xviii | legendary
a/n: beloved characters were injured in the making of this chapter.
clarification: i said this chapter was "the worst chapter ever" because of my writing, not because of the content. i went easy on ya'll this holiday season.
p.s. read slow.
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I knew from the moment Diavolo leaped to his feet, and slowly rose to his full 6'4 height that everything that transpired from this second on would be legendary. A story of events that will be told long after everyone in this room has passed. A story that will undoubtedly be a turning point in a war that will be written in the history books.
There's something about Diavolo that leaves everyone in his wake paralyzed with fear, and I think I've realized what it is. His shoulders are no wider than Liam's, and his arms are no larger than Dom's when healthy. It isn't his musculature that leaves mouths dry and feet frozen in place. It's the inability to see his eyes, to witness the expression on his face. It's the inability to make that connection all humans yearn for. Diavolo is detached in every single way possible, and the unpredictability behind his entire being is what terrifies us all.
I expect Diavolo to reach for me, knowing the hatred that burns inside that hollow heart of his. He partially blames me for the death of his mother, as he should. But the intelligence that Aadya hinted at before her death shines through. Although it may not seem like it, Diavolo is in control of every demon that inhabits him – as well as his emotions. Hurting me isn't his mission, escaping is.
And that's why he reaches for Carmen instead.
Her scream falls on deaf ears as she's yanked flush against his chest. Her feet leave the security of the ground as he hoists her a little higher and turns around, using the woman as a human shield against the litany of weapons aimed in his direction. He has her arms trapped high over her head, making it impossible for Carmen to fight back. All she can do is struggle and whimper as he leads her forward.
I look to Dominic for guidance. He was always calm and collected in the face of danger, especially having experienced so much within his reign by Liam's side. His even-temper and sensible personality is one of the many reasons Liam once trusted him as much as he did. But Dominic looks just as frightened as Carmen, if not more. He looks petrified.
I glance down the hallway, where a few officers begin lowering their weapons. "Carmen," I turn back to her and speak. "Don't do anything stupid. Let him walk you to the end of the hallway—"
"—He's wearing Kevlar underneath his—" Her eyes close as she announces this important fact. It would explain Diavolo's ability to bounce up after being shot in such close proximity, but Kevlar isn't perfect. He'll be feeling the bruising soon. "It doesn't cover his—"
"Carmen, just—"
Her eyes drop to Aadya's gun, which sits right at her foot.
My stomach plummets.
Carmen lifts her foot and rams it in Diavolo's crotch. A breath of air rushes out the assassin's mouth as he responds as any many would. He releases Carmen, just as I'm sure she hoped he would, and stumbles backwards.
He recovers just as quickly.
All I can do is throw myself against Angel's desk, watching as Diavolo rapidly closes the short distance between the two.
Carmen scoops up the Aadya's weapon just as the assassin lunges.
His gloved hand swats just inches away from her face. His attempt to severely harm Carmen falls short because of Dominic, who had quickly risen to his feet and thrown himself at Diavolo's back. He has his arms wrapped around the assassin's neck, cutting off his precious oxygen supply.
Carmen wastes no time. Point blank. She pulls the trigger. And the humanly scream that flies out Diavolo's mouth as the bullet rips clean through his shoulder is chill inducing. It's deep, deeper than any cry of pain I've ever heard. It's a cry that burns his throat and lights his lungs on fire.
Diavolo would've crumbled to his knees if Dominic didn't have a hold on him.
But I've never seen anyone react to pain like Diavolo. Anybody else would've given up at the pain scorching through their right shoulder. But then the video that Veleno and I watched early that one morning repeats in my mind, where Valentin purposely tied up his son and had him beaten, because he knows what I'm just learning.
Diavolo feels pain - but pain does not hinder Diavolo, it fuels him.
And with renewed energy, he manages to fling Dominic off his back, sending him straight into the wooden desk. I don't glance over to make sure he's okay. I don't have time. All I have time for is to witness Diavolo plant his foot and scream at Carmen to run.
She doesn't need to hear my order to do so.
Carmen flies out the room, chucking the weapon behind her blindly to slow the gaining assassin down. He swats it away, knocking it into the wall of the hallway like a gnat on sweltering summer day. He's right on her heels. He's right there, and I feel horrible because all I can do is watch, pray, and pull myself to my feet as they tear down the never-ending hallway toward the group of police officers.
They look confused, torn between lighting Diavolo's ass up and waiting for Carmen to get out the way.
Before they can decide what to do as a team, Carmen knocks a few on her way to safety. Diavolo follows just mere milliseconds later, tossing uniformed officers to the ground as he barrels through, eyes locked on Carmen, and Carmen alone.
Dominic and I race out the office with bated breath as the officers regroup. All we can do is watch, and the guilt that settles in my stomach is sickening. Carmen had somehow gained a good distance between Diavolo, but that rapidly closes when she slips on a slick spot on the club floor.
She recovers just as quickly and scrambles to her feet as Dominic and I push past the police officers. Carmen's attempt to outrun him is valiant, but I know she isn't going to make it. Diavolo isn't even running his hardest, and the words of the Russian soldiers that stood outside our car after the accident confirm the worst: Diavolo likes the chase.
He zeros in on Carmen as she nears the entrance of the club.
Dominic won't reach her in time. I won't reach her in time. Her fate will be sealed just like the bodies of those outside, and the ones that lay, scattered around us now. Diavolo is going to jump, tackling her easily, and with practiced precision, he'll slam her head against the floor. She won't feel a thing, nor will she open her eyes again.
Just like I predict, he lunges for her—
–and is met and is met by a fast-moving blur mid-air. Their bodies strike one another at a speed high enough to inflict injury. The momentum of Carmen's savior sends them both crashing to the floor. They slide across the slippery flooring, trying to gather themselves as they barely bypass pools of crimson blood.
Diavolo is the first to get up, distancing himself from his newest threat. His attention is no longer on the woman who ripped a bullet through his shoulder, or even on the door leading to his freedom. It's on the threat dressed similarly to him. Black; from the hood that sits around the base of their neck, to the scuffed boots on their feet.
Their playful smile in a situation as serious as this is worth noting.
Dominic steps forward, eyes bulging. "Crixus?"
The boy looks in his brother's direction at the sound of his name. His smile grows. "Guess what—" His eyes dart from his brother to the assassin that takes a half step forward, gauging his means of attack. A disinterested sound rumbles the back of Diavolo's throat as Crixus scrunches up his youthful face. He throws his arm over his back, wrapping a gloved palm around the handle of one katana. He slowly pulls the weapon out it's sheath. "—I learned what memes were last night—"
Diavolo takes a bold step forward, just as Crixus turns the weapon on him. The large assassin stops, almost confused at the disrespect that Crixus shows. The tip of his katana's blade presses against Diavolo's abdomen.
"If it weren't for the laws of this land," Crixus shrugs his hood over-top his head, concealing his expression from everyone. There's a faint click. He finishes his statement in a tone deeper than anyone his age can reach, "I would've slaughtered you."
Diavolo's snarl is threatening.
"Sir, this is a Wendy's—"
Diavolo reaches for the katana, wraps his hand around it, and yanks it from Crixus's weak grasp. He throws it aside in a display of pure disrespect.
Crixus turns his head, watching his cherished weapon scatter to the floor.
He snaps.
The move Crixus performs is timed and executed perfectly as Diavolo comes within arm's reach of the boy, initiating the fight. Gravity doesn't have the same restrictions for Crixus, and he can thank his height and weight for that. Without much momentum, he takes a single step and jumps as Diavolo moves even closer. He manipulates his body mid-air, and for just a second lies horizontal to the ground below. Time slows long enough to appreciate the beauty of it all. Crixus tucks his legs in, then extends. His feet plant against Diavolo's stomach, knocking the larger assassin backwards, then to the ground.
Times resumes, and in one fluid motion, Crixus hits the ground and spins to his knees. He was able to accumulate more power in that complicated move than if he had just walked up to Diavolo and attempted to punch him. Crixus knows his limits. He knows his weaknesses, but he also knows how to work around them. Just as he did that night in the parking garage, where he took down men far larger than he.
He's young and often underestimated. I would make a note that he and Diavolo's height difference is laughable if he hadn't just saved Carmen's life. But with Diavolo standing tall at 6'4 and Crixus being shorter than Carmen, who sits about two inches shorter than me at 5'4, I know that this fight is going to test everything the young assassin has learned.
But he's our only hope, at least according to Angel Ferrari.
