xvi | until the last star falls
a 3 month intermission never hurt anybody, right?
82 days. It's been eighty-two days. We're back.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
"I swore to Vincenzo that I would take his secret to my grave. I lied."
The voice of the former king is far too easy to distinguish. Michael Luciano. Drenched in a genuine accent, with a tone true only to him. I never appreciated him when he was alive, and I disregarded a majority of what he said. But what I've come to understand is that Michael never just spoke, he preached. He mentored. And in between all the slick comments and dry humor, there was a lesson being taught. A lesson directed towards his son, because what I know now is true. Every move Michael Luciano made was to further the work of the empire he established.
It's three o'clock in the morning, and I'm wandering the dark halls of our home in search of Liam. If anyone needed sleep after the Russian's brutal attack on Rosalie's school, it was him. So, when I rolled over, grasped at air, and saw that Liam was gone, I got up.
The worst scenarios always come to mind first. The idea that Liam could be strung over a bathtub filled with his own blood, dead as dead can get is the first thought I have. And it's so real that the bathroom is the first room I check in search of him.
He isn't there, thankfully.
His office is next.
The faint ray of light that peeks through the cracked, wooden door of Liam's office is my sign. I breeze down the hall, clutching at his oversized hoodie, which I managed to grab before leaving the bedroom. I bypass knocking and push through the door. This should've been the first place I looked, because nine times out of ten he's here, in his office, overworking.
"I always preached that one only lies when they fear the person they're lying to, but let me make it incredibly clear to you, Elijah. I have never once feared Vincenzo De Santis. He's a good King. He's a great leader. But he will never be me."
Liam pauses the video when he sees me. He's leaning against his desk, ankles crossed over one another. A glass of water rests in his uninjured hand, while he struggles to grasp the remote in the other.
I glance back to the screen as I approach him, eyebrows connected. His father is onscreen, standing before the desk in his personal office, just like Liam is now. He's animated, passionate, and you could hear it in his tone before Liam halted the video.
I look back to Liam in confusion. "What—"
And unsurprisingly, he answers my question before I can even ask it. "He made a second video." Liam still sounds like he's in disbelief. His eyes leave mine, and drift back to the stilled video of his late father. "I just found it I—it was in the box under our bed, filled with some of his stuff that I haven't gone through yet."
I recall watching the first video Michael made over a year ago. The topic of that one was Vincenzo, and although nothing he mentioned in that video has come to pass, I know that Michael didn't waste his breath for no reason. I don't hesitate this time. "Play it."
Liam, however, does. "I'm scared."
"Play it," I whisper gently.
Liam does, and the tone of Michael's unwavering confidence fills our ears again. "Valentin Rostov. He's where this starts and he where's this ends. If I'm gone—since I'm gone, then there is no doubt in my mind that you know who I'm speaking of. I should've warned you about him before, but I didn't and that's on me."
Michael lets out a deep breath as he drops to his desktop, hands folded. "I don't have time for all the details, so here's the cliff-notes version of our history. Valentin Rostov, a Russian mafioso arguably went to war with Antonio De Santis years ago. And with the classic move, he gunned for the Don's son rather than him to get revenge. Killed Vince's girlfriend and kid. Vince took the throne, and that's where I stepped in."
"Valentin backed off when I got involved, the same way I knew he would. As long as I was alive, I knew he wouldn't mess with Vincenzo, but the moment I take—I took my last breath, he started plotting again because there is no one else in this world that he fears. Not now that I'm gone."
Michael lets out a tiresome sigh and pulls himself to his feet. He draws his eyes to the camera that records his remaining spiel. "I swear, it sounds like rambling now, but it'll all make sense soon. And that brings me to one of the few secrets I promised to die on. Melanie and I were never married, Liam."
If Michael Luciano didn't have our attention then, he surely has it now.
Liam stops sipping his water. "But you had a—"
"I lied to you about everything. The wedding was just a purposely televised event for the world, this world, to witness. She was no innocent woman I met after your mother. Her family was more involved in our world than you'll ever know, boy. She was a friend, whose father helped this family succeed under the table. He's partially the reason as to why we're as powerful as we are today. But to sustain his...charitable donations, I promised to protect his daughter. And what other way to do that than to show the world her wedding to the most ruthless Don our decade had ever seen?"
I stop breathing, literally.
"I didn't care for Melanie as much as I might've made it seem. The only woman I ever loved was your mother, and she knew that. She didn't care. She was safe, and she lived in my lap of luxury until her last breath."
Michael glances away, now seeming to be struggling with holding eye contact. "Her father was murdered when she was four months pregnant with Rosalie. The little girl is seven now, and you're probably wondering why I didn't just let them go. We could argue night and day that Rosie deserves a better life than this, but I kept her here to protect her. Melanie was no longer my concern after her father passed."
The breath Michael lets out shakes. "Valentin is coming, and if you don't know the truth, you'll be too busy trying to protect the wrong people. Valentin is driven to end the war he started, to end the De Santis empire and I am no longer around to stop it, so Liam please—"
He stops before his voice cracks.
The certainty and power in the ex-King's voice fails. "You have to promise me that you'll protect that little girl with everything that you have because he knows. Valentin knows."
Michael takes a final step toward the camera.
"Rosalie is the heir to the De Santis throne."
It doesn't sink in until Michael speaks again.
"Rosalie is Vince's daugh—"
Glass shatters.
"Fuck." The cup that was previously in Liam's hand hits the ground, shooting shards of glass and droplets of water in every direction. I lunge as far as I can back, trying to avoid the spray of sharp glass.
Liam doesn't let his father finish the sentence. There's no need to. He's halfway out the door before the video ends, and I'm right on his heels. Not to stop him or slow him down, but to get the answers I know he's seeking. He takes the stairs two, sometimes three at a time. We reach the landing, and his momentum throws him through the door belonging to Vince's guestroom.
