RESEARCH

We often hear the term, secret society. And a lot of us have many concepts about what secret societies entail. I personally have only read a few books with this term being used, and I conducted my own personal research and found that they can be clean, they can be dark, they can be superstitious, and sometimes they can be supernatural.

It honestly varies. I am here to warn you that there are thousands of Secret societies out there, and why you haven't heard of them is because they are well—secret.

Beware, because this will be dark, and you might not agree with several activities these people do, but know that there are people like this in our real world, and they are not to be romanticized.

I will not go deep into it because this is fiction and this is dark romance. I will only touch upon surfaces, and warn you for TW if there are any.

Please note: Not everyone you see wearing black leather gloves are society members in the real world. But if you see one, and they talk to you, and tell you their last name is Conti? Run for the hills, run and never look back, they are not playing with—meh, I don't really care, if I see a society member, wearing black gloves, with beautiful ocean eyes and a book boyfriend worthy face, bye bye sanity, I'm taking that damn ring, and mi own gloves.

Disclaimer: (My warning about the mafia from the first book, remains completely the same.)

Zahra Faizan

Things to keep in mind while reading.

The part titled STREET is the only pov you will get from each STREET member in this book.

The characters aren't perfect.

Development might take time, but it'll eventually happen.

Don't worry, I won't go deep into the real deal that goes down with the real Secret Societies nor the Mafia, this is a book created for your enjoyment.

This book is mature. (In all aspect. Language, sex, violence) Trigger Warnings: Eating disorder, drinking addiction...if there are more, I'll add it as the story progresses.)

Updates will come up Monday, and Friday... there might be occasional surprise updates on Saturdays. (This is not active yet)

I do not condone plagiarism.

This is a DUOLOGY: (The first book is titled 'Elio Marino,' and you must read that first before you read this one.)

Every other significant character in this book, gets their own stories after the Duology is completed.

It is not a slow burn...but I'm not promising an instant reconciliation.

I love comments, so bless me with them.

This is the first draft, so it is not perfect, but I'll try my best to make it readable.

All translations are going to be from Google, as I'm not Spanish, but if you're from Spain, and you're reading this, tell me what needs changing.

I don't bite, stop by on my conversation board and tell me what you think of my book or literally just anything, how your day went or how you're falling for that boy or girl or person, Anything.

If you've successfully read everything above, scream, STREET!

If you're here from Instagram, street group chat, the discord server, the last chapter of the previous book, say hi:

FURTHER BIG SISTER WARNING.

A lot of you ignored my big sister warning in the first book. But here I am again! Warning you that this is rated mature...and it is dark and it might mess you up...I am not responsible for any damage this might cause to your young innocent minds. I am talking to you...yes, you.

If you so wish to continue....

Welcome!

_
ᴢᴀʜʀᴀ ғᴀɪᴢᴀɴ
ɴᴏ ʀᴇsᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ
_

NO UPDATING COMMENCEMENT DATE YET. (THIS CHAPTER WILL BE REPUBLISHED WHEN THERE IS ONE)

Stay tuned to my instagram or discord server to hear first hand when a date is confirmed.

Instagram username is:
therebeccayouknow

Discord server is there on my Wattpad Bio.

This book is dedicated to every reader, commenter, voter, and social media influencers who made this book/story everything that it is today. I love you guys, and hope you find your own book boyfriends, if they don't come naturally, we'll stalk them and make them yours.

"ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴇᴅɪᴛs."

"No Rest For The Wicked."

Zahra Faizan is on the hunt to tame the monsters that prowl the earth day and night. But this was bigger than she anticipated, and she might just need the best heist crew she knows, and the man she loves, to make her mission possible.

A phone call, A vision, Hope, and One final heist.

____

ZAHRA FAIZAN

ZAHRA

ELIO

VITALE

DEVIL

CASMIRO

ANGELO

MILK

UPPER

DOG

WELL, WELCOME BACK!

HOW IS EVERYONE? LET'S CATCH UP!

A LITTLE NOTE: THE UPDATES WILL BE SPONTANEOUS AS I CAN NOT BE COMMITTED TO A SCHEDULE AT THIS TIME! If you follow my Instagram, you will see that ELIO MARINO is in the process of getting traditionally published. This new opportunity comes with a lot of revisions that take up most of my time, so I will not be as focused as I was on the first book!

THIS IS A LIFE-CHANGING experience for me, and it would not have been possible without you guys!

I haven't been asked to take down the Wattpad versions of this series, but I will let you know before that action is taken.

With all this said! DON'T FORGET TO VOTE AND COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT LIKE THE NEXT UPDATE DEPENDS ON IT. IT ACTUALLY DOES! I SEE EXCITEMENT, AND I'M MORE COMPELLED TO SQUEEZE IN TIME! THE COMMENTS ON THE CHARACTER AESTHETIC CHAPTER THREW ME AWAY AND I SAID, HELL NO! I CAN TAKE OUT TWO DAYS TO WRITE THIS FIRST PART!

So, I do hope you enjoy this chapter!

_______
ELIO
_______

*Hours after Zahra was shot*

IT WAS replaying.

Over and over again in my head. The sound of the gun going off, the vibration of the weapon against our grips, the soft and shuddery sound of her gasp, my name on her lips—incomplete. Her eyes had closed before she could speak it. Her body had gone limp in my arms before I could process it, and her heart—her heart, for a moment, had stopped beating. I heard nothing, felt nothing.

All I saw was red.

Blood—her blood had been everywhere, all over my hands, my clothes, my face, her face, her body; I was blinded by the color, overwhelmed by the smell of gunpowder, irritated by the sticky thickness of the blood bathing us—of her blood bathing us.

I pressed my eyelids tight, my grip hard on the sink, trying and failing to tame the emotions warring inside me.

Dragging in a breath, I held it and let it out seconds later before opening my eyes and watching my reflection.

Shirtless with blood stains around my neck, my eyes looked haunted—a look that mirrored the exact way I felt. My gaze dropped to the necklace dangling around my neck, the one she had gifted me on my birthday, one I'd appreciated but couldn't remember appreciating.

Zahra.

I dropped my head and swallowed tightly, removing my hands from both sides of the sink; hands...recently washed off her blood, shook fervently, my veins were pronounced, and there was a buzz centering from my wrists to the tip of my pale fingers, almost like my body had stopped supplying blood to my hands, a punishment I deserved.

It was all my fault. Mine. It didn't matter who pulled the trigger or who held the gun. All that mattered was that I was there, I was present, and it happened. I shot her.

I folded my hands into fists.

Anger at myself washed my senses out of rationality. I wasn't breathing normally; neither was I thinking normally.

My mind replayed it. Her body violently lifting from the bed as they tried to shock her heart back alive. Over and over again.

The sound of the defibrillator before it met with her chest, the pain from how hard I had clenched my jaw, watching the whole scene without a single thought or expression. I knew she would come back. She was stronger than that. She was Zahra, capable of anything, everything, and more.

A mere bullet to the chest was nothing when it came to her.

My better half was a survivor. She wouldn't stop being one now.

I prayed she wouldn't stop.

I was proven right when we got a pulse. My boldness didn't stop me from letting out a breath of relief, feeling like a whole nation had left my shoulders. It took everything in me not to double over in relief.

I didn't know how scared I was until the straight line left the heart monitor, and her heart started beating again.

I didn't know how much I needed this woman until I almost lost her.

***

*Three weeks after*

Zahra had entered into a coma.

The uncertainty of her recovery plagued me fiercely day and night. I lost focus on many things. She came first, and everything else came second—even Elia, who hadn't left my side through the ordeal. 

It came to my notice two weeks ago that STREET had separated. Elia claimed not to know their whereabouts. Or if they knew about Zahra's condition.

I wasn't the least bothered.

Zahra was my priority.

"Hey," Casmiro's voice had me raising my head as I swallowed the whiskey I had just taken in. I nodded lightly in response. "I wanted to talk to you about the meetings with—"

"I told you not to bother me about work." I downed the remaining content in the glass, swallowing and refilling it again.

"Elio, it's been weeks. I think it's time to deal with the aftermath of this whole shit."

I sighed, dropping my glass on the counter as I turned and kept my eyes on him for almost a minute before leaving the bar area, shoving my hands into my pants pocket, walking past him, and saying, "Leave." Without waiting to see what he'd do next.

"How long will this go on for?" He called out when I neared the door, "She's going to die." He blurted, and I froze away from pulling the door open.

I heard him sigh. "Listen, E, I know you don't want to hear this, but she's done. We're only wasting precious time."

I gritted, trying my best to keep my anger at bay. "Do you now have the ability to tell when someone would live or die?"

"She is not responding to treatments. The doctors say there is a very slim possibility she would survive this. They have done all they could."

"Then let her catch up. Do not kill her before she dies. I do not want to speak of this with you anymore." I placed my hand on the knob of the door, twisting it.

"She deserves it." He spoke again, stopping me. "She is supposed to be dead because she betrayed us. She betrayed you. Do you even know who she is? This was all a ploy; you were nothing but a pawn in her fucking game Elio; she's a fucking cunt who would—"

I turned, charging towards him with a wave of blinding anger that raged from the pit of my stomach as I slammed my fist into his jaw, sending him straight to the ground.

He held the side of his face, disbelief and anger shining in his eyes.

"Watch your fucking mouth, Valerio."

He glared, his breathing ragged as he got to his feet. "This is how it is now?" he questioned. "You hit me for a fucking woman?"

"My fucking woman." I seethed. "Disrespect her again, and I forget every relationship I share with you and your family. Do not push me."

His nostrils flared, jaw clenching and unclenching as he straightened his suit and walked past me, out the door without another word.

__

*A month after*

Zahra had been fixed on life support after almost dying.

That night marked the most stressful night I'd ever had to go through. I heard no new update in hours, and even after the updates came informing me she had been fixed on life support, I was spiraling.

I still had no control over the situation. This was beyond my capability; talking, sleeping, and reading beside her while she remained unresponsive did nothing to pull her back.

I had contemplated for weeks about going to the church within the compound, knowing I wasn't welcomed there, not after that fire, not when the building had been rebuilt and refurnished.

But I was losing hope, and even though the higher powers had never once answered my prayers, I was stepping into the church like I did 15 years ago.

I didn't go further towards the altar. I couldn't. My heart was already hammering. A twinge of fear was already settling, and I found a pew far back from the altar to sit. My feelings were conflicted. The energy in this space was heavy. As heavy as it had always been, but something about it made my burden feel twice as much as it had been. Guilt was pulling me under.

It felt like someone was watching me, waiting for me to speak.

But I didn't utter a word. My throat felt tight, my mouth felt sore, and my whole body didn't agree with my surroundings. I was too overwhelmed, too scared to speak. I wasn't ready to be back in here. I didn't deserve to be back in here. My prayers did not deserve to be answered.

I shot up from the pew and exited the church, taking in a lung full of air.

My mother might have once found comfort within the four walls of this church, but it didn't erase the fact that she had also spent her last moment in this same church.

I was still unstable. I still had nightmares. I skipped therapy. I missed hours of self-realization. I was drowning in loss. And I was drowning fast.

***

*Two months after*

Nothing changed.

I put Elia in charge of several affairs I would have loved to see through.

To my surprise, he was brilliant regarding legal state affairs. We had similar ideas and problem-solving skills. Sitting with him and discussing areas I'd like him to focus on were the best three hours I had in the past two months.

I didn't want him near the business, but he had offered to help with the little things he knew I couldn't focus on. So I had him working with Casmiro and Angelo while I alternated between therapy, which I never indeed attended as frequently as I should, and Zahra, who I couldn't stay away from.

The doctors attending to her had once approached me with the option of taking her off life support to see how she does, but the risk of actually losing her from that process made me refuse.

I couldn't lose her.

I won't.

It was only a matter of time; no matter how long it would take to wait for her to get up and breathe independently, I'd wait.

I'd wait for this woman through anything. I just needed her to realize that it was okay to wake up. I wasn't angry, I wouldn't let anyone hurt her, I didn't care that she pointed a gun at me, I didn't care that she betrayed me, it didn't matter, neither did it tweak my feelings for her. It was still there; she still occupied the space she held in my heart, which was enlarging with each passing day I didn't get to hear her speak to me, or laugh, or curse at me each day I didn't get to see her smile, feel her warmth, her kisses, and her touch.

I longed for her more than I'd ever longed for anything.

I needed to make her understand that.

If only she would just wake up. If not for anything, but for me.

***

*Three months after*

Zahra disappeared.

No trace. No evidence of her being moved. No noise.

I left her side for just two hours—two hours, and she disappeared the same way night disappears when morning appears.

Not even a flicker of an idea as to what might have happened. No CCTV camera picked up anything.

I was confused. I was angry.

I raged, I killed, I punished, and I searched and searched.

Three, two, four, five months. 

Nothing.

She was just...gone. She ceased to exist. I had lost the only reason I was living.

I had lost Zahra.

And it was all my fault.

__

Thanks for reading!

what did you think of this chapter?

How did Zahra leave the Marino compound? do you think she had help? if you think so, who do you think help move her?

Did you miss these characters as much as I missed them?

Who's ready to dive into all the 'FORMER' STREET members' POVs in the next chapter?

I KNOW I'M EXCITED!

WHO ARE YOU MOST EXCITED TO SEE?

Random question: What were you doing before you saw this update, and how did you feel when it popped up!

Till the next one! See you!

HIYA EVERYONE!

Been a long minute! 

I wanted to address something real quick before we start this chapter! while I love that you guys love this story so much, and you are very vocal about it, I want to please ask that you don't spam me with dms asking for updates. It is not as though I have the chapters and I'm holding off from updating to torture you guys. I AM NOT. 

Right now, I don't have the luxury of time as I once used to. I have strict deadlines, and so many behind the scenes work I'm doing. I leaped at my career as an author, and this leap comes with a lot of my time. Hence, why you won't see an update until I have time to write one.

Please be patient with me, and keep in mind that there will come a time when this whole series will be taken off Wattpad because of publishing. As I said last time, I don't know when this will happen, but it will happen.

I love you guys so much, but the update requests from every angle had me feeling like Zahra when Dog kept calling her name while she was trying to focus on stopping a bomb. 

Anyhooooooo, without further adooooooooo, hope you enjoy this update, and don't forget to vote and comment as you read!

enjoy!

__

Milk (Penelope)

New York, Queens: 7 months after Zahra's disappearance

THE URGE to snap to my feet and tell this man to leave me alone was as strong as the effect of the coffee on my grip.

I suppressed a groan, watching him scarf down his breakfast while I shook my head with a frown.

"So, Penelope," He started. "You think about it yet?" he asked, wiping the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. "I found a client willing to buy the establishment; all you just gotta do is say the word."

"Why don't you listen to a word I say, Mr. Kim? The store is fine, I'm fine, I'm doing okay. You checked the books; we're doing better than I expected going into this."

He nodded. "I know, Pen, that's why selling now is advisable. How long can you sustain your capital? You're a young woman, and there's nowhere else you're getting money from, as far as I'm aware? You have to repay the loan you used for the start-up. If you sell now, you can repay the loan and still have enough to fend for yourself for a while."

I blew a breath, looking around the breakfast place we were at; the sound of chattering and the ambiance from the busy streets of Queens calmed the annoyance brewing inside me.

I looked back at the man; his dark hair was well trimmed, and his suit was rough like he hadn't gotten the time to properly iron it before rushing out this morning.

He met my gaze. "You have to consider this, Penelope. Now's the only time you can sell. It's a new year, and many deals are closing. We're fortunate to find this client; no one would pay such a prize for your establishment further into the year."

I sighed, rubbing the side of my head to ease off the stress-causing headaches. Mr. Kim had been the guidance I needed a year ago when I moved to New York with my dreams on my sleeves. He found a busy space to start my salon, beauty, and spa place. We had even expanded later on to an exclusive store that sold only designer wear and branded products the market loved.

I was huge. I had a strong team working with me. I had friends, a new life, and a fresh start-up.

Though I might have lied to him that I burrowed a considerable loan to start the business, I had no way of explaining to the man that I had millions of gold bars under my name in a bank vault somewhere. I didn't think he would be on my neck now, asking me to sell due to the risk of a fallout.

I dropped the coffee cup and leveled him with a stare. "I am fine, honestly, I don't want to sell. The business is thriving. Besides, I already paid off the loan."

He stopped eating almost immediately. A deep frown dragged his brows down. "What?"

"I paid it off. I worked my ass off, and I paid the loan. My next move is to buy the building; you also don't have to worry about that. I am already in contact with the property owner."

Now he looked pissed. "When were you planning to tell me all this?"

"I didn't need to tell you, Mr. Kim. This is my business. I appreciate all the help you have given me so far. I have even paid you generously for it, and like I said the last time we spoke, I truly do not need your help anymore. I'm sure you have better things to do and bigger clients to attend to. I can take it from here."

He relaxed back on his booth. "So that's it?"

"That's it."

"You're not gonna pay me off?"

I gasped. "I already paid you, Mr. Kim. What more do you want?"

His jaw clenched. "I have been burning hours trying to find you a client that would give you a damn good deal; I deserve compensation for that."

"I never told you I wanted to sell. You did all of that on your own."

"Still. I deserve something." He leaned in now, eyes hard. "If it weren't for me, you would have been lost and cheated and duped out of all the loans you got. I helped you. I deserve a payoff."

I resisted the urge to tell him that he wasn't the only agent in the whole of fucking New York as I whipped out my phone, fingers bashing the screen for a few minutes before a chime went off on his phone, and he frowned, pulling it out of his pocket as he checked the screen.

His eyes went very wide, and he started choking on air. "What the—"

"Is that enough to get you the fuck out of my life?"

"One—one million dollars?" he wheezed out, still staring at his screen.

I got to my feet, grabbing my bag and sunglasses from the table. "This should be the last I see or hear from you, Mr. Kim. Our business is done."

His head snapped up, eyes blinking rapidly in bewilderment. "Where—where the hell did you get this kind of money?"

I allowed my gaze to train directly to his as I smiled and said softly, "I stole it." I slid on the sunglasses and left the gaping man behind as I stepped out of the store to where my car was parked.

Settling inside the car, I removed the sunglasses, slipped them into my bag, and breathed to calm myself.

I counted down from five to one, pride filling me.

I did that.

I just told Mr. Kim off and shut him up with money that didn't leave a dent in my bank account.

"I am cool," I said to myself as I set my phone on the dash to charge and turned the rearview mirror to my face, arranging my red hair, "Cool, beautiful, bold Penelope Canavan," I said, getting my emergency lip gloss from the console and applying it.

When I was satisfied, I reset the rearview mirror, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking spot into the road, turning on the speakers and blasting songs from my phone.

I had a lot planned today—first, a short visit to my company and then Malia's baby shower. I couldn't miss that. Malia had been an enormous support when I first started my business. We were close friends, not as close as Sharon and I, but we got along well.

Sharon was my assistant, friend, and well—soul sister. We bonded the first time we had seen each other at a beauty store and talked non-stop about everything and anything. We met Malia through a mutual friend of Sharon's, and a month ago, we all had a girl's week with Gemma, who had flown from Italy to attend. Those were days I would never forget.

We had another trip planned, but we were all waiting for Malia to have her baby, rest, and recover so we could have a week with literally no limit.

I looked forward to that.

My phone lit up, and the ringing tone cut through the car's speakers. I glanced at it to see that it was an unknown number.

Frowning, I clicked accept.

"Hello?" I said, wondering if Sharon had given out my number to one of her male friends—

"Hi, Milk,"

I pressed my foot on the brake pedal, and the car halted immediately, jerking me forward.

A loud honk resounded from behind my car as the vehicle swerved by me, their middle finger right out their window as they cursed my poor driving skills.

But this wasn't my poor driving skill...this was my heart pounding, and my thoughts and mind and time coming to a complete stop at the familiar voice that filled the confinement of my car.

"I hope I didn't cause an accident, the honks and all."

I blinked and blinked and then blinked again, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Are you alive? Half dead? Because I can hear breathing...it's sounding a bit labored and—"

"How did you get my number?"

"Oh, you're okay." She sounded relieved. "How are you? It has been a while."

A year.

A year since we had last seen each other. Seven months since she disappeared.

Seven months of everyone thinking she was dead.

"Are you—"

"How did you get this number? What do you want from me?"

There was a short pause. "I had some experts fish it out for me; it didn't take too much work—"

"What do you want?"

She sighed. "I was...I was hoping we could catch up first before I—"

"Please just...tell me what you want; I have to hang up soon." My voice shook, but it was still sharp.

"All right. I uh...I wouldn't have called so suddenly. But I had no other choice." It went silent between us before she spoke again. "I need your help."

***

Upper (Archie)

England, Birmingham: 7 months after Zahra's disappearance

I SAT slumped at the dining table as Danika, one of my housemates, sled a plate filled with pancakes and a glass of orange juice in front of me.

"Thank—you," I said while stifling a yawn. "God, I'm so tired."

"That's what happens when you stay up all night catching up on coursework." Taylor, another housemate, slapped my back, not too forcefully, as he took the seat beside me, and Danika sled his own plate to him. "Thanks, smells delicious."

"Weren't you supposed to resume physical lectures this week?" Danika asked.

"Last week," Taylor answered for me with his mouth full.

"What happened? Having second thoughts?" Danika sat opposite me, a plate in front of her.

The pancakes actually tasted good, but like always, they were missing something. "I'm not having second thoughts," I said after swallowing. "I just haven't had the time for it. I've been busy with...stuff."

"What stuff?" She asked, and I could feel Taylor's eyes on me, waiting for my response.

I met them while searching for a moderate apartment that didn't scream, 'I had too much money than I should have.'

They didn't have enough money, and I didn't want to live alone, so I told them I was renting a 5-room apartment, and they could pay me quarterly the amount they would have had to pay monthly until they decided to move out.

At first, they thought I was joking or pulling a fast one on them, but I reassured them that I didn't want to live alone and I needed a big spaced apartment. I also had Rita and Jared. Rita was mainly at her boyfriend's and planned to move in with him next year, and Jared was either sleeping in, at the frat house, out for a run, at basketball practice, or a friend's.

They all went to Aston University, where I also schooled online, trying to go physical—but I still doubted that decision. I couldn't afford to be seen or tracked further than I already had been.

"Just stuff," I shrugged.

"Sitting in your room, writing essays or playing video games?" Taylor asked.

"You don't know how serious these essays are. They require full attention." I said.

"You study computer science." Danika pointed out. "Sure, they'd be essays, but not as much as me, who takes creative writing."

"Well—I study things in other places too. It gets a little... hectic."

Taylor scoffed. "The day I understand what goes on in that mind of yours is the day I tell everyone I'm actually adopted and my father is some washed-up actor no one remembers—ow."

I just knew Danika had kicked him from underneath the table.

"It's okay, Archie," She said softly. "whatever your reason for stalling is, I hope you figure it out."

I smiled at her. "Thanks, Dani."

The front door opened, and I lifted my head to see Jared's tall, broad figure walking in with his gaze focused on the mail in his grip; he was wearing his jogging gear.

"Archie, you uh...got mail from...the royal—"

I shot up from the table, rushed towards him, snatched the mail from his hand, and dashed back to my room, slamming the door shut and bolting it.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, how the fuck did they find my address?"

I went to my shredding machine, and without opening the mail, I shoved the envelope inside as the shredding sounds filled the space, calming my anxiety.

I breathed, falling back on the wall as I closed my eyes. "Bloody hell."

My family had been trying every single means to get me back. My father had reached out; my stepmother had hired a private investigator; my uncle, who had never once smiled at me, had been trying to involve the media, even my bloody terrifying fucking aunt, whose name I still did not know how to pronounce.

I was confused, disturbed, uncomfortable, and beyond frustrated.

Something must have gone wrong, and they probably wanted me to fill the shoes of my stepbrother, but hell, if I'm ever going back there.

I was beginning to start my life again after everything that happened a year ago; I was moving on, getting on my feet despite how hard it had been for me, how broken I had been for months, hearing what had happened to Zahra, and how she had disappeared.

Lord knows I had tried to locate her, but there had been nothing—no clues as to where she might have been or who had taken her; she was just gone, disappeared from the face of the earth.

Gone for so long, I'd even mourned her death because I knew she had many enemies and anyone could have taken her in that state...it had been a truly tough time, but then I had moved on from that too.

I'd made my peace with it and had only started living again.

Until that phone call from my father.

Everything turned upside fucking down, and I was spending my time making myself a ghost once more, blocking the media from displaying anything about me; I was doing so much work and was slowly going mad with it.

I jerked upright and opened my eyes when my phone started blaring.

"Oh God, please," I whined, the urge to cry biting at my insides as bile gathered in my throat.

I dreadfully picked up the phone, not even having the strength to investigate why it said an unknown caller or which of my family members was on the line. I was pissed, I was angry, and I was in a shit mood, and all these emotions mean the same bloody thing, and I hate my life because of all the terrible people in it.

Whoever this fucker was, they were about to get a piece of my mind.

