xv | active shooter

a/n: a calm chapter is coming, but this ain't it.

thanks for 400k, ya'll real ones , don't forget to vote

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Liam's left wrist has been in a cast for approximately four hours, and he's already over it.

I smiled so hard my cheeks burned when I was watching him try and eat a bowl of fruit loops at four in the morning. I screamed in laughter when Liam went to the bathroom and told me that he "couldn't wipe." And now I'm laughing so hard I nearly careen to the marble, bathroom floor as he tries to brush his teeth.

With his dominant hand restricted by the hard cast, most activities that Liam does by himself have become a chore. I can't lie, watching him struggle is entertaining, but even I can tell when Liam's had enough. Our day has been long, seemingly never-ending, and the exhausted look he gives the blob of toothpaste that managed to miss his brush and hit the floor is my sign.

I snatch his toothbrush out his right hand and grab the toothpaste he's positioned awkwardly on the counter. I squeal as Liam grabs my waist, drawing me closer to him and pinning me between his body and the marble counter behind me. He fights a playful smile as he lowers his head and opens his mouth.

"I never thought I'd ever have to brush your teeth for you." I rest a hand on Liam's cheek as I delicately run the bristles of the brush against his teeth.

He makes a weird sound out the back of his throat as he tries to form a response.

Liam moves his tongue to the side as I run the brush along both rows of teeth. His smile widens, until I push the toothbrush too far back, causing him to gag.

He wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls the toothbrush out his mouth before leaning over the sink and rinsing. He leans back, smacking his lips together. An amused expression rests on his face.

"It isn't my job to deepthroat."

His comment makes me laugh, hard. I lean against his chest, hiding my face from his as my laughing simmers down. I've been laughing at nearly everything since we returned home, which is my sign that I need sleep – but whether I'm sleep deprived or not, Liam's comment would've been funny.

"You're right." I rest a hand on his bare chest and lean my head back to glance up at him. Liam Elijah Luciano has no bad angles. "You're right, that's my job—" Disregarding his injured wrist, Liam bends slightly, wraps his arms around the back of my thighs, and hoists me up to sit on the edge of the counter.

His face nears mine, as his tone deepens and the volume he speaks at lowers. I run the palms of my hands over his shoulders as I part my legs, letting Liam settle between them, his waist pressed against the counter. I run my hands up the sides of his neck, letting them settle underneath his jaw.

"You were always good at it."

I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and tug him closer. "I appreciate the compliment," I mumble against his lips. His eyes are so brown, so beautifully brown. So warm and inviting, just like home. He's home. He'll always be home. "Now kiss me."

He does as I say.

It's quick, barely even a peck, and only leaves me wanting more. But I know where this will take us if he kisses me again. We've been dating for over a year now, and I can proudly say that deciphering each of Liam's kisses has gotten easier with time and experience.

There's the goodbye kiss – often quick, meaning he'll be back soon. There's the goodbye kiss part two, meaning he has a long day ahead of him and begs me, lips-locked, to delay him having to leave. There's the kiss he gives when something is weighing on his mind, where I can tell that he isn't focusing on me. There's the kiss he gives when he's angry at me, where he realizes that life is short, and he should push aside his overpowering feelings and express his love for me before he departs. I could go on, and on, but the kiss tonight – despite it being quick – is charged with energy that typically leads us back to bed.

I gently run my hands up the back of his scalp, making sure not to brush along his fresh stitches. I tilt my head a bit, taking in his face in full. I would never let the Russians hear me say this, but short hair on Liam looked wonderful. It emphasizes every beautiful feature of his. From the high cheekbones to the sharp jaw. His lips to his chin. Even his eyes seem to stand out, only exaggerated even more by the length of his eyelashes.

My fingernails gently drag a line from his sideburns to the stubble on his jaw. Liam clenches and suppresses a shiver at my touch. "You know, Steven was right. You look amazing and for the finishing touch? Don't shave for a few days."

I shake my head in disbelief at the picture of Liam that forms in my mind.

Liam's chuckling shakes me from my vision. He's smiling down at me, eyes bright in spite of his obvious exhaustion. "Should I be concerned about the gleam in your eye? You look like you're about to poke holes in my condoms."

"You look so good I may just have to."

He draws himself so close I can no longer read the look on his face or concentrate on the emotion in his eyes. He kisses me softly and pulls back, teasing me in a low mumble. "You're willing to risk it all, huh?"

"For you?" Liam practically reads my mind and leans back as I respond. My eyes dance over his short hair, the cuts on his face, and the tape that's draped across his eyebrow. I remember the way he winced in the conference room earlier. I remember the look of sheer pain that crossed his face when the doctor pressed down on his broken wrist. I remember the way Diavolo dug his glove-covered hands against the hood of the car while he was being pulled away like an untamed animal. I remember the chill-inducing growl that rose from the base of his throat, echoing around our totaled vehicle.

And I remember Liam, wasting the last remaining seconds of what could've been his life, to strap me in and secure not only my safety, but my future.

"For you?" I repeat. My bottom lip begins to tremble. Liam's eyes drop to it, not because he's about to kiss me, but because he notices. Tears pool at the corner of my eyes, threatening to spill over as I nod. Liam's teasing words have turned into something far more serious. "I'd risk everything for you."

My voice cracks. My shoulders begin to shake. Tears stream out my eyes. The emotional toll of tonight has finally hit. My shoulders feel heavy, the weight of it overbearing as I sob. I lean into Liam's chest as he wraps his arms around me. I can only imagine how he feels. The weight of tonight is on my shoulders, but the weight of every other night is on his. Everything is on him.

I move back and look up, just as he uses a finger to wipe tears from my damp cheeks. "You're the strongest person I know," I admit to him.

Liam just shakes his head. "No, I'm not."

I go to contest my statement, but Liam backs up and extends his good hand to me. He pulls me down from the counter and nods toward the closed bathroom door. "We should get some sleep."

Sleep was literally just a few feet away, shaped in the form of the softest, most plush mattress I had ever laid on, accessorized with the thickest, most comfortable duvet, sheets, and pillows known to man. It was screaming our names after our wild night, but I knew sleep wasn't going to come for a while. Especially at the sight of Dominic rummaging like a maniac through our nightstand.

He disappeared right after the meeting, slipping out before all the men could rush the door in an exit. Austin said he didn't know where Dom had gone after the meeting. Carmen told me he couldn't have come straight home, since she and Rosalie had come straight back after the hospital. Veleno was busy interrogating and returning Gabriel to Nathaniel's place, meaning he had no idea about Dom either.

Yet, here he stands, looking even worse than when we saw him a few hours ago.

The clothes he wears hang loosely on his thinning frame. His curly hair is wild and unkempt. He's hunched over the nightstand closest to my side of the bed. There's not much light leading into our bedroom, but I can still see beads of sweat clinging to the side of his face. Some perspiration runs down his cheek as he dishevels the inside of my drawer, clearly looking for something. His hands are clearly shaking. He's shaking.