Liam erupts. "Deny it." A startled Vincenzo jolts upwards in bed, but Liam doesn't even give him a chance to speak. "Tell me he's lying. Tell me Michael is lying, please." The adrenaline that began to pump through Liam's blood at the procession of his father's words begins to wear off as his knees knock against the end of the bed. He presses his palms against the mattress, and locks eyes with the fallen King. "Tell me Rosalie isn't your fucking daughter."
The room is utter silent. The only sound that's being made comes from Vincenzo's side, where Rosalie lies, curled up against him. She has a hand trapped underneath her pillow. Her lips are parted while her shoulders steadily rise and fall.
I cautiously join Liam at his side and rest a hand on his arm. He's worked up. He's angry, confused, and he's shaking. His attention moves from Vince to the little girl at his side. His expression is unexplainable. Torn; like every single childhood memory has been a godawful lie.
Liam doesn't appreciate the lengthening silence.
"Look me in the eye and tell me she's not your daughter," He grounds out.
"He can't do that." Zara slips out the bathroom with a knowing look. Her hands delicately working to tighten her white robe. She lifts her eyes to Vincenzo. "He can't tell you that she isn't what she is, Liam."
"It was a one-night stand." Vincenzo finally speaks up for himself. "I didn't care for Melanie and she didn't care for me. She was a quick fuck—"
"Was she good?"
"Faith."
"Sorry."
"—that's all she was. I don't like speaking ill of the dead," Vincenzo continues, undisturbed by my unnecessary comment. "but may she float in peace."
"Vince."
He shoots an unapologetic look in Zara's direction.
"Why did you lie, though?" Liam questions out loud.
"I've never lied. If you had asked me if she was my daughter, I would've told you the truth. But we kept the circle of people who knew as small as possible for one reason and one reason only." He rests a hand on the blanket that covers Rosie. "Her safety."
Liam keeps his eye on the little girl who he's deemed his sister for as long as she's been on this earth. An unbelieving, bewildered laugh-like sound comes out his mouth. He lets a moment pass, allowing everything Vincenzo said and didn't say process. "You never once visited. You never called. No birthday gift. Nothing—"
Vincenzo sits up, his biceps constricting as he adjusts. "That was the poi—"
But Liam's voice only rises, and he momentarily forgets about the sleeping girl at Vince's side. That, or for the meantime, he doesn't care. "—You're in the same goddamn house as her and you hardly interact." The anger is there, slowly creeping into his tone. He jams an accusing finger in Vincenzo's direction as his voice rises and his tone deepens. It gets scarier; he sounds scarier with every syllable. "Her life—her life was on the fucking line yesterday and you were nowhere to be found, you are not her father. You don't fucking deserve it. She deserves better than you."
"You're right." The two words Vincenzo mutters next are unexpected. "You're right, but you're telling me something I already know, boy." The term of endearment used often by Michael catches Liam completely off-guard. He takes a half step back at the sound of it. "She doesn't deserve me, and that's why she'll never know. I'm the reason my first son is dead. I dragged my second boy to death's door years ago, and that's why your father kept her safe. Not just from Valentin, not just from threats that would want to harm my family, but from me."
Liam's mouth flops open and closed like a fish out of water.
"I—" And I knew I was a goner when emotion took over, drowning Vincenzo's voice for a split second. The tears irritate the back of his throat, and as soon as he reaches for the bridge of his nose, pinching the delicate corner of his eyes to stop the tears from spilling I know I'm done for.
I wipe away at the lone tear that rushes down my cheek.
Zara, subtly, does the same.
"I loved her the moment I knew she was coming, and I fell in love with hear the second I heard that she was here. I've kept my distance to ensure she stayed safe." Vince uses the back of his hand to wipe underneath his eye. "And if I could walk...if I could stand without doubt, and pain, and the assurance that I wouldn't fall, then I would've been there with you yesterday. But I'm nothing. I am nothing."
Liam clears his throat and cross his arms over his chest. "What if Michael's right? What if Valentin does know? What then if, when, if he already knows that she's your last living heir—Vince, what then?"
"Michael's never wrong," Zara mumbles in Vincenzo's direction.
"You would take his side."
"You're not stupid, Vince." Now it's Zara whose voice is raised. There's a pause, a hitch in everyone's breath as Rosie stirs. The little girl rolls over, clutches her blanket, and falls still. Zara speaks up again, and despite her voice having lowered a vast amount, the intensity and urgency behind every word is still there. "Men like Valentin, like Michael, and like you never involve children and it's not because you care about an innocent life. You're all heartless, but children in the eyes of men like you are a hassle. I have been Queen long enough to know that children are only ever involved when they're important. Vital. Game-changing."
"Valentin knows." I conclude quietly and with a nod.
Zara doesn't miss a beat. "And I think she deserves to know as well."
"Absolutely not." Liam and Vince spit at the same time.
"She lost her mom, who hardly gave a shit about her in the first place." I speak up, directing my statement more at Liam than Vince. "Michael, the only remotely father figure in her life hardly paid attention to her. If she hasn't already, she's going to start asking questions."
Liam's eyes lock with mine and based on his tone, I know he's not budging from what he believes. "I am not telling her that Vince, of all people, is her father. I'm not—I can't—how do I tell her that I'm not even her fucking brot—" A look passes over Liam's face.
He turns to Vince, his words a mere whisper. "Did he know?"
Vincenzo runs a hand down the side of his face, his expression twisting to display his exhaustion. "What?"
"Did he know?" Liam steps forward, "Did Rico die knowing Rosie was his sister?" Vincenzo's hesitation causes Liam to shout in impatience. "Vince—"
"Yes."
The air in our lungs exit like we've just been punched in the gut.
"Yes." He repeats, quieter this time.
Liam brings a hand up to his face and wipes away the tears that glisten underneath the warm, gentle glow of the nightstand lamps.
"That little girl..." His voice shakes gently as he lets out an unstable breath of air. "I'm going to protect her because I love her, not because she's a De Santis."
