One last prick, the slide of a needle, and Schneepelstein tied off the knot, grabbed the scissors, and cut the remaining suture.

    Dark's head fell back against the desk, his chest heaving as his body relaxed. Pain laced so brightly through his side that it had gone numb, the only sensation a burn like fire.

    "Jim," said Schneepelstein, huffing with relief. "Grab ze pill bottle from my bag."

    Schneep peeled his gloves off and put on a new pair, grabbing gauze and bandage from the first aid kit. Jim held up the pill bottle with a rattle.

    "Three pills," said Schneep. "And vater. He needs vater to drink."

    Wilford snatched the pill bottle out of Jim's hands. "You get the water," he slurred, voice still dragging at the edges. Jim hastily nodded and rushed out of the room.

    Wilford turned back to the desk and tapped three pills into his palm, the bottle rattling as he did so. He gazed at Dark's face, noting the fatigue in his expression, and glanced up at Schneepelstein.

    "Y'know," said Wilford, blinking away blurriness. "I owe you a favor, Schneep." Irritation bubbled in his throat, but he pushed it down. As much as he despised the green-haired doctor, he'd still done a lot for them tonight. "Thank you. For doing this."

    Schneepelstein wavered at the sudden kindness, then waved a hand, putting away his materials. "I still have to check on you, Mr. Varstache," he said. "Whatever zhey knocked you out with vas very strong. Not safe."

    Dark stirred on the desk, and with a wince, he removed the bite stick from his mouth.

    "Oi!" yapped Schneepelstein. "Try not to move too much, Mr. Edwards."

    Dark scoffed with amusement, pain still etched in his brow. "I'd... say thank you," said the businessman, his voice wrecked from yelling. "But that was not... pleasant. At all."

    Schneep gave Dark a sheepish smile. "Apologies, Mr. Edwards," he said. "I vas in a rush." He zipped up his bag and tilted his head. "You know, this is ze first time I've spoken to you. It seems you are always hit vith something."

    Dark rose a brow, confused, and Wilford waved a hand.

    "He was the one," he slurred, "who helped you when you were first poisoned."

    "Speaking of," said Schneepelstein, pointing at Wil, "I need to check your vitals. Make sure you're okay."

    "I'll be fine—"

    "Sit, sit!" said Schneepelstein, waving a hand as he set his bandage aside.

Wilford grumbled and sat down, glaring at the doctor as he circled around the desk. Jim came in with a bottle of water, shaking it.

    "Here," said Jim.

    He stood at the side of the desk, and Wilford waved Schneep aside as he stood back up. The office spun around him for a moment, growing fuzzy, and once it passed, he grabbed the water from Jim, his other hand palm-up with the pills.

    Dark shifted, raising a hand to grab the pills, and Schneep snapped at him.

    "No moving!" he said.

    Dark sent him a look. "How do you expect me to—"

    "Here," slurred Wilford. He set down the water bottle and slid a hand under Dark's head, fingers rustling his hair. Dark stilled at the gesture, and Wilford held the three pills in front of his lips. "Open your mouth."

    "Are you seriously—"

    Wilford rose his brows at Dark, and the businessman trailed off, falling into a glare. With a sigh, he gave in, and he opened his mouth so Wil could place the pills inside.

    Wilford smiled to himself, and he opened the bottle of water and held it to Dark's lips, watching him carefully. Dark caught his eye for a moment before glancing away, quickly swallowing the pills. Wilford lingered a moment longer before pulling away from Dark, sitting back down in his chair.

    "Y'know," slurred Wil, gazing at Dark, "minus the fact you were shot, I'm enjoying the view."

    Jim groaned. Dark blushed and tried covering it up with a frown.

    "Doctor," said Dark. "I'd like to put my shirt back on."

    "Not allowed," said Schneep, starting to check on Wilford. "I need to see your vound in case something happens."

    Wilford chuckled, and Dark sent him a look. The mafia boss winked at him, and Dark scoffed and turned his head away, staring at the ceiling. His skin tingled at the burn of Wil's constant gaze on him.

    Schneepelstein grabbed Wilford's hand and tilted it back and forth, checking it.

    "So," said the doctor, "vhen did you two start dating?"

    Wilford's chest stirred with butterflies, and Dark stilled on the desk, his lashes fluttering. The mob boss broke out in a hearty laugh.