I forcefully slid to answer and placed the phone against my ear. "Now you listen and listen very fucking bloody good because I will not repeat it. Stop. Calling. Me, stop stalking me and sending me mails and making my life a living bloody hell because you might run me into a mental institution at this rate, and I do not like mental institutions because they have a certain nauseating smell that just follows you everywhere so please, please, leave me alone, I don't have any interest in ruling or being a part of the family, I don't want you guys back, do you not know when someone doesn't like you anymore? Please stop calling before I result in assassination because I can. I can get on the bloody dark web and find some sicko who just wants to waste royal people for no reason at all and trust me; they are many. You don't want that, do you? I have—"

"Upper, please breathe,"

"—bad connections in many places that would love a chance to put wait—Upper?" I stopped my rambling immediately, taking a chance to breathe.

"This is Zahra, Hi. I seem to have caught you at a bad time."

"What?" I was confused...it felt like my head was suddenly empty.

"Yeah...Hi...I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't ask this right now, but are there truly people out there who would actually just want to kill royal people for no reason?"

I blinked. "I...I mean, yeah? I guess...what? Who...who is this again?"

"It's Zahra...Faizan, dark hair, freckles, thief Zahra, Short woman Zahra,"

It was her voice, and I was speechless. I knew she was never confirmed dead, but...what the hell?

"Are you there?"

"I don't know what to say."

"Totally understandable; I sneaked in like four shots of some brandy in my locker before I pressed the call button; it's crazy, now I'm chugging down water so I don't have liquor breath because he can't perceive it. If he does, I'd get another lecture, and I'm not in the mood for another lecture, you know. Or you don't." She sighed, "Fuck, I'm sorry, I had no reason to say all that. I called for another reason, actually."

Just because I didn't know how to lead with all she had just said, I put it behind me. "It's all right; what up?"

Was that too casual? Should I even be asking? Why am I asking that when I should ask basic questions like—You're not dead? Where the fuck have you been? How did you get my number?

"I know this might seem forward and insensitive after everything that went down, but I need your help."

***

Devil (Elia)

Italy, Milan: 7 months after Zahra's disappearance

THE MAN, playing with his ten-year-old daughter at the park, wearing a grey polo and jean pants, would die tomorrow, at 9:56 AM from a heart attack in his office, which stood three buildings away from the coffee shop I currently sat at, watching them.

He looked like a decent enough guy, but he must have pissed off some really bad guys along the way, and now he would die for it.

Cause: Association with people he wasn't supposed to be associated with.

Did I feel bad?

For him, no...but for his kid, yes. She would be made fatherless tomorrow, and a guy sitting at the coffee shop not too far from her would be responsible.

I had resumed my business as E2, it was now more under wraps than it had been before, seeing as Elio's eyes watched me like a hawk twenty-four fucking seven, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he plucked out the reason why I randomly disappeared at night or most times, at noon.

I knew he had initially tried to give me my privacy, but then I had left and hadn't returned three days straight, blocking all connections to avoid a compromised mission. You could have guessed how that went down with Elio.

He had been calm while he told me to get the fuck out of our house; although he didn't use that language, he was surprisingly polite about it. He told me how he had wasted resources and wouldn't like to do that in the near future, so he would like me to leave if I wasn't going to tell him why I had disappeared.

Of course, I had tried to dish out a lie or two, but he would stare at me and tell me to my face that he knew it was a lie.

It was annoying and made things extra difficult for me. Still, thankfully, Angelo was around to help me talk to him, and I was later asked to apologize and even had to write a statement that if I randomly disappeared, I should stay gone.

I was getting on his nerves, and he was getting on mine, but our relationship had improved, I wouldn't lie. He was there for me—too there for me—and I was also there for him.

For instance, we had just returned from his therapy session, and I had convinced him to stop by a coffee shop where we could wait for Alizea, his friend who was returning from a short visit to Gran Louisa, who had been her patient for almost five months now.

About six months ago, Gran Louisa had fallen very ill. It had been a devastating time for Elio and mostly Gemma. Honestly, none of us thought she was going to make it through, and Gemma had already started funeral plans based on Gran Louisa's request in wanting to know and be involved with the plans.

If someone else didn't know Gran Louisa like we did, they would have thought she was excited to die.

She probably was.

Based on his therapist's recommendation, Elio had gotten the best doctor for her.

Doctor Alizea Moloi came at a high price, but she knew what she was doing. Gran Louisa had gotten back on her feet after Alizea stepped in.

Along the way, she became close friends with Elio. I had suspected something more was going on because they had a one-month vacation recently, where they traveled around. I had accompanied them for the last week of the holiday because Elio had sent for me.

When I arrived, I noticed a change in my brother; he seemed calmer, less overbearing, and sometimes, acted odd and out of character. I couldn't tell if it was pretense, and I also couldn't tell if he had taken up his new painting hobby as a form of stress relief or as a way to impress Alizea, but I was glad he was doing a little better.

He had been a total mess after Zahra's disappearance.

My brother had spiraled; he had become so...dark in his dealings. Scared the fuck out of me for months, but then Gran Louisa's issue came up, and it grounded him a bit; then came Alizea, who I knew helped pull him out of his own shadow.

Although...while I didn't like to notice these little flaws in his 'new' character, I did.

Sometimes...hell, just yesterday, he had stunned me, Casmiro, and Angelo with a final decision to a mission that had resulted in a blood bath while he had stood and watched with that damn cigar burning away on his lips after the casualties that could have been avoided.

I had watched him slip on his glasses. His face was totally void of emotion as he returned to the car he had arrived in and simply drove off.

Angelo had been disappointed, Casmiro stressed; I was angry because I knew I would return to our new place outside the compound, and he would pretend to be all kind and changed and fucking confusing.

Speak of the devil, I straightened and turned off the AirPods in my ear, cutting off my music when he settled back opposite me with two cups of coffee in his grip. He set one in front of me and held on to the other.

Our dress sense was the same: black on black. While I was wearing a black Henley shirt and jeans, he wore a black turtle neck sweater and black slacks. Then again—it's all he ever wears.

Then again, I'd admired my brother's ways of doing most things since I was little...when I wished to be exactly like him.

He didn't say anything about the copying if he'd noticed it.

"What does sex on legs mean?" he asked suddenly, and I paused with a frown.

"What?"

"Sex on legs," he repeated. "I was called that by the woman in pink. I heard her whisper it to her friend. What does it mean?"

I blinked at him, wondering how the fuck I was going to answer that question. "Uh...It's like a...I don't know, sexual term to—appreciate the physic of someone?"

He nodded slowly. "I see." He said, drinking from his cup. "Did Alizea call to tell you when she would be here?"

"Not yet, but she shouldn't be long."

"Good." He flexed his neck muscles. "I have burnt all social energy for today, and I have more important work than sitting outside. Doing nothing."

I was about to respond when my phone rang out. I checked to see that it was an unknown number.

I frowned, glancing at Elio, who had picked up his phone, fingers typing on the screen, paying me no mind.

Looking at the phone again, I diverted the call to voicemail and turned on my AirPods.

The voice that came in had me freezing.

"Hi, Devil. I know you are listening. This is Zahra. I'll make this number available so you can call me back when you get this..." There was a slight pause and a soft sigh. "I need your help."

Then the mail ended.

I sat still, staring at my phone with a completely blank mind, unable to comprehend the voice that had just spoken to me.

"Should I be concerned?" Elio's voice had me flinching, and I looked up. His eyes were still on the phone. "You suddenly went pale," he said, then raised his head. "Who was that?"

I shook my head, drinking three large gulps of the coffee as I said in the most disinterested way I could pull off. "No one important."

He raised a brow, gaze dropping to my phone before lifting back to me—and as usual, I couldn't read whatever thought might have crossed his mind. It always had a way of putting me on edge.

But thankfully, he didn't comment further, and I was left with my mind replaying that voicemail repeatedly.

***

Dog (Reagan)

Washington, D.C.: 7 months after Zahra's disappearance

"DETECTIVE REAGAN," I flashed my badge at the MPD officer. "With the feds," I said, slipping the badge inside my jacket. "What are we looking at?"

The officer, a blonde-haired man with an angry face, scrutinized me with an irritated expression as his gaze shifted behind me to see the agent I had accompanied—the agent that was my partner—speaking to some officers right outside, along with Holly, our on-scene forensic agent, and then brought his gaze back to me.

"You think I won't know a training badge when I see one, detective?"

I sighed, exasperated, "I just knew, from the blonde hair and the uneven eyebrows, that you were the 'I stick to the protocols like there's a stick up my ass' kinda cop."

"Excuse me—"

"Training badge, real badge? What's the fucking difference. We all wanna find the bad guy and put someone behind bars, right..." I looked at his tiny name tag. "Harris?"

"Okay!" my partner's voice filled the space as he walked up to us, climbing up the porch with Holly, who swiftly walked by and inside the house with a camera. My partner placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled me back a little with a hard squeeze. "I'm Detective Butcher. Reagan, here is my trainee." He introduced. "Officers there said you were in charge?"

With one last irritated sweep my way, the cop looked at Butcher, outstretching his hands for a handshake. "Agent Harris, MPD assistant director, district five."

Oh shit.

"Your people say we are looking at a double homicide," Butcher said as they both walked into the house toward the crime scene, ignoring me as I followed behind, my eyes taking in the man and woman, all bloodied up, pale, and very fucking dead.

"Yes," Agent Harris responded, "We got called up this morning; ghastly sight, this one."

My eyes took in the man who had been stripped naked, with duct tape on his crotch, as if someone tried to hold off the bleeding from his penis, which had been cut off. Multiple stab wounds littered his chest—someone had been hard at it with him.

Looking over at the woman beside him, her eyes were wide open and lifeless, and her mouth was opened too—I tilted my head to the side a little—the man's cut-off dick had been shoved down her throat, the tip peeking out of her mouth.

She also had multiple stab wounds, bruises on her wrists, ankles, left cheek, and a handprint around her neck.

I crouched down with a frown, checking the fingernails of both the victims. They had been pried off.

Holly took a picture, crouching opposite me as she mumbled. "To think the person who did this is still roaming around,"

"A lot of fucked up people in this world," I muttered.

"That's Richard and Valerie Stoneman," Agent Harris spoke. "This was called in by their kid, only 13. Said the intruder had locked him in. Could hear the screams."

"Poor kid," Holly said.

I looked to my right, through the window of the house, and I could see the kid sitting at the back of a truck, a towel around his shoulders, as he spoke to another agent.

I looked back at the bodies. "This was clearly a crime of passion," I said aloud.

"And you would know that how?" Harris asked in a condescending tone. I glanced at Butcher, and he gave me a slight nod to carry on.

"The victims had clearly known the killer, or maybe one of them did." I pointed to the stab wounds on their bodies. "These were done without precision. It almost looks vengeful, like they were screaming or yelling while they stabbed,"

Harris scoffed, "You guessed all that because the stab wounds are all over the place?"

"Trust him; he's rarely wrong," Butcher defended, and Harris kept quiet as I continued.

"The bruises around Valerie's wrist and ankle show she'd been tied up...not with a rope. Telling from the sharpness of the bruise, it had been a zip tie—I'm guessing stainless steel ones. She was made to watch her husband get tortured," I said, looking over the bodies again and then around the torn-apart living room.

A dining chair was in the middle, shattered with a long rope by the side. One leg of the chair was bloodied and carelessly thrown in the corner.

We might have found our killer.

"Valerie had been tied up on that chair; she broke free after her husband's penis had been cut off; she had attacked the killer somehow and stabbed him with that chair leg. The killer had probably gotten furious, attacked her, swung the stick to the side, hit her—telling from the bruise on her cheek—and then when she'd probably fallen, The killer had shoved her husband's cock—I mean Penis, in her mouth. She had been strangled, too, I can't be sure until we get an autopsy, but she might have been raped, her dress is torn, and there had been a little struggle. The rug is rumpled.

The killer had duck taped Richard's crotch to still the bleeding, probably to make it all last longer, then he tortured them, Stabbed him to death first, and then her.

Final guess. The killer had been a man. I can't be sure about that either, but with all I can see...I know it's someone they know. Did we do any instant background check?"

I asked, looking up at Harris.

All he did was blink at me, but Holly answered. "One of the cops outside said Valerie's ex-husband had been released from prison about a month ago, but he lives in another continent entirely." She said, getting up from her crouched position. "We'll get the evidence sampled and see what we can dig up."

"Thanks, Holly," I said, and she nodded with a smile that said good job before walking out of the house.

My phone vibrated in my jacket, and I fished for it.

An unknown number was calling, and my heart skipped a beat as my mind worked ahead of me.

If it was the contact from the CIA, I'd been trying to score an audience with for months—

I shot to my feet, glancing at Butcher and Harris. "Gotta take this, I'll be back."

I stepped out onto the porch, accepting the call with my heart in my throat. "Reagan,"

"Hello, Dog,"

I frowned, stopping short at the familiar voice...and the name they'd call me.

"Who is this?"

"Zahra,"

What the actual fuck?

I stepped further away from the house. My frown hardened, and my stomach dipped as I clenched my jaw, looking around as if anyone could be listening in, and it would be a crime if they heard her voice or heard me speaking to her.

Although, I was disappointed that it wasn't the call I so badly wanted to receive—and somehow, that made me angrier.

"Zahra, who?" I asked, feigning cluelessness.

"The one you know,"

"Yeah, I don't know any Zahra. Have a good day," I moved to end the call.

"If you end the call now, you end every chance you could ever get to speak to Tora Vukovic."

The blood in my veins ran cold, and I froze.

Tora Vukovic had been the name I'd gotten every time I'd made inquiries about the CIA agent my father had done close business with; he'd been his partner and chief, and he probably was the only person alive who knew what happened to my parents. But the man was a ghost; I had spent so much money trying to contact him, speak to him, even if it was a phone call.

But nothing came forth, and I was beginning to get very frustrated.

And now this fucking—

"You're still on the call; good choice," her voice remained hard as still, a match to how I'd answered her.

I flexed and unflexed my fist. "What the fuck do you want, Faizan?"

"Your help. And you will give it if you ever want to discover what happened to your parents." She said, "Are we speaking the same language?"

I locked my jaw, swallowing hard and biting back a snare before speaking. "What do you need my help with?"

***

Zahra Faizan

Sicily

I DROPPED the phone carefully, watching the black screen as my fingers tapped and tapped on the table, replaying all the conversations in my head. I knew Dog would be the toughest nut to crack. That was why I didn't spare him any pleasantries.

Hitting the nail on the head was always a perfect route to take when dealing with people who would rather have you buried six feet under than alive.

I threw my head back and exhaled. "Fucking hell, Zahra"

The door to Maniero de Diavolo's study (Devil's Mansion: name credit to Martino Conti, who had thought the name a clever title for his mansion) opened without a knock, and Vitale strolled in, eyes going to the table to land on my phone. "You made the calls yet?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"It went very Awesome; tears were shed, alongside a lot of I love yous and can't wait to see yous," I said dryly.

Paying no mind to my sarcasm, Vitale pulled the chair opposite me and took his seat. "Did you call him?"

A slight coil in my stomach tightened, and I released a breath as the coil danced painfully up my chest, where a new scar had made a home.

"I can't call him Vit. I'm not that insensitive. He will be at the event, so I'll...I'll speak to him then."

Vitale nodded. "And your friends, do you think they'll show?"

I relaxed back on the chair, lifted my shoulder, and dropped it. "We'll have to wait and see." 

__

Thanks for reading!

Whose POV was your favorite? 

Do you think they'll all show?

Are you ready for the actual first chapter? 

Random question: Where do you see yourself in a year? 

Till the next update! see ya!

Hi again!

How are you!!!

I saw a comment on the e.marinoencyclopedia page today, where someone manifested an update on Elio's birthday! It touched me, and I sat down and let down my priority project to put this one out for you guys!

Thank you for sticking with me!

Don't forget to comment as you read! I love hearing your thoughts and I've been seeing some new commenters too! I'm starting my chapter dedications again! I'll be dedicating chapters to random readers I find in the comment section! Don't forget to vote as you read!

Enjoy the update!

_______
ELIO
_______

STANDING IN front of the full-length window, I watched the afternoon fall into the evening; the golden hour sun painted the city in golden yellows and orange, the color that intensified at the lit end of my cigar when I sucked in the smoke, letting it out and watching from above, how effortlessly the cars flew by.

These days, my life had been a series of standing, watching, waiting, smoking, sitting, eating, watching, reading, repeating...it was tiring—no matter what I did, I couldn't fill that gaping hole in my chest.

The hole reminded me how much I was missing something that had once occupied that space.

I was sad half of the time—most of the time—if I was being honest.

I lacked the zeal to do many things. I lacked drive. Passion. I was too empty, too...bland, and it was beginning to affect my reasoning. I was starting to get irritated, and when I get irritated, many people get affected—some worse than others.

Due to this irritation, I began seeking a change. Something different, something that could keep my attention, keep me interested, keep me on my feet and working.

Activities.

I wanted to occupy my mind and fill up that hole one way or another.

I'd tried everything. I'd dipped my hands in uncomfortable things I would never do on a typical day.

Was it frequenting the gym at the compound every morning? I tried that, but then got monotonously bored when it became a routine and when I needed to start getting new clothes because the ones I had were growing tighter than usual. One grating thing I had always tried to avoid was changing wardrobe. Though similar in sewing, style, and color, each of my clothes had its distinctive specialties, and changing them only because some didn't seem to fit my arms or my shoulders and thighs irritated me.

Was it traveling? I tried that...I traveled to many places, not for work, but for sightseeing. An activity that promised wasted days and time, but I was desperate to fill that space. Alizea, Gran Louisa's doctor, suggested I accompany her on her vacation charity tour, where we sightsee and visit different charity homes together, helping as much as possible. At that point, I felt a little relieved and occupied. It was good to meet people and learn new things.

I'd even conceded that Angelo had been right; leaving the four walls of my comfort zone might be what I needed to do. I'd asked Elia to accompany me because I missed his company and wanted him to see new places with me.

It was a good time until it was over, and I was back in Milan, and everything kept rotating the same way it had been before I left.

So, I moved to painting. My therapist had advised that painting sometimes was the best way to express emotions we didn't know we carried. I got into it, researched famous artists, listened to their stories, tried to make it a hobby, reserved a space in my house for just painting, splashed and splashed different colors to see what emotions would be reflected in the canvas, but could find none.

One day, I got so angry that I destroyed almost everything in that room, cleaned it up, and repurchased supplies, starting the whole exercise from scratch. I'd only gotten scared when I had allowed my mind to work my hand, and every stroke from my brush began to resemble the face that had plastered itself to my heart with an unremovable glue.

I had abandoned that piece and never returned to the room since because now, she was there.

She was in my new space.

She was in my new house.

She was in my mind.

Every damn corner of my soul, every single trail of my thoughts.

It was Zahra, Zahra, Zahra, and Zahra.

I was going mad, drowning in silence, in pretense. My heart broke every day with every new report I got from the people I had searching everywhere I knew she could and couldn't be.

It had been seven months since she disappeared, seven months of turmoil, of forced happiness, forced growth, forced everything...

This woman kept killing me—with every stretch of seconds that passed, with her being gone, with me not knowing what state she was in, if she had healed, if she was angry with me, if she was even alive.

That last thought held my throat in a chokehold every time.

What if she had been in danger, and she had needed my help, but I couldn't find her, and the people who had taken her had hurt her?

It was killing me, not knowing if she was okay. If she had indeed stayed away because she was angry and still believed I knew about the MCSS and lied to her face, if she hated me for almost ending her life the last time she saw me.

I shook my head, taking the cigar from my lips and blowing out a breath just as my phone rang.

Not taking my eyes from the window, I brought out the device, dropping my gaze to see Angelo's name on the screen.

I answered it before it could ring any further. "Yes?"

"Oh, hi, it's Gemma. We're about to stop at the store to get some stuff before we drop by for dinner. Should we get you and Elia anything? I've been trying to call him, but he has not been responding."

"Hold on," I said, bringing the phone down from my ear and inclining my head to the side a little. "Elia!" I yelled.

Nothing.

I yelled his name again but got no response.

I groaned, walked away from the window in my home office, picked up a small remote from the table, and pressed a button. The slide on the window slowly came down as I discarded the cigar, walked to the door, pulled it open, and yelled his name into the hallway.

It was muffled, but I heard his footsteps resounding from his room hurriedly; something was knocked down with a thud, and a muffled curse reached my ear before his door opened with him rubbing his dark-rimmed eyes, like I'd just woke him up. "What the fuck?" he said groggily. "What happened?"

"Gemma would like to know if you would want anything. She says she wants to get things from wherever they are right now."

He yawned tiredly, falling back against his doorpost. "I don't know, man. I don't want anything? Maybe meds...for migraines?"

"Okay," I said, walking back into the home office and closing the door, not before hearing him curse and slamming his own door shut. "He says medicines for migraines."

"Cool, and for you?"

"Nothing. But if you happen to find the brand of cigar I—"

"Bye, gotta go, love you, see you soon!" the call disconnected, and I sighed, settling on a chair by the side as I stared at the lit-up screen of my phone...the screensaver of a sleeping Zahra stared right back at me.

I had taken this picture on the cruise ship a year ago after we had just settled a misunderstanding, and I'd gotten to experience the most fantastic night of my life.

This was pathetic, I was aware. Being this lost over someone I couldn't find.

I closed my eyes, letting my head fall back on the chair as I breathed.

***

I brushed my hair from my face, watching Casmiro exit the building behind him.

Through the laptop's screen, I could see his frown, and in the background, I spotted some of our people carrying bodies to a van. "It was a success," he said, and the camera shifted as he entered a car. "There were over twenty newborns here. They're moving to the organization now." a soldier closed the door after him.

"How many casualties?" I asked.

"Five. Four boys and a girl. We've arranged for proper rest for them,"

"How did that happen?" Angelo asked from beside me, sounding remorseful.

Casmiro sighed, setting his phone so we could still see him as he shrugged off his coat, "Hostage situation. Those bastards gunned them down when they realized there was no bargaining." He answered, not meeting my gaze once. "We took care of them though. I'll be traveling back tomorrow so we can prepare for the next hit."

We were baiting the MCSS. So far, we'd taken down three of their organizations in different countries, and they were yet to reach out for superior help. I knew they would soon, and I was waiting.

If it were left to me, I would obliterate the whole organization. There was no need for research or carefulness. I did not mind being careless, not when it came to this—but there was a reason why Angelo remained my consigliere. He looked at the situation from all angles. We couldn't be brash because children were involved. We had to be careful and save as many as possible while trying to stop the organization.

We decided to bring them down in disguise as an outside body, baiting them to reach out to me for help. When they did, I would leave them on hold, until they got desperate enough to beg, then I could make them an offer.

Due to the policies my signature had finalized, there was only so much that I could do, so I had to change that first. Create an opportunity to bring forth new policies...new leadership. I might be the overseer, but I did not have the kind of say I would need to put an end to the monstrosity.

My father had been a foolish man, but he was brilliant when it came to doing diabolical things like this—clever when it came to ruining my life and making me hate my signature because though I might not have been a part of the whole ordeal, my signature had birthed, ruined, tainted, and killed and scarred so many people.

It wasn't my fault, but at the same time, it was.

The realization of what the MCSS was truly up to had taken a toll on me, Angelo, and Casmiro, whom I was sure blamed himself the hardest, as he authorized most shipments because I had put him in charge of that. He had been shocked and remorseful and actively tried to follow the plan without messing anything up due to his anger.

He and I hadn't conversed about anything outside of work. He seemed angry with me for a reason; it had been months now, and I hadn't had enough time to broach that topic with him. I also didn't want to push...not after I'd overheard a call he was having with his mother, where he told her he might permanently move his work back to Capri because he felt out of place and he had no family here in Milan.

I did not feel good about his comment because he seemed to mean and think it. I knew it was only a matter of time before he approached me about him leaving the compound. He would still retain his duties and his position as my underboss, but we'd only meet when a severe situation required his physical attendance.

I knew the past year had been challenging for me; I knew I had ignored almost everyone I held dear to me and put a strain on every relationship. My brothers', Gemma and Gran Louisa, Angelo, and Casmiro—but I was trying now, catching up; I was here, even though I still felt empty most of the time. I was here and present.

I never intended to make him feel like he didn't belong to my family—or that I wanted nothing to do with him. The last personal conversation we'd ever had ended with me hitting him—for good reasons—but since then, I'd tried to include him in my private affairs, but he never reciprocated my efforts. He never attended the house opening party Angelo and his team had organized. Many associates were in attendance, but Casmiro never showed up. I called him, but he never picked up or returned the call—and we never spoke of it.

I knew then that there was little I could do to pull him back from whatever thought he harbored for me, little I could say to make him stay, but I still sat at an edge, waiting for him to finally voice out his plans to leave.

He was my brother and my friend; he had been there through every high and low with me; he had my back when I didn't have his, and I wouldn't blame him if he told me he had had enough.

"They reach out yet?" he asked us.

"No," Angelo responded, "After the next hit, they will notice a pattern. I know from intel they are actively seeking the people taking them out, but there has been no source of information yet; it's only a matter of time."

"That's a good thing." He said with a sigh, "They double by the day. Keeping track or leaving a dent in their numbers is hard when they always do replacements."

"We will get them," I said. "You're doing a good work, Cas."

"Yeah," he answered with a glance at me. "I'll call if I have anything new, have a good day,"

The line disconnected, and the screen went blank.

"Do you think we should push back a little?" Angelo asked from his position on the visitor's chair in my home office, "He seems stressed,"

I sighed, getting to my feet, "No. I have a feeling he is stressed for a completely different reason." I answered as he got to his feet too and we made our way out of the office.