Something isn't right.

Liam and I share the quickest of glances before turning our eyes back on our friend. Dominic looks up, jolted by the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut.

Liam leaves my side and takes a few steps forward. You can tell that he's being cautious, gauging the situation. His eyes drift from the gun near Dom's hand to the man himself, unsure as to what to expect. "Dominic," He greets in a low, warning tone.

Dominic turns at the sound of his name. The man before us looks like Dominic, minus a few pounds, a little less definition, and gaunt cheeks. But it's not our Dom. Not the caring, always helpful, respectful Dominic James Santiago, but the man who's turned to drugs to ease his pain. Something tells me that those pain pills aren't the hardest drugs he's been doing.

I'm not sure what surprises me the most. The deep, foreign, nearly demonic voice that echoes out the back of Dominic's throat as he demands, "Where are they?" Or the threatening step he takes in Liam's direction, that causes my boyfriend to stop dead in his tracks.

Liam hesitates, forcing Dominic to take another step closer. The look in his eye is unfamiliar. It's dark, fueled by the desire to consume what he knows will temporarily help him. Even if it means hurting the people he loves to get it.

"Liam," I warn, stepping forward. "Liam back up."

Dominic doesn't acknowledge me.

The closer I get the clearer the signs become. The shaking hands. Slight tremors. The dilated pupils and visible agitation. Withdrawal.

Dom takes another step, breaking the personal bubble barrier. He eyes his ex-boss up and down and at any other moment in time, I would run with my biased opinion and believe that Luciano could take him. But with a bad ankle, dull headache, and broken wrist, I'm not exactly confident with his chances.

"Where are my fucking pills?" Dominic grounds out again.

I'm right behind Liam now, clutching onto the waistband of his shorts. My lips are pressed against the plane of his muscular back, watching, wide-eyed as Dominic steps even closer. My heart is hammering against my chest as if I was standing between them, right in the middle of the action. As if Liam wasn't standing in front of me, being a barrier. My barrier.

I've cried a lot tonight, but I'm crying right now at the realization that I'm afraid of Dominic.

"You don't need them," Liam replies, even-tempered.

Dom's eyes search Liam's. "Don't tell me—"

"You need help," Liam emphasizes.

"I need pills—"

"If you weren't off fucking anything that moved, you would've—"

"Shut up." Dominic's agitation grows, but Liam stands his ground. He isn't intimated. "You took my fucking medication from me because you said you would give it to me when I needed it. You haven't gave me shit!" Liam takes a half step back. I retract my previous statement about him being intimidated. "All you did was forget about me! Forget about what I'm going through—"

Liam holds his palms out before him, creating an ounce of space between the two of them. "Dominic I have not forgotten—"

"Bullshit." Dom's features have contorted in a look of absolute anger as he points an accusing finger in Liam's face. We take an even larger step back this time. "I had to go get my own pills because you wouldn't give me shit. So I had to go out and get my own, and right now I don't have a fucking dollar to my name so the only other form of payment—"

My heart sinks.

The hickey's that decorate both sides of Dominic's neck are even more visible now than earlier.

"Your body?" Liam guesses, knowing he's right. I haven't heard him sound so disappointed in a long time. "You gave your body for drugs? Sex for—"

"Just answer the question." Dominic looks down for the first time, ashamed. "Where are they?"

Seconds lapse between the question and the response. He and I are still trying to process what Dominic just admitted and didn't deny. Liam shakes his head and turns away, "Fuck off, man."

Liam doesn't see the light ignite behind Dominic's eyes. I do, but there's no time for a warning. Dom lashes out, his face twisting in anger as he shoves Liam. He shoves hard. I stumble and fall to my knees, but I'm so busying focusing on catching myself that I don't see Liam fall. I can only imagine the heartbreaking look he gives when he lands awkwardly on his injured ankle. I just hear him whimper in pain as he hits the ground.

I look up, just in time to see Dominic take two steps in Liam's direction and stand over him. "Answer my fucking question, you piece of shit—"

Oh hell no.

I don't think. I just do. I drag myself to my feet and rush Dominic. I extend my arms at the perfect time and shove him ten times harder than he shoved Liam. He stumbles to the side but catches himself as I plant my feet.

"Stop!" I shout, "Just—"

I didn't expect Dom to recover so quickly and I didn't expect him to lay a hand on me. I should've. I bring a shaky hand up to my left cheek, which stings from the slap he delivered. Tears come, but so does anger, building up in the pit of my stomach. He shoves a finger in my face as he shouts, "Shut the fuck up."

He hits me again, and this time the floor rushes up to meet me. Landing on the ground hurt more than being hit the second time. I'm still stunned from the first one, but the pain that flares up in my hand that I used to break my fall is unreal. I roll over on my back, clutch my hand, and I scream.

I don't see Liam crawl to his feet. I don't even see him reach inside the nightstand and grab my gun. By the time I roll over, tears burning the back of my throat, Liam has my gun in his injured hand and Dom's throat in the other. He jams the barrel of the gun between Dom's eyes, pushing him back, away from me.

Liam is absolutely fucking livid. "Touch her again and I swear to God I'll—"

Dominic plants his foot, keeping Liam from pushing him even farther. "What?" He speaks hoarsely, grasping at Liam's skin, trying to pull his hand from his neck. "Kill me? That's not much of a threat anymore."

Anger mixed with the realization of Dom's words hit Liam like a train. I pull myself to a knee, watching as he relaxes his grip. He relaxes it too much. Dominic yanks himself back, taking my gun with him.

He adjusts quickly and turns the gun on himself.

My stomach drops and I feel weightless, like there isn't solid ground beneath me.

Liam freezes as Dominic continues to back up, creating so much space between us that there's no way Liam can lung, reach for him, snatch the gun from his grip and change his mind. His back hits the wall of our bedroom.

"Dom," Liam whispers.

Dominic digs the barrel of the gun underneath his chin. "I'm sorry."

He pulls the trigger.

A click echoes around our bedroom.

My safety was on. My safety is always on. Liam knows that too, and I don't even want to entertain the idea of what would've happened if Liam – in his burst of rage – had released it.

Dominic drops my gun and it clatters to the floor. He stares at it in disbelief, as if it had unexpectedly bit him. I'm not sure if he's scared and terrified at the idea of what he was about to do, or if he's angry, upset that the weapon failed him.

He lets out a loud, haggard breath, which is followed by a sob. Liam and I can only watch as Dominic slides down the wall, his head coming to rest in his hands as he cries. He cries so hard that it reminds me that I shouldn't be angry. I can't hate the Dom that I know isn't there.

"Get out." Dominic looks up at the sound of Liam's voice. His eyes are red, his cheeks stained with tears. Liam fights a wince as he takes a weary step back. His attention falls on me, just long enough to see that I'm alright – at least for the most part, before looking back at Dom. "Carmen has your pills. Get out!"