"Don't shoot, don't shoot." I manage to tear my attention away from the fight just long enough to see Dominic rushing over to the officers, begging that they don't open fire with his little brother in their sights.
I'm nearly knocked off balance as Carmen finds the time to race over to me, latching on to my arm.
I watch, eyes glued to the two assassins. I don't pay attention to Dominic rushing back over to us, trying to pull us behind a fallen table. He says something about being unable to leave, that abandoning Crixus when he came to help us would be unforgivable. He mutters something about moving away from the door, saying that if anybody were to come bursting through, we would be in trouble. I let Dominic pull us to safety, but I don't dare take my eyes off the fight that'll go down in the books. I wouldn't dare.
Crixus goes on the offense, slicing his swords through the air. Diavolo can do nothing to stop it. All he can do is dodge and time his next attack. It comes just seconds after the tip of the katana brushes past his neck. Just a little closer and Crixus would've claimed the demon's life.
Diavolo seizes his rare opportunity and knocks the longest katana out of the boy's hands. Crixus glances at it quickly. It's too far to reach. He stumbles backwards as Diavolo advances, managing to strip the child of his other weapon. Crixus trips over his over own foot and lands hard on his backside.
Sensing the advantage, Diavolo moves towards him with lightning speed. A dagger forms in Crixus's hand like a magic trick. Diavolo doesn't have time to retreat. Crixus jams the short weapon deep into Diavolo's calf.
Diavolo's boot lodges itself into Crixus's stomach, ridding him of every ounce of air in his small lungs. I'm not sure if it was purposeful, or just a reaction to the knife that's embedded in his leg. Diavolo's whimper is loud, but Crixus's "Oh shit," is even louder as the Russian assassin pulls the dagger from his calf, spins it in his hand, and draws it down on the boy below him.
Veleno appears out of nowhere.
He leaps on the back of Diavolo and the two are thrown to the ground. The bloody dagger scatters to the feet of speechless cops. Crixus's head hits the ground as a wave of relief washes over him, but my focus is now turned on the fair fight. Diavolo and Veleno both rise to their feet.
The two assassins circle one another.
"Call for backup." I hear one cop tell the other.
"And say what?"
"Tell them we have a miniature human with swords, an eyeless man, and a real-life version of satan—I don't fucking know! Just call them!"
I understand now why Veleno refers to this as dancing. The footwork of all the assassin's is impeccable, flawless, and more complicated than any dance-routine I've ever seen on Dancing with the Stars.
Veleno doesn't wait for Diavolo to make the first move. He lunges first. His elbow strikes Diavolo's throat, but that doesn't deter Valentin's son. The fight between them is even and fair as they share blows, but Veleno can't continue to fight Diavolo at this level of intensity – and that's becoming clear. He looks winded. He's exerting more energy than normal. Diavolo is like no other that he has ever fought before.
But Veleno has captured Diavolo's attention, and the Russian has seemingly forgotten about the threat that looms behind him. With his katana's having returned to their rightful home on his back, Crixus has simply begun pacing, waiting patiently for his next opening.
I nearly miss the eye contact between Veleno and Crixus.
The wicked right hook that Diavolo lands on Veleno is enough to bust the assassin's lip.
Diavolo makes his first real mistake. He relaxes as he eyes Veleno on the floor, entirely forgetting about the assassin behind him. He doesn't remember Crixus until the young boy has flung himself onto his back. Diavolo snarls and spins, surprised. He twirls in quick movements, trying his best to throw the boy off of him.
Crixus grips two sharp daggers in either hand, raises them high, before digging them into Diavolo's trapezius muscles; deep into his back.
Diavolo arches backwards as another cry of pain dances across his lips.
Crixus leans up, anchoring his weight on the knives plunged deep into Diavolo's back muscles. He whispers loudly into the Russian's ear. "Giddy-up, bitch."
With a quick jerk, Diavolo throws Crixus off, and the room falls silent.
Veleno is still on the ground, catching his breath and recovering from the skull-rocking punch Diavolo landed on him. Crixus hits the floor and rolls over on his stomach, breathing heavily. Diavolo struggles to reach a wall to support himself. His injured shoulder is dropping further and further by the second. The loss of blood from his shoulder, his calf, and now his back will soon be too much. It has to be too much.
He hits the edge of a wall, turns around, and uses what's left of his strength to break off the handles of the daggers that protrude out his back. He yells, and I can't imagine the pain flaring across his body as he succeeds. The blades of the knives are still lodged deep into his muscles but moving around without the excess will be easier.
Diavolo falls to a knee.
And I swear I see the gates of hell open wide as the window to kill Diavolo unbolts.
He can't take much more. His movements have slowed, and over the course of the fight, his quickness as taken a significant hit. His head is bowed, his elbow rested on his propped knee as he summons whatever energy is needed to finish the assassin's that fight for us.
Crixus is struggling to pull himself to his feet.
Veleno rises, disregarding the trickle of blood that that rolls down his chin. His lip is busted, but that won't stop him. Crixus's fall won't stop him. And the bullet in his abdomen, the knives in his back, the injury to his shoulder, and the knife that cut through his calf won't stop Diavolo.
Soldiers are trained. Soldiers know when to give up. Soldiers know when to throw in the white flag. They know where they're outnumbered. They know when they're beaten. They know when victory is impossible.
Assassins are tortured. Assassins do not comprehend defeat. Assassins do not own a white flag. They are never outnumbered. Victory, in their mind, is always possible.
Either they all walk away tonight, or none of them do. The look in Veleno's eye confirms that as Diavolo rises to his feet one last time. Crixus's hood has fallen from his face, and the look that passes across his immature features resembles one of determination. He, too, believes the same – even at an age as young as his.
And the way Diavolo allows them to circle him ignites a wave of goosebumps that ripple across my skin, spreading throughout every extremity. His injured shoulder has dropped even more. His back is visibly bothering him. He moves in a stiff, slow manner as he turns in small circles – doing his best to keep at least one of the two preying assassins in front of him at all times. He's noticeably limping, unable to put much weight on his injured lower leg. All he can do is wait for Crixus and Veleno to make their final move, and hope he has the strength to fend them off.
It's a moment in time that will go down in history, without a doubt. The remaining officers that have yet to retreat know that as well, as they watch in awe, in silence, and in wonder.
I hold my breath as Veleno makes the first of the last move. Crixus closes in from his side in timing so perfect you would think they had practiced it before. They hadn't. They fight like they've fought by each other's side for years. They haven't. They fight like they've known each other their entire life. They fight like they trust each other, and their ability to work together, to time their assault – is the reason Diavolo falls one last time.
Veleno scoops up a bloody dagger nearby. He doesn't aim for Diavolo's gut or his thigh. He aims for the throat. He goes for the kill.
Diavolo's unnaturally quick reflexes save his life. His forearms shoot up, blocking Veleno's attempt on his life. He kicks his good leg out, jamming his heel into Veleno's shin. Our assassin goes down with a faint cry of surprise. Diavolo manages to take the weapon, flip Veleno on his back, climb on top of him, and drag the dagger down to his throat.
I don't have time to scream.
Crixus doesn't even have time to react.
Veleno catches Diavolo's forearm just as the tip of the blade kisses his jugular. There's nothing I can do. There's nothing Crixus can do. It's a fight of strength now. I don't know who yells. Whether it's Veleno, who is less than inches from certain death – or Diavolo, who is mustering up whatever energy he has left to finish off his biggest threat.
All attention is on them. Veleno and Diavolo. This isn't how the fight started, but this is how it will end.
I never thought I would see the day Diavolo was overpowered, but it happens. It happens right before my eyes.
Veleno throws Diavolo off, sending him sliding into a pool of blood. Veleno moves faster than Diavolo can, managing to recover the dagger the Russian couldn't manage to hold on to. And what I witness next, what they all said was impossible, happens—
Veleno drives the blade through the palm of Diavolo's left hand, staking him to the club floor.
Diavolo's back arches high off the floor as his cry of agony rattles the walls of the building. The ground shakes as hell trembles. All of heaven freezes. Demons and angels alike hold their breath. Lighting strikes, and thunder follows as the core of the Russian empire shudders.
Veleno throws himself backwards, and shouts, "Finish him."
Crixus remains frozen in place, fixated on the assassin that writhes on the floor in pain. Diavolo is crying. Whether tears are falling out his eyes, I'll never know – but the sound of a man sobbing is distinct. It's heart wrenching. It's gut-churning. It's sickening.