"She's more a Luciano than she is a De Santis."
"Bullshit," Liam responds. "I laughed, just like everyone else did when she cursed the Russian out on the phone yesterday. I laughed, just like everyone else did when they heard that she bit the hand of the soldier trying to kill her. I laughed and I smiled when Faith told me what Rosie said to the soldier trying to take both of their lives. At the time I thought it was the influence Federico had on her, but now I know that's not true. It's in her blood."
Vince sighs. "Liam—"
"No, you listen to me." Liam raises his hand, pointing the accusing finger once more. "I was building your empire back. I am building it back. As a gift, as a surprise. And I was going to tell you when you found your motivation and your will to live. I was going to put you back on your throne. I'm not doing that anymore. I'm building your empire back, I'm replacing your burnt-ass throne, but I'm going to put Rosie in that seat and not you. You don't deserve it, and she doesn't deserve you. Everything you love dies. Everything you touch is ruined."
"Liam..." I lean forward to grab his hand, but all he does is pull away from me, and speak louder.
"I will never tell her who her father is, and if she asks me how she got your throne I'll tell her the truth. I'll tell her I killed the king before her to get it." Liam moves closer to the bed, and unfortunately, out of reach from me. He tosses the blanket off Rosie's legs and scoops her up in his arms. She adjusts accordingly, as if she knows exactly who's arms she's in.
"You were right when you said that you were nothing. But if you're anything, you're a liar. I don't believe you. You're trying to act like you love her when you don't. You kept her safe, not out of love, but out of security. Security that if something ever happened to Rico, if something ever happened to you, your kingdom would live on. Tell me I'm lying."
And in that moment Vincenzo sounds meek. Borderline pathetic. "You're lying."
"Oh pl—"
"I did what I had to do to protect my daughter and secure my kingdom for it's future. It's the same damn move your father made all those fucking years ago when he put a goddamn hit on your mother! You overlooked that ruthless, ballsy move because your father made it. I do this for my daughter and it's not okay?" Vincenzo motions toward Liam in dismissal. "Just say you hate me and go."
"I don't hate you—I just..." Liam's eyes fall to the girl snuggled in his arms. "I love her."
"When I was seventeen, I realized that I was my own worst enemy, and that's why—truthfully, that's why I kept her away from me." The raw emotion in his voice is evident. He isn't lying. He can't be lying. "I love her, maybe not as much as you think I do, but I love her. And if Valentin knows, then protect her. And...and if I don't make it out of this alive?"
"Stop." Zara shudders at the instant thought, "Stop, don't say that—"
But Vince's eyes never leave his daughter.
"Che possa lei regnare a lungo."
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
I accidentally walked into a room full of shirtless, perspiring Italian men.
I purposely stayed.
There's at least thirty-five men in the large room dedicated for training, yet only one stands out in my eyes. He isn't the tallest in the room and the muscles in his abdomen aren't the sharpest. His hair is the same shade as all the others, and his complexion matches many. His shorts ride just as low as everyone else's and sweat glistens off his back like all the others, but there's something different about him. There's something different about Veleno.
I sit against the wall in a corner of the room with my legs tucked against my chest, drifting between reality and the conversation Liam and I had with Vincenzo earlier this morning.
Every emotion Liam felt was justified, and I wanted to tell him that – I wish I had told him that. But the moment we stepped out of Vincenzo's bedroom, I knew not to even attempt to rationally discuss what had just went down.
In a matter of seconds, I witnessed Liam's defense mechanism kick in, and the walls that serve as an emotional barrier slowly rose around him, locking him away for now, at least until he was done processing the news.
His body language told me everything I needed to know. He didn't want to talk. Not then, not with me, not with anybody. I had given his arm a reassuring squeeze at the time, letting him know that I would be here, that I'll always be here, no matter when or if he wanted to talk.
He carried Rosalie back to her bedroom, and that was the last time I saw Liam until noon.
Liam and I had made plans the night prior to speak with our top advisers around three this afternoon, following up with a debriefing on exactly what went down yesterday, as well as a quick recap on the car accident Liam and I were involved in.
Liam wasn't lying when he said that we would no longer share the same transport. He climbed in his dedicated SUV, followed by six heavily strapped individuals, while I climbed in mine, trailed with my own protectors. We couldn't have talked on the ride over to the house if we wanted to, and even if we had shared the same vehicle, I don't think we would have.
I wasn't taking it personally. I couldn't begin to fathom the doubts that the darkest parts of his mind were conjuring up; and I wouldn't know where to begin to comprehend the truth about Rosie – not when you were told one thing your entire life, only for it to be false.
"Something on your mind?"
I look up. The place is empty; a stark contrast to only a few seconds ago. Veleno stands in the middle of the room, busy twisting the cap of an unopened plastic water bottle. Even from here I can see partial concern on his face.
Taking a breath, I stand. There was a lot on my mind, a lot, but nothing I felt like Veleno – or anyone else – deserved to know at the time. The information we learned earlier wasn't mine to tell, which is why I lie when I tell him, "No."
Veleno tips the water bottle to his lips. The closer I get, the more I notice him grinning behind the lid. I lift an eyebrow.
He swallows and twists the cap back on. "You can't lie to me."
"How do you know I'm lying?"
The half-eye roll that Veleno gives me is a good indicator that I've just questioned his intelligence. He bends over at the waist, the muscles in his abdomen constricting to maintain his balance as he sets his bottle of water on the ground. When he stands back up, he wipes his hands clean of condensation and nods toward me.
"Your arms, first of all." I look down, noting my defensive stance. Arms folded across my chest. My weight unevenly distributed as I lean on my back foot, distancing myself even further from him. "Your stance. You're uncomfortable."
I look up and catch him smiling at me.
"You don't have to tell me the truth." Veleno wipes the sweat from his forehead and turns away. "But you don't have to lie to me either."