He had arrived with Gemma about an hour ago. To my better knowledge, she and Elia were helping to prepare dinner.

Due to Elia and I not hiring any cook, we mostly ordered, ate out, or had dinners like this with Gemma and Angelo.

We had help come in every day to clean, and we had more than twenty soldiers stationed around the perimeters of the building. Though I had left the compound to live here, I still returned almost daily for in-house work. When I didn't want to go out, I worked from here.

"You think something else might be going on with him?" Angelo asked me.

"Hm," I said as we descended the stairs.

"Family?" he asked again, and I gave a loud sigh to tell him I didn't want to talk or answer questions. "I have no one else to ask, and this is a big job; he's going to have to bury five children today. That kind of thing is bound to take a toll on anyone."

"He volunteered."

"I know, but—"

"Angelo," I stopped when we reached the foot of the stairs, turning to face him. "Where is your phone?"

He frowned, "In my pocket...why?"

"Use it, call him, and ask him yourself since you are so concerned," I said, turning towards the kitchen where I heard voices.

He followed after me, "I can't just pick up a phone and call him."

"Do you have a problem with your hand?"

"No...we are not close on a personal level. We're not friends; I can't call to say how you holding up. You can."

"Not anymore," I answered.

"Why?"

I groaned, turning just before I entered the kitchen, to find a curious frown on his face. "Angelo, do I have to shoot you in the mouth before my actions paint the vivid words of—I do not want to talk about this—for you?"

His frown went from curious to irritated. "We work together. If there's an issue, then I have to know."

"Use your phone. I don't want to hear any more of this," I said, entering the kitchen, digging into my pocket for my hair band, and ignoring his sigh.

Elia was by the stove with Alizea, my house guest, until the end of the month. Gemma was cutting up oranges on the counter.

"Alizea," I voiced, and the woman in question looked up from whatever she was making, "When did you return from the meeting?"

She had left for her meeting early this morning. It was why she was here in Italy. They were testing out a new drug for cancerous patients—she was here to speak for it getting approved, seeing as it hadn't been approved at their last meeting four months ago.

She said she had been trying to get it approved for three years. She was convinced the new medicine would save many lives, but apparently, people in power had another view of the matter—but one thing I'd always admired about her was her relentlessness. When she truly believed in something, she stuck her foot down and made sure no one stopped that thing from working the way she wanted.

We had been close friends for months now. While I had been passive initially when it came to her, I learned she was a good person. She had helped Gran Louisa, she had helped me, and I was grateful, though it didn't do much; I went a long way from my previous behaviors after Zahra's disappearance.

"Not long," she answered with a sigh, "I had to leave early because I promised everyone dinner," she turned back, the yellow lights from the top cupboard glowing on her dark skin. Her hair was styled like it had been when she left for the meeting this morning.

I dropped my hairband before Gemma, settling wordlessly on the kitchen stool beside her. "How was the meeting?" I asked Alizea as Gemma dropped the knife she had been using to cut the oranges and picked up my hairband, getting behind me to tie up my hair, which I'd let grow out.

I always liked to cut my hair; I'd never once let it grow this long because the length irritated me. But then I'd shot Zahra, and my hair was the last thing on my mind; it grew out, it irritated me, and I took it as a measly punishment—discomforting myself because the woman I loved wasn't comfortable—it made sense at that time. When she disappeared, I didn't even bother with it anymore.

Gran Louisa had loved the length, Gemma too, even Alizea.

I knew I would cut it sometime in the future, but I wanted Gran Louisa to be completely okay first. I'd reduce the length when I knew she was out of the danger zone.

"I was overruled again," Alizea said, "I presented a strong front, but it didn't help."

"So it's not because you're a woman then," Gemma said, "Your assistant director looks like a guy who knows the ins and outs and could take on anyone with just a stare,"

"He tried, too. We didn't use my slides or my research; we used his, but they still overruled it." she sounded disappointed.

"Fuck them," Elia muttered.

"Isn't this wasting time? This medicine could help a lot of people, from the way you speak of it," Angelo inquired, picking up the knife Gemma had dropped, and continuing the task for her.

Turning, Alizea shrugged, blowing out her breath. "I am positive we would be saving many lives. I have put my all into this research. My life, everything. Sometimes I fear I'd go back to London and my daughter would decide not to come home with me because she already believes my mother loves her more than I do,"

I frowned, but Gemma spoke before I could.

"Don't say that, I'm sure Riley understands,"

"Hm. She loves you and knows you're trying to save people."

Alizea's smile was sad, "Yeah, I guess. I worry. These other directors are making it all so difficult. But I have hope that they'll give soon. My assistant director is hell-bent on requesting forty patients for testing. It'll be a tight list and a big risk, but I trust my research."

"And we trust in you," I said, "If you need help convincing them, I can make a call,"

"No, that's all right." she refused. "I need to do this on my own. No one will ever take me seriously if I start cutting corners now." She said, and I nodded in understanding.

Gemma finished with my hair, tying only the top half and leaving the rest to irritate my neck. "There you go, my love," she said before swiftly pushing Angelo from her previous position, "You're doing it wrong; it's not a perfect circle."

"What do you need the circle for, mio sole? You're still going to squeeze out everything in it."

"Before you ruin them, make them beautiful," she answered softly, like the oranges were actually listening.

Angelo chuckled, shaking his head. "Says the lady cutting them open,"

Alizea shook her head with a smile, returning to the stove as Elia poured the meat he had been dicing into the pan Alizea was stirring. "It's seasoned, hopefully, the normal amount," he told her. "I know jack shit about seasoning,"

Alizea tasted it and nodded, "It's perfect. You know your spices,"

"I had a friend who liked to cook; I watched him sometimes, though he never knew. If he did, I would have had to pay him for learning from him."

She chuckled, "Sounds like he also knew what he was doing,"

"He did,"

Elia rarely ever talked about STREET, but whenever he did, a far-off tone in his voice told me he missed them sometimes.

I didn't know them too well, but I felt their absence. It would feel worse for him, who lived with them and called them family.

I got up from the stool and went behind Alizea, tucking my hands inside my pockets and peering over her shoulder at what she was stirring. "What's that brown thing?"

"Mushrooms," she said, "You're gonna love it,"

"What did you put in it?" I asked softly.

"Some garlic, spring onions, black pepper, but not too much, and some ginger too,"

"That's why it smells amazing,"

She smiled, "My mom taught me this recipe; she always made it. It was my Dad's favorite, and mine too. My stepbrother didn't love it very much,"

"I already love it,"

She laughed, shaking her head.

"Are you sure you do not want me to call someone?" I asked quietly this time.

"I am,"

"Hm. I know you do not like accepting help, but I promise I won't convince them to approve. The next meeting will be in four months. I can help make it happen tomorrow,"

She inclined her head slightly towards me, our faces close. "That's still defined as cutting corners, Marino."

"Is it?"

"Yes. I know you want to help, but I truly don't need it. I can score this on my own. I just have to make them believe in me,"

"It has been three years, Ali,"

"I know how it looks, but I know I can do it. I'm not the first woman in medicine; I won't be the last."

I nodded, deciding to drop my offer for another time, "Okay, if you say so,"

From my periphery, I caught Elia's eyes on us, but he quickly averted his stare.

Catching movement from my left, I turned to find Gemma and Angelo averting their gazes, too. I frowned.

"What," I asked loudly, just as Gemma's phone blared, and she fumbled to pick it up.

"Oh look!" she yelled unnecessarily, "It's Penelope...Milk from...from before...you know her, she's calling now."

Angelo dropped his head in silent laughter as Gemma picked up the phone from the table, fidgeting like I'd caught her stealing from my office.

They had all gone silent when I spoke to Alizea, and I wasn't stupid not to notice they'd been staring at us, too.

What could that be about?

"Hi, Pen!" Gemma exclaimed as she awkwardly pointed to her phone as if to tell us it was indeed Penelope. "I'm okay, what's up?" her voice reduced in pitch, "What? Really? When?"

Elia was staring now too.

"No, I'm not home. I'm at Elio's." There was a bit of silence as she listened to whatever Penelope was saying—her eyes widened. "What!" she exclaimed again, and Angelo looked up with a frown.

Gemma's eyes locked with mine, but she averted her gaze quickly, chewing on her bottom lip...She was about to lie... "O...h no..." she said, her voice awkward. "That is so sad...the...the clown ate the...baby's...ice cream...cone at the park? What the hell is going on with the world these days?" She sighed dramatically, removing the phone from her ear and blocking the speaker as she backed away, "I have to take this call elsewhere; I can't...uh...uh...sympathize." she blurted the 'sympathize' "With you all...looking at me." she said, and then ran out of the kitchen with the phone pressed to her chest.

"That was weird," Alizea said.

I looked at Elia to see him grabbing his phone and rushing out of the kitchen with a frown.

I tilted my head to the side a bit, my thoughts working, seeking, searching.

It was...indeed...weird. 

__

Thanks for reading!

What did you think of this chapter?

What do you think about Alizea and Elio's relationship?

Why do you think Penelope called Gemma?

What's your take on Casmiro and Elio's relationship? Why do you think Casmiro wants to leave? 

Zahra's POV comes up next! and I can't wait for you guys to read it.

Gosh, I miss my Friday updates, haha

Random Question: What was the last present you got on your birthday? 

Till the next one, see ya!

Hi again!

I don't know when next we will see an update! But here is one!

Don't forget to vote and comment as you read! I love comments and I won't lie and say the comments on the last chapter, didn't compel the quickness of this chapter. IT DID! So comment as you read, and you shall be blessed. Amen.

Hope you enjoy!

_______
ZAHRA
_______

I WAS in a box.

My body was bent so low; my little arms hugged my legs to my chest, palms sweaty, breath hot, eyes wide, peeping through the see-through hole by the cupboard's hinge.

My heart was pounding, and I was sweating. I had tears running down my cheeks, fear seeping into my bones, weakening them. My fingers were dug into the skin on my arms as I hugged myself—but I didn't feel any pain; I was too distracted, watching to see if he was near if he held a weapon this time, if I wasn't smart enough with my choice of hiding.

I heard the sound of the kitchen door creaking open, and in came the dull thuds of his terrifying footstep. It was slow and fear intensifying. I recoiled into myself, shivering due to how fast my heart was racing.

My chest heaved as I watched his brown boot move closer and closer to my hiding spot.

He would find me.

He would find me...

I can't let him find me.

He moved past the cupboard, and I silently swallowed hard, letting out a small breath of relief. Maybe he didn't hear my breathing, maybe he didn't see me, maybe I'd escape this time, and he wouldn't get to me.

Maybe—

The cupboard door swung open, and he crouched down. A wide grin was on his face, his eyes a piercing blue, his gloved hand gripping the door as he laughed and said, "Found you, amore mio,"

He outstretched his hand towards me, and a scream tore out from deep inside my throat.

My eyes snapped open, and a short gasp left my lips. My chest was heaving, and I was sweating, staring up at the canopy top of the bed; the red and black lines designing the material served its usual welcoming out of my nightmares.

I closed my eyes and tried to level my breathing. It was unsteady, and I felt weak—tiny in this giant bed, small in this wide room—like an entity blending with the dull aesthetic of the space.

I sat up and was hit by a head-spinning headache that had me wincing.

Turning slightly to slip my hand underneath my pillow, I hoped to feel a flask underneath it—there was nothing there. I closed my eyes, my stomach turning and locking. "Fuck...Vitale,"

I slipped out of bed with unsteady legs, my hands shaking, heart still racing as I dashed into the walk-in wardrobe by the side, heading straight for the small safe near the shoe shelves. I typed in the new password I installed only last night. It clicked open, and I pulled it, seeing the space empty.

"Oh, what the fuck," The emergency stainless steel hip flask I kept in there was gone. I slammed the safe shut and quickly shrugged off my nightwear, cursing Vitale and his fucking stupid intuition that fucks me up every time—fuck!

I slipped on sweatpants and a shirt, not even bothering with a bra or the crazed mess of my hair. I grabbed a band and swiftly tied the curly bunch into a sideways ponytail...it felt uneven, so I untied it, discarded the band, and ran my fingers through the curls to even them out, but I knew my effort was shit.

I stepped out of the walk-in closet, my eyes finding the alarm clock by my bedside table. It was 2:15 in the morning. I contemplated grabbing my phone but decided to leave it as I walked quickly to the window, pulling it open slowly.

The cold air of night did nothing to make the sweat in my body any less irritating. I felt hot all over, inside and out.

Nervous and anxious.

I caught men manning every single perimeter close to my bedroom. Security was tight, and the mansion was shrouded with darkness as usual, but there was a light a few meters away from my window, and I would be spotted if I wasn't careful enough.

A painful jolt twisted my stomach, nausea gripping me. I slammed my shaky hands over the window seal, trying to fight back the urge to vomit.

I swallowed tightly, feeling sick.

It had been 12 hours since I'd last had alcohol. I had sneaked a shot hours before, but due to Vitale being around most of the time and because I honestly didn't want to drink, I'd stayed away—I was fooling myself, however. I still kept little flasks here and there, but that fucking bastard always found them.

It was as though he had signed a contract to make sure I didn't drink after I had a seizure months ago, and the doctor advised me to quit.

It baffled me at that time because I didn't realize I had taken the whole drinking thing too far, but I knew it had become a coping mechanism over the months—I knew I had relied on it more than I should have.

But then again, it was no surprise...something had changed.

Ever since I regained consciousness after my confrontation with Elio, something had changed. Something had been missing, something had broken—I could feel it whenever I stared at the tattooed scar on my chest. The serpent carved into my skin curled around the bullet scar like it was the very thing keeping me alive.

It might as well be.

I didn't know what had happened, but Vitale had told me that the Society had saved my life. I had been in a coma for six months. In a limbo. Lost to the world. And I had woken up with the serpent tattoo-like carving around the bullet scar.

He'd said I had to be smuggled out of Elio's compound, thanks to the help of Devil and Casmiro, who had ensured I was brought out safely without Elio interfering.

Vitale had been trying to convince them to help him for months. He knew I would die there; he knew only the secret society could save me, and only when Devil and Casmiro saw my condition deteriorating even further did they accept to help him.

I was pretty sure it wasn't too hard for Casmiro to decide; he did want me out before...As for Devil, I wasn't sure...I had broken STREET; we'd all basically written each other off. I wondered why he would want to help me after I betrayed his brother and him.

I didn't even know if I was meant to be grateful that they'd saved me because now Elio probably thought I ran away...but I didn't run. I was taken out, and I'd stayed away after I woke up because I was scared of going back...seeing what he thought of me, seeing the look he would give me because I was so confident—so confident that he had checked the contents in that flash drive.

If he had, then I didn't know how I could face him.

I was embarrassed.

The minute I woke up, I wanted nothing more but to reach out to him, but I'd recoiled; I'd thought hard about it—the time and distance between us, my flash drive still in his possession. I couldn't bring myself to.

But I was tired now...I wanted to set things right. We'd promised each other we'd stop those fuckers together. I'd fucked that up because I was insecure. I fucked up my relationship with STREET because I thought it was the right way—but I had been wrong.

Very fucking wrong.

I was withering. I was unstable, and I needed familiarity. I needed to put a stop to these nightmares, needed to go back to normal—feel normal.

I needed my family with me when I stopped these bastards.

I needed Elio with me.

I needed STREET.

Pushing them away hadn't been how I'd thought it would be. I'd never considered the fact that I could confide in them. I could tell them, though they might see me differently, but I would have allowed them the decision to leave or stay. I didn't have to make that choice for them.

I had taken risks that day. I had taken enormous risks that ruined everything I loved—if there was even a sliver of chance I could change that? Fix up my shit? Then I'd do it.

Maybe then I wouldn't feel so empty.

So lost. So alone.

I didn't know who to blame but myself. I caused this, caused everything that happened to me.

Another urge to vomit hit me, and I bit my teeth hard, knowing there wouldn't be anything to vomit; I'd probably just dry heave and cause strain to my stomach muscles.

I did this to myself. I had wanted to escape from this hollow feeling so bad that I got myself addicted without even realizing it was an addiction.

Fucking careless.

I pushed back from the window and walked to the dressing table, opened the last drawer, took out my silencer, grabbed some small squeezed-up change and a few quarters, and slipped the silence behind my sweat pants, tucking the money into my pockets without checking to see how much I had gathered before moving back to the window.

Carefully, I climbed out the window, cautiously pausing a little to blend into the night in their periphery. When I was certain I could move, I walked sideways to the other corner back of the house, where I knew I could cut my way into the heavy bushes surrounding the mansion.

I had stashed a bicycle in the woods—it wasn't the first time I had used it, and I knew I wasn't helping matters by relapsing like this, but damn it to hell, I couldn't help it. It wasn't easy. I craved the way I felt when I took alcohol than the way I felt without it.

I needed it. I needed alcohol to feel more like myself.

It wasn't too hard putting up a strong front when it came to leading, especially when I had liquid courage.

Vitale had never approved of it, and I wouldn't blame him. He was often left to clean up my messes, though he had much work cut out for him. Now that he led the Conti secret society, he had three months to prove himself ready. I wasn't much help to him; the ring on my finger did more than I could, and well—the money in my bank account. I held the highest share in society and was required to attend most meetings.

They didn't like me but respected and loved my money. It was a win-win-winsituation. 

I maneuvered into the thick woods after finding my way down the building without breaking any bones. It took me longer to get through because I couldn't feel half of anything around me but the painful need to consume alcohol.

I unsteadily got on the bicycle and rode my way through the woods, down the lane leading to the highway where I knew the 24/7 convenience store was. I hadn't been there for two months because I always managed to stash the flasks where Vitale would miss them.

It took me about twenty minutes to get there, and I got off the bike, stumbling my way inside the store, not caring that I'd discarded the bicycle carelessly on the ground.

I made my way toward the aisle where alcohol was sold, and with my eyes zooming in and out of focus, I trailed my fingers on the surface of the bottles, looking for the one capable of removing this feeling in only a few minutes.

I found one...

Vodka. Small sized.

I picked it out of the shelf and checked the alcohol percentage. It was perfect. I was about to leave, but then I turned and grabbed another bottle—you know, just in case.

I walked to the counter, grabbed a can of beer from the side, and dropped everything before finally looking at the man standing there—he was new.

He had a hipster beard and a frohawk on his head. A small radio by his side played a static rock song as he watched me warily. He was judging me. I probably looked like shit.

Not probably. I looked like shit.

Digging my hands into both my pockets, I brought out the change I had squeezed in, fishing out the coins and dropping everything on the counter as I sniffed, basically bouncing on my feet as I looked back at him.

"Can I see some ID?" He asked, voice gruff.

I frowned. "Why?"

"You don't look old enough to get these,"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

His stare was blank. He didn't respond.

"It's the middle of the fucking night; you don't think my fucking parents would know if I snuck out to get booze at two fucking am,"

"Adults don't say booze," he clarified, and my left eye twitched.

"Booze is a word, frohawk...it doesn't have some kind of age limit. I say booze; you just said booze, everybody, and their fucking grandma says booze!"

"Yeah...no."

I groaned. "Listen here, motherfucker; I am not in the right state of mind to argue with you, just count this shit up and let me be on my way,"

He looked at the money on the counter, scoffing as he met my gaze again. "That won't even cover the beer. Another proof that you're underage,"

This—

I reached behind me and pulled out my gun.

"The fuck?" he backed up, almost knocking down a crate behind him, fear flashing in his eyes as he raised both hands.

I inclined the gun to him with my head gesturing to the items on the table, "Pack it up," I said, grabbing the money I had placed on the counter and shoving it back in my pocket, "Now you don't even get the fucking change,"

"The—"

"I'll shoot you and pack it up myself if you don't comply,"

"Okay, okay, relax," he said, eyes on the gun as he hurriedly started parking the items. I looked around the store, stepped back, grabbed a bag of chips, and dropped it on the counter.

"Pack that too,"

"Come on, man, I gotta account for that shit?"

"The chips or your life, which do you value?" I asked, and he hesitantly did as instructed with fear and discomfort in his eyes.

When he was all done, I picked up the bag he had packed and smiled at him. "If I'm feeling generous, I'll send someone over tomorrow; if I'm not...you've got much explaining to do with your boss,"

He still had his hands up as I made my way out of the store, tucking the bag under my arm as I slipped the gun back behind me. I saw him reach for his phone through the transparent doors. I ignored him, got on the bicycle, and drove away from the store and further up the highway away from the mansion.

I only stopped in a corner, where a narrow road was paved, still surrounded by bushes, but there was pavement on each side and a small cabin right opposite me; the lights were on there, giving me enough courage to sit down because there was a sign of life around, even if it was dead silent.

I got off the bicycle, letting it fall without much care as I settled on the ground, resting my back against the pole of a posted sign and pulling out the canned beer.

I chugged that down first without pause, sighing as the slightly bitter taste swirled around my tongue, my muscles relaxing, the pace at which my heart had been beating slowed down, and my eyes stung at how fucking pathetic I had become.

Reliant on alcohol to feel sane.

I'd never truly understood why Elio called me careless until I'd found myself in a hospital with strict warnings from the doctor to stay away from what I was currently consuming.

If anyone from STREET saw me now, I would be ridiculed.

I could barely look myself in the mirror these days; I was more bone than skin. I hated it. Hated what I'd become since I woke up.

I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand, squeezing the beer can and throwing it to the side before grabbing a bottle of vodka, opening it, and drinking from it. I drank until my hands were no longer shaking, drank until my headache subsided, and drank till all the sweat and nausea left me.

My limbs were now relaxed; I felt the alcohol sweep through my body, taking me from half-conscious to high in a matter of minutes.

Downing everything in the first bottle, I entered into the second bottle, opening and drinking from that too.

I was killing myself—but I was also doing the right thing.

It felt like I was dying only moments ago, but this feeling was much better than the other one...I knew that. And this was me helping myself...

This was...this was necessary...I wasn't weak...being able to do this wasn't...wasn't me being weak...it meant that I was strong because while knowing this was worsening my condition, I knew it was best.

This was best.

I closed my eyes and let my head drop on the pole, biting my bottom lip hard to keep my eyes from tearing up.

Moments like this were when I thought about him the hardest. If I closed my eyes, I could picture his; if I went silent, I could hear his voice. So familiar, deep, and accented. I wouldn't even need to overthink before I felt the warmth of his touch on my skin.

I'd lost count of the times I'd dreamt of him—the few times I didn't have nightmares, he was my relief. I would fight fiercely to stay in that dream. And even when I woke up, I would try to replay the scenario in my head: his beautiful gray eyes, his small, subtle smile, his hands on mine.

God—I'd lost count of the times I'd touched myself to him. He was ever present in my memories, never fading. I loved it. It made me eager to see him again...and fuck, when I do see him again...

I would apologize, assure him that the ring on my finger didn't mean anything because I knew how much he liked to overthink things; I'd assure him that he was the only one I wanted, the only one I saw in the sea of many. I would hug him and possibly cry and beg him to help me stop my addiction because if there was anyone who knew how to stop a habit or...manage it? It was him.

The man I loved.

The man I had never gotten to confess to.

I wondered what he would think if he saw me now—

Meow.

My eyes snapped open as the tiny sound came again.

Slowly, I turned my head, seeing a cat walking towards me, hopping on one foot, eyes wide, black as night.

I shifted slightly, my movement sluggish, "Stay back," I said, but it sounded like 'staaaaay back.'

Almost like the cat heard me, it stopped and watched me silently.

I scrunched my nose.

"Shoo," I moved my hand, flaying my fingers weakly at it. But it didn't move, "Go away, shoo away, leave me the fuck alone."

It still watched me.

I hardened my stare at it. "I have a silencer; it's—it's quick, one pew, and you're fucking dead...you wanna die?"

Meow.

"What do you want? Food? I don't have a—" I stopped, my gaze dropping on the bag, remembering I'd stolen a bag of chips with the drinks.

I sluggishly reached for it, dropping the half-empty bottle of vodka as I opened the bag of chips, staring at its content and immediately losing interest.

I looked at the cat. "I guess you can have it," I said, dumping all the content on the ground. The animal didn't waste time as it ate without looking up once, "Look at you...poor thing," I whispered, "Broken like me..." I blinked, but it was slow, "What was it? A car hit you? Try comparing that to a fucking bullet."

It didn't respond.

I shifted further away.

"You know...I get it," I said, watching the cat eat. "Sometimes I ask myself...or more like...say to myself." I hiccupped. "Who the fuck...fights for a gun...my best friend, Dog...not like... an actual dog, but like, his name used to be Dog—he would call me stupid because, fighting for a gun...that shit never ends well in movies, I should have known. Now, I'm just—purposeless. I do...have a purpose...I called everybody for the purpose, but...but I'm talking like—personal purpose? You get it? I have..." I hiccupped again, looking at my palms to find the purpose, "I have none...empty vessel..." I laughed, "And to think I'm at the top...the top of the food chain...karma's a bitch," the cat turned and started walking away, "and you're an ungrateful piece of shit," I yelled after it as it hopped into the woods faster than it had been walking.

I groaned, realizing I'd just been talking to a cat and then laughing because, well—I'd just been talking to a cat.