Veleno backs away so quickly he falls to the floor. "Finish him!"
He doesn't need to repeat himself a third time. Crixus's face is torn between two expressions I can't decipher as he eventually turns his back on me. He pulls a katana from its sheath, wrapping both hands around it's intricately designed handle. He straddles the assassin below him by placing a foot on either side of the Russian.
The young assassin raises his weapon and wastes no time in ending Diavolo's suffering.
Seconds before Crixus drew his katana down with all his might, with every purpose to end the reign of the Russians demon, the wounded assassin had stopped. Diavolo had stopped squirming, stopped fighting. He lay on his injured back, focusing on the weapon that would end his life. And oddly enough, I wonder if Diavolo's life flashed before his eyes in that brief span of time – and if it did, what did he see?
Or maybe he saw nothing at all, because he has never lived.
I swore it was all over. It had to be, yet it wasn't. Where Valentin's son managed to conjure up the strength in his abdomen to roll his entire body to the left, just narrowly missing the sharp edge of Crixus's weapon is beyond me. Diavolo wraps a hand around the dagger lodged through his palm and yanks it out.
He leans up, grabs Crixus, keeping him trapped just long enough to drive the bloody knife into the young boy's side.
Diavolo uses all the energy he has left to give Crixus a faint shove, and falls back to the floor. Motionless.
Crixus stumbles backwards as his hands fly to the dagger – his dagger – that's protruding out his stomach. His hands are shaking. His blood is beginning to coat his black gloves. His complexion has already faded from a healthy yellow undertone to a ghostly shade of white.
He sounds scared. He sounds so scared as he lifts his eyes to the assassin across the room. "Veggie—"
Veleno doesn't hesitate. He rushes to Crixus's side and wraps his arms around the kid before he can fall. Veleno drops to a knee just as Dominic rushes out into the open, leaving Carmen and I in hiding.
I tell Carmen to wait in the safety of our hiding space before rushing out to join the others. My eyes trail Diavolo the entire time, waiting for a movement as simple as a finger twitching before I book it back to safety. He hasn't moved. We're good.
Veleno has a hand on Crixus's lower back, keeping the boy steady. Crixus is breathing heavily. He's panicking.
"—first of all, my name isn't Veggie—"
Crixus's shoulders shake as he laughs. "It—it is now."
"Move your hands." Crixus does as he's told. The room is quiet. The remaining LAPD officers managed to slip out a side entrance in their retreat. It's just us now. "This is going to hurt."
"Okay." Crixus clenches his teeth shut and braces for the worst.
Veleno gingerly grabs the end of the dagger and looks up at the boy. "This is going to hurt like a bitch—"
"I'm a big boy. Do it."
The corner of Veleno's lip rises in a smirk that is undeserving for this situation. But the partial smile eases the feeling in my chest. "You?" Veleno teases. "A big boy? How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"Fifteen, wow. Impressive work for a fifteen-year-old."
"I mean, what can I say, it's in my—" Crixus's scream rips through whatever he planned on saying next, echoing loudly off the club walls. It's a scream loud enough to wake the dead that surround us and high enough to challenge Rosalie's ridiculous range.
Everything happens so quickly, and I'm glad it does. Crixus wouldn't have much time left if it didn't. Veleno removes his hand from Crixus's gushing wound, but not before ordering the boy to rest his hand over it and press down. The more pressure, the better, Veleno had said. Blood is everywhere. Everywhere. But it's Veleno's efficiency that saves the boy's life.
Veleno tugs his sweatshirt over his head and rips a sleeve from the elbow down. He grabs for Crixus again, yanks the boy towards him, and shoves his hand aside to jam the material against the wound.
"You think he's going to be okay?" Dominic questions.
Veleno looks up. "We need to get him to a hos—"
The gunshots that follow are unexpected.
They come out of seemingly nowhere. Dominic flings himself around an overturned table to his right, while I dive behind a sturdy surface to my right. Crixus can't move that fast. Veleno knows that. The young assassin panics. The older one does not. Instead of fleeing, Veleno drags Crixus to the ground and uses his body to shield the youngest from oncoming fire.
Bullets strike Veleno repeatedly, but he doesn't move. He doesn't give up. It takes a few seconds for everything else to register. Men pour into the club, their automatic weapons aimed high as they crowd inside. I can tell just based on the military vests they wear that they aren't us. They clearly aren't our men.
Their Russian; and on any other given day I would panic. I would panic because I didn't tell Liam where I was going. I would panic because I didn't believe we would be gone this long, nor did I think security would be needed. I would panic because Valentin's soldiers would have us pinned and outnumbered. I don't panic today, because in the matter of a few seconds, it's clear that this isn't an assault mission. This is a rescue and recover.
They form a circle around their fallen assassin. A few fall to their knees, while others crowd at his feet. I'm not sure if they're trying to be nosy, or purposely blocking our view of their evaluation. Whatever they do, it's quick. I can only pick up on a tidbit of their conversations.
"You have a pulse?"
"Not dead. Unconscious."
"—Jesus, his hand."
"Call Valentin."
"He's losing a lot of blood. Have someone meet us en route—"
"We need to get out of here."
It takes a few of them to throw Diavolo's limp arms across their shoulders and haul the unconscious man to his feet. Two wrap their arms around his waist, using their bodies as crutches to a man who may not even remember this when he awakes. They start to make their way to the same door they burst through just moments before.
They don't make it.
A Russian meets them underneath the doorway, a panicked expression washing over his pale features. Moonlight illuminates his figure as he unholsters his largest weapon. His voice is drowned in concern as he shouts, "We're not alo—"
His body convulses as bullets rip through his skin, forcing him to fall face-first to the floor. His body is used as a doormat as armed men march inside the club in a synchronized fashion. Their weapons are aimed high as they fire on the surprised and unprepared Russian soldiers. At first, I thought they were highly trained officers from the LAPD, but the family crest stitched into the left shoulder of every vest tells me otherwise. Liam sent them.
They move with precision, with accuracy. I find it more entertaining to watch them than a group of choreographed dancers. The Russians flee out another side door, making sure Diavolo reaches safety. Few stand back and turn, opening fire on the merciless assault our soldiers release on them. By the time it's over, half of the army Valentin sent is dead. The other half made it out with Diavolo.
We win this round.
The graveyard has only grown. The dead partygoers are now joined by soldiers. Some lie sprawled next to the other deceased, while others are toppled over one another. My attention drifts from them to our soldiers, who quickly span out to confirm the deaths of the most recently fallen.
I jolt when another shot rings out.
An execution.
"You okay?"
I feel wrong for calling the man at my side a soldier. He may be dressed the same as his counterparts, but it's clear he holds himself in a different light – a different, higher standard. Then I see the stitching on the left side of his chest. CDR. Commander.
I stutter.
"I need you to answer me." His tone is gruff and captivating. I look up at him, and the first thing I notice is the light color of his eyes and how they contrast against his dark hair, brown skin, and even darker vest. "I have Liam on the other line—"
I finally find my voice. "I'm fine."
He looks at me for a second longer, then leans back on the heels of his boots and presses a hand to his ear. The Italian language flows smooth off his tongue, entwined with an accent too genuine to be fake or learned. He's a native, through and through. Whatever Liam says makes him smile.
Shouting interrupts my thoughts, per usual. And once again, they turn down a negative path. The worst possible scenario comes to mind as I shelter behind cover once more, watching as the commander stands and turns to face the front door of the club. The Russians who remain must've rounded back after regrouping and are here to take on our soldiers in a more fair and even fight.
But when I lean forward to get a quick glimpse of the assailants rushing through the door – it isn't who I thought it would be. Bolded, white letters spells SWAT on front of the team's vest as they march in, weapons raised. Our men don't waste time. They raise theirs as well, and the standoff is initiated.
"SWAT." A few of the officers introduce. "Put your weapons down!"
But their instructions are drowned out by the shouts of our own. "Stand down."
"I will not say it again." The SWAT's leading officer steps forward, his patience wearing thin. "Put your weapons down or we will—"
Our commanding officer steps forward, separating himself from the men that now stand behind him. Their weapons don't budge. They don't hesitate. And they don't move unless he says otherwise.
"We come in the name of Liam Elijah Luciano and apriremo il fuoco."
SWAT falls silent.
"What?" The leader of our group of soldiers takes a large step forward. He tilts his head, "You bitches need a translator?"