He focuses his attention on rolling the exercise mats up. I clear my throat, shift my weight from one foot to another, and wait until Veleno rises to his feet again. He waddles the mat to the corner and returns to repeat the process four more times.
"Did you kill her?" Veleno slows his approach as my question registers. It doesn't quite sink in, and I realize that when he sends me a questioning look. He squats in preparation to roll a second mat when I rephrase. "The woman who took your eye—your eyesight, did you kill her?"
His shoulders tense, the same way Liam's does when he hears something he doesn't like.
Veleno drops to his knees and turns around, plopping down on the exercise mat. It's a shade of dark blue and only sits about an inch, maybe an inch and a half off the floor. I've witnessed training sessions. If it wasn't for this seemingly unimportant protective barrier, a lot more men would walk out of here with darker bruises and broken bones.
He exhales sharply, the only indicator – other than the sweat that's currently rolling down his pectoral muscles – that the training session was exhausting.
"No." His confession takes me by surprise. From the moment Veleno opened up and told me parts of his story, I had wrongfully assumed that the assassin hired to end his life had been ended as well.
My epiphany hit a little late, but it dawns on me that the reason Veleno stands out in crowds is because of his attitude. He's the strongest person in the room, and he knows it. He's the toughest person in the room, and he knows it. He's the most talented in the room, and he knows it; and maybe that's why I automatically assumed that he had gunned the female assassin down.
I lower myself to the mat beside him and drag my knees up to my chest. I wrap my arms around my shins and rest my cheek against my knees. "Can I ask why?"
"I used to hate her," Veleno admits quietly. "I used to hate her so much my chest would burn. I've never been lit on fire, but I think I know what it feels like."
He finds me out the corner of my eye. "But it hit me shortly after that...she was only doing what I've done a million times before. And I realized I was harboring my anger towards the wrong person. If I wanted revenge, which I did, I would've killed the man who ordered the hit – not the assassin that executed it."
"You don't want revenge now?"
"No." And there's no doubt in my mind that Veleno is being honest with me. "I used to dream about finding this man and driving a dagger through his eye, but, now?" I draw my attention from a spot on the floor to Veleno, only to find him glancing down at me. "If I saw him tomorrow, I'd hug him."
I frown.
"He changed my life. He tested my strength. He tested my resilience. He made me realize that I was less of a person with both eyes than I am with only one. I know now what I can handle, and I know what I can't." Veleno chuckles quietly and looks away. "It sounds insane, I know, but I'd actually like to thank him."
I rest my bandaged hand on his knee and squeeze. He doesn't even give me time to reassure his feelings. His hand finds mine as he lifts it in his own, studying the bandage Liam had applied. His thumb graves along my palm. The pain is dull, but an unwelcome reminder of the moment I threw glass in the eye of the Russians guardian angel.
"I heard what you did." Veleno studies my expression, despite my hand still being in his. "You told Diavolo to fuck himself and threw glass in his eye. You provoked a wild animal—"
"—For Liam."
That's all that needs to be said.
I retract my hand from his and look away. My expression darkens, Veleno notices that, and my chest suddenly tightens. Diavolo was frightening, but seeing Liam on the hood of the car, covered in shattered glass and blood is what made my heart stop and my blood run cold. The stilled image of Liam lying unconscious reminded me of what I had to do to protect us, the same way I had to protect myself, but most importantly – Rosalie – yesterday at school. It reminded me of what I had to do.
Just like my nightmare, I hear the Russian soldier plead for his life.
And just like in my nightmare, I can still feel the recoil of the gun as I pull the trigger.
I shut my eyes for reasons even I don't understand. Maybe I just don't want to see the look on Veleno's when he hears my question.
"Does killing get easier?"
"No."
I sneak a peak in his direction.
"Killing doesn't get easy, because killing doesn't change. It's nature will never change." Veleno pulls himself to his feet, moves to stand in front of me, and offers to help me up. I rest my hand in his and feel him pull me to my feet. I'm desperate for an answer that's better than that, and the look in my eye tells him that. "I wish I could tell you differently but killing will never change. We do. We change."
"But—"
"You're a good person. I would never want killing to feel easy for you." Veleno lets go of my hands. "I would never want you to be me."
I curse and look away, wiping underneath my eye. I'm at war within myself, and I have been since I pulled the trigger.
Veleno senses it and speaks up. "You did what you needed to do—"
"—And I keep telling myself that. I've been telling myself that since I pulled the trigger. It was Rosie or him. Me or him, and if I was given the chance, I would make the same choice, but there's this—this—"
"Voice?"
It dawns on me that I'm trying to explain something to someone who's experienced it only a thousand times before. My shoulders slump and all I can do is nod.
"Yes," I confirm, "And no matter how much I try to justify my actions, it makes me feel like a horrible person."
"That's guilt."
"Well, guilt sucks."
The corner of Veleno's lip quirks upwards, and he fights a wider smile. "At least you can still hear her." But the teasing sound in his voice quickly fades, as well as the sparkle in his beautiful eye. "I killed guilt years ago."
"I'm just scared." I find myself confessing the late-night thought I had when I shot up in the dark, drenched in my own sweat. "I'm scared because there was a time when I could count on protection from Liam, and I can't anymore. Diavolo proved that, and so did the incident at Rosie's school. My life and Rosie's life was all on me, and that...that terrifies me."
"You handled both situations beautifully."
"But that doesn't mean I always will."
"How much time do you have?"
My eyebrows crease. "What?" I spin as Veleno moves around me and grabs me by the elbows, dragging me towards him. I nearly trip on the lip of the mat before stepping up. "What are we doing? Dancing?"
"Something like that," Veleno snorts.
"Wha—"
"Hit me."
"Excuse me? You mean like, right across your really—" I motion towards his face at a loss for words. He's close. Pretty close. Close enough that I can see every recently shaved hair on his chin. Close enough that I can smell the aftershave he used this morning. "—your slightly, partially, kinda handsome face?"
"I'm honored."
With a shrug, I throw my first punch.
