xxi | as long as i love you
what a nice intermission. now that we've all collected our clown masks, we can continue.
i really wrote a 9k chapter in 3 days imagine the power i'm feeling rn jk watch it be trash pls ignore any grammatical errors I tried to fix them but I miss some.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
Federico De Santis pulls himself to his feet, rising above the unconscious figure said to be better than him. He bows his head as he stands over Diavolo's unmoving body, as if every man who ever doubted his ability was lurking in the shadows of the parking garage, seeing what I'm seeing. Witnessing the passing of the crown, or rather, the reclaiming of one.
No words pass my tongue. I have nothing to say, because I doubted him too. The closer I move towards him in uncertainty and hesitation is when I begin to realize why I didn't recognize him – why I don't. It isn't his hair that he's let grow a bit, or the neatly trimmed beard that accents his jawline. It isn't his eyes, which lack the pain I remember. The pain that was so easy to find.
I stand inches from Diavolo's hand, but I'm not worried about the demon at my feet.
My breath catches in my throat and I force myself to hold back an emotional sob as I drag my shaking hands to cup Rico's face. His eyes capture mine for a few peaceful seconds, and that's how long it takes for me to know.
There're two demons in the room, one looks like the devil himself, while the other plays at being human.
I cry because I can feel the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. I cry because I can feel the muscles in his face position themselves as he smirks slightly. I cry because I can hear him breathe, but I lose it when I hear him speak. The voice I had heard so many times in my dreams after that fateful phone call, the voice I would've paid good money to hear again when I thought I had lost it forever.
"Hug me, Mrs. Luciano."
I throw my arms around Rico's neck as his own skate around my waist. I close my eyes because I'd rather feel Rico than see him. I've stared at too many photos and replayed a million and one videos since the news. But what those photos didn't do was remind me of his scent, or mimic the way his shoulders rise and fall, or replace the slight laugh that escapes when I hug him tighter. What we see will never be able to triumph over how we feel.
There's so much I want to say, yet even more I feel the need to ask, but I would be a damn fool if I thought for one second that the universe would have mercy on me.
They come from everywhere. Soldiers. Russian. They storm in from every entrance. An injured Diavolo's backup. They aim their weapons high, setting their sights on the back of the assassin I hold tight. There's a lot of them. There's too many of them.
But I can't run anymore. The fight at the company earlier today was tiring, and the emotion I drained in the hospital at Carmen's side didn't help. Being chased by Diavolo was exhausting – both mentally and physically. I can't run anymore.
My fingers tighten around the fabric of Rico's hoodie. I rest my chin against his shoulder and lock eyes with the commander of the group of Valentin's soldiers. Their figures blur as tears of exhaustion and frustration cross my vision. There's too many of them.
"Rico—"
He doesn't have to turn around to know. "How many?"
I lose count at thirty-three. "Too many."
Our hug ends too soon, at least that's how it feels. He keeps me close, and never turns to face the army that has now settled in position behind him. His hands rest on my side as I fight the ignorant urge to run, which would only end with a bullet in the back of my head.
"Too many," I say again in a breathless whisper. I can feel myself getting nervous. Nervous because I know Liam isn't coming, nor would he be here in time if he was. My eyes dance across the figures over Federico's shoulder. "There's too many—"
He grabs my forearm and squeezes. Our eyes meet. Something changes. I see it. I witness it, but I can't explain it. It's dark, cold, and uninviting. It's sick, twisted, and unforgiving. It's unrecognizable.
Federico's casket might've been empty, but we lowered a piece of him into the grave on that cold, rainy day.
"You say there's too many soldiers, like you don't know what I'm capable of."
He doesn't give me time to respond, and I'm grateful for it, because he'd be waiting a long time. With my mouth partially open, still processing the deep voice that surpassed his lips, Rico turns around and faces the Russian army.
I have never seen a group of so many men falter at once. Their eyes land on the assassin that stands over their own, and their weapons nearly fall out of their hands. Some take a step back, while others look around in sheer confusion.
They look more scared than the weaponless assassin, proving to me that a gun does not always make a man brave. Rico advances, and that's what stops all of them from opening fire. A man that can confidently walk towards weapons aimed in his direction is not a man most people want to mess with.
The commanding soldier says the only thing on everybody's mind. "You died."
"Hell was toasty." Federico comes to a stop just a foot in front of the soldier. I can hear the smile in his voice, the laugh that's threatening to rise from the back of his throat. "A solid ninety-degrees." He yanks up the sleeve of his hoodie and sticks out his arm. "What do you think about my tan? I'm thinking about going back—on vaca—"
The soldier rolls his eyes and tries to pass Federico, eyes on their fallen demon. Rico stops him with a hand to the chest.
The Russian's eyes narrow. "I am not here for you. I came for him. We came for him." He nods at Diavolo's still form. "You are outnumbered, and you and your friend will certainly be dead if you don't get your hand off me."
Federico, surprisingly, does as asked. "Are you threatening me?"
"Are you scared?"
I can feel the energy shift. The Russian army steps forward, guns raised, but Rico is too focused on the leading soldier to notice. Without a doubt in my mind, I know they wouldn't hesitate to drop Federico, and I know for a fact that I would be next.
