks so small and pale. She's got tubes up her nose and IVs sticking out of her arms. Dahlia covers her mouth and lets out a sob. She's devastated, but this could have been a lot worse. At least Rita will be there for their wedding.
"I'll leave you to it," Doctor Beck whispers. "Take as much time as you need."
"Thank you, Doctor," James says softly.
Peter lingers by the edge of Rita's bed while Dahlia rushes toward her, giving her a small and tender hug and a kiss on the cheek, her tears spilling onto Rita's face.
"I'm so sorry, mama," she weeps. "I'm so sorry. We're going to find out who did this to you."
James rubs her back and Dahlia eases herself into a chair. James pulls one up for himself and Peter while Dahlia keeps a grip on Rita's hand. She doesn't know what to do or say, she just knows that she doesn't want to leave. She's afraid to.
So, the three of them wait. They spend hours in the recovery room. James goes to the front desk and buys Rita a private room. They follow the nurses as they move Rita into her room and cast them sad, sympathetic glances as they leave. The room is beautiful. She has a window and a view of the city. She'll like that. There's a little garden that she can look out over when she's able to get up and walk around.
Peter is asleep in one of the chairs while James is downing coffee like water. Dahlia has had a couple of cups to keep herself awake, but the coffee is either really shitty, or her body just refuses to handle it. Her eyes droop. She doesn't want to miss it just in case Rita wakes up, but she's so exhausted and the adrenaline is making her crash hard. James stares at her and reaches over to kiss her cheek.
"It's okay to go to sleep, peach. She's not going anywhere, and neither am I."
"I have to text Wanda. I left my phone in your glove compartment."
"I did it for you. She's on her way."
"Is she okay?" Dahlia asks. And then the more important question. "Is she bringing Steve?"
"She says she hasn't seen Steve since last night. She's bringing Kate and Scott with her. They'll be here in an hour. Get some rest."
Dahlia nods and closes her eyes, falling into a fitful sleep. She wakes up at the sound of Wanda's voice, and James squeezing her shoulder. Dahlia opens her eyes to see Wanda, Scott and Kate standing in the doorway, all of them with flowers and gifts in their hands. Peter is gone, but he must have bought Rita flowers before he left, because there's a big bouquet of roses sitting on her beside table. Dahlia smiles. Rita loves roses. Dahlia used to make her little bouquets when she was a kid - mostly as an apology after she had done something shitty.
Wanda looks even more exhausted than when Dahlia last saw her.
"Hey, babes," she whispers, walking toward her. Dahlia gets up from her chair and wraps her best friend in a tight hug. Wanda coughs. "Careful, you're squeezing the life out of me."
It's a joke, but Dahlia pulls away and stares at her, wanting so desperately to tell her that she has to get out, but she remembers what James said.
"How is she?" Wanda asks.
"She got shot three times in the back," Dahlia whispers.
"But she's gonna be okay?" Wanda asks with wide eyes. "Rita's gonna be okay, right?"
"She's gonna be fine," James assures her.
"Thank God. Are you guys okay?"
"We're holding it together," Dahlia tells her.
"Good. I tried to get a hold of Steve, but he's not answering his phone, which is super weird."
"That is strange. You saw him last night?"
"Yeah, he came over for dinner, we watched a movie, he made me some drinks, and then I passed out. When I woke up, I was in my bed and he was gone. No text, no nothing, he totally—" she covers her mouth and her stomach and doubles over.
"Wanda?" James asks.
"I feel terrible. I think I ate something bad."
"You're sweating," James informs her. "Are you sick?"
"No, I've just got these stomach cramps. We had sushi last night, maybe it's—" She blinks, and Dahlia begins to panic. "I need to sit down."
"We need to get a nurse," James says. "Kate? Scott? Go."
"On it," they say in unison and dart out of the room. Wanda doubles over, grabs a trash can and begins to vomit into it. James looks at Dahlia with terror in his eyes.
"I have to talk to you," he says softly. "Outside."
"Wanda—"
"Wanda, the nurse will be here in a couple of minutes. Do you need anything?" James asks.
She shakes her head.
"Go talk. I'll be fine."
As they walk past, Dahlia notices that there's a bald spot forming on the back of her head and her stomach knots. This is much worse than she imagined.
James pulls her into the hallway and walks her half way down, glancing around. There are tears in his eyes and they're filled with terror and realization. He's shaking.
"Dahlia, do you remember what I told you about Dot?"
"You said she poisoned you."
"I had the same symptoms as Wanda. I don't think it was Dot."
"It was Steve," Dahlia breathes.