I whiff.
Veleno smiles, and it's on. One punch leads to another, over and over again until I could feel myself get into a rhythm. I missed on nearly all of them, and only sometimes did Veleno lift a hand to catch my punch and throw my hand down. He was right, though, when he said we would be dancing – sort of. He showed me how important footwork was and how crucial it was that even while engaged in a fight, you kept track of where you were – and your enemy.
I throw one last left hook and make contact with Veleno's jaw.
It catches him off-guard and sends him stumbling to the left. He catches himself by placing one hand on the wall while the other goes to his lip, searching for blood. I pause, watching cautiously. Stepping off the mat, I wipe the little sweat that sticks to my brow. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Bit my lip."
"Let me see."
I realize my massive mistake when my back hits the wall, sending pain ricocheting throughout my entire body. Even my limbs vibrate at the force. I can't exactly complain, though. I can think of a few things worse than being pinned between a wall and Veleno's body.
He leans close and lowers his voice. "You realize your mistake?"
I nod, wincing at his grip. "Yeah."
"What did you do?"
"I showed mercy."
"Yes, yes you did." I can hear disappointment in Veleno's tone, and I'm disappointed in myself because of it. His grip loosens and I find myself standing on my own two feet again, yet still trapped between him and wall. "I told you to hit me because I wanted to critique your form and your footwork, but I also wanted to see your reaction to hurting someone."
I cringe. His wording suggests that he allowed himself to get hit. "So, you let me hit you."
Veleno forces a smile and steps back. He ignores my question, and that answers it. "I want you to understand that no matter how well trained you are or not, you will always lose the fight if you show mercy. Never," He emphasizes, "I mean never show mercy."
It isn't until Veleno turns to leave that I step forward and speak up. "You're adamant about that. About mercy. You told these men that day you were training them to never show mercy, and you're telling me it now. Can I ask why?"
"You know why."
"Yes, it shows weakness, that I understand." I reach for Veleno's wrist and catch him, tugging him to a stop. He faces me hesitantly. "Loyalty. It's something you preach because of your past, so am I wrong to ask about the story behind mercy?"
He looks away from me and I know I've hit something.
"I was little when my dad started beating me. I screamed, and I cried, and I showed him a part of me that I never wanted anyone else to see. Vulnerability. Weakness." His eye finds mine again and on that rare occasion, I can see the suppressed emotions behind it. "I wake up from nightmares, even to this day, because I can still hear my scream.
I screamed for mercy, but mercy never comes when you call, Faith. So why show it?"
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
I walk into the meeting ten minutes late when Liam told me to be on time.
I'm doing great at this girlfriend thing.
In my defense, I was late because I was mulling over what Veleno had told me. He helped. He helped a lot more than he would ever know. I'd been telling myself over and over from the second I pulled the trigger that I did what I needed to do, but it wasn't until someone else told me did I begin to believe it.
I even stayed a few seconds after Veleno had left, dissecting his view on mercy. If mercy never came when he called, why would it be fair to show it to someone else? Would mercy come for them? Should mercy come for them? My questions were limitless as I tried to decipher words deeper than my comprehension, and that is why I stumbled into the conference room late and under-dressed.
Liam's sweatpants, which I've managed to roll at my waist and ankles to keep from dragging along the floor, paired with Adidas slides isn't exactly formal attire – but they would just have to get over that.
"So sorry I'm la—" I skid to a stop inside the conference room and scan the large table. Half of the men begin to awkwardly stand in reverence, while the other half remains seated, looking more confused than anything.
My eyes shoot to the head of the table.
Liam is late to his own meeting.
Liam is never late.
An unsettling feeling settles in my gut as I turn and address the men. "I'll be right back."
I nearly run into Austin and Steven as they slide inside the room, late as well. "Sorry we're late." Austin mutters. His fingers work the zipper of his pants as he shoots a glare at Steven. "Steven decided to spill grape juice all over my pants—"
"—I helped you clean it up!" Steven drops his tablet to the table and narrows his eyes in Austin's direction.
"You just wanted to touch my dick."
"I mean...." Steven blinks repeatedly. "You're not lying."
"I hate you so much."
I hide my smile as I move past the security at the door. I ask the two staff workers that I pass if they've seen Liam, but they both offer the same reply: no. Pulling myself up the stairs, I head towards Liam and I's dedicated bedroom. It's rarely used, except for occasions like this.
The door is slightly ajar when I knock. I push it open slowly and step inside, calling out for him. He's standing in front a mirror, and in no way does he look like he's rushing as he stares at his reflection. I kick the door shut with my heel.
The silence is unwelcoming and uncomfortably long; at least until he breaks it.
"Why are you still here, Faith?"
Doubt. Liam's tone hurts more than the question itself, only because I know this isn't him talking. It's his doubt, his insecurity, and the deepest, darkest parts of his mind trying to mess with what he's sure of.
Liam faces me, and his question is momentarily forgotten. It should be a crime to look that good in a simple black suit and dress shirt. He's going for a more casual look with his dress jacket unbuttoned. The few buttons of his black shirt are open as well, exposing his collarbone and his broad, naturally tanned chest. The gold chain that clings around his neck manages to match the studs nestled in his ear.
My mouth dries up instantly.
"I treated you like shit." He slides a hand inside the pocket of his dress pants, forcing them to tighten around everything – and I mean everything – else. "I didn't come home every night. I made you think I was cheating on you. I made you change your appearance to try and get my attention. I made you miserable, for months, so why? Why are you still here?"
"Liam, don't even go there."
It's too late. He already has.
"Is everything a lie?" He continues. "Is everything Michael ever told me a lie? Was he ever really proud of me? Did he actually believe I could do this," Liam drops his hands, indicating the house we're standing in. The family. The kingdom. The empire. "Or am I only King because he didn't have another son? This—this isn't about Melanie not being my stepmom, or him lying about what really happened with Zara, it's about Rosie. Rosalie was the one thing in my life I was certain of, and even that is a lie."