The leading SWAT officer doesn't take the taunting bait. He waves a hand over his shoulder, motioning for another man to join him at his side. They converse quickly. "Get his vest number, Call Luciano, and confirm. We won't lower our weapons until I know you are who you say you are."
The SWAT officer steps forward to read our soldier's vest number. He doesn't appreciate that. He doesn't appreciate it at all.
Our commanding officer slaps a palm across his vest number. "Giovanni Marcello Esposito. Vest number 8598566. I am who I say I am, and I do what I say I'll do."
The officer steps away with a phone to his ear. He returns a second later to his boss's side and nods. "They're Luciano's."
SWAT immediately lowers their weapons, and the Italians follow.
The intimidating edge leaves the tone of the commanding SWAT officer as he looks around the club, eyes glazing over the blood and bodies. "What the hell happened here?"
"You're asking the wrong person." Giovanni glances over at Veleno, who slowly rises to his feet. He catches Crixus's eye for just a second, before looking to Dom, who's sitting on a stool near the bar. He looks at me with pity, then over my shoulder and I see his eyes widen ever the slightest at the woman approaching behind me. Carmen.
The SWAT officer laughs. "You want me to believe that you have no idea—"
"I was lying in bed when Liam called me." Giovanni defends. "My job description doesn't involve asking questions." The officer brushes past him, and the two men knock shoulders. "He sent me a location and told me go get my girl, and I did that."
The officer's laugh is a fake one.
"You the cop." Commanding Officer Esposito says. His smile is slight as he adjusts the strap that crosses his chest, keeping the automatic weapon strapped tightly against his back. "Do your job."
He then turns and walks to us. "We need to get out of here in-case the Russians return."
"They won't." Carmen joins me at my side with a soft smile. "They're more worried about Diavolo."
I nod in agreement.
Now it's Giovanni's turn to ask Carmen the same question he poised to me. "Are you okay?"
Carmen's "I'm fine" doesn't share the same conviction as mine did, and the wince on her face doesn't exactly seal her lie. Her left wrist dangles at her side, but she keeps her right tucked against her stomach.
He shouts a name over his shoulder, and soon after he's joined by another soldier. "Make sure she makes it to the van. Looks like she hurt her wrist somehow. Make sure everyone knows we leave in five. I'll be there in a second."
I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it with my own two eyes. Carmen's mouth is parted, but no words escape as she stares up at Giovanni. Her eyes dance over his mature features, from his short hair, the stubble on his chin, to the shine of his dark complexion. There's no doubt in my mind that the fullness of his lips captures her attention for another second or two.
"Carmen." She blurts out randomly as the other soldier guides her away. "My name is Carmen."
He smiles. "Call me Gio or call me 'Vanni, but I'd prefer if you didn't combine the two. I'm not as big of a dick as my name may make me seem."
Carmen nods and shoots me a quick look. She sends Giovanni a gentle smile before allowing herself to be led to the safety of Liam's vehicles. She doesn't witness the brief look Giovanni sends her way when her back is turned.
It isn't long before his attention falls back to me. "Seriously though, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm—" I feel my focus on our conversation fade as my eyes catch something concerning in the background. Veleno and Crixus. I can't hear a word that's being said, but it's clear the conversation isn't pleasant. Dominic moves into view, angling his body towards his brother. His words are clear.
"You need a hospital."
"Don't tell me what I need," is Crixus's reply.
"He's right." Veleno agrees. "You need—"
Crixus doesn't let them finish. He spins on his heels and bolts toward a side door. Dominic and Veleno don't hesitated. They chase after him and I chase after them, leaving Giovanni behind.
Even injured, Crixus can reach a speed neither of us can. He's already taken a few steps out a side door before Veleno even reaches it, barely catching it in time before it clicks shut. He swings it back open and moves outside. Dominic follows, then me.
The door leads to a similar looking alleyway with a tiny parking lot, consisting of only four, poorly paved spots.
With a hand still on his bleeding wound, Crixus races to the midpoint of the alleyway – which is separated by a 6-foot-high chain-linked fence. I slow to a jog as Veleno and Dominic race forward, determined to grab the kid and get him the help he needs. But someone who doesn't want help, won't accept help.
Crixus drops his hand from his side as he leaps up, jamming a foot inside the chain-linked metal. He wraps his fingers around the fence and climbs. He makes it look effortless, pathetically simple, before throwing himself over the top and tumbling gracelessly to the ground below.
Dominic slams himself against the fence, shaking it loudly. "Why are you running?" He's out of breath, and the frustration in his voice is evident. The hurt creeps into his voice as he repeats his question, "Why are you running from me? Do you even know who I am?"
I stand just a few steps behind Dominic. Veleno stands at my side, his breathing equally as heavy, hands on his hips. Crixus leans back against the fence, rattling it. He has a hand pressed against his side. He's aggravated an injury that was already deemed serious. His teeth are gritted together as he presses the left side of his face against the fence.
"I know who you are, Dom."
Hearing his nickname coming from the mouth of his younger brother hits harder than ever before. Dominic exhales slowly and leans forward, listening to the metal groan against his weight. Dominic wants nothing more than to tear down the barrier between the two, the barrier Crixus purposely put between them.
"Then why are you running from me?"
"I was sent here to kill you." Crixus doesn't hesitate in the slightest. Dominic reels back on his heels. "If I'm seen with you—if they see me with you, they'll kill mom and dad."
"You know mom and dad?"
Crixus doesn't respond.
Dominic punches the fence and raises his voice, "Answer me! You know mom and dad?"
Crixus shuts his eyes tight and lowers his head. He isn't going to reply.
"You're losing a lot of blood, kid." Veleno steps forward, gently placing a hand on the fence and looking down. "You need help—"
"—and I'll get it."
Dominic lowers himself entirely to the concrete floor and sits down. He uses the fence as back support. "Why didn't you kill me, then? Who even sent you to kill me?"
"You and Rico." He admits softly. "I was sent here to kill you and Rico. Found out he was already dead, and then...you..."
Dominic stares at his lap.
"You snuck out Lackadaisical's house one night. I followed you. You almost ran into me." Dom doesn't say a thing. "And I looked up at you. You were high as shit. And I looked in your eyes for the first time..."
Dom turns his head, leaning his cheek against the metal to get a better look at his brother.
"...and I realized you were already dead."
The same unprovoked anger that possessed Dominic to raise his hand to hit me and the same anger that caused him to snap at Steven earlier washes away all concern for Crixus. He doesn't like what he just heard. He rises to his feet and walks past us without a word.
Crixus groans and uses the fence to pull himself to his feet. "Dominic, bro, come on, it's the truth—"
Dominic doesn't stop.
"You don't need those pills!" Shouting causes Crixus to clench, doubling over slightly. He relies more and more on the fence to keep him standing as the minutes pass. Dominic stops walking. "You don't need those girls—"
"You're fifteen, right?' He spins back, taking a few steps in retreat. I back away as Dominic lifts an accusing finger. "Do you really think I'm going to take advice from a fucking kid—the same kid that's trying to take me out—"
Crixus rolls his eyes, "I'm not—"
"—Don't tell me what I do and don't fucking need when you won't even take my simple advice!"
"I said I was going to get help."
"You need stitches. You need meds. You need rest." Dominic emphasizes, and my heart warms. Past the anger in his voice and the frustration in his tone, I hear the voice of the always caring, always responsible man he is.
Crixus drapes himself across the fence and sighs. "Can I offer you advice now?"
Dominic bite backs a snark remark before throwing his hands up. "Fine. What do you think I need?"
"A hug."
Veleno snorts in a laugh, but the smile that follows is refreshing. I feel my lips pulling apart, and even Dominic chuckles in a laugh that lacks humor. Crixus is the only one whose face remains expressionless; neither happy nor serious.
We can blame the loss of blood for his pale complexion, but even then, he sits somewhere in between his two brothers; a few shades lighter than Dominic, but darker than Rico. Sweat from his exertion causes his dark hair to curl slightly. A texture of hair looser than Dominic, but easier to curl than Rico's. I swear his top lip looks a little larger than his bottom, yet still a perfect size for his narrow, youthful face. He's the perfect in-between of his brothers. The perfect mix of his parents. His smile is delayed, but the childish grin – as well as the slight dimple that creases into his left cheek – is worth it.
"A hug won't solve my problems, Crixus."
"No, it won't. But it'll help, Dom...mie."
"No."
Dominic turns and walks away.