    "Oh, we're not there, yet," said Wilford, lips curled into a silly smirk. He could tell that Dark was trying his hardest not to glance at him, keeping his eyes pinned on the ceiling. For a man who was cold and reserved, the one thing he couldn't hide was his reaction to instances like these. The mob boss found it amusing.

    "Yet?" chimed in Jim, crossing his arms. "I thought you two were already—"

    "Okay," scoffed Dark, smiling. "There's no point in talking about this."

    Schneepelstein grabbed the sides of Wilford's face and moved his head side to side. "I'm just saying," he said. "You two are very close. From vhat I see."

    Dark's face grew with color, and Wilford smirked, raising a brow at him.

    "Hear that?" slurred the mafia boss, enjoying himself. "I told you we make a good team, Mr. Edwards."

    "Yeah," said Jim. "A team who needs to get a room."

    Wilford laughed at that, and Jim waved a hand, going for the door.

    "I'll be outside if you need me," said Jim.

    He softly shut the door, and tension cracked through the room, curling tight. Schneepelstein pulled away from Wilford, rose a brow at him, then at Dark.

    "Well, you're fine, Mr. Varstache," said Schneep. "Once I bandage Mr. Edwards, I'll leave you two alone."

    Dark exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Doctor, you don't—"

    "Mr. Edwards," said Schneep, pulling on another pair of gloves. "I have only seen you and Varfstache interact this once, and I can already tell zat..." He waved a hand. "Something is going on between you two."

    The doctor grabbed the bandage from the desk and unrolled it. "Whatever it is," he said, "quit denying yourself. You and Mr. Varfstache... good match!" He nodded to himself. "He is a good man for you."

    Dark's face grew red, and Wilford chuckled to himself, giddy. He couldn't get enough of the businessman's reactions.

    "Since when did you give relationship advice, Schneep?" joked Wil.

    Schneep carefully wrapped bandage around Dark's wound and torso, fingers gentle yet firm. Small spots of blood soaked through the surface.

    "I tell vhat I observe," said the doctor.

    He finished up the bandage, peeled off his gloves, and packed everything up in his bag.

    "My only advice—" he said, nodding to himself. "Just kiss already."

    Wilford gave an open-mouthed smile, brows raised high, and Dark's ears went red, his fingers running along his bandages to distract himself. It only furthered the tension in the room.

    "I'm going to take a break," said Schneep, opening the door. "Wait one hour. Then we move Mr. Edwards to the cot vhere it's more comfortable."

    "Yes, doctor," said Wilford, grinning.

    The doctor left, shut the door, and the heat in the room doubled. Wilford leaned back in his seat and rose a brow, glancing towards the desk. Dark stirred, and he met the other's eyes, wavering. It only made the mafia boss's grin widen.

    "Well," said Wilford, crossing his legs. "How about that advice?"

———

Detective Abe, Agent Nelson, and Mark sat in the precinct, hunched over photos on the conference room table.

    Abe grabbed a photo of a mansion and pinned it to the corkboard. "This," he said, pointing at it, "is the location Celine gave us."

    He considered the table and grabbed a loose case file, pinning it on the cork next to the photo. "It's one of the places Mr. Lau was selling. Before Wil killed him." He nodded to himself. "It checks out."

    Mark stared at the photo on the corkboard, and his injuries panged with memory. His shoulder and foot were still recovering from when Wil shot him there.

    "Yeah," said Mark under his breath. "That's where I chased him to." Flashes of that night flashed in his head, and he remembered Dark, unconscious in a guard's arms. His fists clenched beneath the table. "I swear, if he's hurt Edwards..."

    "We can never be sure," said Amy. "But we do know that Warfstache needs him alive." She turned in her chair and glanced at Abe. "We should discuss next steps."

    Mark glared. "We could ambush him," he grumbled.

    "Too risky," said Abe. "But we can drive by, see their schedules, their security levels."

    "That'd be a good start," said Amy. She leaned her elbows against the table, ran a hand through her hair, then sighed. "But what about Celine? We made a deal with her."

    Abe scoffed under his breath. "Deals are based on trust," he said. "Criminals don't have that kind of honesty."

    "But if you don't keep her in the loop," said Nelson, "like we promised her..." She trailed off, and weight hung over the room.

    Abe cursed under his breath, running a hand over his mouth, and Mark glanced over at him, stirring in his seat.