I move forward at a quick, walking pace. I'm not armed. I have no plan. All I want to do is to separate Federico and the Russian soldier in hopes of deescalating the rapidly changing situation. I grab a fistful of his hoodie and tug, but Rico's already gotten in the soldier's face.
"I put a gun in my mouth and almost swallowed a bullet—" He grinds out. "do I look like I feel fear?"
"Rico—" My strength is nothing in comparison to his. I can't separate the two.
The soldier shoves him, and the domino effect almost sends me tumbling to the ground. I catch myself and whirl on the armed man. I'm stopped dead in my tracks.
His arm is extended, his gun sits in his hand, his finger rests on the trigger, and the barrel brushes Federico's forehead.
The Russian has three more words for Rico. "Any last words?" The assassin doesn't hear him, his attention having drifted to the left side of the parking garage, lingering on the shadows. "Any last words?"
The gun nudging Rico's forehead is enough to tear him from his daze. "Yeah." His last words are loud and clear, and echo off the walls of the garage in such a way I get chills. "Tell Satan I'm comin' for him."
Time slows to a snail's crawl as a figure darts of the shadows. Crixus. He moves like he's in another dimension of time, traveling faster than anybody else can. He darts in-between soldiers but keeps his eyes on his target. He's locked in. Zoned in on the commander with a gun to his brother's head. And he isn't stopping.
He leaps and his body collides with the unsuspecting soldier. As soon as they hit the ground, a dagger appears to form in Crixus's hand just by a thought. He drives it through the Russian's neck four times, then rises to his feet. He locks eyes with his brother and fights a playful grin as he pretends to lick the bloodied knife.
The look they share causes my stomach to plummet.
It shows that they know about each other. They've known about each other.
But it proves that their bloodline will wreak havoc in this world for the rest of eternity.
The work they make of the Russian soldiers is almost frightening. Federico's movements are crisper, but Crixus isn't far behind. Some of his moves mirror his brother's, and I know he's been learning, watching. They laugh through it, they smile through it, and I know without a doubt that the young assassin will be just like his older brother. They spin, they twirl, and they duck like they've danced together for years. Their timing is on point, their motions fluid. Seven Russian's remain.
I'm so entranced by Federico and Crixus that I almost forget about the demon behind me. But when a gun scatters to the floor and a blood covered body drops beside it, I return my focus to the war at hand.
I grab the gun and retreat to do what should've been done when that monster was a child.
Diavolo has pulled himself up to one knee by the time I've reached his side. His elbow rests on his thigh, while his head remains bowed. I lift my gun and slip my finger around the trigger. He looks up, and all I can do is stare back into the void.
Crixus shouts my name.
Rico shouts the name of the demon at my feet.
I spin towards them both in anger, unaware of the dagger that's hurtling towards my head. And for the third—fourth—hell, maybe fifth time today I stare death in the eye. No thoughts come to my mind this time. I don't have time to think, process, or consider a way to dodge the weapon that'll kill me.
I hesitate.
Diavolo doesn't.
The Russian that threw the dagger wanted to introduce me to death, but it was the devil this time that said not today. He snags the knife out the air, just inches from my forehead, and chucks it to the ground. The only sound we hear is the knife hitting the pavement and Diavolo's disapproving growl.
I am so stunned with my latest brush with death that I make the mistake of looking up. He's close. Too close. The black material that's draped over his head brushes my cheek. I can see the outline of his face and if it weren't for the second layer of black fabric that clings to his nose and lips, continuing to wrap around his head, I would be able to identify him. But his eyes are what hold me.
They're just as dark as I imagined, as black as the starless night sky. But someone is there. A person. A human-being. And I see it. I see him. I see pain. I recognize pain, because pain is the one thing that ties all these men together. I see pain in Liam and Dominic, in Veleno and Crixus. I saw pain in the eyes of Federico and Vincenzo. I saw pain in Michael, and I see pain in Diavolo but his pain – this pain is different. It was formed differently because he was broken differently.
And that is what seals Diavolo's fate.
He cannot be saved.
"You fucking traitor."
Diavolo hits the ground with a faint cry. He clutches at his thigh, a low rumble shaking the base of his throat as he glares at men he claims as family. Family doesn't torture family. And that's how I know all the rumors about the Russians are true. They're bred differently, and that's why it doesn't surprise me when I put two and two together.
Diavolo has a shock collar.
"We need to go. We need to go now." Crixus doesn't elaborate, and he doesn't need to. I feel his hand wrap around my arm as he tugs me away from the unfolding scene. This is the opportunity to leave that we've been waiting for.
And we take it.
The only time I look back is when Diavolo's painful cries have faded. They got louder and louder, and the agony in them easier to discern. But right when we hit the exit, they stopped, and out of human curiosity, I turned around. Rico does too.
Diavolo, for the second time tonight, is unconscious.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
I pace like Liam paces, and now I understand the method to his madness. There are so many thoughts in my head, and so many questions that deserve answers, but my mouth can't even begin to form the words in my head – so instead of talking, I pace.
I don't remember much after we ditched the parking garage. Crixus led the way, always a few steps ahead of a silent Rico, and I. We turned down a few side streets and ducked into shallow alleyways whenever a cop car was spotted. The blood on Rico's hands and Crixus's face, added to the katana's that cling to his back would've been hard to explain.