I take a small step in his direction, studying the way his eyebrows pinch together. I'm so thankful I'm not in his head, witnessing the brutal war between one side and the other.
"My entire world is falling apart," Liam concludes in a mumble, "so why are you still here?"
He's doubting everything, absolutely everything, even my love. He hasn't said it, but he doesn't need to. I can hear it in the pitch of his voice, in the stutter of his words, in the uncertain way they travel out his mouth – like he's trying to censor himself from saying something he'll later regret. Something that'll hurt me.
We're the only ones in the room, but I still lower my voice in a whisper. I'm forcing him to listen closely, to listen to me and only me rather than the doubt that's overtaken his mind.
"I was a stupid twenty-one-year-old who fell in love with a guy that I shouldn't have." I inch closer and watch Liam tense as I do so. He's balled the hand in his pocket into a fist, grasping at the fabric of his pants in discomfort. "And as much as I blamed our problems on you, they are equally as much as my fault as they are yours. I held you to a standard far higher than you could reach, because I thought you were perfect, but you're not. You never will be, and I was wrong to ever think that."
I stand before Liam and tilt my head back. "But I don't want you to be perfect. I want to see you cry. I want to hear you voice your frustrations. I want to see you fall." My arms slide between Liam's suit jacket and his shirt. I tug him close, taking in the warmth his body radiates, as well as the faint whiff of his cologne. "You could find out tomorrow that every single aspect of your life has been a lie, but my love for you is not, and it never will be."
I press my chin against his chest and look up. Even from this horrific camera angle he manages to glow in a way nobody else can. "You ask why am I still here? Where else would I be? My parents are dead. You, and the people I've met since being with you, are all I have." I'm not sure it's even possible to pull Liam any closer then he is to me now, but I try. I grasp his shirt in my hands, and admit, "You are all I have."
Liam's touch is warm and soothing against the back of my neck. His thumb grazes along my hairline. I hum in appreciation of the gentle show of affection. His face nears mine, and his lips brush against my own but I fight the urge to kiss him with everything that I have.
He senses my hesitation and pauses, eyes searching mine.
"If your world does fall apart," I whisper against his lips, "I want you to know that I'll be by your side until the last star falls."
And I know I've beaten his doubt when he kisses me with more passion then I could've ever imagined. His hand moves from the nape of my nape to my back, finding a way to my waist. The kiss screams desperation. He's holding me like I'll disappear if he lets go. His lips slow to a stop against mine, and I can hear him breathing heavily, urgently.
My hand falls to his jaw. "You have a meeting you need to get to," I breathlessly exclaim.
A look flashes across his face as he pulls himself away from me. I miss him the moment I can't feel him anymore. He withdraws himself and backs away toward the bed, his eyes leaving mine and falling to an item on the mattress.
When he approaches me again, he has a folder in his hands. I look from it to him, unsure. "My notes for the meeting." He confirms with ease. "I don't think I can address them right now. I'm not...mentally, I'm not—"
He offers his notes to me and it clicks.
I didn't know I could stutter and laugh at the same time until I hear the foreign sound come out of my mouth.
"You want me to address them? Liam, I've never—they won't—"
"They'll listen to you." He promises calmly. His eyes dart to every muscle on my face, judging my reaction. It isn't the reaction he wanted to see, to hear, that I know for sure. "You wanted me to teach you how to be a queen, how to be king—"
"By hurling me into the deep end and telling me to swim?"
"That's how kings are made."
I leave the bedroom the same way I came in; alone. But before I shut the door, giving Liam the privacy he needs, I look over my shoulder. I look just in time to see him fall to the bed, letting his entire body weight down on the mattress in fatigue. He falls backwards and brings his hands up to his head and I hear him let out a trembling breath.
I panic my entire way to the conference room. I hated public speaking in school, and this is no different. This is, quite possibly, worse. Not everyone is listening when you present in class, but everyone is listening now. Nobody is distracted by their phones, or the clock on the wall, or the fact that their turn is next. Everyone is listening. Everyone is paying attention. Everyone is watching me.
"Ms. Crawford, is Liam coming?"
I glance up, stopping a few feet short of the door. A soldier stands there, equipped for protection. He has a hand across his chest, clutching the edge of his Kevlar.
"No." I shoot him a tight smile as his buddy opens the conference doors for me. "It's just me today." I walk past them and enter the room, ears burning. "And please, you can call me Faith."
They shut the massive doors behind me for security purposes, and the room shuffles to their feet in respect.
It's overwhelming, to say the least.
I take Liam's position at the head of the table, and it feels weird. All eyes on me feels weird. I put his notes on the table and look up. They've risen, all them, to their feet. And they're waiting.
"You may be seated."
They oblige, as do I.
"Liam isn't feeling the best, so he asked me to step in for him." I manage to gain the nerve to look up at the table full of people, minus the one empty chair – the chair I would normally be sitting in. Austin stares at me empathetically, while Steven just smiles, wide.
I flip Liam's notes open and the first thing that hits me is how detailed they are. I've seen Liam's notes before. Typically scribbles and three words that can't even qualify as sentences. The legible handwriting and intense details tell me all I need to know. Liam planned this.
The first bullet point is Rosalie.
I try to speak like I'm not reading his notes word for word, and it's hard, but the more I talk the more comfortable I find myself becoming. "Because of the incident that happened yesterday, Rosalie won't be attending school until the situation with Valentin is resolved. Her security will be maximized—"
That's when I receive my first comment. "I don't think a nine-year-old girl needs maximum security."
My face reddens slightly at the unnecessary comment. But when I find my voice, I speak. "Were you there yesterday, Sir?"
"No, I wasn't."
"Then shut up."
I catch the man smile before I glance down again. His comment felt like a test, like he was curious how I would react to someone questioning a decision that was made.