"Fuck my life," I said to myself, grabbing the bottle beside me and chugging down the rest of its content before discarding it and stumbling to my feet.

The ground moved underneath my feet, and I wobbled, trying and failing to clear my vision. My head felt light, and every heavy worry I carried felt paper-weight.

I grumbled, picking up the bicycle and getting on it without any mind—I didn't even paddle far before I crashed into the ground.

"Fucking hell—" I groaned, taking my wrist from the ground. Wincing at the pain, I squeezed my eyes shut, hugging my hand to my chest, the gun pressing into my back.

I didn't know how long I lay there, but I knew it was long before I disentangled my legs from the bicycle and got to my feet, deciding to walk back down, leaving the bicycle because it hurt me, and because it was stupid to ride in this state.

My feet crisscrossed as I walked down—regretting not carrying my phone. I knew the time would be almost 3-to-4 Am now, telling from how the night had gone very cold.

I threw my head back, looking up at the sky and then back to the empty road ahead, my hair flying lightly around. I didn't bother to remove it from my face—whenever I did that, I was reminded of the time Elio had helped tie it up, telling me to always keep myself in order before meeting him. He couldn't help the urge to fix things, he had said.

Well—good for him; I was a mess now and knew only he could fix me.

I hoped it wouldn't seem as though I was asking too much.

It wasn't too much...

If he still loved me...loved me like I loved him, if the feelings I harbored for him were remotely close to what he felt for me, then he would help me...he would hold me...and kiss me, like no time had passed.

Headlights shone from behind me, and I turned while still walking forward. I placed my hand over my eyes to shield myself from the harsh glare of the light.

It was a car, and it was slowing down as it reached me.

I looked away, walking forward.

The person honked, and I shook my head, waving them off. "No...nope, just drive..." I mumbled, and they followed me, honking still.

I kept walking forward until it was parking before me, killing off their engine.

I hesitantly stopped walking, looking towards the car as the person came down from it. It was a guy—He looked my age, with blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a faded jean jacket. He slammed the door of the car beside him. "Need any help?" he asked, walking towards me.

I shook my head, "No, thanks."

Then he looked around and back to me as I stood unsteady on my feet because the world was spinning.

"You sure? You seem a little out of it, it's the middle of the night, I can drive you home,"

I shook my head again as he came closer. "Please stay back...I'm...I'm good...my house isn't far from here,"

"I only wanna help,"

"I said I'm good," I answered, sidestepping him and stumbling; his arms came around my front, keeping me steady and—closer to him. "No, please don't touch me...trust me, you don't want to touch me,"

"I just wanna help. Come on, let's get in my car," he began pulling me toward his car, and thank you, alcohol, because while I tried to get out of his hold, he was stronger.

"Listen, Justin Bieber, I don't wanna hurt you," I drawled out, probably sounding pathetic.

And look there, he even laughed, "I don't think you're in the position to hurt anyone, beautiful."

"Wrong...I have a...I have a gun behind me,"

I think I caught him raising a brow, and then I felt his hand on my ass, then up and up until he felt the gun and pulled it out, bringing it to his view. "What the fuck?"

"Cool, right? It's a silencer, pretty...pretty swift."

"Where the fuck did you get this?" he asked.

"Uh...my dressing table? In the last drawer, I keep guns there...well...normal guns, but not the one I want. Elio's gun...I can't find it, I don't know where it is...maybe that's why I don't sleep well at night," I mumbled out rubbish, unsure of when my body went against the guy's car.

He pinned me there with his hand on my shoulder, as he studied the gun, "This is some cool shit," he said and then slipped it behind him.

"Oh, come on, give it back, that gun cost an arm and a fucking leg," I hiccupped, "I'm the thief...you don't...you don't steal from a thief...that's fucked up,"

"God, you're wasted," he said with a crooked smile, "Beatrice turned me down tonight, but you will have to do,"

I snorted out a laugh, "There's fucking vegetable stuck to your teeth, and your breath smells like fish...I say Beatrice made the wise choice tonight."

He pressed into me, "Shut the fuck up,"

"Okay," I breathed, "Okay, let's relax...okay?" I said. "Trust me, the pussy is drier than a Sahara right now; you're gonna have a shit time with me...and you'd probably die before you even try..." I hiccupped, "For your own good...you should...you should leave me alone,"

He scoffed, "I can make you wet, you'll like it,"

"Yeah...I...I kind of doubt that, but that's not my point...you see, I have a fiancé, and he's pretty crazy, you know? Like...he's fucking crazy. Bat shit. Like he has a pet crow crazy, he'll murder you if you try to stick your dick in me, you don't want him to murder you. His murdering is...is very murdering."

"I don't see anyone around you, beautiful; it's only us here."

"Oh, just...give it a minute, he'll be—" The distant sound of a motorcycle racing towards us met my ears, and the single headlight came into view, "I wonder how he is always on time...I swear it's fucking voodoo,"

Blondie's hand loosened from me as Vitale's bike slowed when he reached us.

The headlight turned off.

And...

With a leather jacket, matte black helmet, leather gloves crafted perfectly for his hands, black jeans, and over-the-top expensive black boots on his feet, my knight in shining armor blended well with the night.

I watched him open his visor, watching the scene as he got off the bike and removed his helmet.

A frown lined his brows, bright blue but angry gaze settling firmly on blondie.

"Welp," I hiccupped, "now you're screwed, Justin Bieber,"

_

Thanks for reading!

What did you think of this chapter?

Fiancé? RING? Fiancé? What do you think of this?

Casmiro and Devil had a hand in Zahra's disappearance? Do you think this would come back to bite them in the ass? And did you have any suspicions about this?

Zahra has drinking problems...what's your take on this?

Random question: If you could spend a day with someone from your past? Who would that be?

Till the next one, see you!

*Dusts her table, fixes her glasses and squints*

Hi again!

I finished my priority project. Now I'm back to revising Elio Marino for publishing. Although, my break has started because I've been writing all through this year, which can cause major burnouts.

But If you know me, you know there's one story that always makes me break self-rules, and that's this one.

I might be on break...but! Only you have the power to get me rising with sparkles from the trenches to write the next chapter for you guys! *think Winx Club power transition clips, yeah, that's how I rose to write this* Flatter and bless and sweep me away with your comments. Actually, I'm really serious this time, your comments are literally what produced this one. So don't hide your thoughts!

*PS: this message is for that one reader who called me a B*tch and a C*nt in my DMs on Instagram for not updating. If you're reading this, you know you shouldn't be here. Block me please.*

Hope you enjoy my loves!

_______
ZAHRA
_______

IT WAS pretty easy to take advantage of a situation when the victim is left distracted by the sudden change of events, so when I slipped my hand behind Justin Bieber's pants, I pulled out my gun, jammed it at the back of his head the same time my knees slammed behind his. He jerkily fell on his knees to the ground with a sharp grunt, his hand flying to the back of his head as if to hold the pain.

I blew a breath at my freedom from his hold, stumbling away from Blondie as Vitale approached us, eyes roaming up and down my frame before he focused on the guy on the ground again.

"He's a bad guy," I slurred out, "Said he wanted to woohoo with me," I hiccupped.

Vitale glanced at me, irritation lining his stare, and I shrugged, unaffected.

He hated seeing me this way, hated hearing me speak this way—he could as well get in line because I hated it too, and he knew shit about what I was going through or the demons I had buried inside my head, crawling back up to the surface with each day that passed.

I watched his gloved hand rest atop the guy's head as he not so gently snapped his head up by his short blonde hair. "Your name?" Vitale questioned, the frown still on his face.

"Jer—"

"Jerome, you're gonna get in your car," he said, "Erase this night from your memories, erase the face of that woman from your unconscious dreams, and drive away."

I couldn't see Blondie's face, but I knew he was glaring and was wise enough not to say anything dumb.

"Respond so I know I'm understood, Jesper,"

"I wasn't gonna do anything to her; I only wanted to help."

I gasped, rushing to stand by Vitale's side to see the glare on Blondie's face, "You motherfucking liar. You said I—"

Vitale's head snapped toward me with a firm glare. "Step away,"

"The fucker's lying, he should die,"

"Yes, Faizan, go around killing everyone who looks at you the wrong way; that is very healthy."

I turned to the Bieber guy in time to see something flash in his eyes as he looked at the gun in my hand, then my eyes, over to Vitale and his bike, almost as if registering his situation. Looking back at Vitale, he gulped down.

I met Vitale's stare again. "He didn't only look at me wrongly, he touched me wrongly,"

"Listen, man, I don't want any trouble, okay? I was heading out of town back to school 'cause my girlfriend was in some shit mood, and then I saw this chick by the side of the road—she was hot, drunk, and I, fuck—tell me you get it, man,"

I watched a questioning frown crawl onto Vitale's face as he and I slowly looked back at Blondie, who probably just realized he had said the wrong thing.

Vitale nodded slowly, "Yeah...yeah, I get it, man,"

A few minutes later, I was blankly watching the back headlights of Blondie's car sinking into the water and flickering off as it disappeared, followed by a low groaning sound coming from the drowning vehicle, bubbles erupting from the surface of the deep lake, a little distance from Maniero de Diavolo.

I sighed, looking over at Vitale, who stood watching beside me.

"What an odd guy, am I right?" I asked.

Vitale glanced at me, and he shook his head in displeasure before turning and walking away.

I followed behind him with my unsteady footsteps. "That's it?" I said, "No scolding? No...oh Zahra, you fucked up, blah blah, you should know better, blah blah, you shouldn't be this way, blah blah blah,"

I caught his shoulder tensing as we walked the path to the mansion, but he remained quiet.

"So, ignoring me, it is," I mumbled with a tired sigh, followed by a tired yawn. I had enough adventure for one night. The alcohol wasn't wearing off, and I liked it—sort of, everything was happening in a haze. It felt as though nothing really mattered.

Vitale's glare and quietness, the blondie trying to take advantage of me, the minor crime Vitale and I had just committed, my withering mind and every longing tugging at my insides.

Even the ache in my heart had dulled; it was there—but it seemed as though it wasn't as serious as I once thought.

This feeling could be compared to floating.

Floating away from the horrors that waited on the ground below, horrors that screamed and roared, raising their multiple hands to catch me and drag me back down so they could swallow me whole.

For a moment, I struggled to understand why I hadn't done this sooner, why I had denied myself the relief that came with drinking. The peace of mind that it offered even for a couple of hours.

I knew the fog would clear when I woke up feeling like a zombie and a miserable human being who needed to undo all that had happened tonight—except the part with the Bumble version of Justin Bieber.

It took almost twenty minutes to reach the mansion and five to reach my room, ignoring the security watching as I walked in and Vitale's voice asking for names of the guys in charge of securing the area tonight for having missed me escaping the mansion.

Escaping...I scoffed as I stumbled into my room, Vitale hot on my heel. I could feel his anger, even as I twisted and turned to look at him, "Get the fuck out,"

"I'm standing right here until I'm certain you're asleep and won't get up till it's daybreak,"

Anger coiled in my insides. "I'm not your fucking prisoner, Vitale; step the fuck out, or I'll make sure you never step foot in this building ever again,"

"Try that, and see what I fight back with."

My jaw clenched, and I sharply turned towards the dressing room, walking in, about to lift my shirt, when I saw that he had followed me there. "Are you serious?"

He shrugged, "I'm not taking my eyes off you,"

"I want to change, fucking leave,"

"You can change," Icy blue eyes raked down and up my form, as he crossed his arms against his chest, leaning on the doorpost, legs crossed at the ankles as he finished his statement with, "Nothing I haven't seen before,"

"Yeah, when we were fucking teenagers,"

"You're still the same,"

"Fuck you, Vitale,"

"Fuck you, Zahra, I'm standing right here, and there's nothing you can do about it." There was a challenge in his eyes that I had no strength to entertain.

There was no way in hell I was changing in front of him. Not because I was shy but because my body belonged to me and a certain man living in Milan, Italy.

"I'm too drunk for this shit,"

"Yeah, you are, you always are,"

"If you have something to say, just fucking say it and get off my ass about it,"

Still holding that indifferent stare, he said, "You clearly enjoy being pathetic; why the fuck should I keep telling you why you shouldn't be pathetic,"

Disbelief clouded my rational thoughts, "I enjoy being pathetic?"

"Yeah, why else would you sneak out of your own house like a thief to consume cheap vodka by the side of the fucking road like some road junkie,"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, watching the indifference in his eyes grow to disappointment.

My breathing grew uneven, and I looked away from him. "Judge me all you want; I know more than anyone that my behavior isn't normal."

"Do you?"

My gaze snapped to his, "I do," I couldn't hide the sharpness in my voice, the embarrassment in my bones, and the burn in my eyes. "I see what you see in me now, Vitale, and I fucking hate it. I don't want it. I don't even have time for it because we have shit to do, but I cannot—" I swallowed, "I cannot help it, okay, I have—I have tried to control it and be stronger but, but it's not working Vitale, I'm fucked." A beat passed, and I said the words I hadn't said out loud to myself since I started feeling it. "I fucked up real bad this time,"

I felt a tear fall from my eyes, but I quickly wiped it off.

The disappointment in his eyes grew into what looked like pity or concern—I couldn't break it down because my head wasn't on straight.

I felt wrong.

Silence stretched between us as I leaned back against a dresser.

"I'm trying to help you," he spoke softly, "I'm doing all I can to help you, Zahra, but you keep undoing it,"

"You don't understand—"

"I understand. It's addiction. It only goes two ways, you choose to fucking help yourself, or you don't."

I shook my head, jittery fingers running through my tangled curls. "You still don't get it,"

"What don't I get, Faizan?"

"Everything!" I looked at him, seeing the truth lingering in his eyes, "This...me...here with you right now...it's fucking wrong, Vitale."

"It's not—"

"I should be dead. I shouldn't be here; whatever the fuck you and those fuckers did to me, it's fucking with me. I don't feel," I breathed out the chaos in my head, "I don't feel right, Vitale, ever since I woke up, it's...it's all just wrong. I can't control shit; I can't stop fucking myself up. That's not me. I can't even sit through one meal. I look like her...like the me that I grew from. My nightmares are back, and I see him every time. The same fucking dream every night,"

He sighed, leaving his position as he walked to stand in front of me, "Zahra, there is nothing wrong with you,"

"You clearly don't see me,"

"I see you," he responded almost immediately, holding my gaze. "I see you more than you know. The society...all we did was help, nothing more. I was with you every damn second of the day, no one tried shit. Yes, you would feel some side effects, the nightmares, but they'll leave. Your mind is vulnerable; you have to pick yourself up. The drinking, your past...those things aren't making you move,"

"Drinking, I understand," I said with a nod and then shook my head, "But you can't expect me to forget everything. Everyone I care about—they hate me, V, I don't know how to live with that thought."

"Zahra—"

"Two weeks, Vitale. It has been two weeks since I reached out, and no one called back; no one showed up. It fucking hurts, I can't deal with it sober, I—I feel so alone,"

He held my shoulders, shaking me slightly. "For fucks sake, Zahra, you're not alone."

"You don't—"

"None of the people you care about are here. None of them were here when you fought to breathe every day. I was there. I am here now, standing right fucking in front of you." his eyes held a heavy stare, and his voice sounded pained. "How visible do I need to be for you to see me?"

My throat clogged, and I felt guilt crawling up my spine, feeling like shit for always forgetting he was there. It was easy to forget. He blended too well with my background, too well with me. I was royally screwing things over between us, but I couldn't help it; he wasn't enough to fill up this gaping space inside me. "I'm sorry." I whispered with a groan, "I know you're here, I—you're family—"

"Fuck that," he said, his hands dropping from my shoulders, "Fuck family, Zahra, I'm more than that."

"Vitale, this isn't—"

"I'll leave you." He said, voice tainted with defeat, and I hated the relief I felt upon hearing it. "Just promise me you'll go to bed and not pull shit because I swear to God—"

"I promise...I'll behave,"

He nodded. "Yeah," he looked away from me, already moving to the door, but I reached for his wrist, holding him back from leaving and watching the glistening of the identical ring on his finger.

I sighed, moving to stand before him, watching his expectant eyes on me.

Rising to my toes, I wrapped my arms around him in a hug, "Thank you," I said softly, feeling the fast pacing of his heart, wishing he would stop feeling this way for me because I knew I could never reciprocate his feelings. "Thank you for being here, V. I don't say it enough, but I truly appreciate you for being here even when you don't have any obligation to be,"

It was tentative and hesitant, but his arms softly came around me. "It's what we do, Faizan. It's what we've always done," he pressed a kiss to the side of my head as he pulled away softly, "Try to get some sleep; I'll find you when it's daytime."

I nodded with a close-lipped smile as I watched him pull away entirely before leaving the dressing room.

When my bedroom door closed, I threw my head back and breathed before turning to the mirror to watch my reflection.

I looked miserable and wondered how Vitale had indeed seen me. I lifted my shirt over my head, and my gaze fell to the serpent tattoo on my chest, lingering before I raised my attention to the tattoo on my shoulder. Elio's initials standing ever proud.

I swallowed, bending a little to open a drawer and retrieve a black box before standing upright with my thigh pushing the drawer close.

My finger caressed the small box before I softly opened it and sighed in relief when I caught the butterfly necklace lying there peacefully, away from the turmoil its owner was facing.

I raised it to my view, dropping the empty box before undoing the hook on the necklace and wearing it around my neck.

Silently, I stroked the butterfly pendant, remembering the first time Elio placed it around my neck. I had loved it more than I should have. I didn't even like butterflies...or had a special connection to them, but Elio created something that day. I'd never been so in love with an object. I had felt special...so special.

Now, watching the necklace lying on my neck, just above the serpent tattoo between my breasts, I had never felt loss so fierce.

Loss of what could have been, what I could have had if I had just been trusting enough, if I had let go sooner, if I hadn't made a mistake that cost me everything I cared about.

I looked at my reflection, my eyes staring deep into my tear-brimmed eyes, a twitching snare on my cheek as I spoke with so much hate. "Fuck you, Zahra." I gulped down, "Fuck you, you fucking stupid egotistical bitch, fuck you."

I looked away from my reflection, from the hate simmering inside me as I shrugged out of my sweatpants and redressed in my nightwear before walking back to the cold room, getting atop the too-large bed and staring emptily at the canopy top of the bed.

My muscles didn't relax, neither did I feel comfortable enough to sink into the pillows.

I didn't know how long I lay there for. How long my mind was thinking every thought but no thought at all.

Exhausted, I looked to my left and dragged my body towards the edge of the bed, reaching for my phone on the wooden table by the side before lying back on the pillows properly.

The screen lit up, and a familiar picture of Dog and me on the cruise by a poolside met my view.

He took the selfie, and I was pressed to his side, my grin so wide my eyes seemed almost closed. His smile was equally wide, but he had a more reserved look with his eyes wide and his slightly wet hair pushed back by sunglasses.

We had taken this photo a few minutes before Devil had gotten a call from Elio, and we had all rushed to his suite to help him get better.

Elio...

I navigated my phone to my contact list, clicking on the favorites tab, and only his contact came up.

It was almost five am. Knowing Elio, he was probably awake...maybe reading a book or trying to find sleep like I was doing now.

I wasn't thinking when I clicked on his name, placing a call to him. My heart quickly climbed up my throat as I curled in bed, hugging myself as it rang.

I closed my eyes, savoring the dull ringing, knowing he wouldn't pick up. It was an unknown number, and he was not a huge fan of calls or text messages, even from people he knew—but that didn't stop me from gaining a little comfort in hearing the ringing until it disconnected because, as expected, he didn't pick up.

I swallowed, pulling the covers up my body and settling deeper into the pillows as I clicked on his name again, pressing the phone to my ear, determined to do it until I found sleep.

It rang until it disconnected, and I called back, feeling tears gather around my closed eyelids, before dropping down the bridge of my nose to the side of the pillow as the call disconnected again.

I returned it, soaking into the dull monotone sound, almost like it was connecting me in a thousand ways to him—the one person I longed to see the most. The tightening in my chest locked on, strung along until it felt like I couldn't breathe.

It disconnected. I returned it.

Tiredness and hurt were crushing me whole, and I was falling into a drowsiness that had me getting even more comfortable—

"Hello."

I froze.

My heart. My tears. Everything halted.

A slight shuffle was heard from the other end of the line; he was breathing—he just let out a long, tired breath and—

"Hello."

Again. His voice. Groggy. Sleepy. It made my heart hammer; it made me forget to hide my breathing; I caved even more when that deep timbre came again, sounding more questioning.

"Hello?"

I swallowed, falling into that sound, letting it swirl around my brain, sink into my veins, and blend perfectly with my bloodstream.

I missed it so much. I missed that voice so much.

Longing tugged at my heart. Longing and love, so much love that I couldn't help but smile at a tiny fact in all of this.

He had been sleeping. He was sleeping. That meant he was doing okay. He was doing better mentally.

It took me a minute to realize my breathing was the only thing I could hear now.

From his end, there was nothing. No breathing. Just a deafening silence, a silence that locked up every muscle on my body. He hadn't disconnected the call; I still felt him at the other end of the line. He hadn't gone back to sleep either. He—

"Zahra?"

I snatched the phone from my ear and ended the call with unsteady fingers, my heart thundering away in my chest as I sat upright. My thoughts clearer than they had been before I decided to call him.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fucking shit.

The hope in his voice. The change in his tone. All traces of sleep had been decimated from him. I wondered what that meant—didn't he check the flash drive? Didn't he hate me for leaving? Was he looking for me? Why did I hear the heavy hope in his voice? What—

My phone vibrated in my hands, and my eyes widened when I saw his name flashing on the screen.

"Oh fucking hell, Zahra," I groaned to myself, realizing that I had forgotten to private my fucking number.

I watched it ring, my palms sweaty with nerves. The strong urge to answer made my fingers twitch violently. I felt so bad sitting there watching the phone ring and ring and ring until it disconnected.

My shaking fingers went to his contact setting, quickly blocking the number before he could call again.

When I successfully blocked it, guilt washed my vision into blurs, knowing how I must have ruined his sleep and his mind with that one stupid action.

I let my body fall back on the bed, wiping my cheeks and whispering out a curse.

If his voice had held all that I thought it held? Then I might have just hurt him again by blocking the number, cutting off communication. Running again.

I had never hated myself as much as I did now. 

__

Thank you for reading!

What did you think of this chapter?

Vitale and Zahra's relationship?

Zahra placing a call to Elio? What do you think is going through Marino's mind right now?

Whose POV would you like to read next?

Your favorite part of this chapter?

Random Question: Have you ever been caught conversing with yourself by a parent or sibling? What was the scenario like? *yesterday, my mom told me I needed help*

Till the next one, see ya!

Hi and Happy New Year! (It's late but, eh)

Thank you for sticking with me! Right now I have two priority projects. One of them is Finishing this story (Yay!) and another is working on Elio Marino for publishing. I have new titles for the series, make sure you're following my Instagram to keep in the loop!

Now! HERE'S WHAT WE ARE GONNA DO! We are gonna comment, I know I say this every chapter, but yeah, let's feed the comment section with y'all's golden thoughts. For each comment, I get one gold bar from Milk's vault (help me get fictionally rich, thank you...) Don't forget to vote as well! I love you, and...

Enjoy the update!

_______
ELIO
_______

NOTHING COULD convince me otherwise.

It was her.

I knew it was her.

The proof was in the silence that stretched between the frequencies of the call. It was encrusted in the way she breathed, the way my heart bottomed at the realization that it was her, the way her breath hitched when I called her name, and the way she ended the call and then blocked me only minutes later.

I had been awake and active since that moment, confused yet hopeful, and alive for the first time in months. I could feel my pulse, could hear myself breathe, could feel the adrenaline in my veins when I drove to the compound and had my people track the number, breaking through whatever walls she had created by blocking me. Then I requested all the CCTV footage from months ago when she disappeared.

This wouldn't be the first time I checked the footage; it wouldn't as well be the fifth or sixth, but it wasn't wholly bizarre to think that now that I was thinking quickly than my mind could follow or even comprehend, I might catch something new that I missed, there could be something different this time, something that could help. I had to try again, though I knew it would be fruitless. The security team said there had been no tampering with the cameras or security log files.

Yes, I had always thought none of it made any sense. I wasn't delusional; I knew she had been there; everyone knew she had been with me, and suddenly, she was gone.

Something had to have happened; someone had to have moved her, someone who knew my systems...someone who knew how to create the perfect hoax.

I had my suspicions, but I refused to hearken to that thought. For the first time in years, I let myself trust the people I hold dear, and I was not going to let something as measly as a gut feeling ruin that.

With one hand resting at the top of my lips and the other drumming on the table, my attention was on the screen in front of me, but it was also everywhere else.

Useless. It was useless rechecking these records, but I couldn't sit still waiting for yet another disappointment when it came to tracking Zahra down.

Every demon from months ago was louder than usual this morning. That call had shifted something in me. It redirected my approach to this situation. Thinking and acting with emotions at the forefront of my mind wasn't allowing me to get the job done or see what might have been right in front of me.

She was alive.

All this time, she had been alive somewhere...

I brushed my hair back from my face, my eyes scanning the screen as I watched her comatose body on the bed for a few minutes before a blink and her body disappeared. I rolled the footage backward, checking the time like I had done a dozen times before, and just like those times, every minute had been deleted or missing. I rolled it back again; no video interruption, blur or static, rolled it back again; no cut, no skips, no loops.