    "From what you two told me," said Mark, "Celine's basically blackmailing you." He wavered a moment, mulled over his words, then said, "What exactly... did you do wrong, Detective?"

    The question hung in the air. As much as Amy knew that kind of history was private, she still straightened with interest. Detective Abe glanced between the two of them and wavered, putting his hands on his hips.

    "Well, I..." He waved a hand, opened his mouth, then shut it. He shook his head. "It's in the past, alright?" He bowed his gaze. "Anyway, we don't have a choice but to keep Celine in the loop, but we don't have to tell her the whole truth. We'll just give her pieces."

    Amy squinted. "Does she know about you and Wilford?" she muttered.

    Mark rose a brow at that, and Abe's head snapped up, sending Amy a look.

    "No," he said. "It's—more than..." He sighed, closing his eyes. "It's worse than that."

    Mark shifted in his seat with interest, and he glanced at Amy, who met his gaze. They both stared at Abe, prompting him to continue.

    Abe noticed their looks, hesitated, then gave in with a sigh, pulling up a chair and slouching in it. He set his elbows on his knees and bowed his head.

    "Two years into the Warfstache case," he started, voice small. "I'd finally cornered the bastard at a disco. Little did I know his goons were there." He kept his eyes bowed. "I was alone, they all launched at me. It was too late to call for backup, and next thing you know, this one kid's got a gun on me, and I..."

    Abe stopped, and he sucked in a deep breath, running a hand over his face. Mark and Amy nodded, listening closely.

    "I killed him," said Abe quietly, wringing his hands together. "He was a young one, too, in his early twenties. He had a brother. A twin. Some... Jim kid." He waved a hand, then coughed, trying to break the tension in the room. "Anyway. Um." He stood. "That's what I think Celine's talking about."

    Amy's brows knitted with empathy. "You acted in self defense."

    "It was still a person," said Abe. "A human life."

    "Even if Celine brought that up," said Mark, "it wouldn't get you fired."

    Abe gazed at him a moment, eyes glittering with trouble, and he turned back to the corkboard, focusing his attention on it. He was clearly hiding something else—something darker, perhaps—but at that point, the others didn't pry further. The detective had already trusted them enough to share that instance with them.

    "Alright," said Abe, hands on his hips. "I say we check on Warfstache's base tomorrow. Sound good?"

    He glanced over his shoulder, and Agent Nelson and Mark nodded curtly.

———

A single light hung about the room, flicking over the two women's faces.

    "Wilma," said Celine, tapping her nails on her desk. "I promise you, I will get your brother—"

    "I'm sick of waiting," said Wilma, sitting across from her. "All I wanted was Wilford's location so I could find him. Not any of this!"

    "I told you," said Celine, "after I string him along a little longer—"

    "You've done enough," said Wilma, "don't you think?"

    Celine leaned back in her seat, carefully rose a brow, and stared at Wilma, her gaze intense. The other woman didn't waver.

    "I think it's time to stop playing games," said Wilma, "and actually get things done." She leaned forward in her seat and glared, all heat and emotion. "I hate my brother. And while I wish all the curses in the world on him, I want him dead. Now."

    Celine huffed through her nose and crossed her legs, affronted.

    "And," she said, "how do you expect to kill him when he's gone off the grid?"

    Wilma's gaze hardened, and she clenched her jaw. "Fine, then," she said, standing up. "I'll find him myself."

    She turned away, and Celine sighed, lifting a hand.

    "Wait," she said.

    Wilma stopped at the doorway, and she glared over her shoulder, raising a brow. Celine lowered her hand and carefully met Wilma's gaze, the light flickering in her eyes.

    "Blank is finding the bait to draw Dark out," she said.

    "And?" grumbled Wilma. "What does that have to do with Wilford?"

    Celine's lips twitched in a mock smile. "Well, to my surprise," she said, "it seems that wherever Dark goes, Wilford follows." She rose her brows. "I get that billionaire, and you get your brother. A perfect present."

    Wilma narrowed her eyes, and her fingers twitched at her sides. "This better work," she said. "And if it doesn't, I'm doing things on my own."

    With that, she shut the door, leaving Celine alone in the darkness.

...

I know this one's a bit shorter, but I promise the next chapter will be more exciting! ;) More Darkstache content coming up soon... >:)

Thank you so much for reading, and have a wonderful day/night!

Love, Vic xoxo