I don't watch Dominic scurry out the room. I'm too busy analyzing my right hand, inspecting the small, droplets of blood that dot my entire palm. I wince, inhaling sharply through my teeth at the pain.

It isn't until Liam lowers himself to a knee, and quietly whispers, "Let me see," does it hit me. These miniscule cuts were created when I grabbed a fistful of broken glass, but it wasn't until I landed directly on my palm did the injury reveal itself. The adrenaline from earlier tonight must've numbed the pain, along with my constant concern for Liam, and everyone other than myself.

He leads me into the bathroom in contemplative silence. I know he wants to say something, but he doesn't mumble a word. And just like earlier, he lifts me to the counter before turning to rummage through the medicine closet located right behind the door. He returns with a roll of tan gauge and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

I don't question him as I sit there, hand up, palm out. I focus on the droplets of blood that line nearly every inch of my palm, but the stinging sensation of the hit Dominic laid on me still remains.

The thought of it makes me tear up, because there's no words that I can say that would express how it feels – how it felt.

"I want to be mad at him—"

Liam wraps a hand around my wrist, steadying my hand. He doesn't have to say a thing to keep me from talking. The intensity in his eyes does enough. I know why he's upset, Dominic's uncharacteristic behavior will probably keep me up till the sun starts to rise as well – but something else in on Liam's mind.

"—hey," I reach my free hand out to touch him, to express my concern. I know that right now he wants to focus on me; to sterilize my cuts, bandage my hand, and stroke the same cheek Dominic slapped. But I can't let him do that, not when something pressing in on his mind.

He looks down as my fingertips brush the stubble on his chin.

His eyelashes are long and dark, making it easy to spot the lone tear that hangs there, waiting for gravity to do what it does best. Liam inhales deeply, and I hear him, I see him shake. He fights back a verbal sob as his eyes lift back to mine. Tears pool in the corner of his eyes, searching mine for an answer that I know isn't there.

My shoulders slump. "Liam..."

"Faith, I can't save him—I'm scared I won't be able to save him."

All I can do is watch him cry. I can only watch him cry and try to fight back my own display of emotions. Tears slide down his cheeks as if it were a race. They run over his cuts, past his bruise, and drip off the edge of his jaw. Some hit my leg, while others fall to the floor.

I wish I could say I sounded confident and certain when I told Liam, "He'll be okay." But my conviction didn't sound worthy of believing.

Liam doesn't believe it, and I don't either.

"We'll save him." I try again.

Liam shudders. "Promise?"

My throat is dry as I ignore him and repeat myself. "We will save him."

"Do you promise?"

I seal my promise with a salty kiss.

And can only hope that this is the one promise I don't break.

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I lock the doors to our matte black BMW i8 that sits behind me, emphasized greatly by the two lower class cars that it's parked in between. The shiny, metallic blue detailing was done perfectly, but my favorite part is the shimmering rims.

A couple teenaged boys walk up to the car, talking amongst themselves as they check it out. I smile, simultaneously pulling up the dash cam feed on my phone before turning my back and rushing up the steps to Nathaniel's apartment.

I haven't slowed down since the accident. My mind or my body. Liam fell asleep at eight this morning. I wasn't so lucky. We talked though, a lot. Mostly about moving forward. He thought I should talk to Gabe, since it was clear that I did appreciate that friendship. I told him he should too, but he just smiled and told me that he isn't in the mafia to make friends.

We talked about Dominic and Rico's younger brother, Crixus, and the file that Veleno managed to recover from the scene. Liam promised that when he woke up, he'd take it straight to Steven. He wants to find the boy as much as I do, but he doesn't want Dominic to know. Not yet, anyways.

I stand in front of Nathaniel's apartment door at five minutes to noon on Sunday morning. I saw Gabe approximately nine hours ago, in the wee hours of the morning. There was no way I was going to let more time pass than necessary before I confronted him. This was either a good, or horrifically bad decision. Confirmation is pending.

The house, for the most part, was quiet when I left. A nurse from the hospital was upstairs in Vincenzo's room, lecturing him about something. Carmen and Rosie were awake. They were both eating breakfast. It wasn't until I walked in did Rosie tell me about the talent show that they're practicing for today at her school, explaining why she was dressed up and ready to go. Carmen looked tired, but ready to take the little girl to her mandatory practice.

I take in a shaky breath and release it as I lift bandaged hand to their door and knock.

There's no going back now.

The door opens seconds later, almost like somebody was just anticipating my knock. It's Nate. His eyebrows practically lift off his head, as if I'm the very last person he expected to visit. But nothing looks malicious or suspicious. Does he not know?

"Hey!" He steps to the side. "It's been a minute. Come in." I move past him. The only thing that looks weird and out of place is the food that's on the floor. It looks like someone took their plate of breakfast and purposely flipped it over. A broom and sweeping pan rest against the same stools that Gabriel and I once sat at. "Watch your step. Had an accident."

"What happened?" I move around the food and scan the apartment. I look for any sign of Gabe, and when I don't see anything, I turn to Nate. I try to read his expression, to see if he's hiding anything.

He bends down and grabs the broom, unaware of my stare. "Gabe didn't want to eat. He's upset but won't tell me why."

I nod. "Where were you last night?"

"A...friend's house," He says without looking up.

He doesn't seem bothered by my question as he continues to clean up. I fold my arms across my chest and do a little spin. If Nate wasn't here when Veleno dragged Gabe out by force or when they returned, then he isn't aware of the messy situation I find myself in.

I clear my throat and scratch my head. "Is Gabe here?"

"Damn," Nathaniel forces an upset look as he leans back on his heel, his sweeping pan full of lint covered food. "And I thought you came here to visit me." He winks playfully and points the edge of the broom towards the hall leading to the bedrooms. "He's in his room." Nate stands. "Good luck."

He mumbles something behind my back as I walk away. I move down the hallway, fairly familiar with the layout. Nate's bedroom is at the end of the hall. Gabe's bedroom is the easiest to spot. The chipped paint around his doorknob isn't hard to miss.

I turn the doorknob and stop halfway inside his bedroom.

Gabe sits at the foot of his bed, back against the mattress. His legs are spread out before him, his shoulders slumped, head slightly bowed. His room is a disaster in my eyes, but probably resembling the bedroom of any male in their twenties. His sheets and comforter are halfway off the bed. His pillows are scattered around the head of his mattress. Clothes and socks, both dirty and clean litter his floor in unorganized piles. A stale, empty bowl of what could've been cereal, maybe even oatmeal, sits atop his dresser. No silverware in sight.

The door to the small bathroom that connects to his room is cracked, and the sound of the ventilator is the only noise I hear as I shut the door behind me.

I'm practically shaking.

I don't know if I should greet him or wait for him to greet me. God, I don't even know if he knows I'm here, pressed awkwardly against his bedroom door; wishing, begging, praying it would suck me back out into the hallway.