"Dom. Dom. Dom!" Crixus rattles the fence as he and Veleno burst out in inappropriate laughter. "Bro, I was kidding! Dominic, come back—please, I was kidding I won't call you Dommie I swear—Dominic!"
Dominic enters the club and shuts the door behind him. No backwards glance needed.
"Damn." Crixus mutters. "I mean, J did say it was a Cole world."
That earns a hearty laugh from Veleno. "You keep up with music?"
Crixus shrugs. "More music than T.V. Don't have access to it where I'm from."
I want to press the where he's from, but I decide not to. Veleno nods and looks back towards the door of the club, then to Crixus. "So, no matter what I say, you really won't hop back over this fence and let us take care of that?" He nods to the black material of Crixus's shirt, which beginning to stick to his skin as the red stain grows. "You did enough for us tonight. It's the least we can—"
"I just admitted to you that I was sent here to kill your boy and you still want to invite me into the same home as him?"
"Dominic isn't my boy." Veleno grinds out. He shoots an upward nod at Crixus. "And if you truly, wholeheartedly, wanted to kill your brother – you would have already, kid."
A wave of hesitation washes over Crixus as he contemplates his next words. He chooses another excuse. "Look, Lima Bean doesn't like me. I wouldn't want to intrude—"
"—Liam has no problem with you." I emphasize. "And when he finds out what you did tonight, he'll welcome you with open arms—after he finishes berating our asses for leaving without security."
"Look, I appreciate it, but I have someone waiting for me, so—" He hooks a thumb over his shoulder and pushes away from the fence. A few more steps and the shadows of the alleyway, the darkness of the poorly lit street behind him will cause him to disappear.
I step forward. "Thank you. Carmen isn't here, but if she was, I know she would say it too—so thank you. Thank you for helping us and thank you for saving her life."
Crixus stops walking, the heels of his boot flirting with the darkness that looms behind him. One more step and he's out of sight.
"No problem, Ms. Faith."
I make a face. "What? I don't get a nickname?"
He smiles through the pain.
Crixus raises a palm in preparation to wave. "Veggie."
"—Veleno," The assassin corrects.
"Crixus." The boy smiles.
"Faith." I introduce.
Veleno gives me a side eye.
"Sorry."
"Veggie?"
Veleno doesn't try to correct the boy again. He huffs and responds. "Yes?"
"I look forward to dancing with you again."
The man beside me can do nothing to fight the smile that appears. It's almost impossible not to smile in the presence of the boy that stands in front of us. "As do I, kid."
Crixus throws up a gang sign and allows the shadows of the night to engulf him.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
Liam has been pacing for the last fifteen minutes in utter silence. I'm not sure which is better – this, or just listening to the verbal abuse that's threatening to erupt shortly. I would say something first, cut to the chase, but we look pathetic. We all look pathetic.
Carmen sits on my left, Dominic at my right, while I claim ownership of the middle sofa cushion. Veleno is near the back, gritting his teeth as he leans over a piece of furniture while a soldier inspects his slow-forming bruises. It could've been a lot worse for him. It would've been a lot worse for him if hadn't been wearing kevlar underneath his outfit.
Veleno didn't hesitate to throw his body over Crixus to protect him; and the question that's settled in the back of my mind is this – would he have done the same if he hadn't been wearing that bulletproof material?
Soldiers are scattered around the room at attention, waiting to be dismissed. A few loom behind the sofa we're standing on, while others move to check and work on Veleno. Giovanni stands behind Liam with his feet shoulder-width apart, swaying as he watches his boss sway with keen interest.
We look like a group of teenagers who snuck out the house to party, only to be caught on the way back in.
Liam stops pacing.
I brace.
"I almost lost my best assassin tonight because he had to divert from his mission to save you!" Dominic flinches as Liam snaps. The vein in Liam's neck protrudes like never before. He's pissed pissed. "And you." I lower my gaze when his eyes snap to me, and I know Carmen's does the same when he moves down the line. "And you."
Liam retreats a few steps. "Whose idiotic idea was this?"
It's hard to answer him as he stands before us with his dress shirt unbuttoned entirely. It's fallen from his broad shoulders, and now puddles at the crease of his elbows. His pants hang around his waist, having dropped half an inch from the discarding of his belt. They, too, are unbuttoned and unzipped, exposing the name of the infamous brand in bolded letters that's embedded in the wide band of his underwear.
Dominic sighs and raises his hand, barely.
I expect Liam to pounce – figuratively and literally. He doesn't. His eyelid twitches just the slightest as he brings a hand to his chin. The words that follow aren't shouted. They don't need to be, because the disappointment behind it is clear.
"You sat at my side. You ruled at my side for years." The previous anger that drove Liam's words out with passion have now be replaced with hurt, something alongside betrayal. "If anyone—if anyone knows better, it's you."
Dominic lets out a breath. "I didn't think Valentin's people—"
"—It doesn't matter what'chu thought!"
The threatening step Liam takes in Dominic's direction is a good warning. Dom tenses beside me, while I prepare to throw myself between the two. Giovanni senses the same, and reaches out, grabbing hold of Liam's bicep.
Liam shakes him off and takes another step.
"If I knew the Russians were going to be—"
"It doesn't matter whether you knew the Russians were going to be there or not." Liam snaps. Dominic straightens his posture and begins to argue over Liam, saying something about letting him defend himself. "—You—stop talking over—Dominic shut up." Liam's annoyance is clear, and the edge on his voice silences an arguing Dom, for good.
"Stop with the fucking excuses, just stop. You knew better. Admit that!" Dominic doesn't lower his head. He takes his verbal lashing as he should – with his head held high. Liam leans close. "You know for a goddamn fact that security isn't an option, it's a fucking requirement. Valentin is a current threat, but you have no idea who else hides in the shadows waiting for their opportunity to take me out, to take Faith out, to take Veleno out, to take Carmen out."
Dominic doesn't have an argument for that.
I scoot forward even more, fighting between speaking up and staying silent. Liam is gunning for the one person in the home who he feels like knew better, but I did too. I knew better. And listening to his berate Dominic only hurts, because he isn't the only one at fault. But Liam's emotions, more specifically, his anger is in the driver's seat.
He's not just lashing out on Dominic because of tonight. This is pent up anger, feelings that should've been expressed long ago that always found their way to suppression.
I press my lips together and sit back, my mind made up. I'll stay silent, but the nagging feeling in the back of my mind won't be ignored – and I know this decision will be one I look back on one day in the near, or possibly even distant, future.
Whether I'll regret staying silent or praise myself for doing so, is still to be determined.
"I used to trust you." Liam stares at Dominic in disbelief. "I trusted you with my life. I trusted, that if I wasn't around, you would protect Faith. I trusted you with this family. I trusted you with my everything. I trusted you with my life." Liam lets out a breath, "And I'll never do that again."
Dominic's eyebrow connect as he rises to his feet. Liam doesn't move. "Wait, what do yo—"
Their chests touch as Liam lowers his voice. "I will never trust you with my faith, my family, my life, or my everything again. I hope you enjoyed your time at my side, because you will never stand at my right side again."
Devastation is the look that passes over Dominic's face next.
"Get out of my face." I don't dare move. I hear a couple soldiers shuffling toward the two men, prepared to intervene if need be. But the octave that Liam's voice drops, and the hurt, the anger that coats every word – every syllable – is enough to cause them all to falter.
Dom doesn't move. I don't know if he's purposely trying to tick Liam off more than he already is or if he's still stunned by Liam's last statement.
Liam laughs. Nothing is funny. "Get out of my face before I swing, Dominic, I swear to God—"
Dominic shakes his head. I was a fool to think he would just walk away. He raises his arms, palms out, and shoves Liam. "Hit me for what—?"
Soldiers grab hold of Liam's forearms, keeping him stapled to the ground. He tries to shake them off but fails. He shoots them all disappointing looks, before turning back to Dom. "I should do a lot more to you for laying your hand on her in the first place—"
It's Dominic's turn to laugh. "Is that what this is about—you're not just mad because of tonight. You're pissed I laid a hand on your bitch, but are we just going to forget that you hit her too?"
The soldiers release Liam as he takes a timid step forward. "My what?"
Bitch.
I cross my leg over one another and purse my lips, staring hard at Dominic. He knows I'm looking on with an offended expression. To think that when this lashing was over, I would pull Liam aside and tell him that it was equally everyone's fault and to apologize to Dom. Fuck that and fuck him.
But Dominic doesn't look over at me, because when the soldiers released Liam, they also released the safety on their weapons, lifting them all, and aiming them directly at him.