Our journey led us back to a luxurious apartment building, one I know doesn't belong to either of them. They collapsed on the sofa and remained there, eyes trailing me as I walk, as I gather my thoughts. I tug at my hair and curse underneath my breath. Tears burn my eyes while emotion chokes me, and finally – finally, I stop pacing.
"Somebody start talking, now."
Crixus has discarded his weapons that now lie at his feet. He sits on the edge of the large, L-shaped sofa that's positioned right in the middle of the decent sized apartment. He raises his hand with his index finger sticking up. A silent motion of asking permission to speak and with a look, I give it to him.
His voice nearly cracks as he says, "I think you should stay out of parking garages for a while—"
Rico sends an elbow to his side, causing the boy to let out a breath of much-needed air.
"Not when she's angry, bro." Rico shakes his head, clearly not approving of the ill-timed sarcasm. "Never joke when a girl's this angry."
Crixus looks from his brother to me and softly nods, accepting the advice in silence.
"You knew he was alive?" I snap at Crixus. He looks just like any other fifteen-year-old caught doing what know they shouldn't be doing. He leans forward, elbows on his thighs while his thumbs circle one another, doing his absolute best not to hold eye contact with me for more than three seconds. "You knew. I thought you were on our side, Josiah."
He winces.
My eyes drift to Federico and I know I won't be able to keep my voice strong. I can feel the tears preparing themselves as my throat closes up and my mouth flops open. I'm a wreck. I start crying and I don't even know why I'm crying. Maybe it's because I almost died twice tonight, or maybe it's because the friend we've been mourning for as long as I can remember is sitting before me in good health. Or maybe it's just because all I want to do is climb between the blankets of the bed Liam and I share and go to sleep. I'm exhausted.
Physically, emotionally, mentally exhausted.
My voice cracks on the first word, and the tears follow as expected. "I went to your funeral. We listened to you die." Rico glances up at me through the lone strand of damp, dark hair that's toppled over his forehead. "And I can't tell you how many nights Liam and I laid in bed trying to convince once another that we didn't have a body. Your body. No body, no problem—but then the Russians tore Vincenzo off his throne and murdered over a thousand of his people. His kingdom, everything, gone."
And the look that surpasses Rico's face tells me he didn't know. Devastation.
"We waited and we hoped, and we prayed you would show up to avenge for your father. You didn't. Then the Russians attacked Liam and I, almost killed us, and a part of me thought that if you were alive, you would save us. Then they came after Veleno, after Carmen—put Carmen in the hospital, and when you didn't show—I knew."
I can't tell if Rico brushes a strand or a tear out his eye as he ducks his head.
"I knew you were dead." I manage to finish. "I convinced myself you were dead, body or not so tell me how the fucking hell are you sitting in front of me right now?"
Rico stares up at me and I can see the gears churning in his head. He tries to keep it together, but he's stopped fooling me long ago. His attention drifts to his right, to his brother, whose too busy picking at the fabric of the sofa's armrest to notice. He stutters over his words, trying to formulate a response deemed worthy for my ears. He runs a hand through his hair, causing strands to hang over his forehead messily.
I'm surprised to hear Crixus speak. "Tell her exactly what you told me."
They share another look, and somehow this one seems deeper than the last.
"I want to die." Federico finally says after another moment's hesitation. "I wanted to die. And I'll never be able to put into words how I felt—it's not something that I can—because this has always been me. I had no choice, Fantasma is me, I am him, and I couldn't decide whether I wanted to be him or not—he was always going to be me." He leans forward as his voice rises. He stabs his chest with his index finger but doesn't stop to wipe the tears that are beginning to fall. His eyes turn red. He's shaking. "And I hated him—I hate him, and I hated myself so I lied to Vince and went somewhere nobody could stop me—not even my own damn self, because even if I did hesitate, I knew Valentin's army wouldn't—"
Crixus and I catch each other's eyes, and I know he's heard this story before.
"I don't know what you heard or listened to." Rico clears his throat. "The room was full of people, soldiers." He looks directly at me. "I've heard so many stories about people wanting to take their life, but right before it, they realize they have something to live for—I didn't have that."
"What happened?" I narrow my eyes.
"Diavolo."
And if I wasn't paying attention then, I sure am now.
Rico's nod is faint, but it's there, confirming the small pieces of the story that he's giving me. "Valentin was taunting me. One soldier was begging that I don't kill myself, because he wanted to kill me, to be able to tell the world that he put me down. Diavolo grabbed that soldier's gun and shot him. It startled me. I dropped my gun and they closed in. Valentin ordered that they take me to the basement... wanted to beat information out of me."
"Did they?"
A look of appreciation for the same assassin he stood over just an hour before passes over Federico's face. His smile is weak. "No. He made them believe he had killed me and set me free."
"But why?" Even Crixus's face is scrunched up in a look of confusion as he tries to piece the story together.
Federico hides a lot behind a simple shrug, but the young boy doesn't pick up on it.
But I'm not buying it. "And how the hell do you know Diavolo didn't track you back to us? Or...or..."
Rico claps his hands together. "Because I trust him."