My teeth grazed by my bottom lip as my mind returned to the phone call a few hours ago.

Why didn't she speak to me? Was she in a place where she couldn't talk? Was she held captive? Was she all right? Did she block me because the person with the phone couldn't know she had called me?

Why now? Why today? What had happened? Zahra was stronger than every picture my mind was currently painting; if she had been held somewhere, she would have found a way to reach out before now.

Or maybe she wasn't in danger. Maybe she was all right and was scared to talk to me...perhaps I should have said more. I should have reminded her that I loved her. I should have told her I was losing my mind and that I needed her so much that it burned whenever I lived each day without hearing her voice.

Although telling her all those things would have never been possible because she had ended the call the second I called her name, I had snapped upright, watching the screen for over a minute before my brain told me I was meant to call back. I did. I called her. I listened to it ring until it cut off. I had known in my heart that it wouldn't go through the next time I called, and I had been right. She had blocked my number from reaching her, leaving me with many questions, reasons, and possible solutions.

If she had called me multiple times, why would she stop me from talking to her? Why would she draw the space between us further and further apart?

"Why won't you let me find you, Zahra..." I whispered to myself, letting my head run with thoughts before blowing out a breath and running my palms down my face, tiredness pulling apart my sense of reasoning as confusion made me its footstool.

Months, weeks, hours of me dwelling in the dark and light. Not knowing the whole picture.

It was frustrating.

How big could the world be? What exactly do I need to pull down to have her right by my side? How long do I have to watch this footage until I realize I have been bested and failed to protect the woman I love?

The double doors to the boardroom pushed open, and I raised my head to find Elia walking in with a frown as the men stationed in front of the boardroom closed the doors behind him.

"You didn't tell me you were leaving the house," he said, gaze dropping to the laptop in front of me.

"I had no reason to," I answered, looking away from him.

"I think if it's regarding you finding Zahra, then you had every reason to. You have a number they're tracking? Did she...did she call you?" he asked cautiously.

Something about the tone in his voice had me raising my head again to regard him. The caution that had been in his voice was reflected in his eyes.

It was clear as day; my brother was hiding something from me.

Elia always hid things; in fact, a few months ago, I suspected he was seeing someone he thought I would disapprove of, hence why he sneaked out of the house. Still, I had hoped he would be free enough to tell me so he wouldn't see the need to sneak out, but I also knew he wasn't an open book; I believed he was taking his time to trust me, but something about the way he looked at me now, told me he knew something about Zahra that I didn't.

I clasped my hands together, watching him as I worked my jaw from left to right, then center. "She texted."

His eyes widened a little. "Texted?"

"Hm."

Then, a frown lined his brows. "What did she say?"

My eyes went between his as I relaxed on the chair, my gaze falling from his to the laptop screen.

I brought my clasped hands underneath my mouth to rest on my chin, my index fingers tapping on my knuckles as I looked at him again. "The same thing she told you,"

I caught the way he paused, his eyes widening with surprise, no longer hiding. His eyebrows twitched, lips parting to say something, but he didn't speak.

I felt my anger build slowly at all the signs I was getting, everything he was freely giving at the cusp of being caught on a secret that had been weighing on him.

She had called him. He has heard from Zahra...and he never told me, knowing how much I was going crazy trying to find her.

"She told you...she told you she called me?"

I wore a look of indifference. "How else would I have known?"

He let my words hang in the air between us before he sighed, raking his fingers through his hair and dropping on the chair to my left. "I should have told you first," he confessed. "I just couldn't wrap my head around it at first, and you were doing okay; I didn't—I didn't want to fuck that up for you."

I remained quiet, watching him.

"You have to understand," he said, looking every bit as guilty as he should be.

"When did she call you?" I asked.

"A couple of weeks ago. I never returned her call. I know she said she needed help, but she sounded okay for someone who might need help, and I was going to find the time to speak to you about—"

"She called me." I cut him off. "She did not text. When she called me, she didn't speak, neither did she tell me anything."

His brows dropped, "What—" I saw the way realization drowned whatever color that had been on his face. "Hold on, did you—"

"This trust thing goes both ways, Elia. You should have told me. This is Zahra we are talking about."

His shoulders dropped with a sigh, eyes filling with worry. "You fooled me—fuck—Elio, listen, I wanted to tell—"

"She could have been in danger; we still don't know how she left the compound; we don't know who took her or what state she might be in. I understand that she broke off the little family you have formed with the others, but I can assure you that if she had done that, it was for a good reason; at least, she might have thought that."

"It wasn't because—"

"Are you the sort of person to stop caring about someone because they made a mistake once?" Guilt filled his eyes, and I continued, "She didn't sound like she needed help...what did you expect, her crying and shivering while she screamed and begged for your help? Oh, great, Elia, come save me. Is that what you expected?"

His stare turned blank, "Of course not."

I watched him for a long time before shaking my head and looking away from him to the screen again.

I did not like being angry with him, but he had hidden this from me, and it took me cunningly pulling the answer out to have him tell me what had happened. It shouldn't have been that way.

"Elio, I wanted to tell you, believe me, but there was no way I could put—"

"I am disappointed, Elia." I looked at him, watching his face fall, "I thought we could trust each other,"

He sat up, "Yes, we can."

"Can we?"

"What the fuck? Yes, we can...I didn't tell you because I was trying to protect you, okay? I didn't know what she wanted. I wanted to tell you, but then I found out she didn't just call me; she called all of STREET, saying the same thing: she needed our help. I am positive she's okay; I only stalled because I didn't know if—if telling you would bring that side of you out again."

Irritation crawled up my spine. "What side of me?"

"The side of you that went completely berserk when she disappeared. Fucking hell, Elio, you went off the rails; I couldn't do that to you again, not when I didn't know the full picture of what she truly wanted from any of us."

"Ridiculous."

"I was only doing what I thought was right,"

"Do I look like a child to you, Elia? Keeping things from me because you don't want to hurt me, Do you know how nonsensical that sounds? Where even is this thought generating from?"

"Protection." He fired back. "Just like trust, protection goes both ways. You would do the same for me, too, if it comes down to that."

I watched him for what felt like minutes before looking away, shutting the laptop, and leveling him with a stare. "What exactly did she tell you."

His jaw locked, and he shifted on his seat, still hesitating. "That she needed help. She didn't tell me what for. I was supposed to call her back to ask, but...I never did."

"Do you know where she is?"

He went quiet—discomfort swirling in his eyes.

Discomfort and fear.

When he didn't answer, I sat upright, "Elia, do you know, where she is."

He sighed, "Yes, I do."

I could not hide the disbelief I felt from resurfacing on my face. "For how long, Elia?"

"A week. I swear. I reached out to Milk—who is now Penelope. She's here in Milan, trying to decide whether to go to Zahra or not. She gave me the address, Zahra's in Sicily, but in a private estate...very difficult to locate."

I got to my feet. "Give me the address,"

He blinked, "What?"

"Did you go deaf a second ago?"

"What do you plan to do, waltz in there and demand to see her?"

"No, I plan to stare at the address like a moron and do absolutely nothing with it,"

He got to his feet, too, "We should think about this; it's not wise to breech their area. The Conti building is also located around the estate. You have to be invited if you want to enter."

"I don't have to do anything. In fact, I want them to try and stop me; maybe then I will finally put an end to my cravings. I adore a good blood bath,"

"Elio, come on—"

"The address, or I lock you up and beat it out of you,"

His eyes squinted in a twitch like he was wondering if I could actually do that, but at the same time, scared that I would.

A defeated sigh was all I heard from him before he began to pull out his phone; at that moment, the boardroom door opened again; Casmiro was walking in with a brown file in his grip, stare bouncing from Elia to me.

"I heard you found a number," he said in greeting.

"Now I'm about to get an address. When did you arrive?"

"This morning." He said, gaze shifting to Elia, who was eyeing the file Casmiro was holding. "There's something you should know before you head out," he said, and I watched Elia's gaze snap right to his face.

I didn't have time for whatever it was. "Tell me when I come back," I said, pinning Elia with a stare that had him bringing out his phone and texting me the address.

When I moved to sidestep them both, Casmiro spoke.

"You might want to hear this before you try to find her." I eyed him as he stood even straighter, "I'd rather you hear it from me than anyone else."

I watched Elia run his fingers through his hair as he sighed. He knew what this was about...either that or I was analyzing wrongly, based on the many emotions currently messing with my head.

I had Zahra's address. I could see her.

She wasn't too far from me.

And it was all too easy, too easy, considering how long I'd been waiting for this moment.

"What is this about?" I asked, watching Casmiro let out a breath.

"Zahra."

Of course. There had to be something else. As always. I could never have anything so easily handed to me. There had to be news that would wreck me along with it.

You would think I'd be used to waiting for the last shoe to drop by now, but it never truly ends.

I sighed, "You know where she is too, don't you?"

With a slight pause, he nodded. "I have been keeping tabs ever since she left the compound."

"Fuck," Elia cursed in a whisper, settling back on a chair as I watched Casmiro. The secrets bled into his eyes, becoming truths I had been holding myself from believing. I looked towards Elia, who couldn't even meet my gaze.

"A few weeks after Zahra disappeared, Vitale Conti contacted me. He told me he was the only one who could make sure she came out of coma alive. He was so self-assured that if we didn't move her, she would die. I didn't want to do it at first; I couldn't betray you like that, but then her condition worsened.

"I had no choice but to think of the other side. It would save her life if she left the compound and went back to her people. Vitale gave a strong, meaningful argument; we were fighting the same enemy—the MCSS. We needed Zahra alive; she held the keys to many things that could lead to a breakthrough in our mission, and I couldn't let her die. I knew you wouldn't see reason because you were too emotionally attached to her, so I made her disappear. It was my decision, and at that time, I also saw advantages."

Elia's confused gaze raised towards Casmiro, who didn't look at him. Not once.

My jaw locked.

Casmiro raised his chin, "I know I betrayed your trust, and I know we could never come back from this, but I'm not sorry because it was the right decision."

When I didn't speak, he continued.

"I'll leave the compound and move back to Capri. I know what I did is punishable by death, and I know you can't kill me, so I'll stay out of sight until I'm needed."

Elia was on his feet again, but I didn't take my eyes off my friend even as he stared back, unflinching, mind made up, waiting for me to accept the punishment he was taking on himself.

"Can we not make any rash decisions now?" Elia voiced. "Casmiro, you shouldn't take all the—"

"Before I leave, you should see this," Casmiro cut him off, outstretching the file towards me. "It's the least I can do after taking her away from you. Like I said, I've been keeping tabs, and I personally don't think you should go to her, but if after you see those pictures, and you still want to, then I am behind you, nevertheless."

My mind held a blank line for a long time before I took the file from him. My thoughts were empty of thoughts and judgment because I saw reason, but I also saw betrayal from both the people in this room, and he was right...I couldn't kill him. I couldn't hurt either of them.

I was frowning at myself because I knew who I was. Months ago, I would have never let this slide; I would have done something so damning they wouldn't be able to look me in the eye, but right now...that urge to hurt the ones who hurt me was silent.

Was that growth? Or was it something simmering, waiting for a lid to blow off before it attacked?

I took out the pictures from the file, and my eyes scanned the images.

A party.

Zahra. She was smiling. She seemed happy. She exuded excitement. She was...lean. Her hair was longer. But something was...off.

I tilted my head to the side, watching the man beside her—Vitale Conti—with a big grin on his face, a wine glass on his gloved hand with an arm around my woman...my woman who wore a shiny ring on her finger, something quite similar to what the Conti man was wearing on his finger.

Zahra wore a dress the same color as her crimson red lips, elegant...proper. Careful. Unlike the woman I know.

I brought my fingers to the line of her smile, dimpled just by the side of her lips, the forced crinkles by her eyes, the long curls of her hair.

"That was from her engagement party with Vitale Conti only a month ago," Casmiro informed.

"I see..."

Something heavy and hot was seeping its way into my chest, but I was quick to press it down, squeeze, and hold it firm as I blinked, slipping the pictures back into the file.

There had to be an explanation.

There is an explanation.

I dropped the file on the table, seeing Casmiro and Elia's attention placed on me as if waiting for a certain explosion.

"You should have told me Vitale reached out to you."

"You would have never let her go, Elio," Casmiro said.

"You're right. I would have argued, maybe even hit you again, find Vitale and kill him, but those were the thoughts that would have come to my head, and I would never really have gone through with them. But here's what would have happened if you had told me. It would have taken me hours, maybe even days, but I would have returned to Zahra's room and given it all a second thought. I would have put her safety first and my emotions and fears second."

Silence settled in the space as they mulled over all I'd said.

I sighed, "But you would not have known that." I nodded, taking in a breath and releasing it; the images I'd seen only a few minutes ago kept flashing in my head, messing with my thoughts, seeking a conclusion I was unwilling to give. "Did you do this alone? Moving Zahra."

Casmiro hesitated but nodded. "Yes, it was just me."

I glanced at Elia, whose face told me everything I needed. He couldn't look at me, neither could he look at Casmiro.

I looked between both of them once more before I nodded. "Hm." I picked up my suit from the back of my chair, slipping it on before focusing on Casmiro. "I will deal with this when I return; till then, you do not have my permission to leave the compound."

He seemed confused as I slipped by him towards the door.

"You're still going after her?" Elia asked.

I stopped without turning back, "I'll have the tech team zero in on her number; I'll follow whatever location she is in."

"She's engaged, Elio," he insisted.

That hot feeling was spreading, but I swallowed it back down. "Yes. But I have seen Zahra smile and laugh; whatever she did in that picture was very unfamiliar. I'm worried; I should check for myself."

"It might not be worth it," Casmiro spoke this time.

I stopped and turned, juggling his words in my head before answering, "Do you know when I realized I was falling in love with her? It was the moment she broke down a piece of her walls and allowed me take a peek at all that was behind her pretense, when she told me things, she had never told anyone just because she thought I was worth it. Zahra is worth every heartbreak, every hurt, and every inconvenience the thought and sight of her might give me. That is how unconditional our love is."

When they didn't utter a word to counter everything I said, I nodded and looked at Casmiro, "Make sure you see, Angelo. He has been worried about you. You can fill him in on everything else while you're at it." With that, I turned and left the boardroom with three things in mind.

Find Zahra. Get an explanation. Settle this once and for all. 

__

Thank you for reading!

What did you think of this chapter?

A lot is out in the open! Can you smell Zahra and Elio's first meeting after so long?

What are you expecting to come from that conversation? Is Elio gonna get his heart broken? Or is Zahra gonna jump on him and never let go? (manifest)

Milk is in MILAN? Who else do you think is around?

Do you think Elio will let Casmiro go?

Random question: If we have merch for this series? What would you like to get?

Till the next one...see ya!

Content Warning ahead: (dark activities)

Don't Forget to Vote and Comment as you read!

Enjoy

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ZAHRA
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THIS WASN'T personal.

The simple breakfast in front of me didn't smell bad, and my chef, Aurora, was terrific. She had been in this mansion as long as I had been. She made meals that would make you want to eat until you threw up and then eat again because you didn't want the taste of the food to leave your tongue.

The well-garnished and prepared bacon and eggs before me looked like heaven. On a normal day, months ago, my mouth would have been watering at the sight; I would have probably finished it in a matter of minutes, licked the plate, and my hands clean like the dirty eater I was, but now, sitting in this large as hell dining room, at the head of a long table that could fit forty people, surrounded by old paintings, maroon red and dark green walls, complimenting the crimson and black colored thin rug on the ground, and the blood red table cloth stretching from my end to the other end of the table, I wanted to run from the food.

From the house and this space.

The Oval-shaped golden sconces highlighted the paintings, and the golden lights from the dining chandelier made the food look even more delicious than expected. It was morning, but it always felt like night in this house. It was always dark, themed to look like you were in hell but on the more affluent side.

Although the whole setting around me wasn't why the food in front of me felt like my enemy, it also wasn't because I was eating alone.

I had tried eating out before, and the food seemed like a stranger I didn't want to be acquainted with. Along with the drinking problems I had after waking up, this was also a problem. I was avoiding food. I selected what I ate and was satisfied with coke and chips rather than real food. This added to my weight loss.

I wish I were hungry enough to eat like I used to, wish I could gobble food and jump in anticipation when a plate of meat was in front of me. I wish I could go back to being that Zahra who grew from being this thing that said no to food.

It wasn't unfamiliar. I was this way before I left Sicily years ago, but then I met STREET; I became comfortable in my skin and my surroundings, I felt like a different person, and I thought for one foolish moment that now that I was different, now that I had grown, I would be the better version of myself when I returned to Sicily, but that hadn't been the case.

This house remained resilient in being the bane of my existence.

I moved my fork around the plate, blowing a breath and sighing, longing to be hungry enough to eat this goddess in front of me, but as usual, I wasn't.

Dropping the fork, I drew my chair back and got to my feet.

Aurora appeared from the kitchen with a slight frown. "Isn't it to your liking?"

My smile was tight. "It's perfect, but I can't concentrate; there's too much work to get done today."

She remained quiet, lips pursed.

Her greying hair was pulled up in a tight bun, her face younger than her age of fifty-one. A nutritionist and a professional chef, Aurora had quickly befriended Vitale's mother; I had no doubt she would be spilling my eating habits to her if it continued like this.

Taking my light brown suit from the chair by the left, I wore it above the plunged-necked, well-fitted light brown waistcoat, almost the same color as my skin. It gave my cleavage a very generous display, showcasing the serpent tattoo. The pleated pants of the two-piece were a little on the bigger size but fit around my waist.

I had more outfits of the same designs with different colors. All custom made by a renowned designer in Los Angeles, with some other corporate wears that housed designs Milk had drawn into a notebook once, designs she felt would look amazing on me...designs she had wanted to create for me when she built her brand.

I caught Aurora watching me with concern.

Sighing, I managed an easy smile. "You don't have to worry, Aurora, I just don't have the appetite to eat,"

"That was what you said yesterday, and then the day before that, and the one before that."

"Maybe I'm no longer a breakfast person?"

Her stare grew blank, "Skipping breakfast is bad, skipping lunch is terrible, skipping dinner is a crime, you'll be skipping life if you continue with this pattern,"

My chest shook with laughter, and her eyes softened.

"I'm worried about you. You skip a lot of meals, and it's beginning to show," her eyes moved to my neck, "I shouldn't be seeing your collarbones; you're not some vogue underwear model,"

My brows fell into a curious frown as I shifted on my feet, "Wait, I could pass for one?"

She shook her head with a small smile, "You could,"

I grinned but tamed it, brushing the material of my suit. "I would consider it, but The Serpents would kick me out of their midst in a heartbeat,"

"You own The Serpents,"

I tilted my head to the side, nodding as I grabbed my purse, "Huh...you're right, I own The Serpents,"

She sighed, "Just be home on time for lunch or dinner, all right?"

"I will, thank you, Aurora."

I made my way out of the dining room, fishing for my phone in my purse and catching a missed call from Vitale, and then a text message that said he would be running late today for some reason, which meant I would have to handle Ignazio on my own. Great.

I didn't question it when four men followed behind me as I scrolled through my contact list, finding my assistant's contact and clicking his name as I simultaneously found my sunglasses and slipped them on.

It was hot and bright outside, and I was glad I decided to wear my hair in a ponytail, accentuating my cheekbones and relieving me of irritation.

A driver and a few men were already around the car, and three other vehicles were waiting steadily behind it just as I put a call through to my assistant.

I nodded to the man who had the car opened for me. I slipped in, throwing my purse beside me as my assistant answered the call and the car door closed. "Any reason why I'm walking alone, Siro?"

"I can—"

"I don't have my schedule for this week, I don't have moral support, I don't have updates on how my organization is doing, I'm walking blindly into the lion's den on an empty stomach, I would hate to be eaten by the lions when I'm the hungry one, Siro,"

"I know—"

"I really don't think you have an excuse unless your wife went into Labor last night, and you rushed out without your phone—"

"Yes, Miss Faizan, Meredith did go into labor, and I just returned home to get my phone and some things for her. I was about to call you and send you everything you would need today. I'm sorry for every inconvenience—"

"That's okay, I'll ask Vitale for help if there's anything I don't understand,"

"Or you could just text me, I'm gonna be on hand—"

"Stay with your family,"

"You're sure?"

"Don't worry about me, Siro; if they start speaking words I don't understand, I'll do what I do best: Stare with full concentration like I understand everything. I'll record the meeting, though, in case there's anything you might need,"

"All right, thank you, Miss Faizan,"

"Sure, say hi to Meredith for me; tell her I'll drop by later in the day to see her and the baby,"

"Of course, have a good day, Miss Faizan,"

"You too, and congratulations, Siro,"

"Thank you,"

With a small smile he couldn't see, I ended the call as the smile cracked from my face, and I relaxed back on the car seat, letting out a small breath as we began moving.

It was the last Wednesday of the month, which meant meeting day, a little briefing with Serpent members as we recounted all we were doing and what we could do to take the society to enormous heights, with Vitale being the new Serpent head and me being his sponsor.

We had many enemies on those seats, but we owned the table, and it would take more than a lot to shove us away. The ring on my finger and the joining of what used to be Martino's crime family and The Serpents gave us more power—enough for Vitale to work through this probation period. We did a lot to convince people that our engagement was real. I didn't know how long we could stay engaged, but I hoped it was enough.

The goal was to Marry Vitale, but I couldn't do it.

I was once willing to; we had a deal before I left Sicily. He would watch over my city, handle the affairs, and keep Martino's absence a secret for as long as he could while I worked on getting the flash drive for the pedophile ring, return to Sicily, and marry him so he could get his seat at the table with my power, and then we could destroy our enemies together.

Now, a lot has changed. I fell in love and wasn't willing to risk a life with Elio for this, so I stuck to just engagement. And now the stakes were higher because Vitale didn't just get a seat. He got the Serpent head position and led the secret society, thanks to the flash drives we had gotten.

I didn't like to get too involved with The Serpents business, but there was a new table of society and crime family members; it was why I got myself an assistant...at least one of the reasons.

I hadn't gone to school. I wouldn't consider the home lessons with fear at the back of my mind and molestation every night a good learning environment.

I could speak and understand English. I could also understand and speak some other languages, but I couldn't really read them.

I could read English, but I wasn't perfect with it either; my eyes filtered words too big to pronounce and understand, and I was only stuck on the main details I understood. I didn't know anything about numbers except the basic stuff, and well, I had a calculator on my phone to help.

When I woke up, I had Vitale break down some of what had been written in the MCSS flash drive and some details I realized Elio couldn't have known or been involved in.

Vitale and Siro were the only ones who knew I was a little lacking in the reading and writing department. STREET had never really wondered why I wrote things like I was texting. I had issues with spelling; I used my common sense sometimes to spell things; most times, I'm correct, and most times, I'm not.

I was embarrassed by this little flaw. It wasn't as though I lacked completely—I could read easy English and write things down. Though my handwriting was an eyesore, Dog had never failed to make fun of me whenever he read my jottings—but I was lacking.

I remembered once when I took one of Elio's books; I couldn't get too far because I was lazy and I got tired; it may also have been the fault of the book having a tiny font and words I couldn't pronounce without faltering and reading twice. There was also that time when I saw Elio's handwriting; I had been so jealous. It was pretty, effortless, elegant, like him.

Martino had known of this flaw; sometimes, I suspected Ignazio was also aware. Still, he had never once pointed it out. Besides, if there's something I'm good at, it's pretending and keeping secrets—so it wasn't hard for me to get by. There was no harm in listening and keeping quiet.

About forty minutes later, I walked down the long hallway to the boardroom where the meeting was held.

The building was an hour from my home but still in the same estate. I didn't like the space; it had an air of something wrong...something dark.

It was the headquarters of the Secret Society, where I had spent a lot of time being looked after by Vitale. The headquarters where I had been treated, marked, and probed—I couldn't be sure, but I wouldn't put anything past these people.

I got to the intersection, where I had to let go of my security detail, seeing as they couldn't be in the same room or area where the meeting was being held.

Entering the boardroom, almost everyone was there, standing at different areas, drinking and conversing. The room held nearly thirty men in fine maroon suits, all tailored and uniformed in the same style. I stuck out like a sore thumb; everyone turned to regard me. Men, ranging from age twenty-five to seventy, some holding stares of distaste, and most holding stares of disapproval.

I didn't care. I wasn't willing to conform to their occultic traditions; I might bear their mark on my chest, displaying it boldly with my cleavage right on display as I took my suit off and hung it on my arm, but I wouldn't bend to their rules.

Ignazio approached me, but I pretended I didn't see him coming over as I dropped my purse right on my seat beside Vitale's at the head of the table.

"Puppet didn't come with you today?" he asked, one gloved hand pocketed, the other holding a drink.

Puppet. His degrading nickname for his brother. Vitale and Ignazio were like heat on a sunny day and cold on a stormy night.

I stood on the sidelines for years, watching Ignazio and Martino become Vitale's demons; they shoved him around and belittled him because they always thought he lacked the spine to be in their world, in the Society. He was bullied, beaten, and degraded until his world became black and white.

It was why I never questioned Vitale's acceptance of all I had planned to get Martino out of the picture.