Gabe lifts his head and rests the base of his neck against his bed, eyes now trained on the white ceiling. "Do they hit you too?"

I can't even begin to explain the wave of relief that washes over me and drags me along the shore. When it passes, I feel nothing but a pang in my chest at the fact that his question confirms that he doesn't see me as the enemy, but as a victim – just like him.

"No," I blurt out. "God, no."

Tears have gathered in his eyes.

And I, Faith Crawford, utter the most bold-faced lie that has ever crossed my lips in my twenty-two years of living.

"I swear, I tried to stop him." The lie upsets my stomach, twisting it in knots. I keep a straight face, trying to convince him of the intentions that I want him to believe I had. "I couldn't. I'm sorry. He's never listened to me."

Gabriel doesn't show any signs of disbelief as he blinks. He changed out of what he was wearing when we last saw each other, reverting to something more comfortable; a pair of shorts and a sleeveless black top. The armhole is drooped, exposing the side of his abdomen. I notice his shoulders for the first time, and although they may not be as defined as many that I've seen, it's clear the gym has seen his face a few times. I even spot the hint of small handwriting engraved into his side. A tattoo.

"As long as they don't hurt you," He performs a weak shrug, his shoulders hardly moving. "It's okay."

This precious soul.

"My boyfriend's a really important person." I sit down beside Gabe and spread out my legs, just like him. Our shoulders touch. He doesn't seem to appreciate that and scoots half an inch to his left. "I don't have cooties," I joke.

"Yeah, well if your boyfriend beat the shit out of me because I was in the same room as you, then can you imagine what he would do to me if he knew I touched you?" Gabe's lip quirks up in a pitiful smile, and I can't help but shift my gaze to his cheek, where dimples sit. His eyebrows connect immediately. "On the shoulder. I don't touch women. I mean I only touch women when—I didn't mean touch you. I meant, platonically. On the shoulder. Not between your—" He clears his throat as his mind orders his mouth to clamp shut. It does.

I fight back an inappropriate laugh at his nervous ranting habit.

The tips of Gabe's ears are beginning to turn a light shade of red. To spare him anymore embarrassment, I skip to my point. "That isn't why he did that." I must choose my words carefully. I'm trying my hardest to tell Gabe enough that he believes me, yet spare as much information from him as I can so that he doesn't get suspicious. "We got in a car accident. He doesn't think it was an accident. You were the only stranger in our house that day, he just wrongly assumed—"

"What? That I'm a bad guy?" I look over at Gabe, only to find him staring at me. When our eyes catch each other's, he looks away. Eye contact has never been his thing. He lets out a breath of air. "He didn't assume wrong."

The gash on the side of his forehead looks worse than when he handed me the black rose. It's been irritated. The work his body had performed to begin forming a scar was wasted after the events of earlier. I'm about to question what he means, when he explains.

"It was Nate. He—" Gabe blindly points in the general area of the re-opened gash, finally answering the question I asked back at our house. It's red, raw, and looks like it's about to start bleeding again at any moment.

"Why does he hurt you?"

Gabe shrugs, feigning ignorance.

"Don't do that. I know you know why."

"We don't have the same mom." He blurts out in admission. "Our dad and Nate's mom were married when he had me with another woman."

I turn to him, frowning slightly. "Did they break up because of it?"

Gabe shakes his head. "No, they stayed together. Dad got custody of me."

"Then where does this anger come from?"

"They favor me. I don't know why." Gabe glances over at me, and once again, looks away when our eyes meet. His eyes cast themselves to the floor between his legs, where he picks at the shaggy rug beneath us. "He thinks his mom loves me more than him. He thinks dad loves me more than him. He would tell me that I was a mistake when we were younger."

"And what do you think?"

Gabriel shrugs, lips pursed. Now that he's admitted it, the differences between the two brothers comes to light.

Although they are siblings, there are obvious differences. Nathaniel is short and stocky, while Gabriel is tall and lean. He has a natural definition to his arms and shoulders that I can only assume Nathaniel would have to work for. Their lips are about as different as their personality. While Gabe is reclusive, Nate adores social situations. Gabe's lips are full, having obviously inherited them from his mother. Nate got his thinner lips from his dad.

He locks his jaw and looks to his left, out the window. "I think I am a—"

"That's not what I meant." I cut him off before he can admit something I once heard a dear friend say as well. "Just...he shouldn't hate you. What your father did and who he slept with isn't your fault."

"Yeah, well, tell Nate that." Irritation rises in the back of his throat as he scoffs.

I move to stand up.

"No—" Gabe's hand reaches out and wraps around my wrist, pulling me to a dead stop. His grip is tight and the strength he exhibits is surprising. I yank my hand back. It doesn't budge. "—I didn't mean literally—I just...I don't want to talk about it anymore. Please."

I want to approach Nate, to even with him, but Gabe's eyes are screaming for me to sit down – to keep him company. I nod in agreement and lower myself beside him. "So," I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around my knees. "What do you want to talk about then?"

He lifts one shoulder and drops it. "What do normal people talk about?"

I give Gabe a look. "You are a normal people, and anything I suppose. I'm only slightly less awkward than you, so I'm not exactly sure how conversation works all the time either."

I accomplish my task by making Gabriel smile. He looks away, sheepish. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two. My birthday is in November."

"Next month?"

I nod. "I'll be twenty-three. What about you?"

"Twenty-three." He sneaks a look at me. "My birthday was last month."

"Oooh, a September baby. Virgo or Libra?"

"Virgo."

"Huh," I smile playfully at him. "I feel like I know you better already."

Gabriel nods, looking away. I stay silent, sensing him about to speak. He does a few seconds later. His eyes finally meet mine, and this time he doesn't look away.

His eyes are a dark brown. Darker than Liam's when he gets angry. "I get why your boyfriend did it. He did it to protect you."

"He did it to protect our family," I correct.

Gabriel blinks. "I love mom a lot. I'm not her biological son, but she treats me like it. She loves me like it, and if something like what happened to you ever happened to her I'd—I don't know what I'd do but...I'd do whatever I needed to, to keep her safe. So, I get why he did it. I really do."

"You can be mad." I tell him softly. "You didn't deserve to be..."

"It's okay." The smile he displays appears so genuine I can't tell if he's forcing it or not. His eyes drift from mine to his bedroom door as he quietly finishes, "I'm used to it by now."

"Holy shit."

Both Gabe and I turn towards his bedroom door as Nathaniel's voice drifts down the hallway as clear as crystal.

"Holy—"

I turn back to Gabriel, mouthing, "What's going on?"

He looks about as lost as I do. "He's weird?"

"Come see this!"

Gabe pulls himself to his feet quickly and offers me a hand. My hand disappears in his as he lifts me up with ease.

We move out the bedroom and down the hall. Nathaniel stands behind their sofa, a bag of prepackaged, already popped popcorn clutched to his side. He digs a handful inside even though his mouth is already full. He goes to shout at us again until he realizes that we're already here.