James nods and his eyes become flooded with guilt.
"I killed her. I killed her for him. He made sure of it. She was going to take over the business if we got married, and Steve fucking knew that. Before I shot her, she said she didn't know where the poison came from, that he framed her, that he was obsessed with money and power, and I just couldn't see it." He wipes his eyes. "I killed someone who was completely — she didn't deserve that."
"James, you kept Steve too close, and now he's starting to hurt people again. This has to end. Where would he go?"
"I don't know. I'll call Barton and Sam, get them to track him down. But we have to get Wanda the antidote for that shit, or things are going to get worse. If it's the same thing he used on me, it doesn't just leave your bloodstream. It gets worse. She's going to start getting neurological damage, and who knows what that could do to her."
There's a small commotion behind them - doors opening, Wanda groaning, and they turn around to find a nurse wheeling her out of Rita's room while Scott and Kate run up to them.
"They're taking her to run some tests. The nurse did a brief exam, took one look at her, and said she had to get Wanda's blood tested immediately. She wouldn't tell us why," Scott informs them. "We called her brother, he's on his way."
Kate's eyes bounce between Dahlia and James.
"What the hell is going on? First your aunt and now there's something up with Wanda? And you two are doing an awful lot of whispering."
"Mind your business, Kate," James warns.
"With all due respect, Mr. Barnes. There are a hell of a lot of rumors about you and the company you keep, and I'm starting to wonder if maybe they're true."
He narrows his eyes.
"What have you heard?"
"That you're in the mafia. And this looks extremely fucking suspicious." Kate crosses her arms over her chest. Dahlia's heart is pounding. She did not need this much excitement on a fucking Friday morning. Sharon's gala is tomorrow, and everything has fallen the fuck apart.
"The mafia?" Scott asks. "You're in the mafia?!"
"Will you keep your fucking voices down?" James hisses.
"Are you?" Scott asks.
James sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"I didn't need—"
"Buck? Dahlia?" Steve's voice calls from down the hall. Dahlia's guts twist and she fights the urge to charge him, tackle him to the ground, and beat him to death with her fists. Steve has sweat on his brow, and there's a concerned look on his face that Dahlia knows is practiced. Everything about him is bullshit. Now that she can see through it, everything makes so much more sense. James eyes him with suspicion at first, but his face quickly softens as Steve runs up with his phone in his hand.
"I just got Wanda's texts, what the fuck is going on?"
"She's getting some tests done, and Dahlia's aunt just got out of surgery a few hours ago."
Steve swipes a hand through his hair. Dahlia can see a glimmer of disappointment on his face. He did it. He fucking shot Rita, or he hired someone to. She's so angry that she can feel her fingernails digging into her palms, threatening to draw blood.
"Jesus," Steve whispers. "That's uh... wow. I'm really sorry to hear about your aunt, Dahlia."
"Thanks," she says through gritted teeth. James wraps an arm around her and pulls her toward him. A protective gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by Steve.
"You don't need to be here, Stevie. We've got this locked down."
"What do you mean?" He asks. "My girl is getting tests. I should be here."
"She says you made her a drink last night and then she fell asleep and when she woke up, she was in her bed, and you were gone. You've been ghosting her all day," Kate pipes up.
Steve's eyes narrow at her. The gaze is venomous.
"Yeah, I had a work thing."
"Weird, because you text Wanda a lot, even when you're in meetings. You blow up her phone, like, all the time," Scott says.
"Are you telling me how to communicate with my girlfriend?" Steve laughs. "What are you accusing me of?"
"Nothing," James says. "They're not accusing you of anything."
"You'd better fucking not be," Steve growls, sticking his finger in Kate's face. "Sorry that Wanda is fucking happy, and that I make her fucking happy. You two meddling little fucks have been—"
"Enough!" James exclaims. "Stevie, you need to leave. We'll see you at the gala tomorrow."
He chuckles.
"You won't even let me see my girlfriend?" His hand is twitching at his side. Dahlia is watching his every move like a hawk. "And now you're telling me that I have to leave?"
"Her brother is on his way here now," James informs him. "If you want to come and visit her later, then you can do that, but she's getting blood tests right now."
Steve's head snaps up.
"Blood tests?"
"Yeah. Blood tests."
Dahlia tilts her head, wanting to ask him why he looks so nervous. His eyes flit around the hallway and he scratches the back of his neck. There was no way he thought he could actually get away with this. Was there?
"What kind of blood tests?"
"We don't know. But I need you to go and pick up Pierce—"
"Yeah, there's a problem with that," Steve tells him. "Pierce is dead."