"What was it? Lovers quarrel?" Ignazio's voice brought me out of my thoughts, and when I didn't respond, He continued, shifting on his feet and leaning closer to me so only I would hear his following words, "What did he do? Couldn't satisfy your sexual urges?"

I scoffed, crossing my arms against my chest and turning to look at him; light blonde hair slipped back, dark blue eyes piercing and malicious with devilish intents, his gaze falling to my chest in appreciation. "He satisfies me perfectly, Ignazio, not like you would know what that means."

He threw his head back, laughing wholeheartedly like I had said the funniest thing in the universe.

I wanted to gut him.

Ignazio, at 32, had collected his mother's beauty, the blonde hair and blue eyes; though his eyes were a little on the darker side of blue, unlike Vitale's, it added to the odd and disgusting aura around him. I never liked him. Never liked that I couldn't kill him...just yet. He sometimes haunted my nightmares; seeing his face brought back memories I would have loved to erase and burn. Memories Vitale knew nothing about. Memories that lay hidden in the flash drive now in Elio's possession.

"You never fail to make me laugh, Zahra. Almost feels like that is the only quality you're known for." His eyes held that taunting edge, "That and well..." his gaze fell to my chest again, "Satisfying men..."

My smile was wide as I nodded, "Right,"

"Right indeed," he raised his glass to me, "I would know,"

"You're referring to the time you raped me, right? Because I can't think of another time when you would know how awesome I am at satisfying men,"

His frown was playful as he turned entirely towards me, "You're still on that rape bullshit."

"As long as you're still alive and breathing, I'll forever remain on it...last I checked, you're the only one still alive from that time; as you know, all your friends are like...six feet deep, dining with maggots and worms."

He rolled his eyes, "Come on, Little Z, It isn't rape if you loved it,"

"Ah," I nodded, "Right, a woman cries and begs you to stop fucking her is her loving the sex...I wonder how many women stuck around long enough to have you make her beg and scream like that again, Ignazio."

"A lot, if you're so curious. I even have a list."

My jaw clenched, but I wasn't angry, nor was the conversation making me uncomfortable. Ignazio was a waste of space; his mother was the only reason he was still breathing. I never told Vitale what Martino and Ignazio did to me all those years ago when they found out I was aiming to step up. Vitale never knew the reason why I had switched up our plans at the last minute, and he would never know because I feared he would kill his brother.

That would break his mother, break what little was left of their family, and I couldn't be responsible for that.

"I give a good time, Little Z," he grinned, walking closer to me, "In fact, if my brother is lacking in that department, I can offer you a free night in paradise with me,"

"Oh, I'll have to check my schedule,"

"I promise you would want to cancel all that you have planned," he said slowly, bringing his lips to my ear, his perfume twisting my stomach, twisting so hard that it took all and everything in me not to throw up. "I have learned a few new tricks over the years,"

I almost gagged. "I don't doubt it, you seem to only think real thoughts with your dick, it's unique,"

He pulled back, his face a mix of confusion. I could tell he wasn't sure if I was complimenting him or the opposite.

"Loosen up, Zahra," he said, clearing his throat. "You need more friends than enemies on this table. Vitale is a whiny little brat. You need someone strong enough to protect and stand by you; you're on the losing team if you think Vitale is that person.

I smiled, watching him with all my attention, "This is your problem, Ignazio. You live in the past. You live in constant denial." My eyes went between his, watching discomfort litter his composed form. "When will you see that you answer to the whiny little brat? He has the final say; he can kick you off the board if he so wishes to. If I were you, I would be licking his boots and serving him with all I've got."

His lips lifted in a sneer, "You're the only reason he has that position. He might seem all grown up now, but he will forever be that spineless, whiny little brat to me. No title or seat would change that." He took a step back from me. "You should come to the winning team, Little Z; I can protect you, and trust me when I say you need protection because you do..." his stare turned a little dark as he added, "You need all the help you can get for what is coming."

I frowned just as he turned to leave, and the door opened; Vitale stepped into the space with the same maroon-colored suit as everyone else. I looked back at Ignazio, who was eying the room like he knew something we didn't.

It disturbed me, and I had to shake my head slightly to remove myself from that thinking space.

Everyone took their respective stand behind their seats as Vitale walked towards me. Hair brushed back moderately, steps solid and firm as if the ground understood his footsteps needed to be respected.

When he reached me, he wrapped his arm around my waist and brought his lips to mine in a quick kiss—a little convincing show he carried diligently to show the ones who still had eyes on us that we were very much in love and wanted to get married for that reason.

He let me go, took his seat, and gave a short nod, our cue to sit.

As everyone took their seats, my eyes roamed the table, seeing the short silver goblets in front of everyone in the room.

As Serpent Head, Vitale was the first to pick up his goblet before everyone else followed—everyone but me.

I watched them all chorus unanimously, their little ritual. "To the souls that spilled to quench. The mothers that bled to create, and the hands that guide thy Serpent ways."

I swallowed, shifting uncomfortably as they all fell silent. I didn't need to look up to know their eyes were on me.

My hands fisted on the table as my gaze rose to find Vitale's stare. Cold and empty, like the feeling swirling around the room.

I looked around to see everyone still lifting their goblet, waiting for me to pick up mine.

Gaze falling back to Vitale's; I watched him pointedly stare at the silver goblet in front of me before his gaze rose to the tattoo on my chest and then slowly traveled to my eyes. I looked away from him, picking up the goblet with surprisingly steady hands as my gaze found Ignazio's smug stare.

I clenched my jaw and locked my gaze with his as I spoke. "To the souls that spilled to quench. The mothers that bled to create, and the hands that guide thy Serpent ways." Then I downed the red drink in the cup, ignoring the metallic taste swirling with the old wine, holding off my gag as I watched everyone else drink and drop their cups.

I turned to find Vitale's eyes on me, a small, proud smile lingering on his lips as he looked away, straightened his suit, sat up, and said, "Shall we begin?"

***

It wasn't an easy argument with Vitale, leaving the headquarters on my own after the meeting concluded, but he had so much to take care of, and I had so much to take care of, too. More than anything, I wanted to drive alone, without protection. I could protect myself well enough and didn't need people getting into my business.

Vitale hesitated, but I told him I'd be fine and would return to the mansion before dinner. I'd also told him I would be at the hospital with Siro's wife, seeing her and the new baby; I didn't need people flooding the hospital and drawing unnecessary attention. That seemed to have calmed him and removed suspicions.

Yes, I was going to head to the hospital, but after that, I had a little something private to get done.

My fingers tapped on my steering wheel as I cut to the highway leading out of the Conti estate.

It was only fitting to visit the hospital; I'd met Siro's wife several times; she was wonderful and had been so excited to see her baby. I was also excited to see the newborn. I love children. Contrary to the life I lived now, I had been that little girl who wished to own toys shaped like plastic babies, brushing hair and giving them forehead kisses. That phase of my life had bled off quickly, but it had been there—the motherly instincts. One that soon dug itself deep into my mind when I learned I couldn't have any child of my own.

That dream was dead, along with many others. Regardless, I still loved children; I loved to hold them, hug them, and look at them. It felt like reliving a childhood I had been robbed of, reminding myself of the innocence I had been stripped of.

I had plans to adopt maybe sometime in the future if I survived through all that I had—

Something rammed into my car from behind, and I jerked forward, lost control of the steering wheel for a few seconds as the vehicle ran off course. I gripped the steering wheel tight, swerving my body like it was the car itself; a screeching sound from the tires filled my ears as I struggled to maneuver the vehicle to the side of the road, slamming on the brake as the airbag popped right off, slapping me in the face while the car that had collided with me drove past but curved to pull over right in front.

Something warm sled down my nostrils, and I rubbed it off to see blood on my fingers.

"Shit," I cursed, raising my head as I fished for a handkerchief in my purse. I found one, pressing it against my nose. "Fucking airbag," I muttered with my heart still in my throat, expelling a breath as I turned off the engine, collecting myself from what could have been a fatal accident.

I made sure the bleeding had stopped before I discarded the handkerchief, opened the door, and got out of the car, not even bothering to check the other party, as I walked right to the back where I had been hit.

"Oh fuck—oh come the fuck on!" I yelled, throwing my hands up and letting them land at my sides in defeat as I watched the back of my car pressed and dropped at an odd angle; the back bumper was damaged, and a huge dent curled from the trunk to the side of the—it was fucked. I knew I heard a loud crash upon impact, but it couldn't have been so bad, "Ugh,"

I frowned, anger simmering as I snapped my gaze towards the black Rolls Royce. I matched towards my car when I realized no other cars were coming by. Swiftly, I slid into my car via my knees, opened the glove compartment and grabbed a gun, checking the bullet casing. "That motherfucker better not be dead because I'm gonna kill the fucker myself," I gritted, clocking the weapon just as the sound of their car door opened and close.

Smirking with all the malice of the soul, I hurriedly slipped out of my car, outstretching my gun as I spoke, "It's either you're as high as a fucking—"

I stopped.

My words slipped right down my throat, tightened, and pressed into silence as I stared at the person who had hit me.

The gun shook in my hand, clattering to the floor at how weak my arm had suddenly grown.

Standing right there, in front of me, in a black trench coat under a black turtle neck sweater and black slacks, with both his hands tucked into his pockets as he watched me with calculating grey eyes, my heart had forgotten how to create beats. It was stumbling on itself, missing turns and spaces where it was supposed to pump; it forgot pace and, rhythm and normality. It forgot everything, scrambling away from the sight before me—the person before me.

My lips were parted in shock, my eyes wide, my body frozen.

I was in shock, and I still wasn't sure I was breathing.

His eyes took me in, toe to head, our gaze locking and staying as he spoke,

"Hello Sport," 

_

Thanks for reading

Random question: The year is just starting, but how has it been so far?

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_______
ZAHRA
_______

"HELLO SPORT,"

The familiar low timbre of his voice and that nickname had my heart squeezing.

I wanted to swallow, but my mouth was dry. I wanted to collect myself, but I tried and failed. I needed to steady my breathing, but the more I did, the more winded I felt, and my chest...my chest felt tight, and it grew even tighter by the second.

Disbelief was the most prominent emotion attacking my insides.

He was really here. I was blinking, and he wasn't going away; he was watching me, waiting for me to speak, run, pick up my gun, and shoot. I couldn't be sure what he wanted, but I was sure of what I saw in his eyes: confusion, longing, and maybe a little bit of anger, telling from his frown that was slowly deepening with each second that passed—But then again, I couldn't be sure. Not about this. Not about anything at this moment.

Everything in me softened as I took him in.

He looked a little different, healthier. His hair was fuller and longer, and there was a particular shine to him that wasn't previously present. Like he had let go of some baggage he had been carrying. It was a good change, and I wished I could tell him that, but this wasn't how we were supposed to meet; it wasn't the right time.

A car sped by on the highway, and I gasped, stumbling back and blinking out of the daze that I was in.

"You—" I stopped with how hoarse I sounded, so I cleared my throat, found a swallow to take down the tightness that had been blocking my vocal cords, and, "How did you find me?"

"Technology." He answered, gaze shifting to my car, "And maybe a certain phone call from you as well. Also, my brother, a little tracker, a private jet, and then my car, the highway, you, me..."

I would have done anything to keep him talking, but this couldn't be happening. I wasn't ready for it. I still had too many eyes on me; I couldn't slip up now. It would all be for nothing if I entertained any communication with him.

With reasonable effort, I dragged my gaze from him, "You shouldn't have come here or tried to find me. I didn't want to be found,"

"You called me,"

"Butt dial,"

"At four AM."

"I—" my brain tried to find answers, "I don't know? My butt dialed it while I was sleeping?"

"Five times?"

I looked up at him again, "Stranger things have happened, Marino, and what the fuck!" I turned to my car, "You seriously didn't have to hit my car; you could have just cornered me like a normal fucking human being. The car could have tumbled over; I could have died!"

"At least I would know death was the only reason you didn't call me sooner. Maybe I was aiming to kill you; give myself an excuse not to be angry at you."

The hardness in his voice had me blinking and turning my body to face him fully.

His gaze fell to my chest, and I knew he probably just noticed the damned tattoo. I briefly wondered what he thought about it, if he knew what it meant, and how close to the society I was. I shoved the thoughts back down, focusing on our current situation. "Why the fuck would you be angry at me."

He raised his gaze from my chest with a stern frown, "I beg your pardon?"

"You have no reason to be angry or try to find me, Marino."

Indignation dropped his eyebrows, and it seemed as if he couldn't comprehend how I could be speaking the words I was saying. "You were taken from me,"

"No," I shook my head, standing straighter and tightening my will as I built a high, thick, impenetrable wall against the feelings searing in my chest. "I was saved from you, big difference," I said, looking away from him, feigning indifference and disinterest as I studied the damages on the car. "Fucking hell, this is bad,"

"Saved from me?" he questioned.

I chewed on my bottom lip, "Yes," Looking back at him, I placed my hands on my hip, "We weren't exactly best friends before I almost died, did you forget?"

"No," he answered immediately, taking measured steps toward me. My bold façade faltered, but I stood firm as he stopped a foot distance away; I could feel his addictive warmth, could smell his familiar cologne; just a step more and my body would be pressed to his; I could hug him and breathe him in until my lungs begged for mercy, it felt like seeing a very delicious candy you've been craving, and now your fingertips were almost touching it, but for some reason, you couldn't claim it or take it. It was torture. This longing was torture. "I did not forget." He finished his statement.

Swallowing was tricky—I needed to step back and create more space. Disappear.

"It is impossible to forget something as cruel as the look on your face before you stopped breathing, Zahra." The frown left his brows, and his eyes softened as he searched my face, as if he were checking for that same expression. "It is impossible to forget what had happened before, the conversation we never finished, your accusation and fear I once thought I would never be able to quench because I couldn't let go of a gun."

His stare was intense, holding mine to the point that I couldn't look away to save myself from the raw touch of his emotions seeking mine.

"Then you disappeared," he continued, "After being in coma for months, you disappeared. I searched the whole damn continent for you, wreaked unnecessary havoc in your name, and now suddenly, seven months later, you call my brother," his eyes hardened once more, "Called your friends, gave them your location, called me, but then blocked me for whatever imbecilic reason, and now you are engaged to that man, standing right in front of me, telling me I have no reason to be angry?"

My chest was squeezing, and my heart was changing rhythm, beating twice as fast as it had once been.

No matter how hard he tried to mask it, I could hear the hurt in his voice and how much he was trying to put it second to everything else he was feeling.

"I deserve at least...an explanation, Zahra," his voice grew softer, "Why didn't you reach out to me? Why is that ring on your finger? Why—"

"Your questions are irrelevant," I said through the tightness in my throat and the heaviness in my chest.

"Irrelevant?"

"Yes, you don't deserve an explanation from me, Elio," the surprise and disbelief in his eyes rocked me. I shifted my gaze from him, falling a step back. "I genuinely have no reason to give you one because me and you? We're nothing." The lie felt like rusted scissors, cutting painfully slow at the fragile strings holding my chest at bay. "I ended all there was between us right before I was shot. You shouldn't have tried to find me or go through all that waste because I'm not yours, I never was,"

He didn't speak for almost a minute, but a confused frown was on his face.

Another car flew by, and it took a lot to hide my flinch. I couldn't be out here with him like this.

I looked up at him once more, "I'm engaged to the person I want to be with, and I shared my location with everyone who mattered to me; make of that, what you will,"

"So I don't matter to you? Is that what you're saying?"

I locked my jaw, pushing down a hard swallow. "You ought to have known that by now. You're smart; you can tell when I'm lying."

"You are lying."

"And you are delusional," I muttered. "I meant what I said. We don't owe each other anything. This wasn't real, what we had was nothing—"

"Don't say things like that," he countered immediately, "It is very unfair because I know you do not mean them, and it makes it worse because I know you are trying to hurt me on purpose."

"Elio—"

"All I am asking for is an explanation; make me understand why you choose to be away from me; I am not fatuous; I will understand if it is indispensable."

"That's the thing." I met his gaze head-on. "You don't understand what I'm trying to say, and I'm trying to soften the blow by being gentle, but if you want to know why none of this matters, fine."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

"I left Sicily knowing if I ever returned, I would be engaged and married to Vitale. I had fun with you; it was great, but it was never meant to last." My limbs felt weak, and I let my body rest on the car behind me as I looked down at my feet, his quietness speaking in volumes that made me feel guilty even to raise my gaze, "I wanted to tell you...I was going to tell you everything, but then I found the flash drives and learned about the MCSS and your involvement with them, and...it all went to shit."

"Fun..." he said quietly. "You had fun with me..."

"Obviously, that's all you could take out from all I just said,"

"Did you hear it? Did you hear all you just said to me, Zahra? Fun?"

My eyes stung, and a slight tremor swirled through me. "This isn't my fault, okay?" I met his gaze, which now held the hurt he had been trying to push back. "I didn't ask for any of this bullshit; you assumed a lot when it came to us; you were so in over your head that you didn't stop to think or ask yourself why I never said it back."

He paused, his eyes squinting in question.

I didn't remove my eyes from his as I said, "When you told me you loved me...every time you said those words. I never said it back. Not once, didn't you ever wonder why?"

"I never had to; you did not need to say it back, Zahra. I knew how you felt—"

"You assumed."

"I knew," he said, gaze moving between mine, "Stop saying all these things; don't disrespect us like that."

I closed my eyes, pulled them open again, and looked to the side, blinking away tears.

"I understand if you don't want to tell me what's going on," he said, "but don't speak words you won't be able to take back."

I turned sharply toward him, "Who says I want to take them back?" I shifted on my feet, "Maybe you need to know how I truly feel. I have managed to push back these emotions for weeks, trying to forget about gutting you because someone I care about loves you."

"Zahra—"

I pushed at his chest, creating distance between us and cutting him off as I stood straighter, collecting the little pieces of myself that had melted without me even realizing it. "This isn't okay; you are the one being unfair. Hitting my car, intercepting me like I was supposed to fly to your arms and thank you for finding me, or wreaking havoc for me. Doing shit I never asked for. Saying stuff that I don't give two fucks about; You are suffocating, Elio."

His face fell, and I held back tears when I could find nothing but hurt in his eyes.

Another car swept by, and I didn't know if I was paranoid or if the vehicle really slowed down a bit to watch, but it was gone as soon as I had seen it.

"How can you say that?" He asked, pulling my attention back to him. "I'm here because I care; I did all those things for you because I love you, and I was worried about you—"

"I don't want it!" I yelled, "I don't want your care or your love,"

"Another lie,"

"Are you even listening to a word I'm saying? Do I have to spell it out for you? You can't just show up like this! Not after everything I learned!"

"Then let us talk about it; let me explain everything."

"I don't need your explanation. I don't care about it,"

"Zahra—"

"Seeing you reminds me of all the shit I went through, okay? It's really suffocating, Elio. Knowing all I know about the MCSS, your presence makes me want to peel my fucking skin off. I don't know what you think you saw but think about it. How on earth would I ever love someone like you?" It went quiet between us, and I watched his eyes grow a shade darker, tension releasing from his brows as my words sank in. I averted my gaze. "I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, but you're just not...you're not really love material, Elio."

The moment it left my mouth, I regretted it—And when I looked at him, I knew I had done real damage. I had gone too far.

Tears were welling in this man's eyes as he slowly took a step back from me. He removed his eyes from me and nodded. "I apologize," he said, never reaching my gaze once. "I shouldn't have come."

This was what I wanted, him to leave, to be far away from here until the time was right, but it felt so fucking wrong; He knew me. He could read me like an open book, and I knew he was probably aware of what I was trying to do, but it didn't hurt any less.

I sighed, "Elio, I—"

He turned away from me, walking in the direction of his car.

I didn't stop him.

I couldn't.

The gaping hole in my chest expanded the further he went. It grew, watching him unlock his car door and slipping inside.

I caught the dent at the front of the car from when he had hit me. And I worried for a moment if the vehicle was in good shape to be driven. But he had started the engine, and it gave a reassuring sound that had me relaxing, but my chest didn't stop hurting as I watched the vehicle move...

I still stood there, locked on the spot as he drove away, the car disappearing into the distance.

I blinked my blurry vision clear, tears sliding down my cheeks as more built up in my eyes.

If the society caught wind of this little visit so close to the estate, things would get ugly. I knew I had many enemies, waiting for a little slip-up to kick Vitale off the board before the probation period was over, but we only had a month left. A month, and we could call off this charade.

As I stood there, eyes still on the path Elio's car had disappeared, I wondered if it was worth it, if hurting him the way I did just now was worth anything because it sure as hell didn't feel like it was.

I kept fucking things up when it came to him. I had never been bothered about consequences because I knew him to be reasonable if given a proper explanation. But how long? How long would he tolerate the hurt I always caused him? When would he crack and realize I wasn't good enough for him? The next time I hurt him? The next time I lie to his face?

I couldn't keep doing this. It was bad behavior. Toxic in all sense, and he didn't deserve that—maybe this was for the best. Perhaps I should leave him alone; he was doing okay now; he didn't need the baggage that came with me. He needed something stable and clean, not something like me. I could only offer him nothing but trouble, and he didn't need that.

I had once said he didn't deserve me. But I had been foolish. It was the other way around.

I didn't deserve him.

***

The baby in my arms served as a cure for the turmoil residing in every nerve in my body. I cooed softly, rocking her gently. She felt so warm, soft to hold, fragile in all the best ways, and God, she was beautiful too.

"I have a feeling she's going to look more like you when she's a big girl; Siro isn't all that," I said softly, and Meredith laughed from her position on the bed as she drank the soup her husband had brought in about ten minutes ago before he went to run several errands.

He had been so surprised to see me. He probably thought I had been bluffing when I said I would visit them, but I hadn't been bluffing. I loved babies; they were so precious. I hadn't held a lot, but the first time was when I worked at Julio's tattoo place in Mexico. One of his employees had a baby, and I was immediately attached to the little one. I always wanted to hold him whenever she brought him there, and sometimes, I would visit her apartment to spend time with him.

I smiled at little Pia now, a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. They couldn't have given her something better than Pia. It was perfect.

"To think about it is crazy," Meredith said with a sigh as she dropped the soup spoon. "Siro and I never wanted a baby this early on in our marriage; we still wanted to have fun and enjoy our freedom, and I don't even know what in hell I'm doing; I don't know the first thing about being a mom, and Siro is as confused as me,"

I smiled, taking the small visitor's couch by the side of the bed, "I think it's okay to feel that way; you learn as you go, honestly."

"It would have been easier if my mom wasn't too angry to see me," she said, a sadness in her voice that had me looking up at her. Both sides of the family hadn't approved of her and Siro's marriage because they thought they weren't compatible, but they were in love and very crazy about each other, so none of those opinions mattered to them then.

"Your mom is missing the opportunity of a lifetime, Meredith. Trust me when I say she will regret it."

She smiled a closed-lipped smile at me and then looked down at Pia in my arms. "She's so little. Each time I hold her, I get scared I'd crush her or something,"

I chuckled, "You won't," I looked down at Pia, "It's only your thoughts messing with you. You'll be a wonderful mother, Meredith."

"And so will you,"

I snapped my head up to look at her. "What?"

"You're perfect with Pia; I have no doubt you'll be a great mom too," she said with a kind smile, "I'm sure Vitale would also be a wonderful dad, and you all will make a perfect family someday."

My smile was a little forced as I nodded, not saying anything. My throat tightened as I watched Pia.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Without looking at her, I shook my head, "No, you're good. I'm just a little..." I swallowed the lump in my throat, shaking my head again as I looked up at her with a tight smile, "Never mind, it's nothing."

She held a concerned look in her eyes, one that was inviting and warm.

Meredith was safe to talk to, but I wasn't a heart-to-heart kind of girl. I didn't really know how to do that stuff...at least, not with anyone aside from Milk, who I was very comfortable with, who I knew wouldn't judge me for the things I did or felt, and even if I wanted to talk now...what would I say? There was a lot on my mind.

"If you want to talk," Meredith started softly, "I'm always here to listen. I mean...I don't have friends here in Sicily, I just...well, Siro is the only one I know here, and you...I know you're his boss, and this might seem odd, but we can still talk..."

I smiled at her, looking down at Pia again and letting the silence drag on a little before I spoke my following words quietly. "I think I have a little bit of an identity crisis,"

Saying the words aloud affirmed where my head was, and I felt a sense of relief, a little bag leaving my shoulders.

Sighing, I closed my eyes, turned my head, and opened my eyes to stare at the white ceiling. "I don't know who I am...but I know what I want to be...although when I think about wanting to be that person...I feel...guilty."

"Guilty in what sense?"

I looked back at her but focused somewhere on her collarbone. "Guilty that I want to be happy...that I want to drop all I have ever known to pursue a safer life with the people I love and forget the old me existed." I clenched my jaw, "But the old me is...very, very, vengeful. She's tired of what she used to be, and she wants to make people pay for all that happened to her, and she wants it so bad she is willing to risk it all...but then there's the me stuck in the middle, trying to stop both identities from blending because I might lose myself completely. I might go batshit crazy, and I'm terrified of going batshit crazy."

"Then maybe that's what you need?"

I locked eyes with her, noticing the black depth of her eyes that complimented her black hair.

"To go crazy?" I asked.

She laughed softly, "No...that's not what I meant. The middle you...is the You that you need to focus on. What does she really want?"