No words are said as he points to the television. The breaking news banner across the flat screen and vividly concerned faces of the news anchors onscreen are enough to cause concern.

"I never thought I'd ever have to say this, period, especially not on a Sunday—"

The second news anchor takes over, "—but there's been reports of an active shooter at—"

I don't hear the rest. I don't need to. I expect myself to panic; for my heartrate to rise and sweat to form on my palms. I quickly backtrack, eyes still glued to the television. I don't hear Nathaniel questioning me, looking worried, nor do I focus on the look Gabe is giving me. Their figures are blurry.

Active shooter.

Rosie's school.

I yank my phone out and slam my fingers against the screen at a record pace. I quickly backtrack, having accidently dialed Liam's main number instead of his backup. He's in the process of replacing the phone that shattered in the crash. My hands only begin to shake as I lift the receiver to my ear.

"Liam."

I throw the apartment door open and rush out, bounding down the steps that lead to the parking lot. The i8 is in view.

"Faith."

He knows.

"Where are you?"

The i8 starts with power with the press of a button. I unlock the car doors, watching as they spread out and up like a butterfly.

"Almost at the school."

"You know this is them."

I slide into the driver's seat. My foot presses against the brake as I shift the car out of park and into drive. The doors are still lowering, locking into place as I steer the vehicle out the lot and onto the street.

"You know this is the Russians," I repeat.

"I know."

I bite my lip as I merge lanes. "Who're you bringing?"

Liam doesn't answer my question. He just says, "Meet me there."

I slam my foot on the brake, cursing at the car ahead of me who decided they didn't want to take the risk of running a yellow light. My phone nearly slides out from between my ear and shoulder at the force of the stop.

I let my cell drop to my lap before connecting it to the Bluetooth.

"Who are you bringing?" I repeat.

Liam's lilting Italian accent comes through as clear as day.

"I'm bringing everybody."

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Anything and everything for the King.

That much is clear when I count the fifteen idling vehicles belonging to the family that line the shutdown street.

I'm halfway out the car door before its even in park. I ignore everything. I ignore the news reporters and their cameras as they stand against the yellow police tape, getting as close to the action as they can. I all but ignore the police officers that stand guard until one steps in front of me, keeping me from slipping underneath the tape. He holds a hand out.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"I'm—" I huff in annoyance as I glance over the tape at the bustle of activity that surrounds the active situation going on around the school. Police are everywhere. A couple ambulances are parked in the lot. I can see Liam and a large group of men speaking near the vehicles. I sigh. "—my boyfriend's sister is inside, and I need to make sure she's alright."

The cop has to stop himself from laughing. "Who are you that you think you're so special that I would allow you to enter a restricted area?" He nods over my shoulder at a group of parents and unsuspecting little children. The parents look distraught. "You can go hang out with the other family member's over th—"

"I need you to move." I state plainly.

He doesn't budge.

With a huff, I change tactics and try another angle. "Do you know who I am?"

He looks absolutely disinterested as he shrugs and randomly guesses, "I couldn't give a shit who you were. I get that you're worried, but I need you to stand with the other family members—"

I stand my ground. "No."

"You stupid bi—" The cop reaches out and grabs my bicep, yanking him towards me in anger. It hurts. It hurts a lot, even more as I try and rip my arm from out his grasp.

"Officer Kaneko." A strong, powerful voice belonging to a woman interrupts our quote on quote scuffle. The officer releases me and turns on a sharp dime. He pushes his shoulders back and stands up straight now that he's in the presence of his boss. "This bitch," She nods in my direction. "Is one-half of the most powerful couple in this country. I'd advise that you step aside. Thank you, dearly."

I give Officer Kaneko my middle finger as I duck underneath the tape and walk alongside one of the LAPD's most powerful figures. Aadya Lopez. She's one of the five people that make up the LAPD board of commissioners. Tall and built, with short hair and arms that I could only dream of obtaining. I know her face from television and her name from Liam's long contact list.

Liam has put me in a lot of weird situations, but nothing has been worse than what I walk into. Six of Liam's most brutal soldiers, including Veleno, stand to our left. To our right, stands six uniformed officers, decked out in Kevlar, helmets, and assault rifles.

Veleno glances at the police officer standing beside him and smiles wickedly.

I split from the commissioner's side with a quiet, "thank you," before resuming my position at my man's side. Ms. Lopez moves to stand beside Andrew Baldwin, another powerful figure within the LAPD that Liam has in his phone. The captain, to be specific.

"—if you think I'm going to let your—" Mr. Baldwin tips the rim of his uniform hat back, giving everyone on our side a discreet look. "—men, raid this building with innocent civilians and teachers inside, then you've lost your goddamn mind, Mr. Luciano."

"No, I—" Liam goes to respond, but the Captain cuts him off.

"These are my people. If something happens to them, it's my responsibility."

Liam laughs. "What? And you trust your men to be able to handle this when they can't even hold their gun around an innocent black person?"

Veleno doesn't hide his chuckle.

"Do not. Do not bring race into this." Andrew steps forward into the circle in a threatening manner. Liam meets him halfway.

"Fine." Liam blinks, "Then is it a good time to mention that the only reason you are still Captain of the LAPD is because of me. Because of the deal we made. I help you and you help me. As long as you are captain, and you," He glances over at Aadya, "commissioner, I have free reign in this city – in return, you asked me to keep crime down, and according to the recent statistics—"

Steven steps forward, his iPad resting in his hands. "—since you and Liam made the deal, crime has dropped by fifty percent."

"I have people asking me if they can rob their corner liquor store, Captain." Liam takes a step forward, causing the Captain to take two back. He addresses both Aadya and Andrew as he says, "You may be the Captain of this police force and you, the Commissioner, but I run this city."

Andrew Baldwin backs up so far he nearly runs over his superior.

"Point made, Mr. Luciano." Aadya rests her hand on Andrew's shoulder and pulls him out the circle. He stands a little behind her shoulder now. "And I want to make it clear that I appreciate our deal. You've done a lot for this city and that shouldn't be overlooked. Andrew isn't a very trusting person, but I am. If you think your men can diffuse this situation then by all means, gear up. I'll pull our men back."

"I don't mean too much disrespect for your force, Ms. Lopez—"

"—No, I understand. It's your sister in there. Not mine, not Baldwin's. This is us helping you, and in return you do help us. You free your sister, you get all those innocent people out alive, and the LAPD gets praised for your brilliant execution."

Liam nods and looks over toward the school. "I'm glad we're on the same page. Now brief me."

"I can assure you it's chaotic in there. They were preparing for their upcoming talent show. There's approximately ten to fifteen teachers, adults, and thirty to forty children," the Commissioner informs.

I fold my arms across my chest as Liam backs up, returning to my side. "So, what?" I ask, gaining the attention of the growing group. "We're looking at a minimum of forty to fifty-five people inside?"