And like a match to gasoline, I can feel the anger spark in my chest. "Trust?" I repeat. "Why the hell would you trust that—"
"He saved my life, Faith." Rico's tone matches mine as he scoots forward, challenging me. "He covered for me. He let me go and he gave me the answer to a question that I've been searching for my whole fucking life. He told me my purpose. Our purpose. We weren't put on this world to kill people or make lives miserable—we were put here to protect the ones we love, because if we don't do it, who will?"
I want to be angry that Rico could be so stupid as to trust the enemy, but there's not much I can say to that. I watch him carefully, I even listen to the way he speaks and whatever Diavolo told him, he appreciated it and he took it to heart.
A sudden realization dawns on me. "You know who he is. You've seen his face." It's more of a statement than a question.
"Yeah."
"Wait, so you and Diavolo are friends?" Crixus cuts in. "I didn't know besties slammed each other's heads into solid—"
I don't let Crixus finish. "That's cute." I force a tight smile and step closer, closing the distance between Federico and I. "Then do you know what he's done? Do you know that he killed my mom? Broke her neck right in front of me. Do you know he killed my dad? You know he rammed a transport into our SUV and nearly killed the man I would give everything for? You know he chased your girl down—and you trust him?"
I don't realize how close I've gotten until Rico's knees brush against mine. He doesn't appreciate our proximity, or my tone. He stares up at me, the muscles in his shoulders visibly tightening.
His question is simple. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course, I do. What kind of stupid—"
He shoots to his feet and I lean backwards to keep our chests from touching. His voice rises in disbelief, drowning out whatever else I had to say. "You know who you're talking to, right? I'm the son-of-a-bitch who pulled the damn trigger that ended your biological father's life, that killed your sister, that sent your mother to a damn institution, and made you forget half of your fucking childhood—yet you forgave me."
I take a step backwards and laugh. "That's different."
"Diavolo is doing exactly what I did. He's following Valentin's orders—"
"I will never trust him the way I trust you!"
Federico advances. "He saved your life tonight."
"Because you said so." I let out a breath and allow my anger to go with it. My shoulders slump as I rub the side of my aching head. A migraine is on the horizon. "Because you said so." I repeat. "He saved my life because you called his name and I appreciate it. Thank him for me, but you're outright defending him, Rico. Listen to yourself. Liam has declared war, and you are either with us or against us. Choose wisely."
Rico eyes me for a second longer before dropping his gaze and resigning to our small argument. He lowers himself back to the sofa and glances at Crixus. "Diavolo and I aren't besties—"
My arms fold once again as I look between the two brothers. "But you two seem to be."
Crixus drags a finger through his damp, slightly curled hair as my attention falls on him. Blood still dots his face and lines his cheek, and a smear runs in a diagonal line near his brow. He looks tired, just as we all do, but I feel for him. He's just a kid. "I can explain."
"Start from the beginning." Rico urges him. "She'll understand better."
Crixus slowly turns from him to me and I appreciate that his eyes don't leave mine as he addresses what he's been hiding. "I'm an assassin for the OA."
I look between Crixus and Rico, trying to search my memory for any previous mention of the acronym. "O-A?" I repeat slowly.
"The OA. Organization of Assassins. An elite group of killers spanning back into the early 1900s." Rico elaborates.
Crixus subtly nods. "I was sent to LA to kill Rico and Dominic as a final test. If I don't bring their heads back with me, they're going to kill mom and dad. That's why I didn't want to be seen with Dom, and why I had to keep Rico on the low."
Only one question comes to mind as I remain focused on Crixus. "How long have you known about Rico?"
Crixus's silence is concerning, and the look on Rico's face doesn't ease my nerves or answer my question. I take a threatening step forward and raise my voice. "How lo—" but my answer hits me halfway through.
Crixus was in the parking garage of my school all those nights ago because Rico sent him. Crixus was at Rosalie's school because Rico sent him. Crixus saved Carmen's life because Rico sent him. And Crixus brought Carmen her favorite flower in her favorite color because Rico sent him.
Rico drags his head from his lap and eyes me from beneath his dark eyelashes. He knows I know. He knows I remember the promise he made me all that time ago. I just never would've believed he would continue to keep it, even through death.
If Liam doesn't come back for you, know I will.
I force myself to look away before I cry.
"How did you even get involved in the OA?"
"My—our. Our parents." Crixus corrects himself quickly. "Our parents were assassins in the OA. That's how they met." Federico glances over at him, eager to learn more. Crixus glances between the two of us as he explains. "Mom says when she got pregnant with Dom, they wanted to leave, but you can't leave the OA. You die in the OA, or you die trying to leave the OA. There's no walking away."
Rico's eyebrows form together as his mind works to process what he's hearing. "Why would they want to leave?"
"Because she was just feeding into the process," Crixus replies. "The OA rarely recruits. They take the children born in their custody and raise them to be assassins." He looks down for a second, hesitant. When he looks up, he locks eyes with his brother. "Mom didn't want that for Dominic, or any of the kids she wanted to have, so her and dad ran."
Rico and I both know where he's going with this, and almost simultaneously, we groan, "Oh, my God."