"Dead?" James asks.
Steve nods gravely.
"Car accident. That's what I came here to tell you."
How convenient, Dahlia thinks.
He was probably behind that too. Dahlia is starting to wonder if James is really in control of anything. He's brought Steve in too close to his inner circle. There should be a limit on keeping your enemies closer. Too close and they could wind up trying to ruin your life.
"I thought you came here because Wanda texted you," Kate snipes.
Steve thrusts his finger in his face.
"I didn't say a goddamn word to you, so shut your fucking—"
James grabs Steve by the sleeve of his jacket and drags him down the hall while Dahlia stands there watching helplessly. He stays within Dahlia's range of vision and pushes Steve up against the wall. The exchange is heated at first. Steve points down the hall and Dahlia sees the name Wanda leave his lips, but she can't hear the conversation over the nurses and doctors walking past them.
Kate and Scott go to sit on some benches, both of them leaning on each other for comfort. Once they're gone, Dahlia sees Steve's head turn as James looks down at the floor. Steve's mouth curls into a vicious and cunning grin - only for a millisecond - and her heart drops into her stomach. He did this. He fucking orchestrated all of this. The shooting, Wanda, Pierce's death. It's all Steve. All to get back at James for whatever went down between them. She's still not clear on the details, but she knows that Steve is deeply unstable. He turns back to James and nods. James gives him a hug. He's playing into this well, like he's been doing this for years.
Steve walks down the hall, away from James, giving them one last look as Dahlia stands in the hallway with her fists clenched and her hands at her sides. Eventually, Steve disappears down the hall and James walks toward her, pulling her back into her aunt's room while Scott and Kate stare at them, their faces filled with suspicion.
"What did you say to him?" Dahlia whispers.
"I told him that he needed to go home and go to sleep, that I would see him at Sharon's gala tomorrow."
"What about Pierce? He did that."
"I know he did," James sighs. "I have bigger things to worry about other than who's going to be the Chief of Police."
"James—"
"Becca also texted me and said he's tracking my location through my phone. It's why he showed up here. He's gotten worse. Way worse. I don't know how long this shit has been running unchecked, but... everything else that's going on with the business, the Chief of Police, it doesn't matter. My priority is to keep you and the people you love safe."
"James, I didn't like the way he looked at me when you were talking to him," Dahlia confesses.
His eyes narrow.
"What do you mean?"
"He... smiled at me, it was creepy."
James takes a deep breath.
"Dahlia, you and your friends are not to go back to the shop. They're not to go home, and they're not to tell anyone where I'm going to take them. You're staying with me, and I'm sending Scott and Kate to my beach house in Santa Cruz. They'll have security detail. So will we, so will your aunt. Nobody will come in or out of this hospital room unless they're a nurse."
"What about that Detective Kemp?"
He snarls.
"I don't trust him either." James sucks in a deep breath. "I don't trust anyone other than you, Kate, Scott, and Wanda."
"What about the other people who work for you?"
"I have no idea who Steve has... infected and who he hasn't. For all I know, he could be trying to take down my entire empire. But, Dahlia, I promise you, nobody else is going to get hurt."
Dahlia looks up at him and runs her thumb across his bottom lip while Rita sleeps near the window.
"You have to kill him, James. You have to make him pay for what he's done."
He nods gravely.
"I know." James leans into her touch and gazes at her. "I need you beside me."
She can see the conflict in his eyes. Steve is his best friend, but he's crossed the line. Multiple times. And it's only going to get worse.
Kate knocks on the door, Scott standing behind her.
"Hey, Wanda's tests came back. She's been poisoned."
James and Dahlia exchange a look and they watch Kate grit her teeth.
"The two of you know something, and we want to know the fucking truth. Wanda could have died if this went on longer."
James and Dahlia draw in deep breaths.
"Whatever secrets the two of you are keeping are only going to be brought out into the light once this is all over," Scott says softly. "You can trust us. But if you want us to help you, we need to know what's going on."
"The whole truth," Kate tells them.
James stares at them and runs a hand through his hair. Dahlia always knew the truth would come out eventually, she just didn't think it was going to be like this.
"Come in side and close the door," James commands softly. "I'll tell you everything."
____
A/N: I know, TWO MORE SEBASTIAN VARIANTS, THEA? IN THIS DRAMATIC ASS CHAPTER? Yes. Sorry... not sorry.
I ALSO know that doctors/nurses probably wouldn't tell friends medical details, but... fuck it. This is fiction, baby! WE NEED THE DRAMAAAAA!