Liam and I share a skeptic look, while Veleno voices that skepticism. "I know you know, but when numbers get that high, especially with young children involved—"

"Casualties." Liam nods. "I know."

"The first gunshots were reported about twenty minutes ago. We have reason to believe that they're holding everybody in the auditorium, where the setup was taking place."

"How big is this auditorium?" Veleno questions.

"Huge," the Captain responds.

It's Liam's turn to ask another question. "How many assailants?"

"We don't—" Aadya cuts her reply short as she tugs her phone from her jacket's pocket. She frowns at the caller ID. Andrews mumbles a question, which she responds to in her normal tone, "—unknown caller." She accepts the call and jams the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

Her complexion pales.

"Listen here you motherfuc—I have over a hundred armed officers ready to—" She listens for another second before tearing the phone away from her ear and tossing it to Liam. He catches it without warning. "They're Russian? Liam, they're Russian? If this is some goddamn terrorist—oh my God," Aadya turns away, hands up to her head in disbelief.

Liam presses the speaker of her cellphone into his simple t-shirt, muffling the sound of his ongoing conversation. "Just get the media out of here." His eyes lift to the sky, where a helicopter hums, circling the building. The name of a news station is embedded on the side. "Get everyone out of here."

The police Captain takes off first, shouting orders as soon as he leaves our group.

Ms. Lopez looks devastated as she stares down the man beside me. "Liam..."

"I pissed off a very powerful person, okay? They just want Rosie. They just want her to get to me, and because of that they've put people that you've sworn to this city to protect in imminent danger. That's why we have to be the ones to do this. I have to go get my sister." Liam lifts the phone to his ear, but twists the speaker away, watching as Ms. Lopez turns to do as Liam previously requested.

"And Aadya?" She turns back. "If any innocent person dies today, you can be the one to put handcuffs on me and lead me away."

The woman smiles. "I used to look forward to that day, Mr. Luciano, but now I wouldn't dare. You're just a group of bad men with good intentions. Go save your sister, and don't worry about the media. I've got them handled. They'll never know who really orchestrated this raid."

Liam's slight smile disappears as he twists the speaker back to his lips and spits, "What?"

He puts the call on speaker and steps forward, allowing everyone to do the same. We listen carefully as the Russian man speaks.

"Your little sister has quite the mouth on her, Mr. Luciano."

I look up, eyes locking with Veleno. I quietly whisper, "Valentin?"

He shakes his head. "Valentin isn't going to show his face. Not in person."

"Proof of life." Liam's eyes narrow. "Let me talk to her."

There's some rustling and static from their end of the line, before Rosalie's voice comes in clear. She doesn't seem to be talking to Liam when she says, "Get off! Get off of me, you motherfucker!"

"Oh my. Where did a little girl like you learn that kind of language?"

"My uncle." Rosie deadpans. "You'll meet him when you die, fucker."

The Russian puts his lips close to the phone as he addresses Liam. "Come get her. Bitch."

The line cuts.

Seven minutes later, we find ourselves doing exactly as the incompetent Russian demanded. We plan to move in with a group of ten. Large enough to do damage, small enough to decrease the chance of casualties. Liam tugs at my bulletproof vest and straps it tightly against me. He doesn't voice his displeasure about me going. He can't. I care about Rosalie just as much as he does.

We stand near the vehicles now, gearing up and waiting for the rest of the media and gathering crowd to disperse. Soldiers stand back, yet surround us at every angle as Liam entertains different breaching ideas. The Captain managed to get us a blueprint of the school, making our planning far easier than what it would've been.

The auditorium sits in the very center of the school, accessible by four entrances. North, south, east, and west. Since Veleno spends more time with the other soldiers than us at this point, he plucked seven of the most talented in the group to join us. Nobody was upset, nobody was jealous. They all want the same thing secured; Rosie's safety.

"I want to go." Dominic approaches us, securing the last strap of his Kevlar.

Liam doesn't even think about his answer. "No."

Veleno hands me my weapon as he eyes Dom. Dominic's expression falters as he comes to a stop. "You shouldn't be going in there. You're still hurting." I hadn't seen a flicker of pain cross Liam's face, but what Dominic said is true. Liam bends down to secure a thigh holster around his leg, trying to hide his wince.

Dom blinks, his attention landing on Liam's cast.

Liam rises, frowning. "Maybe not." He rests a second weapon in his newly acquired holster. "But my sister is in there, and nothing is going to stop me from getting her."

Dom sighs. "Okay but let me come."

"No," Liam answers again.

"You're not even entertaining the idea—"

"I'm sorry." Liam doesn't exactly sound sorry. "My answer is final. You can wait with the others until we get back."

Our small group moves past Dominic in the direction of the building. I can't help but hear his parting response over my shoulder. "Just come back."

"What else can we do to help?" The commissioner and the captain join our sides as we march toward the building. Veleno is speaking in a hushed voice behind us, addressing the other members of our group.

"The media is gone, and they won't be back." Baldwin says.

Liam stops walking, forcing everyone else to do so. "Get a couple more ambulances here. None of these motherfuckers are coming out alive." He states it as a fact.

Aadya Lopez holds out an earpiece. "Keep in touch with me. If you need backup—"

Liam taps his own ear, showing off the technology that already sits there. The wire spirals down his back and tucks into his shirt. Every other soldier, including Veleno and I have one as well. "If I need backup, I got it."

The situation is worse than we thought once we got inside and split up. Two soldiers each sent us a slight wave before dismissing to their post. Two were to breach the east entrance of the auditorium, and two the west. Three were stationed on the south, while Liam, Veleno, and I move in through the north.

We all enter at the same time, guns drawn.

Rosalie and the Russian holding her captive stand directly at centerstage. He holds her against his body, her feet dangling. A gun is jammed into the side of her face, digging into her cheek. A quick walk or an even faster run down the center aisle would get us to her within seconds, but I can count four Russians that stand in our way.

She's so close, yet so far.

But the four Russians standing directly before us aren't the only threat. The auditorium is dark, and only as my eyes adjust do I see them lining the sides of the vast room. There's at least ten on our left, starting from the entrance, all the way down the left wall, and down the slanting floor toward the stage. On the floor, near their feet, I can glimpse a few heads over the auditorium seats. Soft, muffled cries echo around the room.

I see the same thing to our right. At least ten, heavily armed Russian soldiers with innocent people at their feet, being held captive.

"On the bright side," I begin to lower my weapon, "At least there's no sign of Diavolo."

Veleno scoffs from over my shoulder. "I'd rather Diavolo than over twenty Russian soldiers."

"No. No, you really wouldn't. He is equivalent to twenty Russian soldiers."

There are over twenty soldiers, not including the four that stand between us, Rosalie and the stage, plus the one that holds the little girl at gunpoint.

I look at Liam. "What do we do? We're out numbered."