"They chased them. They chased mom and dad." Crixus blinks a few times and bows his head. I want to give him a hug as he struggles to explain a story he's probably heard over a thousand times. "She figured they would get caught eventually, so in hopes of giving Dominic a better life she left him at an orphanage. They ran from Florida, and they kept running, and they continued to be chased, and then she got pregnant with you."
Rico looks away. "—The orphanage in Detroit," He says quietly, then laughs. "Makes sense."
The right side of Crixus's face rises more than the left as he laughs. He punches Rico's shoulder as his smile grows. "Funny how she ran to keep you from this shit and you still managed to make assassinating your career."
Federico's smile fades just the slightest as Crixus turns back to me. I don't miss what Rico mumbles beneath his breath. "Destiny's a funny bitch, I guess."
"They got caught a week after you were born and were sent back." The kid looks up and over at his brother. "You weren't the mistake. Mom planned you, she's told me a hundred times. Dominic wasn't the mistake, she wanted him. She wanted a baby, and she wanted a second. They didn't plan me. I wasn't supposed to happen. She didn't want this for me. I was born in a cell and raised in one. They put a dagger in my hand when I was four and started teaching me how to fight when I was five. I killed a guard when I was seven and I almost put that same dagger into my gut when I was eight because I was sick of hearing mom blame herself for me. You told me that you felt like a mistake, Rico. You weren't."
Tears roll down his young face. He wraps his arms around himself, proving to me that he's used to comforting himself.
I want to pull him into a hug, and I wonder if Rico is thinking the same as he glances at the kid out the corner of his eye. He wasn't much of a hugger when I met him, and he probably isn't much of one now, but the palm he places on top of Crixus's head equates to one in his eyes.
Crixus wipes messily at his eyes, apologizing in a repeated manner as he gathers himself together. "A few years ago, the leader of the OA found out about Rico and Dominic..." He clears the emotion from his voice and continues on, "He wants them dead, and to spite mom and dad, he's forcing me to do it, as a final test kind-of thing for my training. And if I don't bring back their heads, or some kind of proof that they're dead, he's going to force me to kill my parents myself. That's why I'm still here. That's why I need Rico's help."
"And that's why he found me." Rico speaks up for the boy that can no longer find the words to say. "I'm the reason Crixus was at Liam's newly renovated safe-house that evening with you. He knew I was alive when he asked you if you knew where I was. I wanted to know your answer. I wanted to know if you believed I was dead. I'm the reason he broke into your home and ransacked the place for my file. I wanted every piece of paper with my name on it, gone."
"But why?"
"Because I didn't want to come back and I didn't have too." He says with ease. "I was dead—"
"Why do you keep saying that?" I snap. "Why would you not want to come back, people here love you."
"Stop saying that."
"No."
Federico stands, mad. "Telling me people love me when I have a gun to my head won't do shit, because I don't fucking love myself. People can love me all they goddamn please, but people leave. People go about their lives. People aren't always around. But I'm always with me. If I don't love myself, then fuck everybody else—the only person that can save me is myself, and the only person that can kill me is myself."
He brushes past me, visibly annoyed. "Is that really how you feel?" I spin around, following him as he walks away from the sofa, dragging his feet behind him. Rico grunts, a pathetic reply to a deep question. "If that's how you feel then why did you come back?"
Rico brushes me off with a wave. "I had to save your ass."
"If that is how you really, truly, honestly feel..." I repeat, urging Rico to give me the real reason. "Then why did you come back? If staying away, and living your life as a free man would make you happy, then why sacrifice that? Why come back?"
Federico spins around, tears in his eyes and emotion spilling out into his words. He takes one step towards me and points to the ground. "Because of family. Because of the vow I took when I was sworn into this. Because you all have no idea what's coming for you. And because I would rather fall in the valley with the same men I stood beside on the hills of success."
I have never heard Federico speak of loss in such a way that he believes it. It scares me, because assassins do not comprehend defeat, nor do they surrender. So, for Rico, of all people, to look me in my eye and tell me what I subconsciously already knew, scares me more than anything. It scares me more than anything.
Rico shakes his head. "There is no way we win this war and Liam knew that when he waged it."
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
"Why me?"
I feel like a sick, hallow version of myself as I stand in front of Liam at four in the morning. I look like shit. Never would I have guessed when I left the house earlier today my life would almost be taken from me three times. Never would I have guessed that Carmen would end up in the hospital and Diavolo and I would meet again. Never would I have guessed that my dead friend wasn't dead. Never would I have guessed that Rico and Crixus had known about each other and were working together. Never would I have guessed that Rico would tell me to keep him a secret until the time was right.
And never would I have guessed that I would've agreed.
It wasn't hard getting a ride home. Red flags arose everywhere when communication was lost with my transport, as well as when it didn't arrive back home on time. Austin didn't need Liam's opinion on what to do; he sent the calvary to my aid. Knowing this, I used Federico's burner to tell them to meet me at the corner of the street the apartments resided on. They picked me up and took me home.
Nobody asked a single question and I was grateful, because at the time I didn't feel like talking. I cried more than I ever cried before. I cried until my stomach hurt and my lungs burned for air. I cried until it hurt the back of my throat.
They dropped me off and I climbed the stairs with all the energy I had left. Liam spun around when he heard our bedroom door open and whoever he was on the phone with clearly wasn't a priority when it came to me. He hung up, chucked the device to the bed, and ran over to me with open arms.