"Both things,"

"Good...we must learn to let the people we love see a side to us that we are scared to show or think they won't approve of. Give them a chance to stick with you or run for the hills. If they stick with you, great; if they don't, let them go; they'll either come around if they're the real ones or let you be if they aren't."

"I don't want to risk losing them..."

"We take risks in life, not because we want to...but because we need to. That's the only way we move forward. Risk is a necessity. I took it with Siro, and while I lost my family by choosing him, it was the best decision I ever made," she smiled, "Let it all in, Zahra, feel all the feelings that come with both sides of you, if you keep tiptoeing around them, and avoiding feeling them, you'll most definitely lose yourself in all the chaos."

I let her words sink in. I didn't know how long I sat there, but I eventually smiled, said nothing, and looked back down at the baby in my arms.

***

I stepped onto the boat's front deck lined at the docks; the sunglasses I wore shielded the sun from making me squint as the person I met stepped out of the cabin with a glass of champagne in his grip. "You are an hour late," he said, Russian accent touching all of his words.

Looking around the area, I saw men hanging around, discretely guarding the boat without getting attention from the other passers and boat owners.

The boat I was standing on was a new modern build named Vivian Yegorov, a white and newly constructed beauty that looked like an elite vacation home. It was owned by the buff man with a bald head and tattooed face standing by the cabin, wearing white shorts and a white unbuttoned shirt with a chest and stomach littered with tattoos; it was a struggle to find skin. He watched me. Yaroslav Yegorov. A very popular transporter—smuggler—of anything. Drugs, illegal food supplies, contraband, and, most times, important people.

I looked back at him through my sunglasses, "Something important came up," I said, slipping my phone into my pocket. "Nice boat,"

He smirked proudly, "Yes. One of my priced possessions, named after the most important woman in my life...my mother."

"Yeah, sure. Great. Do you have it?"

He nodded, gesturing with his head that I followed him.

Looking around once more, I followed behind him down a living space area that housed a couple of half-naked women and men sleeping on the couches with the evidence of what seemed to have been a wild party.

We passed through to a short hallway, and then he stopped in front of a door, dug in his pocket for a bunch of keys, unlocked the door, and pushed it.

It was a simple bedroom, empty, safe for a single couch and a single bed.

The item I had come for was tied to the single couch in front of the bed, brown greying hair a wild mess, dried blood running down his face, with a white cloth tied around his mouth to prevent him from making any noise that might raise suspicions, he was dressed corporately, a white button up and black slacks, no suit in sight. He had probably been returning from an event when they snagged him.

The man looked between me and Yaroslav with a confused frown on his face.

"The blood?" I asked.

"He fought too hard. Killed two of my guys in the process,"

I nodded, "Give us the room,"

Yaroslav nodded, walking out of the room and shutting the door after him.

I took off my sunglasses, hooking them to the middle neckline of my waistcoat as I walked around him to remove the cloth from his mouth that had stopped him from speaking.

"You know you are gonna die for this, right?" was his first gruff words to me as I threw the cloth to a corner, came to stand in front of him, shoved both hands into my pants pocket, and tilted my head as I watched him.

"The last thing you would want to threaten me with is death. It does nothing for me. Death is like a...been there, done that kinda topic for me? So, maybe try something else,"

"Who the fuck are you?"

"No one of importance...but you, on the other hand..." I smiled, "You are a really hard man to find, Tora Vuković,"

"Maybe that's because I'm not supposed to be fucking found?" he yelled. "Do you know the kind of problems you have caused for the CIA, bringing me in like this? They'll know something is wrong when I don't report back,"

"No, they won't...I have that covered, Agent Vuković."

He paused. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

I shrugged, "In the movie industries, there's something they call a stunt double."

The look in his eyes turned lethal, "You bring a civilian to handle private governmental business?"

"Oh, shush, grandpa, he's a professional," I stopped, then blinked, "I think...for the most part, I don't know, he was recommended to me. But I know he won't fuck it up because then he'd have me to deal with, and most people don't want to deal with me."

The man was breathing loudly now, looking pissed beyond belief. "What do you want? Who are you? Why the fuck am I here?"

"You have information that I want...Information I must get for a good friend of mine."

"You are wasting your time, Miss. I work for the fucking CIA; everything in my head is high-profiled shit I can't divulge; you might as well kill me."

I smiled yet again, walking to stand behind him, "There are worse things than death, Agent Vuković. I really don't want us to go down that route," I placed my hand on both his shoulders, bending slowly so my lips were to his ear. "It would do you a lot of good to cooperate with me so I don't bring the people you care about into this," I said softly, but there was a menacing edge to my voice that I didn't bother to hide.

I rose to my full height and walked back in front of him to see the anger and wariness in his eyes.

"Now that I have your attention, you're going to tell me all you know about Jared and Sandra Reagan."

His face paled. "Wh—what? Where did you hear those names?"

"I believe they are parents to my best friend, Wesley Reagan."

His eyes widened. "Jesus..." He gasped out. I didn't like the level of surprise I saw in his eyes and heard in his voice. "Wesley's alive?"

Alarm bells rang in my head as I slipped my hand behind me, pulled out my gun, unlocked it from the safety, and pointed it right at him, "Okay motherfucker, start talking,"

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Till the next one, see ya!

Hi...

Thank you all so much for your engagement in the last chapter, the debate, the broken phone screens, the tears, imaginary blood and gore, and a kidnap wish from half of y'all to me. I love you guys 😂

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_______
ELIO
_______

HER PERFECTLY symmetrical face stared lifelessly at me.

An indubitably amorous masterpiece.

The perfect aphrodisiac.

She was a work of art with all careful strokes and colors, months, weeks, and days of hard work, learning and perfecting how to use a paintbrush, letting out my frustrations and obsession on a blank canvas to feel less preoccupied in my head.

The outcome had rattled me, but it had worked...I managed my urges. I managed my feelings and emotions to the point that whenever I began to feel a little deeply, I expressed it through this means...

All for what?

An obsession that was pulsing right in front of my eyes, in my veins, in my blood...one that had me thinking infernal thoughts I certainly wanted to put into action but couldn't because I had to be this way...I had to be healed, and...okay...and perfect...perfect so my brother wouldn't have to worry about me, so he wouldn't have to see me crack and go—how did he put it—berserk.

My life now was an awful lot like how I tiptoed around my father, doing things a certain way so he wouldn't know I wasn't all right in the head—denying myself happiness because I wanted to live up to his expectations. However, this time, the people I cared for wanted me to conform to their idea of happiness...although to their credit, the concepts of happiness they had were good—better than my idea, which was a little sideways. Still, it felt so good to think my thoughts, to imagine how happy I would feel putting into action the pictures that flipped in my head right now...staring at this portrait of Zahra.

It felt terrific...picturing myself slicing Zahra's fiancé's neck—the fiancé who mattered—Not after giving him a month's worth of torture, taking him to a cabin out of a town that had only four hundred residents, knowing no one would come out there for months, and by chance when his body started decaying, no one would be disturbed by the smell.

Maybe I would take pictures...make several videos, kidnap Zahra, and make her watch it on repeat until she went crazy...as crazy as she made me.

Then I'd probably buy a ring and burn it into the skin of her ring finger so it would permanently remain etched to her skin and bones. I would most definitely do the same thing to myself, too...generous enough to go through the pain with her because I love her, and her pain was mine.

Then I would buy her the prettiest wedding dress and hold a gun to her head as she said the vows, after which I would take her home and lock her up until I make her fall in love with me and remember how amazing it was for the both of us, being together.

I brought the bottle of bourbon to my lips, taking a very long swig and drinking like it was water...all the while never removing my eyes from the portrait.

I could really do it...I should probably start making plans; it wouldn't take me too much to find her fiancé; he had many enemies I was friends with...I had so many plans for him...I wondered what face he would make while he chewed on his own fingers...the fingers he had around Zahra in those pictures...I reckon he would house a grimace and try to seem strong while he ate.

Thinking about it made me eager...it would also be fun to have Zahra at the table to watch...I wouldn't let her eat his fi—

I blinked, shaking my head off the thoughts and frowning at myself.

"What are you thinking?" I said aloud. "You have finally gone mad. Those are disgusting thoughts...could you even go through with it? I could...but do I go through with it? What would Elia think of me? He would probably come up with a better word than berserk...maybe something more hurtful, like...demented? Hm. Bonkers? Unhinged? Unstable...Not love material...suffocating."

I chuckled.

"Suffocating. He would say that...he did tell me I was overbearing once. Overbearing, suffocating...not much difference between those two words." I brought the bottle to my lips again, drinking because I had somehow, miraculously, run out of cigars.

"Running out of cigars...never happened before, but then I let people in, and they grow concerned, and they touch my things, and I have to be okay with it because that is what a normal person would be...okay with it because I am trying to be normal, and wasn't normal before...just like my mother, and now me...tiptoeing...tiptoeing around my own house...my own space...acting...acting—"

Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I blinked, clamping my mouth shut before turning toward the door to see Alizea leaning by it with a concerned frown.

"Hey," her smile was careful.

"Hello," I turned back to the portrait. "Did not know you were home,"

"Facetime with Riley," she answered.

"Hm."

"Elia told me you haven't left this room since you returned from Sicily...made me wonder if you've had dinner yet?"

I shook my head.

"Yeah, I figured..." She went quiet for a while, and I knew she was still watching me; my fingers tapped on the bottle in my grip, clanking sounds coming from my rings. "You were mumbling to yourself just now," she spoke.

I stopped, my fingers halting midair, before I turned on the stool to regard her. "That was not...audible?"

She smiled sadly. "I could barely hear a word you were saying,"

"Ah..." I nodded, "Well, it was nothing. I was analyzing the" I gestured to the portrait. "portrait. I was thinking of redoing it, making it more vibrant in color...happier, but with the same idea. My therapist says speaking the ideas out loud sometimes helps as a...buffer for speaking in the mind. I cannot remember the exact way he phrased it."

She nodded, believing the lie. "That is good; I like the portrait. I'd love to see the one with more colors, though."

"Hm. Me too. Colors tell stories; it is incredible when you take your time to think about it." I spoke. "I never used to see the stories in colors. My father always preferred black...and I grew up following that pattern. I still love black; it is comfortable, and though I do not like involving other colors in what I wear, I can at least experiment with how lovely they look on a blank canvas."

She smiled. "That is beautiful,"

"It is indeed."

I heard her footsteps tread cautiously into the space, and my gaze shifted to watch her walk by me to another abandoned canvas to my left. She ran her fingers on the dried paint of what was becoming the beginning process of a landscape.

"I'm guessing it didn't go well...seeing Zahra?"

The sudden rise of the burn in my chest had me clenching my jaw and looking away from her. "It was not far from what I expected."

I could tell she was looking at me now. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay." from my periphery, I caught her glancing at the portrait I was looking at and then at me. "Do you...want to talk...generally? It's better than mumbling and being in here all by yourself...drinking. It's been almost eight hours, Elio,"

I raised the drink to my lips, a breath away from downing its content before I paused, waited a few beats, and then dropped the bottle with a sigh. I remained quiet, staring at the portrait, my eyes taking in the strokes of her short hair covering a side of her face, the contours of her closed eyelids, and the little smile I had given the visible side of her lips...then my gaze went trailing down and down to her shoulders and cleavage where the painting cut off. It felt like I had filled something up inside and sated my longing for a while by drinking in her image; my chest felt heavy...with love—strained love, haunting confusion, and maddening frustration.

I blinked, forcing down a swallow to allow my words come out without breaking. "I am trying to work up the courage to burn every portrait I made of her. As pathetic as it might sound, I need the liquid courage, so I know what to blame when I wake up tomorrow."

"It won't work." She said, and I looked up to see her picking another stool from the side and pulling it towards me to sit. "You're aware of why you're drinking...and when you wake up, you'll be aware of everything you did, and you'll feel worse, trust me...I've been there."

I frowned in question.

"Riley's Dad. When we separated." She said, dragging in a long breath and letting it out. "I was buried in regret. I hated him but hated myself more for not fighting for what we had. He's still in Riley's life...here and there, but I knew it would have been better if I had gotten my shit together, if I had been there for him, for our family. When I realized everything was messed up...I...I wanted to burn it all: our pictures, our memories. I did...but it made me feel worse and terrible. I know our situation isn't the same, and I don't know exactly what happened with Zahra, but...the memories you both have together won't disappear the moment you burn those portraits."

I looked down at the bottle in my hand.

"Neither would drinking," she added.

"I'm aware."

"So why put yourself through the hurt this way?"

I shook my head. "Differentiating logic and emotions from everything that happened today is difficult. I know her." I bit the inside of my lips, "I know she was only trying to push me away, but...someone who loves you would never say...hurtful things...unless they are true. I am trying to understand if it is indeed true if I am indeed suffocating," I looked up at her, "Am I? Do you find me suffocating?"

She shook her head. "I don't,"

"Then do you think—do you think if things were different between us, like say if we were more than friends...do you see me as someone you could fall in love with? Do you think I am love material?"

Her smile was sad and knowing. "If that were the case, falling in love with you would be easy, Elio. I am sure she didn't mean to say that to you."

"I know," I looked down, my thumb finger grazing the brand writings on the bottle, "But it doesn't erase the fact that she did say it. Zahra has said many... many hurtful things to me in the past, but somehow, none of them ever hurt me the way this one did. She was the one who made me feel like I was capable of love and of being loved, and now she says this...and," I swallowed. "It is confusing; I have never been so confused, Ali. I do not know what to believe; I do not even know how to be angry at her; I'm just hurt...hurt that even thinking of her hurt, and I do not want it to hurt when I think of her because I always want to think of her."

I ran my fingers through my hair.

"I cannot even bring myself to wish I never met her because she was my saving grace; she made me see the light when it was so dark inside of me; she saved me, Ali...without her, I wouldn't be here, I wouldn't be this person I am today. But for some reason, this woman won't let me in; she won't let me return the favor; rather, she would hurt me. She would lie to me, and push me away, and It is so, so frustrating."

"Maybe you—"

"Frustrating to the point that I am thinking of kidnapping her, and talking to her...actually talking to her, opening her stubborn head and arranging my words inside it. So she would listen to me, and I would listen to her, and we would communicate...and settle this because I cannot live without her, and I cannot be here with the knowledge that she is there, hurting because she can't bring herself to rely on me." I let out a long breath.

Silence stretched between us, and I glanced at her before looking down.

"I apologize," I said after a while, "I said I didn't want to talk about it,"

"No, no, it's okay, you clearly wanted to." she smiled. "I'm not your therapist, but I'm your friend; I'm always here to listen."

"Thank you," I said, "Aside from being frustrated about this whole thing. I am angry at her. I don't think I want to speak to her. For now, I think I want to leave her alone."

"You're giving up?"

"I don't know," I said, and it scared me how much that thought seemed to be at the forefront of my mind.

Giving up on Zahra...it was an alienish thought, but I knew I had to step back. If I didn't, I feared every thought I had of kidnapping her and her fiancé would seize from being thoughts. They would become actions.

It hurt this much when she pretended to hate me; I deduced it would hurt more if she genuinely harbored such feelings.

"Well, I say you do whatever you feel is right for you. But...if you are certain she didn't entirely mean all she said, then...keep a door open. You can be angry and want to give her space, but keep a door open."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "I couldn't even close it if I tried, Ali. That is how lost I am for that woman."

***

It was almost 4 AM when I settled in bed after a bath.

With alcohol still in my system, the emotional stress I had gone through, avoiding a discussion with my brother because that was another issue I didn't want to break down at the moment—that and the fact that I had subconsciously gotten into my mind again, mumbling to myself and losing sense of all that was around me, I knew sleep wouldn't be hard to find.

My mind replayed the conversation again; her words echoed in my head whenever her face flashed in my mind. My anger was still there, my hurt was ever present, and the burn of my decision to give it...time and stay away raged on.

One thought I had been avoiding, though, was the engagement. She had said it was already in the works before we even met...she said he mattered to her...why would she start something as intimate as all we had while being promised to someone else? She might be slightly bent in morals, but Zahra was not a perfidious lover...besides, I had met Vitale, and he hadn't seemed bothered about her relationship with me.

Could the engagement be a farce? If it was, then a farce for what? Why would they enter into something as intricate as an engagement?

I sighed, reaching for my phone beside me with the intention of staring at the wallpaper again—like I always did, lost in my thoughts about her...where she was, and if she was all right. Now that I knew she was all right, I was sure my thoughts would be centered more on...Why she was engaged, and why she needed me gone.

Turning on the screen, I was greeted with a wincing brightness I still hadn't learned to shield myself from and several missed calls—14 missed calls, to be exact—a few text messages and a voice mail.

All from...Zahra.

I frowned, slowly sitting up with the device hard in my grip. I was a little intoxicated, but I knew I wasn't imagining it.

She had unblocked my number.

Called me.

Why?

It took me a while to comprehend the new change of events.

I clicked open the message first.

Zahra:

Hi, it's Zahra, in case u're not picking up because u don't know the number.

4:23 PM

Zahra:

Please pick up...I promise I'll tell u everything. I don't want to do it over text.

6:12 PM

Zahra:

I'm so sorry, Elio. I know I hurt u, I was stupid, and I deserve to be hit by a fucking bus for it.

8:57 PM

Zahra:

One more chance to explain is all I'm asking for, I know I don't deserve it...but please, please Elio, I'll wait for u...no matter how long.

11:06 PM

"Wait for me?" I mumbled.

Zahra:

I accept all I did wrong, and I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't think I would see u, I can't even remember half of all I said bcus I wasn't talking while thinking, I just needed u gone, I was panicked because I felt someone was watching.

11:46 PM

Zahra:

U might not believe me, but here, this is why I didn't want u there.

12:35 AM

Attached were pictures from odd angles...pictures of me and her talking by the side of the road. It was blurry and a bit grainy, but I had been there, so I knew the scene.

Zahra:

This was sent to me three hours after we met, and I know it was foolish to come here, but...I had to see u. I have to explain why I need time.

12:37

Zahra:

I'm still here...I really want us to talk. I need u to kw that I didn't mean those things...please.

1:14 AM

That was the last message she sent.

The voicemail was sent much earlier, by four in the afternoon, and the first call was a few minutes earlier.

The last call was only thirty minutes ago.

I clicked on the voicemail, and her voice filled the space around me.

"Hi, it's me." she stopped for what seemed like a minute; I could hear the distant chatters in her background. "I know you probably don't want to hear from me now, but I...I need to talk to you again...to—to redo the whole, the whole conversation from earlier...I don't want to say it all over the phone; you deserve more than that. I'm in Milan now. I arrived a few minutes ago at a small restaurant near the compound...I just texted and shared my location with you. I know you moved from the compound, but I have no idea where you live now...If you...if you don't want to come to me, then I can come to you; give me your address, and I'll be there,"

Another pause.

"I'm sorry...for everything I said. I didn't mean them...I was only scared that someone would see...and it was all for fucking nothing because someone did see, and I...I realized it was foolish, pushing you away from a picture you're in." A shaky breath and then, "I know you had nothing to do with the MCSS; I understand now. I've known for quite a while. That's why it didn't matter if you explained because I know the truth...and I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, Elio. I'll explain everything...the engagement, everything...just, just pick up the phone...let's meet...please." another pause. "I know I'm not great at this...I never was; it's hard because I don't know what I'm doing half the time, but I swear, I'll do better, and I'll try...I'll learn how to be like I should be with you...because—because believe it or not, as mushy as it sounds, you're everything to me too."

Her breathing came through the line, and I could picture her holding the phone tight and closing her eyes, trying not to let on too much. "I lied; you're the most lovable person I've ever met in my entire existence. You have your moments, but you're too good, even for me. I just...I just need you to know you are very...very, wholesomely, love material, trust me...I would know."

The mail ended there. My room was quiet again.

It was now 4 AM, and if she called thirty minutes ago...she might still be there.

I scrolled up to where she had shared her location. It was still on, and she was still at the restaurant.

I pressed my teeth on my tongue. Hard.

My head ransacked itself for a decision.

Every fiber in my being was telling me to go to her, like I always did, like I wanted to...but I sighed, pressing the side button of my phone until a toggle to turn it off appeared on the screen. Hesitating a second's breath, I swiped it and watched the device go off.

I dropped the phone on the side table, and turned off my bedside lamp before settling on the bed, closed my eyes, and called it a night. 

__

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_______
ZAHRA
_______

I DRY heaved into the toilet as my phone vibrated outside the stall.

My shaky hands gripped both sides of the toilet seat as I tried to cough out the nausea swirling in my stomach with a sickening turn. The efforts I put into that task alone worsened the thunderous headache pounding in my head and hurting both my eyes to the point that I couldn't pull them open completely.

Two days without alcohol in my system. It was safe to say this wasn't the worst withdrawal symptom I'd ever had. One would think I'd rip off the bandage and go through it once without relapsing. But I always succumbed to the pull. Not because I was weak but because I had shit to do, and I couldn't be sick while carrying out those things.

As delusional as all of that bullshit sounded, it was the truth.

I expelled a breath, realizing for the third time now that there was nothing for me to throw up. I hadn't eaten anything since I left the mansion this morning, refusing to eat the breakfast Aurora had prepared.

I knew she would either be worried sick about my absence or be disappointed knowing I had failed to return home for dinner after the big feast she would have prepared, knowing I hadn't had anything to eat all day.

I tugged down the flush handle, the sound of rushing water filling the space as I rose to my feet and exited the stall, stumbling a little when a rush of dizziness claimed me.

I stood still, counting from ten to one, measuring my breaths and the blurriness of my vision as it zoomed from blurry to clear. When I was sure I wasn't at risk of falling to my face, I moved to the sinks, flicking up the faucet and washing my hands.

My gaze flickered to my reflection in the mirror, meeting the dark circles around my eyes. I had long since removed my hair from the ponytail it was in; now, it was loose around my shoulders. I could see the tiredness weakening my bones and the regret making my face seem wan...or maybe it was the sickness weakening my system.

My phone vibrated for the—I'd lost count—time since I left Sicily. I glanced at it, seeing Vitale's name on the screen.

I sighed, turning off the water and drying my hands with a towel before digging through my purse, fingers brushing past keys, lip balm, and sunglasses, before grabbing the transparent orange case filled with bright yellow pills, which helped kill the headaches most times.

I shuffled three of the pills onto my palm, throwing them in my mouth and swallowing dry. I wondered the kind of effect they would have on my system, seeing as I was swallowing strong pills on an empty stomach.

Maybe I would ask the restaurant staff to fix something for me so I wouldn't pass out while waiting for Elio.

Dropping the case back into my bag, I lifted it and grabbed my phone before exiting the restaurant's restroom.

I'd been here since about 3 PM and paid for a single overnight service. It was a ridiculous amount of money because the owner was very reluctant, but I needed to make sure the place was open in case Elio hadn't seen my messages and missed calls on time.

I knew he was fond of going places without his phone...so maybe that was why he hadn't shown up.

Delusional. That was the correct definition to associate with my current status. Deep down, I knew I didn't deserve his audience. It was foolish to think he would come, but I knew I still had to try.

I had been so foolish to think keeping him away would be for the best. I thought I could finish all I had been working months for and return to him...I thought I could cut all marital ties with Vitale; maybe Elio would never even have to find out about the engagement because it was nothing—but I had been wrong to think I could pull it off...that I could eat my cake and have it. My luck could only run so far, honestly.

When Vitale had sent those pictures to me with a very expressive follow-up of "What the fuck am I looking at?" I knew trying to put Elio at arm's length was pointless. I knew everything I had said to him by that roadside was for nothing because all I was avoiding had happened either way.

I didn't know or care about how Vitale explained or handled the situation with those pictures; all I knew was that I had to see Elio despite the risk.

I had hurt him, pulled us further apart, and I couldn't do that to him...to us. The distance and the space just weren't worth it.

I acted without thinking, an impulsive decision based on false pro-activeness and fear.

Meredith had been right about many things, and I had been foolish and probably am still foolish for coming here without thinking because whoever took those pictures didn't take them for good press.

Somebody was watching. I didn't precisely know who. Or what for, but my biggest guess was the society...they were the only enemies I could think of.

Still, a lot didn't make sense.

Why did they send us the pictures in the first place? If they wanted to use it to make a case on the table, questioning my relationship with Vitale, why hadn't they called an emergency meeting and slammed it in our faces? Why give us a chance to salvage the situation?

Unless that wasn't what they were aiming for? They had sent the images to Vitale and not me. It was safe to say he had been furious...had the sender wished to cause issues in my relationship with him? Create a rift in our united front? Make him break off the engagement?

I hadn't had much time to dwell on those thoughts because I had been leaving Yegorov's boat when his messages came in, and gears had been turning in my head. I knew I had to lock all my worries into a box I couldn't reach and make sure Elio and I talked things out before the end of the day.

I cared less about why those pictures were sent or taken and more about how I would rectify everything with Elio. Letting him know that he was a part of this picture, that I was sick for saying he wasn't love material because I love him, and he was at the center of all I could think about since I woke up.

I sighed; flexing my neck muscles, I walked back to the booth I had occupied since I arrived at the restaurant that afternoon. I looked towards where the single staff member who volunteered to stay overnight for extra cash had been standing, and I frowned when I couldn't find him behind the counter, swiping through his phone like he had been doing all morning.