"You all are aware of the car accident Liam and I were in the other night. You're also aware of the men we lost." A heavy silence falls over the room in respect of those who didn't make it back that night. "We thought to mention it the night it happened, but we needed to follow up on a potential...leak in information." That leak, being my friend, Gabe. "We tortured a friend of mine, Gabe, for information, because he was the only person in this house that Liam didn't trust when the map of our route was being exchanged. He knew nothing, but the fact that our route – which only the people sitting around this room, as well as the soldiers involved, knew about—"
A man beside Steven speaks up. "Are you implying there's a mole?"
"There's no mole," Austin rises to his feet, drawing all attention to him. "We won't lie to you, ok? After we interrogated our only suspect and realized he wasn't guilty, we assumed that the leak was within the house. And it was...just not the way we assumed—"
I frown up at Austin. "You know something we don't."
He sighs and reaches out beside him, grabbing a fistful of Steven's collar and yanking the younger man to his feet.
Steven rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I'd prefer to do this if Liam was here, you know, so I don't have to repeat myself."
"Steven." He looks to me at the sound of his name. "Talk."
"I—" He inhales and speaks without another breath, "I'm the reason everyone is dead."
Like a mic drop, he falls to his seat, defeated.
Austin looks at me. "Steven forgot to mention that he posted the route to our server, because he thought it would be easier than sending out forty text messages. Servers can be hacked, and they were hacked. We just realized it this morning."
"Twenty people are dead," I frown, "Liam is limping everywhere he goes, I can't close my eyes without seeing Diavolo, all because you wanted to take a shortcut?" I don't realize my tone is as harsh as it is until I see Steven flinch.
He looks up, tears brimming at the sudden wave of guilt. "I'm sor—"
"Get out."
"Faith—" Austin interjects.
"He heard me." I repeat. "Get out."
Austin can only watch, as do all the others, as Steven pushes his chair back and rises to his feet. I expect a smart quip, a witty comment, something from Steven – who's never once managed to read the room correctly or properly time his jokes, but I get nothing. Radio silence. Not even eye contact.
It isn't until Steven excuses himself entirely from the room does the idea come to my mind.
"What if he's the mole?"
"Faith—" There's Austin again, attempting to come to Steven's defense.
"Austin, listen to—"
"No," He snaps, "You listen to me. I am with that man all the time. All the time." He points out the door Steven walked out of just seconds ago. The door Liam stands in, observing quietly. Austin doesn't notice him, but I do. "Twenty-four-seven. I'm with him at breakfast, at lunch, at dinner, and all the goddamn time in between. Fuck, I slept with—"
He realizes what he's said, and the tips of his ears begin to turn red, followed by the flush of his cheeks and the warmth of the embarrassment running down his neck.
"Meeting's adjourned." Liam makes his presence known as he steps forward, capturing the eyes of all. When nobody budges or even appears to leave their seat, still shocked by the inappropriately timed information, he raises his voice. "Now. Get your asses up. Let's go."
There's a flutter of activity as the room clears. Chairs scrape against the floor. Men whisper to one another, casting glances at Austin's back as they walk by. I watch it all, and I watch Austin, who stands frozen at his seat. His eyes burn a whole into the wooden table as he taps his fingers against it anxiously.
Austin struggles to swallow as Liam pulls himself up on the table. "How much did you hear?" He finally manages to speak through tightened airways.
Liam sits on the table between Austin and I and shrugs. "Enough. I want you to talk to me. To us." He motions towards me.
"He's not a mole, Liam—"
"I believe you."
Austin slumps into his chair, hiding half of his face in his hand. I know he's embarrassed, and I want to apologize for provoking him enough to spill information as private as that.
"I had one girlfriend in high-school and that was because of a dare." Austin says slowly. He drops his hands to his lap and glances up at Liam, then over at me. If he temporarily hates me, he doesn't show it. "Her name was Morgan, and she was sweet, but I never felt anything towards her – or any other woman that's thrown themselves at me. I thought I was weird, I still think I'm weird, like something's wrong with me because I don't find women—"
"Attractive?" Liam tries to assist.
Austin sighs. "They're attractive, but I'm just not...I don't know, I really don't. And then I met Steven." He breaks into a genuine grin at the mention of the man's name. "He's funny, incredibly stupid, yet somehow the smartest person I've ever met. I hate him about as much as I like him." Austin lowers his attention to the table, "I've never liked anybody before. Not like this."
I scoot forward in my chair. "Can I ask what happened last night?"
Austin looks up but doesn't meet my eyes. He's either nervous, or ashamed. "We talked. We talked about Rosie, and this entire, fucked up situation, and then I kissed him." Austin scrunches up his nose, "Or, maybe he kissed me. I don't remember."
"You look torn." Liam comments. "Do you wish you hadn't?"
Austin doesn't hesitate when he says, "I regret it. I regret it because I knew it would be more than a kiss the moment we leaned in. I don't want him to think it's something more than it was because even I don't know what it was. I don't even know how I feel, and Steven, he's a good kid. And based on his past, I know he's someone who falls and falls hard. I just don't want to hurt him."
"Was it more than a kiss?"
He lifts his eyes to Liam. "I woke up in his bed this morning, if that answers your question."
At our silence, Austin hops into an apology, "Look, I'm sorry if you don't want anything happening between your—"
"Austin, I run an empire, not the Bachelor mansion. I don't care about who you sleep with as long as the drama remains at a minimum." Liam swings his legs, hands clutching one another in his lap. "I interrupted the meeting because you looked embarrassed and ashamed—"
"—I'm not ashamed of him or what we did, I just—"
"—didn't want the entire room to know, I get it." Liam explains.
"He's a good guy." Austin continues to defend Steven. "I'm telling you...I'm assuring you that he isn't working for Valentin."
"But he's the reason twenty men are dead," Liam reminds him. "And there will be repercussions for that."
If Austin disagrees, he doesn't say anything.
"You're dismissed."
It takes all of Austin's remaining energy to pull himself to his feet. He smiles wearily in our direction and leaves the room.