I stop him from giving me a hug with two simple words: Why me?
Anger. Anger I've never felt before overtakes my exhaustion. It hits me in waves, overwhelming me and dragging me down whenever I'm upset. It started when I watched my adopted mother die, and only intensified when I heard my adopted father had gone with her. It burned when I saw Liam lying unconscious on the roof of our car, but the flames in my chest only rose when I saw Diavolo reaching for the man I love.
My chest feels like it's on fire, and the intensity only grows now that Liam is standing in front of me.
I know it's my anger that forces me to ball a fist and slam it in Liam's bare chest. He takes a step back, startled, but his arms remained raised as he tries to pull me in a much-needed hug. "Why me?" My voice shakes and if I had tears left, they would've fallen. "Why is he coming for me? Why have I lost more people than you? Why did he kill my mother—my father—Why me?"
Liam takes every punch to the chest without a word, without a single complaint. He lets me hit him. He'd rather I hurt him than myself if I were to swing on any other solid surface in this room. The tears I didn't think it was possible to have fall in frustration and anger.
My knuckles sting and parts of Liam's chest are red by the time I let my hands fall to my side. He doesn't say anything as my forehead presses against his skin. He doesn't say anything as he throws his arms around me and holds me close. He doesn't say anything because he knows I know the answer to my question.
And the answer comes out in a choked sob. "Why am I being punished for loving you?"
I don't know how long we stand there. I don't know how long he holds me, running a palm up and down my back in a soothing motion. He rests his chin atop my head and lets out a breath of air. "They punish you for loving me because of how much I love you. They punish you to punish me and watching them hurt you and all those you love is like a knife to my heart and they know it."
He pulls away as his hands move to the underside of my chin, tilting my head back just enough to get a glimpse of him. His eyes hold my own, then drift to my lips, but I feel him tense as they fall to my neck. "What happened?"
The second Liam's fingers brush along my neck, I'm thrown back into the hospital parking garage. Although it's just a memory, it feels like air leaves my lungs again. I feel my back arch, forcing me to press against Liam in reality, as Diavolo shoves me against the wall and wraps his uninjured, gloved hand around my throat.
I grab Liam's wrist and focus on him, rather than the distinct smell of rubber and the sound of a demon's steady breathing in my ear. "Diavolo."
Liam drops me so fast I stumble forward as he storms around me, muttering something in Italian. He stops and turns, visibly angry. "Does Valentin think this is fucking funny? Unleashing Diavolo on you?"
The look in Liam's eye tells me he means business, but I'm too busy trying to figure out why he's wearing dress pants at four in the morning to focus on his anger. He takes a step towards me and clenches his fists, causing every vein in his arm to rise on silent command. "If he wants to laugh, I'll give him something to laugh about. I wonder how funny it'll be when I take his dog, leash him, and hang him from my ceiling."
"Liam, I know you're mad, but please—"
"Mad? Mad?"
"—Just stay with me—"
Liam's eyes widen as he raises his arms. "How the hell am I supposed to do anything knowing—"
"I want you to marry me."
Liam barely speaks above a whisper as his arms fall. "What?"
"I thought I was going to die." I fold my arms across my chest and bite my lip. Liam's figure blurs and I lose him in the midst of my unfallen tears. "And I thought about not being able to see Rosie grow up, or see Vincenzo reclaim his throne, or see Veleno and Crixus become the best duo ever, or see Dominic get his life together and takeback the job he adores." My eyes close and the next thing I feel is Liam, wiping away the tears that skate past my eyelashes.
"Hey..."
I hold tight to both of Liam's wrists and open my eyes. "I thought about not being able to stand in front of you and say I do, and it wasn't until I almost lost the opportunity for me to realize just how badly I wanted—how badly I want it, Liam."
I can see his mind working behind his beautiful eyes as they dart back and forth between my own.
"I've thought about leaving you." I say honestly. "I thought about leaving you tonight on the ride home. I thought about packing my shit and going because maybe then I wouldn't lose anybody anymore but you're all I have. You are all I have."
I know exactly where he's going when he says, "But Faith..." and I stop him before he can get there.
"I have never been lower than I am right now." I pull his hands from my face and hold them in my own. They're warm, and incredibly soft. "I have never felt worse than I do right now. And I've cried and I've broken down over this, but I know that as long as I love you, I will always be a target. Always. But I don't ever see myself not loving you, so Liam, marry me."
He takes a step back, but the gentle smile that pulls his lip apart is a breathtaking one.
"And prove to Valentin, and all of those that will come that I'm all in."
Liam's chuckle makes me truly smile for the first time tonight. "All in?"
"All in."
He steps up to me and rests his hands on my waist. "Are you sure this isn't the adrenaline talking?"
"Positive." I wipe at my eyes and send him another smile. "It's me. I'm no bitch, even if I just cried like one."
"We all have our moments."
I pull him close when I wrap my arms around his neck. I lower my voice and mumble against his neck. "I'm just tired of shit. It's been back-to-back-to-back shit lately and I just want a break. I need a break. You need a break."