In any other scenario, I would've pitied Dominic, but the anger that's tightening my chest doesn't allow it.
Dominic takes an uncertain step back, glancing between the same soldiers he once helped lead, to their weapons, to the man he once called his best friend. Tears glisten along his bottom eyelid as he stutters. "S-so what? You're just going to let your men shoot me? Is this how you deal with all your fucking problems?'
Liam shrugs. "Better than pills."
His words register like a brick at the bottom of Dominic's stomach, anchoring him to the floor.
Dom's jaw clenches. "Shoot me then," He tells Liam, and when Liam doesn't reply, he stares down every single soldier – all, individually – and shouts, "Shoot me then! Kill me. Kill me." Everyone watches on in silence as Dominic spins to meet the eyes of everyone, and as he comes full circle his anger fades. What's left? Desperation. "Kill me. Please, kill me. What? You idiots don't understand English? Kill me. Shoot me. Execute me. Finiscimi. Kill me!"
His tears erupt from out of nowhere, shaking his body so violently he nearly crumbles. It's a cry that makes you want a cry. A cry that upsets your stomach and ruins your whole day. A cry that makes you feel guilty for whatever caused it, even if you weren't involved.
The soldiers lower their weapons.
Dominic doesn't see Liam step up to him, for his hands are over his eyes, trying their best to keep the tears where they belong. There's no hesitation on Liam's part. He cups the back of Dominic's head in the palm of his hand and draws the man to his chest in a hug.
This isn't an apology from Liam, but a means of comfort to a man in desperate need of it. It lasts all of a few seconds, before Liam pulls away and marches out the room. His soldiers follow shortly after.
Dominic doesn't look up again. He leaves, and the sound of him shutting the front door shakes the walls of our home.
Carmen gently rotates her wrist along the icepack that sits on her lap. She clears her throat, speaking quietly, breaking the lengthy silence. "You think Liam was mad?"
I give her a playful shove and stand up. "You going to be okay?"
"Yeah," Her smile is warm and inviting. "Go calm your man down."
I shoot a look over my shoulder. Veleno is upright, leaning against the wall. He has ice pressed against his lip. I don't realize just how badly it's swollen until Veleno removes the ice and tries to smile. One side of his mouth rises more than the other.
"Diavolo got you good, huh?" I tease.
Veleno brings the ice back to his lip. "That inward sense—that learned, sometimes given ability...Diavolo has it, he has it better than anybody I've ever gone up against. People like that, like him, like us with heightened senses are next to impossible to be snuck up on. If Crixus was going to get the jump on him like he needed to, I had to occupy Diavolo's full and undivided attention." He raises his icepack like it's a glass of bubbling champagne.
"You let him hit you."
Veleno's eyes lighten as his lips struggle to curl into a smile. That, alone, answers my question.
I laugh as Veleno brushes past me and settles down on the sofa to keep Carmen company for now. I don't stick around much longer. Instead, I leave the room and climb the main stairwell to the second floor. I turn a corner and approach our bedroom door. I pause for just a second, listening to any sound at all, before pushing my way inside.
I shut the door and lock it, before moving to the end of our bed. Liam lies on the mattress, using the crook of his elbow to shield his eyes from the gentle glow of our nightstand lamp. His feet are planted on the floor and his clothes are still barely hanging from his limbs.
"Hey." I whisper my greeting with as much tenderness as I can muster and rest a hand on his thigh. He doesn't move, but I know he can hear me. "Dominic can't take the entire blame for what happened tonight." Liam separates his legs and I stumble forward, my knees hitting the edge of the mattress. "I know better, too. I knew better than to leave without telling you. I should've called Austin and had security meet us there. I know you're mad—"
"I'm not mad." Liam lowers his arm.
"Well you could've damn sure fooled me."
"I'm not mad. I was worried. Sick. I was—" My attention drops from his torn expression to his abdomen. He involuntarily flexes as he leans up into a sitting position. Liam lets out a breath as he fiddles with a button from his dress shirt, trying to occupy his time and his mind. "—I just love you, so much."
"I love you too. Liam, being worried is fine, but Dominic—"
His eyes snap to mine, and I lose my train of thought. "I don't want to talk about Dominic right now. Please. Anything but him." I don't realize just how shaken up Liam is until he struggles to hold my gaze for longer than a couple seconds.
I step between Liam's legs as his arms snake around my waist. I pull him towards me, allowing him to rest his face against my stomach. He holds me close. He holds me tight. And I stand corrected when I previously said that the sounds I entice from Liam in bed are my favorite things to hear, they're not. The sound of him breathing, softly, heavily, will always be my favorite sound. Always.
I'm the first to pull away, and although he fights it for some time, Liam finally lets me go.
I take a step backwards and I regret it. I'm a goner from the moment his eyes lift to mine. I never knew a color like brown could capture my heart and cause my stomach to flip. I never knew a color like brown could tell me whether the man I love is upset or happy. I never knew a color like brown would change my life completely. I never knew the depth of the question, what's your favorite color, until I fell in love with Liam.
I never knew I could fall in love with a color like brown.
Liam presses his palms into the mattress, scooting his way off the edge of the bed. His eyes never leave mine. An invitation to follow him. And he knows damn well I would follow him anywhere.
I pull my shirt over my head and let it fall to the floor, before flinging my leg over the bed and climbing up. He meets me halfway with a wide smile toying the corners of his lips. His hands find their way from my hips to my thighs as he settles beneath me. I throw a leg over his body and climb onto his lap.
And for a rare moment in time, he has to look up to me. I smile, holding back a laugh as his growing facial hair brushes along my chest. "Can I kiss you?"
"I don't know." I smile. "Let me ask my mom first—"
The way he kisses me – the firm, passionate exclamation of his love almost makes me feel bad. Bad that I ever doubted him. Bad that I ever doubted us. Not only has guilt settled in my stomach, but so has a certain level of nervousness for what's to come. I could go on a pathetic tangent about every single one of Liam's kisses and what they mean, but it isn't necessary tonight. I know what this one means, and I know where it will lead if neither of us stop.
I pull away from Liam, and I swear I hear the faintest of whines.
He plants a kiss against my chest, mumbling something ever-so softly against my skin. His lips are warm. The room is cold. The contrast between the two somehow manages to light my skin on fire and initiate a wave of goosebumps down my arms all at the same time.
My hands find the back of his neck as he works his way past my collarbone, trailing my favorite path with light kisses and gentle bites. I drag my hands past his shoulders and down his biceps. Liam holds himself still as I help him shake his shirt off. His hands shoot to the waistband of my pants immediately, helping me discard of them.
His eyes fall from mine, drifting over the black bralette and its matching set. A smile plays against his lips. "You're matching? Did you plan this?"
"No," I respond truthfully, "But it ended up working in my favor."
His laugh is gentle, reassuring, and warm. He shifts me on his lap and leans up as far as he can to press a light kiss to my lips. I run my hands along his shoulders, his back, my fingers dancing across the tattoo on his shoulder blade. My fingers find their way to the base of his neck, gently tugging the one necklace Liam will never part with. His cross; a Michael Luciano hand-me-down.
Liam doesn't resist when I quietly ask, "Can I?" and the transfer is painless. I take it from Liam's neck and place it around my own. I lean my head to the side as he helps secure the chain around my neck. The cross dangles a little further down my chest than his.
"It looks good on you." He leans forward and kisses the pendant, pressing it against my skin. I hum my gratitude.
"Yeah, well, I'm going to need it when I repent later."
Liam lifts an eyebrow. "For what?"
"This."
I kiss him like I'll never kiss him again. He holds me like he'll never hold me again. Liam leans back, lowering himself to the mattress and taking me with him. His hands find either side of my face as he holds me there, hovering just inches from his lips. "You make me happy," I hear him whisper. I kiss him again, again, and again. I part my lips for him. I moan for him.
I whisper his name – I whisper Elijah, a name not just associated with my anger for him, but for the exact opposite.
He holds me close and shifts our bodies, working his pants down his legs with impressive ease. He still has a hand flung around my back as he reaches blindly for the nightstand to his left. "You still on the pill?"
I hesitate.
Liam laughs. "It's a yes or no question, Fi."
I lean back on my knees, staring down at him. It isn't fair for someone to look so good. His skin glows underneath the warm lighting, hitting him at every good angle, casting shadows across his handsome face, his defined shoulders, the muscles in his abdomen, his chest.
"You just look so goddamn good right now. I'm thinking of how large of a risk I'm willing to take—"
"Faith."