I look up at Liam, waiting a few seconds to speak before I do so. "How long were you standing there?" My thumb flips his notes closed, and I slowly slide them towards him. He looks down at his notes.
"Long enough to know you did a great job."
"I was atrocious, but what I really want to know is if you truly didn't feel like you could talk to the family today, or if you said that because you wanted me to talk to them."
Liam's fingertips brush along the manila folder. I try to read his expression, gauge the look on his face, and study the eyes I know so well. His eyelashes make that impossible. "I've stood in front of these men in my darkest moments. So yes, I lied, but just like I told you in the bedroom. Kings are made, and this is how."
I jolt at the alarm that blares throughout the house.
I hop up from my seat as Liam slides off the table, wincing slightly when he lands. "What's going on?"
"Someone's on the property."
Liam grabs my hand and leads us out into the hallway. Men are out in the hallway and foyer, shouting orders. Soldiers prepare themselves with Kevlar, strap themselves with weapons, and round the corner to the front door. They move in synchronized fashion as the front doors are thrown open and they're exposed to whatever threat awaits. They move quickly. I've yet to even register the emergency alarm and they're already prepared, guns at ready.
Someone slams a hand against Liam's chest, stopping him from entering the foyer as more soldiers file out the home.
It's his turn to ask. "What's going on?"
And just like Liam had predicted, the man responds. "Someone is on the property."
Liam ignores all warnings as we slip between soldiers who rush outside. There's already a massive number of soldiers outside, surrounding our unwanted visitor in a lopsided circle. I can hear the safety of their weapons unlocking, as well as the shouts from the commanding soldiers.
"Get on your knees."
"Hands up."
"Don't move."
Liam bodies his way through the crowd, pulling me along. But before we breach through the final wave of soldiers, one turns around and pushes Liam back. "She might be a suicide bomber. Stand back."
She.
Liam pushes past the soldier, exposing our unwarranted visitor. It's a woman. She's on her knees. Her close are torn, covered in specks of blood. Her hair is long and blonde, but caked in filth. Tears rush down the corners of her eyes as her body shakes from sobs. Her arms are raised unsteadily over her head, and every-time they start to fall, a soldier shouts at her and she raises them again.
Two soldiers rush up before we can speak to her and push her back. Her screams mix with her cries at the sudden shove. A gun rams into the side of her head as two soldiers fall to their knees on either side of the woman. One throws her shirt up, revealing her bra. They flip her over on her stomach, and proceed to run their hands down her back, checking to confirm their theory of a suicide Russian bomber.
I don't realize how brutally harsh they're being until they rise to their feet and back away, shooting nothing but a simple nod in Liam's direction. "She's clean."
Our visitor is forced to roll back over, and all she's greeted with is Liam's gruff voice. "Who sent you?"
I know the look of utter devastation. This woman is broken. Her lip shakes, and her entire body follows. Cuts line her face. The bottom left corner of her lip is swollen, and there's light purple bruise developing underneath her eye.
"Who sent you?" Liam repeats, and his tone is a warning one. He's losing patience, fast. "You don't want to talk? Fine." He takes a step back and glances at the commanding soldier. "Uccidila."
I've heard that one before. Kill her.
I stop myself from squeezing his hand. I stop myself from stopping him. She looks like a victim more than Valentin's suicidal puppet. I want to feel bad for her. My heart yearns to feel bad for her, but she looks just as worse as my mother did in Diavolo's arms.
I think about what Veleno said earlier, and I think it truly clicks. Why show mercy when it wasn't shown to my mother or my father?
Three soldiers close in on the blonde woman. A gun is aimed at her forehead, her left temple, and her right. She suddenly finds the words she's looking for.
"No. Immanuel. No. You can't—stop, I—" Her eyes widen, and I try to search the crowd for what causes her reaction. She disregards the weapons in her face and stumbles to her feet, bodying her way past the men. Liam raises a hand to keep them from putting a round in her back.
The sea of men part, offering no resistance to the woman as they obey Liam's silent command.
She suddenly falls to the feet of someone on the outskirts of the group.
She falls to the feet of Veleno.
Her arms wrap around the back of his knees as she thrusts her body towards his, sobbing. She throws her head back. "Immanuel—they took my—you have to help me—"
"You know this woman?"
Veleno looks up at Liam, and the distant look in his eye is eerily frightening. "I've never seen this woman a day in my life."
Betrayal.
That's the look that passes over her face as he steps back.
"No." She mutters breathlessly. "No, no, no, no." Men grab underneath her shoulders and haul her away. "No, you son-of-a-bitch! Immanuel!"
Her voice cracks as even more tears pour out her eyes.
He watches as they pull her along the pavement without an ounce of recognition flashing across his stone-cold features. "I don't know anybody by that name," He says before turning his back on all of us.
"Stop!" Her heart-wrenching scream is enough to make Veleno turn around. It's enough to stop the soldiers from continuing to pull her to her execution. It's enough to stop Liam from ordering for her death, again, in impatience. It's enough to break me.
Her shoulders slump as she sits on the concrete of our driveway, staring hopelessly in Veleno's direction. We're outside. Birds are chirping, people are talking, there's distractions everywhere you look, everywhere you go, yet her voice is as clear as day. It's frantic. It's anxious. It's desperate.
"I know you've never loved anything a day in your life." She looks defeated as she stares across the way, addressing the only man that stands in her line of sight. Veleno. "You barely love yourself, so you won't understand when I say she's the love of my life. They took the love of my life." Her hands fly up to her face as her body shudders intensely. "They took my baby, Immanuel."
Liam and I share an uneasy glance.
And if she hadn't driven the point home, she certainly does so when she adds—
"Our baby."
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
a/n: did i do it again? i think i did
we're nearly at 500k that's WILDT. ABSOLUTELY INSANE. don't forget to follow me on Instagram. we have a lovely time on there, be prepared for my discussion post coming soon!!!
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see you in two years xoxoo