"A wedding would be a good break." He says after a moment. We pull away, yet he still holds me close. "I want to marry you too, Faith. I want to give you the wedding you deserve. Thousands of people, caterers from Italy, and the most expensive dress you can find, on the prettiest beach in the world..."
My heart sinks a bit as I expect the unexpected. "But?"
"This would be more than just a declaration of our love, Faith. This is you proving to all of those who have come for me and all of those who will that you're in for the long run." Liam's eyes fall from mine and he lets me go, putting distance between us in more ways than one. "But this is also me securing my family and everything you would inherit once you get my last name. This is more than just a wedding, it's the splitting of a crown."
Just like that, I understand. He's saying it without saying it. Without a wife or a child, the Luciano name will die with Liam if something were to ever happen to him. This is more than just a declaration of love as he said, it's a statement for me and a securing of the name for him. This is something we both need and something we both want.
"We don't have to think about the specifics tonight," I reassure him. "I'm just glad to know you want to marry me as much as I want to marry you. But don't burden yourself about what you think I deserve. I know what this would mean, and I know the stakes that come with it. I know a Luciano wedding would call the masses to come and celebrate, and with the Russian's on our backs—that wouldn't exactly be a good thing. I have no problem with a small wedding, or no wedding at all—it doesn't matter. As long as I have your heart, and your last name."
He winks playfully at me. "It beats for you."
"Shut up."
I hardly recognize my laugh as Liam wraps his arms around me, nearly tackling me to the mattress. He presses kisses to my neck, somewhere near my ear, and my jaw until I can break away from him. He still manages to keep me close and reach forward, brushing strands of hair from my face. I can feel his demeanor change just as quickly as it took for his attention to fall to my bruised neck.
I wasn't ready for the question he asks. "How did you get away?"
Pulling away doesn't help. Liam just holds me tighter. "What?"
"How did you get away from Diavolo?"
"I'm a bad bitch."
"Faith."
"Are you denying my ability—" I wince as Liam presses his hand into the sensitive skin on my neck, irritating an already irritated area. "Crixus. Crixus saved me."
Liam's hands immediately fall from my face and I'm thankful. But the expression that passes over his handsome features is not a believing one. I've seen that look before, and it's one he usually expresses when he's caught me in a lie.
"You're lying to me."
"No, I'm not. Crixus saved me."
"I called the soldiers at Carmen's door as soon as you hung up," Liam says. "Crixus was nowhere near that basement when Diavolo caught you off guard." He laughs. Nothing is funny. "I also know that Crixus doesn't teleport, so who saved you?"
"I don't know why it matters. I'm safe."
I turn my back on Liam, performing a pet peeve of his that I've known about for too long. Not only does it irritate him to no end when people turn away from him in an argument, but it's also disrespectful, and disrespect isn't tolerated amongst the Luciano's. Angry, slightly irritated, and probably a little tired, Liam grabs my arm and pulls me back to him. "Who saved you?"
"Federico."
Liam's jaw goes slack.
Then it tightens, and a fire behind his eyes is lit. "How stupid do you think I am? And are you really going to throw my dead friend in my face like that?"
"Liam—I'm sorry—" He brushes past me and grabs one of the few dress shirts that he has laid out on the bed. He snatches up a matching suit jacket and heads for the door. "Wait—where the hell are you going?"
Although pissed at me, he turns around. "I have to give a speech in front of the company building at seven."
"Have you even gone to sleep?"
"No."
"Liam."
Despite our argument, Liam retreats into the room and leans down, gently kissing my lips. "Get some rest."
"I will."
"Oh, and by the way?"
He slings his arms through a white dress shirt, which only accentuates his broad chest and flawless complexion. The necklace that clings to him shimmers every time he moves. His fingers work the buttons of his shirt as he leans down close to me, angling his body in just a way that he nearly misses bumping into my own. He snags his phone from the bed and pockets it, purposely drawing his lips close to my ear.
"The only hand that should go around your neck is mine."
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
I only got three hours of sleep, so when I see Rosalie, Savaughna, Veleno, and Vincenzo having a tea-party in the living room, I swear I'm hallucinating.
I nearly drop my bowl of cereal at the sound of Rosalie screaming, "Uncle Veleno!" She rises to her feet and points at him. "What did I say earlier?"
He hesitantly sips from the teacup far too small for his large hands. "Uh—"
"I had one rule, Uncle V. No glocks at the tea-party!"
Vincenzo sits in a chair rather than on the floor with the others, but he's clearly involved considering the small plate in his lap and flower-designed cup in his hand. He eyes the gun by Veleno's knee and chuckles behind the rip of the glass. "Yeah, V, no glocks at the tea party, you little bitch."
Hopefully Rosalie missed the finger Veleno raised.
The little girl huffs. "No cussing at the tea-party either, Vincent."
Veleno tries to hide his laugh, but when he makes eye contact with a giggling Savaughna, he loses it.
"That wasn't a rule, child."
"It is now." She folds her arms across her chest with conviction and smiles as sweetly as she possibly can. "And if you have a problem with it, you can walk away." There's a pause. "Oh, wait—"
My eyes are about as wide as the saucers they're eating on at the blatant disrespect thrown to Vincenzo. "Rosie!"