"I planned to be."

Veleno laughs loudly from behind me and backs up towards the door. "I love being an underdog." Something sharp glints underneath the gentle lights as he twirls it in his hand. Before the soldiers guarding the door can retaliate, he jams a knife into the side of one's neck – doing the same to the other. They collapse. Dead.

And war is waged.

Chaos is the only word I know that can explain what begins to happen next. Our soldiers take Veleno's action like a runner would with the gunshot at the beginning of the race. They move out the shadows, moving swiftly to take care of the Russian soldiers nearest to them.

It's an experience I'll never forget. Russian's abandon their post, forgetting about the children and teachers at their feet. Many rush towards our soldiers, some come to Liam, but most head in Veleno's direction. He attracts six of them all at the same time.

He breaks one's neck and quickly reaches for another, yanking them towards him. With their head in the crook of his elbow, he uses their body as a shield, forcing another Russian to accidently shoot one of his own. Veleno discards the body and slices his way through three more soldiers. Smooth, like butter on bread. The last one gets a bullet in the head. He spits on him as he steps over the body.

Even though he's injured, Liam makes quick work too. I catch him out the corner of my eye as he slams a Russian against the wall, grabs a fistful of their hair, and walks their head down the wall. They're either unconscious or dead by the time they slump to his feet, forehead busted. Liam steps on his head as he walks away.

I holster my weapon as a teacher rushes a group of children in my direction. They dodge the bloodshed by running down aisle's and over chairs. I reach my arms out and shoo them out the main entrance.

Not all of them make it out as easily. Just a few feet away, a woman stumbles to her feet as she shoves a young kid forward in hopes he reaches the entrance with his friends. A Russian soldier grabs her feet and pulls her towards him. Her life is over, and the look in her eye tells me she knows it.

And while he raises his gun to her head, I raise my own to him. "Put her down."

Her eyes are wide.

"You won't shoot me," The Russian counters.

I adjust my grip on my gun, my palms beginning to sweat.

A bullet whizzes by my head and hits its target. The woman falls to the ground as the bullet tears the right side of the assailant's face up. The force knocks him over. He doesn't move again.

"I will." Veleno appears at my side. He glances over his shoulder at the young child riding his back. His little arms are locked around Veleno's neck. It glistens with sweat. "Isn't that right, kid?"

He nods, face buried in Veleno's back.

"Go, go." The woman doesn't have time to mutter a thank you. The little boy slides down Veleno's back and grabs the woman's hand. They rush toward the exit without a Russian in sight.

I barely turn away from Veleno fast enough to see the man on stage let out a horrified scream. I don't think I really want to know how Rosie went from having a gun to her head, to now having the Russian's arm in her mouth. His gun falls to the floor as he tries to shake her off.

With most of the Russians dealt with, Veleno and I move toward the stage. Liam moves past his recent victim and follows us.

Our soldiers, although having defeated enough Russians to make this situation manageable, aren't as lucky as we are. They're led to the sides of the stage, all of them with a gun positioned near their head. The situation only turns for the worse when Rosie hits the stage, having been shaken from the Russian's arm. He grabs his gun and stands over her, aiming the deadly weapon right between her eyes.

"Take another step," He tells us, "and I'll kill the bitch."

We stop walking.

"Fuck," is all Liam says to display his current emotion.

"What's it feel like, Mr. Luciano? Defeat, I mean."

Rosalie breathes heavily as she lies on her back, her attention never leaving the gun aimed at her. The Russian standing above her looks at us, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Surely, you know what defeat is?" The man continues to taunt.

He never sees him.

He's so busy trying to rile Liam up that he doesn't see it. He doesn't see the figure gliding over the back of the auditorium chairs, hopping from one to another at breakneck speed. Balance doesn't seem to be an issue with them as they run, back bent, hand clutching a weapon like a cheetah waiting to pounce.

He never sees Crixus.

The boy takes one gigantic leap from the first row of seats to the stage. Gravity doesn't treat him like it treats us. He coasts through the air, arms rotating in wide circles. His boot has barely touched the stage before he makes his move. Three seconds, maybe four, that's all it took. Using his momentum, he rises up and jams his shortest katana into the Russian's side.

Rosalie witnesses it all.

Crixus spins around. He either doesn't activate the modulator that hides the true tone of his voice, or he doesn't care anymore. He sounds like a kid when he talks, like a young boy. "They called for backup." He pulls his katana free from the Russian's innards. "Get—"

It's too late. Russians run in from nearly every angle. A lot of Russians. I curse.

"Get Rosie out of here." Liam orders me. "Both of you, get out of here."

Veleno is all smiles as he overlooks the incoming Russians. "God, this is like sex to me."

"Same." Crixus appears at my side. Rosalie holds his gloved hand. Her face is pale and dotted with crimson red blood. Crixus pulls the black mask from his nose and lowers it, revealing the rest of his youthful face to us. "Except I haven't had sex, so this is more like a hot fudge sundae for me."

Liam steps forward. "I've been looking for you."

"I know, lima bean."

Liam doesn't appreciate that at all. "My name is Liam, crickets."

"Crickets," He smiles wide. His teeth are white and relatively straight but could be perfected with a year or two of braces. "That's cute. I've heard that one before, actually, from someone equally as unoriginal as you."

"Who the fuck are you and can I trust you?" Veleno asks the real questions.

The little assassin shrugs. "You trusted my brother."

Realization dawns on Veleno's face.

"Then I momentarily put my trust in you. Get me out of here alive and I'll re-evaluate." He finally responds.

The kid pulls his mask back over the half of his face. "Crixus," His name is muffled as he introduces himself. The two start to walk in the direction of danger.

"Veleno," V replies quickly.

"Get out of here." Liam grabs my shoulders and drops to his knees for Rosalie. "And you," He pats her stomach, "Stay safe and take care of Ms. Faith, alright?" She just nods.

Liam rises to his feet and gives me a quick kiss.

"You need backup," I blurt out as I grab Rosie's hand.

He taps the earpiece in his ear. "I called it already," and as if on cue, soldier after soldier comes pouring inside the room, only tripling the amount of bodies already here. Bullets whiz past my head, while Russian's reach for Rosie and I, blindly swiping as one of ours knocks them over, away from us.

I lose Liam in the crowd, but at this point he's no longer my concern. The little girl, who I can feel shaking from the trauma she's experienced on this beautiful Sunday is. I tug her towards the door without a word and she follows. The only issue we have is when we come to a collapsed body. It's one of our men.

Rosie blinks, stuck to the floor as she stares down.

"Rosie. Rosie you have to come." I stand on the other side of the fallen soldier, urging her forward. We're mere steps from the door. She just stares. "Rosie." I tug her so hard she trips over the body.

I push her through the door and out into the school hallway. I shut the door behind me and breathe heavily against it. I can hear the faint sound of gunfire and crunching bones. We don't wait around long. I grab Rosalie's hand once more and pull her down the hallway. We're that much closer to safety.