I smile down at him as I work my bralette off. "What?" I let it fall to the mattress below. "You don't want me to be the mother of your children?"
Liam doesn't stutter in the slightest. "I do—"
"Hey." His smile grows with mine as I lean down, kissing him softly. My fingers find the wide band of his underwear as my teeth catch his lower lip. I tug at them both. "Save that for the alter."
Liam smiles even wider as he kicks his boxers off and stretches to reach inside the drawer. He falls back to the mattress as I lean back, just long enough to strip completely and watch him roll the condom on. A thought comes to my mind as he arches up to kiss me again.
"You should get Veleno and Vince in here and give them a tutorial."
He groans and gives me a short kiss. His eyes flutter closed as he licks his lips and attempts to slow his racing heart. "A tutorial of such kind would be unrealistic. To stimulate what they'd be working with, it may be best if I used a pencil."
I throw my head back with laughter and shove him, sending Liam backwards. I watch him laugh as his body shakes from his own joke. He looks happy. Happier than I think I've seen him in months. I smile down at him as his laughter fades and his chuckles come in short bursts. I grab his hand, the one without the cast, in my own and bring it to my lips, kissing the inside of his wrist. His grin is sloppy, boyish, and pure – and I love him with all my heart.
We share one last glance, before I lift my hips and lower them over him, taking Liam in completely. His eyes shut as I rock my hips, earning a low groan from the base of his throat.
His hand finds its home around my throat. The tips of his fingers brush along my jaw as he jerks his hips upwards. I wrap my hands around his wrist and cry out his name. Liam. I now know what it's like to be set on fire. I know how it feels when your skin ignites an endless flame, even when the world around you is freezing.
Liam leans up, pressing a suffocating kiss to my lips and when he pulls away, I know. I would die for him. I would lie for him. I would welcome torture for him. I would let him ruin me.
I made myself believe that he had fallen out of love with me. I made myself think that we weren't, nor were we ever, on the same page. I was wrong. We are on the same page, we always were, and I know that now as he murmurs two words against my lips.
"Mi rovini."
He releases the hold he has on my neck and lowers himself back to the mattress. I don't know much Italian, but what I do know is that whatever he said – it wasn't a question. It was a statement. A demand.
His accent thickens his tongue, just like it does whenever Liam is driven by emotion; anger, fear, sometimes even happiness. I can't pinpoint which emotion is driving him tonight, but the accent I fell in love with laces his next words, making it nearly impossible for me to understand him. But I do.
"Ruin me."
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
I walk in on something I know I shouldn't have. Veleno and Savaughna occupy the dining room the next morning; a room most people don't tend to wander into unless they want to keep their conversation private. He's lying stomach first on the large dining table, his shirt clutched in a ball in his hand. Savaughna stands over him, daintily running her fingers along the bruises that decorate his lower back.
"Analía is obsessed with pancakes, but not any pancakes. She likes dinosaur and butterfly shaped pancakes. Apparently, they taste different."
Veleno's laugh turns into a groan as Savaughna applies pressure to his lower back.
"What exactly happened last night?"
Veleno shifts slightly and tucks his forearm underneath his chin. He glances back at Savaughna. "My wannabe assassin ass fought somebody better than myself."
Savaughna snorts and stays quiet for a long while. Her compliment isn't missed. "They must've been good then."
I make my grand entrance when Veleno pushes himself off the table and swings his legs over.
"You alright?" Savaughna turns to me at the sound of my voice and smiles in greeting. She mumbles a quiet, "Hey," as I nod in Veleno's direction. "How's your back?"
He stretches and twists his abdomen, doing his best to test out the damage the bullets had done, even through the Kevlar. "No pain I can't handle."
Savaughna clears his throat and points toward the door. "I'll...I'll be in the other room. I promised that little girl I would make her my famous pancakes—"
"Rosie?" I lift an eyebrow.
"Yeah, her." She sends us a closed lip smile and turns to leave.
"Wait." Veleno slides off the table and reaches an arm out. "That photo—Analía's picture, do you have it?"
Savaughna reaches into the pocket of Carmen's sweatpants. The photo is old, the edges bent in every direction, but it's a photo she cherishes. Veleno takes it from her, but not before she states: "Keep it."
She misses his smile as she walks out, but I don't. His eyes drop to the photo, then back up to me. "So, on a scale of 1 to 10, how pissed was Liam last night?" He props himself back on the edge of the dining table.
"About a 7, until I convinced him to take his anger out on something else."
Veleno laughs and hands me the photo of his daughter. He takes the moment to shove his arms into his short-sleeved shirt and push his head through the collar.
I drop my attention to the smiling photo of his daughter. Liam was right. She favors Savaughna, but her eyes? Entirely belonging to Immanuel. That breathtaking shade of blue that leaves you motionless for a second as their attention passes over you. Drowning is a fear of mine, a fear of many, but I know for a fact that I wouldn't mind drowning in eyes as blue as her, or her father.
I lift my head and lock eyes with Veleno. "Liam wasn't there last night, V. We were." He looks away from me. He can't relate. He can't relate to the fear in my eyes or in my voice. "Diavolo—you saw—his—"
"I'm not afraid of him." Veleno turns back to me, his jaw tight. "I respect his fight. I understand his power, and I relate to his inability to give up and surrender. But we had him. Me and the kid had him. We had him right where we wanted him."
The image of Diavolo lying on the club floor is clear in my mind. I can still hear his painful cries as he tries to roll his injured shoulder off the floor and grab the handle of the knife that's pinning him to the ground. His ability to do so – to fight through the unimaginable pain, even as Crixus raises his katana, ready to end his suffering – is more than just impressive. Incredible.
"Yet that still wasn't enough."
"I'll get him next time." Veleno offers his hand up to me, and I slip the photo of his daughter back in his hand without a word. "I promise you that."
His eyes drift from me to something over my shoulder, forcing me to step back and glance toward the entryway.
It's Dominic, wearing the same thing he wore to the club last night. From the look on his face and the dark circles underneath his eyes, which only seem to exaggerate themselves even more, I know he didn't get an ounce of sleep last night. He takes three steps inside the room and I can confirm exactly what he was doing instead of sleeping. Drinking. He wears the smell of alcohol like a high school boy wears Axe.
He hasn't even spoken yet and I'm already nervous.
"Faith, hey," His voice shakes, but he looks steady as he approaches. Dominic tears his eyes from mine, giving Veleno a once over before looking away. "Can I talk to you?"
"Sure."
"Great—" He turns to walk out the room, obviously expecting me to follow.
I let out a nervous laugh. "No, right here."
"Alone." He emphasizes now. "I want to talk to you alone."
Veleno cracks a teasing smile, despite his lower lip looking larger than last night. "I know you don't like me Dom, you don't have to make it obvious."
Dominic's irritation appears out of nowhere. He works his jaw and turns to wide-smiling Veleno. "I don't know you like that, 'Manuel. And isn't obvious how you disabled people function?"
"Dominic." I snap.
Veleno's smile doesn't waver. "It's fair," He tells me as he lifts his palms, a sign that no disrespect was taken on his part. "You don't know me, but I know you better than you think I do. I also know Faith, and it doesn't look like she wants to leave this room, let alone talk to you."
Dominic doesn't let Veleno's words register before he's sending another blow in the assassin's direction. "Don't you have a daughter to go save?"
"Dominic." I finally speak up for myself, yet neither of the men look my way. They're too busy glaring at one another. "I don't want to talk to you alone, not right now—"
"Whatever."
Dominic is almost out the room when a look passes over Veleno's face. I don't have time to question it. He's already talking, speaking in an antagonizing tone, trying to get Dominic's attention. He does. He does just that.
"What was it like losing Rose?"
Dominic stops walking.
Veleno pushes himself off the table and stands tall. "What was it like knowing your parents didn't want you and left you at the door of some orphanage? Hm?"
He spins around and speaks through clenched teeth. "Keep my wife's name out your fucking mouth."
"Ex." Veleno states. His eyebrows touch as he thinks it through. He looks over at me for correction. "Or is it late? Would it be late-ex wife, or ex-late wi—"
Dominic races across the room, plants the palms of his hands on Veleno's chest, and shoves with all his might. The force sends Veleno stumbling backwards, knocking him into the large, wooden table. He bends backwards at the hips and lays down on the wood, chuckling.
"Keep my wife's name out your fucking mouth."