I felt bad for Vince, but seeing the smile appear on his face told me that I would have to let Rosalie's slick comment slide. "Oh, you think you got jokes, kid?" She's all smiles, laughs, and giggles as she hops past Savaughna and jumps on Vince. She wraps her small arms around his neck and squeezes.
"I'm kidding. I love you, Uncle Vince."
"You better love me, or I'd have to beat your ass."
"You can't beat me!" She argues, "Uncle V told me he was going to teach me how to fight."
"Oh, child." Vincenzo positions Rosie in his lap and rests a hand on her leg. The side-eye he gives Veleno is a wicked one, despite only teasing. I can't even begin to imagine the looks those in Detroit got when they didn't abide by his law. "Back in the day, before you were born, I could've put your uncle Veleno in his grave. Remember that."
She gives her father a kiss on the cheek and she doesn't even know it.
But I do, and so does Vince.
Everyone greets me once their laughter dies down and their tea-party continues. Savaughna gives me a gentle wave, while Veleno nods. Vince catches my eye and we share a knowing look. Rosalie invites me to join their tea-party, but I politely decline. I watch them enjoy each other's company until the muted news station on TV switches to a live view of Tanner INC, and to Liam as he marches out the front doors.
Giovanni, the commanding officer of Liam's personal security stands just a few feet behind him and to the right, decked from head to toe in bulletproof material and high-powered weapons. Five more men dressed similarly to their commander stand in the distance – all close enough to protect Liam if something goes down, but not close enough to take away his shine as the camera pans on him.
You can see yellow police tape roping off sections to maintain the crowd. Police officers are scattered everywhere, as well as cop cars and vans from other news channels. There's no doubt that most of the crowd are people who lost someone in the massacre yesterday, but there's always those few people who just feel the need to be in the spotlight.
Liam looks amazing in a simple navy-blue suit and white dress shirt. He's exposed a portion of his chest on purpose, allowing his necklace to glimmer anytime the rising sun hits it. His short hair looks amazing, and his hairline is even sharper than I remember. His reassuring smile to the crowd is just as dazzling as his diamond earrings.
I recognize two of the men who stand behind Liam as well. Richard Davis, one of the four LAPD commissioners, who isn't exactly keen on Liam's power. I take note of the mayor of Los Angeles and the Governor of California. All those who stand on that stage hold power, but the most powerful of them all holds the mic.
Liam pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and clears his throat. Nobody else watching may know because he hides it behind a confident smile and a gorgeous suit, but he's nervous. He rests the paper down on the podium and grips the edges. His smile fades as he eyes the congregation.
"I wrote a speech," is the very first sentence that comes out his mouth. He frowns slightly and looks down. "I wrote a speech to the families of those who lost loved ones in yesterday massacre and I won't lie, I struggled. I struggled to find the words I wanted to say and the words I felt you all needed to hear." Liam pauses and glances at all those who watch. "It took me an hour, and when I was finished, I balled it up and threw it away."
He lifts the paper he just pulled out his pocket and waves it, drawing everyone's attention – even the cameras – to it. "This isn't my new speech. This is just a piece of paper with two numbers on it. Eighty-one. Seventy-nine. Eight-one people were injured yesterday. It was reported that seventy-three people died yesterday, but over the course of the night we lost six more. Seventy-nine; marking this as the largest mass shooting this year."
"I would say sorry, but sorry does not bring loved ones back from the dead." The camera pans to people in the crowd. Some hold hands, while others hold one another. Some hold tissues to their faces as they cry, as their entire body shakes with grief. "I came up here today to assure you that your family members salary will continue to be paid for the next year. I came up here today to assure you that any funeral costs, anything, will be paid in full by yours truly. I came up here today to promise those with loved ones in the hospital not to worry about a bill, or about insurance. I will cover what they don't. But most importantly..."
Liam bows his head and glances over his right shoulder. The camera, news-station, and families watching at home miss it – I don't. We don't. We all see the smile Gio and Liam share.
"I came here to assure you that the person or persons responsible for this will be dealt with. I didn't come here to listen to news anchors ask you if you forgive the person who murdered your loved one. I didn't come here for forgiveness." Liam grips the podium with all strength he has. "I do not forgive."
"I came here to promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure the person or persons responsible pay for what they did. I came here because I know they're watching and because they are, I have one thing to say."
Liam pushes himself away from the podium and stares down the camera on his left. He jams a finger into the lens and declares, "You can't stop me."
And I know without the shadow of a doubt that Valentin Rostov heard him.
Liam marches off stage as clapping erupts from the crowd, as well as from behind me.
"Wow, what a man you have there, Faith Ann."
I forgot that voice.
I haven't heard that voice in years.
I twist around, already knowing who it is before I see her face.
Mom.
"If only your sister found a man like that."
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
a/n: POTERE IS ABOUT TO POP OFF I WARNED YALL JEIAFIAEHFIHUAHFAU
A FIAM WEDDING---FAITHS BIOLOGICAL MOTHER—RICOXCRIXUS – VELENO AND BABY MAMA—DIAVOLO – do not TELL ME THIS BOOK—OK..lemme calm down.
p.s. dom will be back I lowkey forgot about him but we're just gonna pretend i'm a good writer and purposely wrote him out this chapter
#NoGlocksAtTheTeaParty