We turn the corner. The home stretch. And come face to face with a Russian soldier.

Fucking fuck.

I'm staring down the barrel of a submachine gun.

Fuck x3.

"Run."

Rosie doesn't need to hear much more than that. She takes off towards the door, and I can confidently say that she saves my life. The brief distraction of something scurrying past him causes the soldier's finger to slip from the trigger – giving me just enough time to lunge at him.

Elbow to the neck.

Just like Liam taught me.

The soldier falls and his gun does too. It hits the floor and scatters, sliding out of reach along the vinyl composition tile floor. He grabs at me and I grab at him as we scramble forward, both of us trying to reach the gun first.

"R—Rosie!" I can't tell how far she's gotten, but I hear her sneakers against the tile floor. She's stopped. She's heard me.

I don't realize she's come to my rescue until I hear the Russian scream.

I look up.

She's crushed his hand underneath her foot and moved his gun far out of reach.

I untangle myself from him, stand, and unholster my own weapon, focusing it on him. Rosie backs away quickly, but the man doesn't chase her. He rolls onto his back, eyes locking with the gun that's now trained on him. His chest moves rapidly, proving just how hard he's breathing.

"I would've killed you if it wasn't for that bitch," He seethes. When he looks over his shoulder at Rosalie, he receives the middle finger.

"He doesn't love you." The Russian continues. "Your brother doesn't give a shit about you." He tells her.

"He loves me," She says, sounding convinced.

"Tell me what it's like to be unloved."

Rosie stops walking. "Okay," She finally says. "As soon as you tell me what it's like to be dead."

I rest my finger on the trigger as the frightened Russian turns back to me. He holds out a hand. "No, wait—stop. I have a family."

"So do I."

I pull the trigger.

His head snaps back, cracking against the tile floor below.

"And I would do anything and everything to protect mine."

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

"—And then Faith went like, so do I—"

I frown. "Rosie, sweetheart, my voice isn't that deep."

"—And then she went like bam bam and he went like—" Rosalie dramatically flops across her bed, sprawling her legs and body out to resemble the Russian we took care of. She sticks her tongue out the corner of her mouth for added effect.

Liam stands near her bed, arms folded across his chest, fighting an amused expression. Whatever funk the little girl had been in earlier had worn off by nine-thirty that night. Liam looks over at me and laughs.

"I'm proud of both of you. I'm just thankful neither of you got hurt."

"You should be prouder of Faith though!" Rosie slips underneath her princess themed bedspread. "She was a badass."

I smile.

We dealt with the active-shooter incident for the rest of the day. After Rosalie and I cleared the building and she was checked for injures, we waited with the rest of the family for the others to return. Liam led his group out the school, dripping with blood and bruised, but alive. We only lost one soldier.

Every child and teacher were accounted for and reunited with their family.

And body bag, after body bag, after body bag was dragged out the auditorium. The Russians never stood a fucking chance, and their casualties prove that. Not one of Valentin's soldiers walked out of there alive.

"Where's Crixus?" I remember asking Liam.

At the time, he just smiled. "He'll be back."

But Crixus never came back. We all climbed into the vehicles and sped off, but he never came back. We spent the rest of the day in the house, while Liam spent the majority of his on the phone with the LAPD Commissioner and Captain.

"I don't know what you're talking about Rosie." I push myself away from the doorframe and enter the little girl's room. Liam lowers himself to a knee as he scoots to the side of her bed. "You were the real badass."

"I was not." Her voice is soft and unsure as she pulls her blanket up to her neck. "I was..."

I draw myself down to Liam's side. My eyes drift over Rosalie's expression as it darkens. She looks over our shoulders and sighs.

"Scared to die?" Liam assumes.

Rosie's attention whips to him. "No!" She answers too quickly. "No. I'm not scared to die." Her eyes land on me, then her brother. "I either live and stay here with you guys, or I die and get to be with mom and—" She rolls on her side, now closer to us. I can see the emotion in her eyes, and I watch as she swallows nervously. "—y'know. Win-win for me, right?"

Liam's jaw ticks. He isn't appreciative of her answer. "Don't lie to me, king."

"You were scared," I grab her hand. It's ice cold. "Weren't you?"

She slams her head against her pink pillowcase. "Maybe I was, but don't tell Veleno! You can't tell uncle V. Kings can't be scared. King's aren't allowed to be scared."

Liam laughs. "Yeah, we are, kid. I was scared. Scared that I would lose you, and your uncle V may never admit it, but I know he was scared too." He runs a hand over her wild, recently brushed hair, clearing it from her face. "What separates us kings from other people is what we do and how we react to that fear."

"So, I'm still a king?" She wonders out loud.

"Always a king," I confirm with a smile.

"I got you something actually," Liam digs into the pocket of his sweatpants, and pulls necklace that looks like it was fit solely for Rosie's neck. "Faith was telling me what a couple of the Russians said to you—"

"Yeah. They weren't nice." Rosie informs. "One told me that you don't love me, and the other one said that you weren't coming to save me."

He chuckles as he dangles the chain in front of her. She reaches out for it. "They could chain me to the floor and I would still find a way to save you, sweetheart."

Rosalie inspects the gold, heart-shaped locket. She presses a tiny button on the side, and it pops open. It's a picture of a young Rosalie and an even younger Liam Luciano holding her. He's laughing, but not as hard as she is. Her small fingertips brush along the tiny engraving at the top, curvature of the heart. Her eyes fill with tears.

"I wasn't there a lot when you were younger, I know," Liam says quietly, "and I can't take back the years that I missed, but I can give you the ones that I have now." He looks away from her as tears spill out the corner of her eyes. "Can you tell me what the engraving says?"

She nods and wipes at the tears running down her cheeks.

"Ti ameró per sempre."

I'm an emotional mess as Rosie drops the necklace and reaches up, throwing her arms around her brother's neck.

I'm not the best at Italian, but even I can translate this.

I will always love you.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

a/n: happy tears? happy tears.

moment of silence for faith's character development – her and liam will have A TALK since this is the first person she's ever killed (solo i mean) so thaT's gonna take a toll.

according to my calculations, next time we see circus, he will be here to STAY.

i'm absolutely in love with this book i'm so freaking proud i literally love all of these characters so much my heart is full they deserve every ounce of happiness my god thank you guys sm for bringing them to life on our ig chats and q&a's. i love you. so much.

P.S. VELENO TAKING OUT SIX RUSSIANS AND LIAM WALKING ANOTHER'S HEAD DOWN A WALL??? AND CRIXUS BEING HIS NINJA-ASS SELF AND RUNNING ACROSS THE BACK OF CHAIRS LIKE HE'S WALKING ON WATER, ONLY TO STAB THE RUSSIAN HOLDING A GUN IN ROSIE'S FACE???

SOME KINGS ARE JUST BORN MY CHILDREN

some are just born kings