Veleno sighs and pulls himself back to a sitting position. "I'm sure that's what she whispers from to you from her casket whenever you moan the name of the woman you're recklessly screwing."
Veleno gets a fist to the jaw, and I can't exactly say he didn't deserve it.
"Stop it." I throw myself between the two when Dominic reels back for another punch. I press a hand to his chest, then to Veleno's. He's the one who reads my confused expression first. "What the hell is the matter with you—"
"He's frustrated because he can kill everybody but the person who took his daughter—" Dominic shouts in my ear.
"This isn't about me." Veleno's wrist wraps around mine and he squeezes. He applies pressure long enough that I have to pull my hand away from him. He gives me a look. Trust me. And I know I'll have to. I back away as he pushes himself to his feet once more. "You, Dominic, you're angry—"
Dom takes a step backwards. "I'm not—"
"You're angry!" Veleno snaps. "You're angry because your wife left you. You're angry because your brother left you. You're angry because your parents left you. You're in denial of that, and that's the reason you have a problem."
Dominic doesn't want to hear it anymore. He's never wanted too. He waves a hand in Veleno face and turns away, disregarding everything he has to say. "Fuck off."
Veleno grabs Dominic's shoulder, and twists him around so violently I swear it rips his shoulder joint out of socket. "And you think, you think you're trying to numb the pain of it all with sex and pills and alcohol, but you're not. You're not, Dominic. People like us, people who live like us, we're used to pain. Accustomed to pain. But you, Dom? This?" He motions to Dominic's chest. "This is not pain you're trying to numb. It's anger."
Dominic pushes Veleno's hand away. "Don't talk to me like you know me."
"I know you, Dominic James. I did my research, the same way I do my research on every one of my victims before I kill them." Dom looks up, and although his expression doesn't reveal it – his eyes do. He's intrigued. "Dubbed a pretty boy since he was twelve. You went to one of the best schools in that Florida area. Lived in a large, beautiful home with two loving, adoptive parents who adored you. You had everything anybody could ever ask for, yet you weren't happy. But you made everybody in your life believe that you were."
Veleno circles a silent Dom, who does nothing but listen to his life-story on playback.
"You never wanted money handed to you. That's not the type of man that you are. You work for your money. That's why you got involved with drug running when you were young, what? Sixteen, or was it seventeen?"
"Something like that—" Dominic mumbles in confirmation.
"You had a drug problem when you were a senior in high school. You didn't go to rehab. You OD'd a week before you met your future wife. You even got arrested a few times, but your parents, they bailed you out. They always bailed you out. You, Dominic, you are confusing, but I think I've figured it out. You had everything anybody could ever want in a family, in a life, yet you still weren't happy. You were never happy—"
Whatever Dom's heard, he's through with it. "Shut up."
Veleno doesn't listen. I didn't think he would. "You feel guilty because you had everything your brother ever wanted and you still weren't happy because the fact that your parents didn't want you—that affected you more than you ever let on."
"You know nothing about me!"
"I know what I read," Veleno states, "And I know what I can see. We are not as different as you've convinced yourself that we are. You lost your brother, your wife, your adoptive parents...you've lost everything that you think was important to you, and then there's me. I never had my father. I lost my mother. The only family I thought I had threw me to the streets when I lost my eyesight. I know everything about you, Dominic – cause you, you were me."
Realization dawns on Dominic's face in a way it never has before. He stutters as he says, "But the pills—"
"I took them," Veleno says. "The girls? I did them." Dominic laughs at his wording, and even Veleno cracks a pained smile. "I was angry to the point where it constantly felt like my chest was on fire. I was angry at the girl who took advantage of me and took my sight. I was angry at the man who ordered the hit. I was angry at my father for abusing me, at my mother for blaming me, at the members of that gang for making me feel like family, until I needed them the most. I was angry."
Dominic takes a slight step back, but he isn't running this time. He fiddles with his hands as he questions, "What did you do?"
"Somebody important to me, like a father to me...he told me that those pills wouldn't be the death of me, my anger would. So instead of letting it control me, I found a way to control it."
"How?"
"By channeling it, but before I could do that, he told me I needed something else."
You can tell Dominic is trying his best to think of what it could possibly be. He comes up short and shrugs. "What's that?"
"A hug, Dominic."
The two men stare at each other. Dominic cracks a smile. They both look equally as awkward as the other, like two men trying to lean in for their first kiss. Veleno laughs, "I'm not—I've never been good at displays of affection—I'm better at punching." Dominic nearly talks over him as he adds, "—I hear I'm good at affection, but my punching is—"
"Suspect? Agreed. My—Analía could hit me harder."
They awkwardly embrace, and all I can do is coo from my front row seat.
Veleno pats Dominic on the back. "I'm here for you, alright?"
Dom nods as they part ways. "And, I hope you find her. Analía."
It's my turn to speak up, and I cast all my faith I have in Liam when I say, "We will."
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
We don't find Analía.
It's nearly six o'clock in the morning and we have yet to find her. Liam just slammed a pair of headphones that cost nearly three-thousand dollars down on the table. Veleno's bodycam has turned off, and the screen we all sit in front of is black. Steven is busy nursing the headphones like he would an injured and wailing infant child. Savaughna stands in the corner of the room, hands up to her mouth as tears form in her eyes. Carmen is beside her, quiet.
In a single night, Veleno and a few other soldiers worked in tandem to move through every home Valentin is known to own in this area, in an effort to safely retrieve the five-year-old girl. We watched every single raid, yet over seven hours, and nearly twenty houses down, we had nothing. Absolutely, utterly nothing.
My eyes sting with exhaustion as Liam pushes himself up and bounds out the room. I follow him. I have too.
He strides down the hallway with a purpose. I don't dare get in his way, but instead I nudge his side and slide my hand in his, pulling us both to a stop. "We'll find her." I reassure him.
He doesn't say anything, and for a moment I don't think he believes me. But as we hit the foyer of the family home, Veleno and accompanied soldiers burst through the doors. They march forward, seemingly uninterested in anything Liam would have to say. They, too, are frustrated.
Veleno is about to walk past us when Liam grabs his arm and yanks him to a stop. He repeats exactly what I told him just a few seconds before. "We will find her, V."
But I know Veleno enough. I see the look that swirls in that beautiful eye of his. He doesn't believe they will. "Be honest with me," He finally says. "Do you really believe Valentin would keep her alive? What if we wake up later today and her head is in a box on our front porch? What then, Liam, huh?"
I don't have the energy to break up another fight Veleno is about to instigate, whether that be for deeper reasons than just irritation. The argument he started early yesterday morning with Dominic was to show the young man just how much anger has taken over his life – but this, here, with Liam – right now...this isn't the same thing. Veleno is tired, upset, and the stress of finding Analía, despite not being able to call her what she is – his daughter – is getting to him. It's getting to us all.
Liam doesn't budge, even as Veleno takes a step in his direction, challenging him. His voice stays even, it stays calm. "We will find her."
"What then?" Veleno's exhaustion surpasses his ability to think clearly as he steps up to Liam. I back away, or I'm pulled – I can't exactly tell. "Huh?"
For a second time in forty-eight hours, Liam's soldiers pull their weapons on one of our own.
It doesn't seem to bother Veleno like it did Dominic. He glances to his left, to his right, but unlike Dominic he understands. He understands why the same men that just tried to help him find his daughter have turned their weapons on him. He poses a threat to their king.
"Immanuel." Liam's voice causes Veleno to return his attention back on the second most important figure in the room. "I may not be a trained assassin. I don't know all the tricks, or the fancy moves, but I do know how to drop a man. I advise that you get out of my face, now."
Veleno backs away.
The soldiers don't lower their weapons.
Liam stalks out the door, in preparation to hop into our transport and ride home. The soldiers still don't lower their weapons. They don't lower their weapons, even after Veleno slowly spins and mutters a pathetic, weak sounding, "Sorry."
Carmen and Savaughna, Steven and Austin can all but watch on as I step up to Veleno's side.
It's only then that they lower their weapons.
As a wise king once said, power is the ability to command without having to speak.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
a/n: ok but did anybody get my "it's a cold world" / "it's a cole world" joke...no...okay....i'm not funny
like I said, traSH. this chapter felt like it was everywhere because i had to cut 2 scenes that i initially had planned for this chapter bc of its length and it was a WHOLE MESS like. my. life. but i'll be back on my vibe in Jan.
happy holidays. see you in 2020.
p.s. that fight will have lifelong implications. diavolo's hand ever being the same again? most likely not.