I looked around the quiet space; only two lights were lit., one overhead the counter and the other close to my booth.

I settled inside the booth, dropping my bag beside me and relaxing on the soft chair as a yawn left me; at the same time, my phone started vibrating again.

Vitale.

I groaned, declined the call, and saw that it was twenty minutes past five in the morning.

It was apparent Elio wouldn't be showing up.

The headache had calmed a little, but another ache remained, heavy against my chest, as I recalled the look on Elio's face before he turned away from me and left without another word.

He looked like I had broken him in two; he looked disappointed in me...tired of me. He hadn't even argued; he had turned away before I could see if he genuinely bought my bullshit.

I sat upright, picked up my phone, and swiped it open before navigating to his message box to see if he had checked the messages I had—

"Oh,"

My heart sank...sank and slipped down the walls of my stomach, leaving its bloody imprints as it fell while my eyes perused the automated words below the last message I sent.

Read an hour ago.

This was it.

This was that time I had feared—the time when he had enough of my bullshit.

But still...still, I began typing another message even though my fingers felt tired, even though my hands were shaking and I was blinking back, tears and fatigue.

I typed, and I deleted. Typed and deleted.

I wasn't stupid; I knew nothing I said would be enough...

I had really done it this time.

Stupid mouth. Stupid fucking brain of stupid shits, Zahra.

"Fuck," I whispered the curse to myself, dropping my phone and covering my face with my hands as I dragged it up to my hair, digging the heels of my palm into my eyes as if to press the tear stings back inside. Still, the torturing hotness enveloped my chest, and it was already hurting before I could try to control my feelings.

I swiped over to my contact list, scrolling until I saw Devil's contact. I had called him several times, wanting to know the address to their new place, but he hadn't picked up, nor had he responded to my texts. He, too, left me on read hours ago, but it hadn't hurt as much as this.

I was pretty sure Elio had listened to my voice mail...he wouldn't read the text and not listen to it.

About to click on Devil's contact again, Vitale's call came in, and I swiped right furiously.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Where are you?" came the very calm but angry voice of my fiancé.

"What do you want, Vitale? Stop blowing up my fucking phone, I'm fine."

"Where, the hell, are you, Zahra, if you don't start talking, I swear to God—"

"Milan...some restaurant in Milan."

"Have you gone mad?"

"I think so; I don't feel dandy, so there's a chance I might have finally lost it. Is that all you wanted to know because I'm busy, and I want to hang up,"

A strangled groan erupted from the other end of the line, and the sound of a door closing met my ears, "Do you know, how dangerous it is being out there?"

"It's Marino territory, no one can start shit, I'm fine."

"Are you—" he stopped, and I heard nothing for a few minutes, almost like he was counting his breath, and then, "Not a couple of hours ago, some creep sent me pictures of you and your boy toy on the highway. Tracking the number that sent the images had been a dead end. I called the board to order because I couldn't tolerate anyone spying on you. I made them swear on society oath, and they did. Do you know what that means—"

"It wasn't someone from the board..." worry fleshed inside me.

"Right. It wasn't, and now you are out there...on your own in a city that wants nothing more but your head in a fucking box after the shit, we pulled with finding the flash drives and a possible stalker on your ass. What were you thinking?"

I bit the inside of my lips, my leg bouncing rapidly, as I glanced at the counter.

The staff still hadn't returned.

"I wasn't thinking...I needed to see him, Vitale...I can't wait until some stupid event. I—I said some fucked up shit, and I needed to apologize and tell him everything."

He went quiet, but I still heard him breathing.

"Vit—"

"You should have told me. I would have come with you—"

I scoffed, "No offense or anything, but you're the last person he would want to see with me."

"It's not safe, Zahra—"

"I don't care...I don't care anymore, Vitale. It's never safe, it will probably never be safe for me, and I can't push everyone away forever because I want to keep them safe; it doesn't and wouldn't ever change anything."

"And did he show up? Is he there with you?"

Hesitating and falling back on the chair, I closed my eyes and answered. "No."

"This is what I've been telling—"

"He had every right not to show up, Vitale." I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling, "I hurt him. I'm not worth him showing up. I've messed up with him too much, and I won't even blame him if he decides to cut all ties with me because I projected my shit onto him." I looked down at the table.

"Everything I said to him today...every damn thing was me talking about myself. Iam suffocating, and I hate everything happening around me. Waking up in the morning and seeing my reflection, I desire to shred it off because I don't even recognize myself anymore. I am toxic and foolish and most definitely a hazard to be with. He just has to wake up one morning and realize that he never really did love me because I am not love material. Not with everything I've been through..."

"Don't speak that way about yourself, you hear you're your past doesn't define you,"

"Sadly, it does...I wasn't born to be loved, Vitale. I was born to be used. I'm body parts. Maybe that's why I mess up everything good in my life because I know deep down I don't deserve it. Elio deserves someone better, and me being here, waiting for him, is just selfish, but what can I do, Vitale? I can't...I don't think I can lose him because if I do, I, I don't know." A tear slid down my cheek, but I was quick to wipe it off, "If I lose him, it would mean I'm right. It would mean I wasn't made to be loved...only sexually desired, and I can't...I can't stomach that thought because I really do love him, and..." I trailed off, sniffing and wiping my face.

Silence was at the other end of the line, but it was soon cut off by the softness of Vitale's voice in my ear, "Where is the restaurant you're at? I'll come to Milan—"

"No. I'm good; I'm okay. I'll wait till it's morning...maybe...maybe he'll change his mind and come to see if I'm still here,"

"Zahra for the love of God—"

"Nothing you say will make me change my mind."

"Your safety—"

"Try to get some sleep, Vitale."

"Wait, don't you dare—"

I hung up, placing my phone on silent and slipping it into my bag. Wiping the fresh tears and blinking back the ones rising in my eyes, I tried to press down on the hurt residing in my chest.

I wasn't a crier...but when it came to Elio, controlling my emotions was next to impossible. It was as annoying as it was pathetic.

Trying to level my breathing, I looked out the window, allowing the passing of 5 AM drivers rushing to their various destinations, lull me into a serenity my head wasn't willing to give me. I stared for a while, letting the silence calm me until a small noise from towards the counter had me looking up again; I saw the...now ashen staff rounding the counter with a cup filled with what looked like orange juice.

As he came closer, I noticed two things: it was indeed orange juice, but iced, and his hands...his hands were shaking.

I sat upright with a frown when he reached me, a tight smile on his face as he dropped the drink in front of me.

"Um..." I started, "I didn't order anything..."

"It's on the house; I-I noticed you...that the—the person you wanted to meet here didn't show up, and you look quite well—not all right, I just—I thought I would fix up something for you...something chill."

I blinked. "Oh, that's...nice...thank you." I eyed him. "Are you good?"

"Sleep deprived," he shrugged, "but the pay is worth it."

My smile was apologetic. "I'm sorry...I know you're being paid, but—it's still my fault that it had to be this way."

"It's okay—all good. I'll um...get back to it,"

"Sure," I managed a calm smile, "And thanks again for the drink."

He glanced briefly at the said drink and then at me before nodding and walking off briskly.

I watched him walk back to the counter, settling on a stool and taking out his phone to resume scrolling. Looking back at my table, I pulled the drink towards me, absentmindedly mixing the ice and the juice with the straw, before placing it in my mouth and sucking in the content.

Cold, fruity, calming bliss met my tongue, and I melted. The remnant of the headache in my head slipped right away. It tasted like heaven, and the chillness of the drink somehow eased my nausea. I drank and drank, feeling my stomach muscles relax.

I pulled back, sighing and placing my hand on my cheek, wondering how I got here. How I let it all get to this point...my relationship with Elio and all of STREET.

What I told Vitale was true; I had pushed them all away to protect them from my world. Every member of STREET had their potential. They had dreams they wanted to fulfill individually. Milk wanted to open a store and expand her circle of friends, Upper wanted to go back to school, Dog wished to join the FBI and find out what happened to his parents, and Devil wanted to spend time with his family, seeing as he had spent years away from Elio.

Me? I wanted to bring down the filthy organization trafficking children like it was the new normal. Organization funded by several governmental bodies, all operating under the biggest names in politics and the criminal world.

STREET deserved a normal life...at least, that was what I thought when I decided to disband the group. I had already messed up, leaving them underground abandoning my best friend when I saw he was in active danger. I knew that was a better time than any to let them all go.

I had brought us together as the perfect mock-up for my goals, but I had unknowingly created a family that changed me, showed me the true version of myself, and showed me that I could be better if I chose to be. But I had torn that apart too...tore it apart to protect them...and maybe to protect myself...the little dignity I had left.

I was afraid of what they'd think of me if I happened to tell them about my past. I knew how long it took me to tell Elio. I knew what I had to suppress when I bore everything out to him.

I knew everything that happened in my past wasn't my fault, but the things I had to do and endure didn't stop me from feeling ashamed about it.

I brought the straw to my lips again, drinking more of the juice and frowning when it burned my throat a little. I swallowed, a sudden tiredness weakening my limbs.

Blinking, I tried to sit up, but my body felt heavy...heavy to the point that even my vision grew blurry.

I frowned, gaze dropping to the wobbly drink before me and then to the staff who now stood ramrod by the counter, eyes directly trained toward my booth.

"Shi..." My head dropped on the table with a loud thud as I tried to fight the dizziness, but I was losing, losing badly. I couldn't feel my palms, feet, or body; I wasn't in control, and the moment I let my eyes fall close, I was zapped into darkness.

***

Fear.

Fear was all I could feel. It was seeping in and out of the pores in my skin, feigning perspiration, but it wasn't. I knew it was fear; I knew because it was familiar, worming inside my stomach, biting like a deranged mouse in my bones, squeezing and tugging at my heart with every single breath that left my lungs.

I could hear my breathing...fast, short, and frantic. Lying here, in this familiar room, bound to the bed, both legs and hands.

I knew this place. I knew this house. I knew the smell of the sheets, the smell of my surroundings.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The familiar footstep approached, and then...Whistling...it was a familiar tone that continuously poured from the speakers in his room whenever I and the other children were ushered to our own bedrooms. It was his favorite song...lulled me to sleep every night, echoing through the walls.

I recalled when he had first heard me humming it while brushing my doll's hair; he had stared at me with a kind smile...he even hummed it with me.

Now...now I wanted to stab my ears so I would never get to hear it anymore.

The footstep stopped right before the door, and my breathing seized.

I heard the jingle of keys and then a soft click before the sound of the door pushing open. His whistling continued, and I heard him shrug off his coat, throwing it carelessly on the ground as he walked closer to the bed.

I could hear him...but I couldn't see him.

There was something over my eyes...a blindfold.

"Awake?"

His voice...his voice set my breathing at a faster pace.

"Awake..." he said, sounding satisfied.

Then I felt the bottom of the bed sink with his weight, and then...gloved hands rushed up my naked legs, caressing gently.

I felt him crawl forward on top of me, his hands moving as he did, lifting the material of what I was wearing.

"Do you remember this, Amore mio? This bed...this room..." I felt him right above me, his hand caressing my waist and then the side of my breast to my neck, "it was the first time I ever tried to get close to you...the first time I," his gloved thumb finger brushed my bottom lip, and I felt his face draw closer. I inched back and back, turning away from him, but he snapped my head back towards his with my chin, "First time I tasted your lips," his hand moved to grope my left breast. "first time I touched you..."

I tugged at the restraints around my wrist, but my movements were slow. "G-get...get..."

I couldn't speak past that one word; my tongue felt heavy; everything felt heavy...everything but my thoughts.

"Get what?" he asked, "Tell me, Amore Mio,"

"O—off, get...get the—the f-fuck—off me."

He stiffened above me, and I felt him lift himself a little, not after something soft left the side of my head—a—a pillow?

Why would he—

Then the pillow was jammed in my face, and he pressed to the point that I couldn't breathe...couldn't scream...couldn't breathe...couldn't—

My eyes snapped open, and I was upright with a gasp.

I was heaving, sweating, and confused when I spotted the light from the window flooding into my bedroom.

Wait a second...

I looked around me frantically, my eyes taking in the dull environment. The red walls, crimson rug...double oak doors...

My bedroom...in Sicily.

I was...

"What the fuck?"

I looked down, seeing I was in my red silk night shorts and dress, with my robe around me.

"What the hell..."

My bedroom door burst open, and my head snapped up to see Vitale's eyes blazing with anger. "You have the fucking nerve," he seethed.

I blinked, confused, "What?"

"Do you think it was funny?"

Watching him with my head still fogged, I dragged myself out of the bed on my feet. "What are you talking—"

"All morning, since you hung up on me, I've been trying to fucking call you! I had to fly to fucking Milan!"

"Wait—wait, I was in—"

"I get it if you didn't want to talk to me, but a simple text would have sufficed; I was worried about you!"

"I was in Milan...I never left Milan,"

His angry eyes turned confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I...I never left; I was in the restaurant and then...and then I'm here, I—"

"You drank again, didn't you,"

I recoiled, "No, I didn't—"

He sighed, exasperated, "Zahra, you can't do things like this," he stepped closer to me, "You're not allowed to do things like this, not when I'm not within reach."

"I know...I'm sorry, but...but I don't know what happened, I wasn't—I don't know how I got here, I—I'm missing time."

"You need to get help. This is...I don't know how much you drank last night, but...but if it continues like this, to the point you can't recall things, maybe you should—"

"I didn't drink. Yes, I was tempted, but...but I held out, I—I held it out, and I—believe me, Vitale. I was in the restaurant, you'd just called, and I hung up and silenced my phone, and—and I got this drink from the staff, and that's all I can remember. I swear to you; it was orange fucking juice. No alcohol,"

He eyed me, detecting the cluelessness in my voice, but then his eyes hardened again. "You wouldn't know; you were probably passed out when you arrived last night—"

"I don't even remember arriving, Vitale!"

"Exactly! You don't fucking remember, that's what alcohol does!"

"But I—"

The sound of my phone blaring from the bedside broke off our argument. With one glance at him, I turned and walked to the bedside table, picking up the phone and freezing.

I looked over at Vitale, whose gaze dropped to the phone and then me, his eyebrows raised in question.

"It's Elio," I said.

Vitale's jaw locked, his frown deepening.

Turning from him, I swiped, accepting the call and placing the phone against my ear.

"Hi..."

"Are you still in Milan?"

I pressed my eyes shut, grinding my teeth as my fingers rose to dig into my scalp.

Shit, I mouthed before opening my eyes, turning towards Vitale again. "Milan...uh...no, no I uh...I don't know what—no, I'm—I'm back in Sicily."

There was silence from his end.

Fuck. I could cry. I could fucking cry.

"Of course," He finally said, and nothing could have hidden the disappointment in his voice.

Pacing, I chewed on my fingers, "But I can—I can fly out...I can come back."

"Do not bother,"

Everything in me sagged. "Elio, please—"

"I will be in Sicily next week for an event. We can talk then."

"We can still talk now...I promise it's no inconvenience for me to come over and—"

"Do not do that. I don't want to see you now. I need a little space and time to think,"

"Oh..." I stopped pacing, "Okay. That's...that's totally fine I—did you, did you hear everything? The," I swallowed, "The voicemail? I'm truly sorry, Elio. I swear on everything that I didn't mean—any of those things—"

"The pictures you sent me. Do you know their origin?" his voice remained leveled, even as he sidestepped everything I was trying to say like he didn't want to hear it.

"No...it's still under investigation. My people, they're handling it."

"Good."

"But did you hear everything else I—"

"I heard."

I let out a sigh of relief, "Thank God, I—"

"I am quite busy at the moment,"

"Oh..."

"We will speak next week. Have a good day and take care,"

"You t—"

The line disconnected abruptly, and I blinked, bringing the phone from my ear and finding Vitale's eyes on me.

"He said—"

"I truly don't want to know,"

"Vitale—"

"I will be in my wing of the mansion; we have dinner with my mother tonight,"

I watched him for almost a minute before sighing defeatedly. "Okay,"

With a nod, he was out of the room just as Aurora walked in, her curious gaze staring after Vitale. "Everything okay?"

My smile was small but tight; I still hadn't—I couldn't comprehend all that had just happened. "Sure. Everything's...everything's fine."

She smiled at me, "Breakfast will be ready soon,"

"Thank you, Aurora, I'll be down,"

She nodded, "You also have a visitor downstairs,"

I frowned. "A visitor?"

"Yes, one, Archibald Farraday?"

My frown deepened, "Archi—" I stopped, my eyes widening. "Oh my God!" I yelled, "Upper?"

"What do you mean by Up—"

I was already dashing out of the room and past a confused Aurora. 

_

Thanks for reading!

What did you think of this chapter?

Did you expect Elio to call?

Zahra's black out, and dream, what do you think of that? Is there something else at play? Probably something related to the person who took those pictures?

What are your theories for this chapter?

Do you think Upper is the only visitor gracing us with his presence?

Random question: If you could jump into any fairytale, which one would you pick?

Till the next update, see ya!

Hi,

Don't forget to vote and comment as you read! I'd love to know your thoughts! I always go back to read comments before working on the next chapter. It's just like refueling my writing engine, so please don't leave the comment section starving, Zahra is already doing enough of that.

Ha!

Enjoy...the update.

_______
ZAHRA
_______

MY WORRIES and confusion a minute ago slipped right away when I found Upper. His back was to me, and a black suitcase was by his foot as he gazed up at the red painting right above the open fireplace in the lobby room, his phone in his grip as he scanned the painting with whatever authenticator platform he was currently on, I watched him blow out a soft whistle when he brought the phone to his view, probably reading the information out on his screen.

"No bloody way," he whispered, shaking his head. I couldn't help but smile.

His hair was blonde now, and he didn't even have to turn around for me to know that the color suited him perfectly.

He wore a varsity jacket and sweatpants, almost like he had just wanted to stop by his mate's house. He looked every bit of the student he was, and I couldn't help but feel a sting of guilt, knowing how bad I was about to shake a part of his innocence with all the things I had planned.

A part of me knew I shouldn't have pulled them all back into this life, but a part of me also knew I couldn't do this without them.

I swallowed, clearing my throat audibly. He flinched, whirling around at the sound of my voice.

"Zah-ugh!" he shrieked in a half-shocked scream, his eyes wide, taking me in like he was staring at a ghost.

My lips thinned, "I know,"

He nodded slowly, "It's the—Your hair isn't—"

"Yup, I know...I just woke up, should have—yup, ignore it." I managed a smile, a smirk, a grin; God, I didn't know; I just knew I was happy, and my face was doing things. "You look...you look great, Upper—I mean, Archie...you are—you look amazing, the blonde...the blonde is killing it, and the whole, frat boy and all look—it—it's great," I released a breath. "You look really great, and I'm so happy to see you,"

I watched how he relaxed, how a smile slipped onto his face, "We can hug, you know, you don't have to stand all the way there; it's making the whole thing gracefully awkward, and it is bloody uncomfor—"

I was on him in the next second, racing and throwing my arms around his neck in a hug that seemed to knock the breath out of his lungs based on the sound that he gave.

Hesitantly, his arms came around me, and he hugged me back.

"God, I missed you so much," I said into his neck, "Thank you for listening, for coming here," I pulled back to look at him, though my vision was a little blurry. "You don't know how much it means to me that you're here."

His smile was small, but it was there, and maybe it was a little sad. "I missed you too, Zahra...I thought for a long time that you were—were dead...when the call came, I had to leave; I had to make sure,"

I sniffed, "I should have called sooner; I just didn't know what I'd expect..." I pulled back a little, brushing my hair to the side, "I'm sorry, Upper, for...for everything, all I did, the lies, the—the way it all crashed, the things I said, and revealed, I...I should have found a better way. I didn't think so far into the future, and I fucked it all up with everyone. Everything that happened is...is all my fault. There was a better way, but I never stopped long enough to consider it, and I'm so sorry I didn't."

There was a familiar gleam in his eyes before he pulled me back into him. I noticed how familiar and warm this hug seemed—it differed from the first one he gave me. "I was never angry at you, Zahra. I was more hurt than angry."

"Still, I know my apology isn't enough to fix all I broke, but—"

"Actually...I'd take your apology,"

Something loosened in my chest as I recalled the day I told him the same thing after I'd learned about him and Devil.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He squeezed a little, "It's all right,"

Pulling away and wiping my cheeks, "You, um—God, would have said I forgot my manners, but we both know I don't have any. Would you like a drink?"

"Sure," he nodded, pocketing his phone as he looked around, "It's a nice house...mansion...place."

My smile didn't reach my eyes; if he noticed, he said nothing about it, "Welcome to Maniero de diavolo, first of its kind."

"Very...creative name,"

"The person who built it was quite creative."

I watched him look back at the red painting. "And that...it's the real one, isn't it?"

I nodded, glancing at the painting of a large red river over a medieval landscape and walking backward before turning towards the entryway to the wine bar. "Yup, the real thing," I said, hearing his footsteps behind me.

"Bloody hell, that thing was painted with real blood and went missing like two decades ago after its successful first showing." He whistled again, "The red fucking river...right in plain sight; how did you get your hands on it?"

"I didn't," I responded as I entered the space. It was more of a wide lounge area, still carrying the dark-themed glare of the house, black marble tiles, thirty dark red booths and tables, crimson, dark green, and black wallpaper patterns, and a large display of expensive non-alcoholic wine collections with a black marble counter. "There's this uh...society, the people who own this estate, they nicked it...kind of. It was later given as a treaty gift from the head of the society at that time to Marti—to the person who built the mansion...it all happened a long time ago, non-recorded history stuff, I'll tell you all about it later—wait,"

I turned to face him just as I rounded the counter, "You're staying, right?"

He nodded, "Yes."

I sighed in relief, proceeding to get ice cubes for his drink.

He walked up to the counter, settling on a stool. "I would have never found this place if you hadn't sent the encrypted location link." He eyed me, "It's not on the map."

"Yeah, The estate is very...secret."

He nodded, "I need that. Perfect for hiding, at least for now, until we find the people you're looking for."

"Yeah,"

On the call, I had told them that there was a very dangerous organization bringing harm to little children, though I didn't give them any further details...I hoped to let them all know how it related to me and what they were doing to the children...what they did to me. Shaking off the thought, I brought down a wine and a glass. "Hope you don't mind; it's non-alcoholic."

He frowned, looking behind me to the wall of different wine bottles. "All of them?"

"Yeah, all of them."

"Odd...for you."

"I know, right?" I chuckled, "Very odd,"

I could still feel him eying me. I knew he was probably piecing together the coincidence of me not having alcoholic wine to all I told him on the phone about not wanting Vitale to perceive alcohol on my breath. Before he could ask, though, I spoke.

"So... what do you mean by perfect for hiding? Does that have anything to do with the royal people you want to assassinate?"

He sighed, seeming exhausted. "Yes. That. I am being stalked by my family. I would have been here weeks ago, but I had to cover my tracks well,"

"Oh," I dropped a few ice cubes into the wine glass before pouring a moderate amount of it and passing it to him.

"Thanks,"

"What do they want, if you don't mind me asking?"

He drank more than a sip before shrugging, "I have no idea whatsoever. I don't even want to have an idea because if I do, I might cave...and go back, and I don't want to go back. Whatever they want, it must be quite important. They wouldn't go this feral just because they miss me...not when they sent me away in the first place."

I nodded. "I see. Do you...do you need help warding them off?"

He cocked a brow as if to ask what I could do, but then he looked around and tilted his head to the side, "Nope. They'll get the message soon enough and stop trying when they fail to reach me."

"Okay, but if you do need help, I know a few people..."

"I bet you do..." he trailed off with a nod, curiosity, and suspicion in his eyes. "What exactly do you do? This house, the men guarding this place? You'd think you were walking into some private high-intel army base. It was odd when they let me through, seeing how guarded the whole vicinity is."

I smiled, nodding. "They know a stranger wouldn't be here if they weren't supposed to be, and well, they know what you look like...I made sure to provide images, just in case,"

"Ah, that explains it..."

"And as for what I do...well...trade, multiple shares, several investments, real estate, underground business— mostly illegal. There is a little bit of contraband stuff here and there, a few legal dealings under untraceable aliases. It goes on, honestly."

He looked at me like I was some stranger in the body of a long-time friend. "How long? How long did you have all this?"

I stayed quiet for a few beats, working my jaw from left to right before responding. "Long."

"So...so those days when we had nothing...when we went hungry and stole petty things to survive...you had all this?"

I swallowed, "Yeah...pretty much."

He shook his head, "Well, that's...that's kind of fucked up,"

"I know..." I said, letting the silence drag on before I sighed and spoke softly. "I might have all this, but this isn't my home. I don't have a home." I drew mindless squares with the condensation from the ice cube box around the marble counter. "The money, the name and power, it isn't mine. I didn't build it all...I took it. Stole it. If you...if you subtract all of this from me, from the person you used to know. I'm nothing. I was nothing when I found STREET."

I met his stare, "I was real with you guys. This house, this wealth...it's all just a dark, misguided illusion."

He nodded as if he understood what I meant...and who knows? He probably did. I didn't know much about Upper's past, aside from the little he had divulged. I might have the most accessible means to get that information, but I had never run or done any background checks on any of them.

The only person I had pried into was Dog. I knew it would have never been easy to get him to speak to me, so I had to lure him in one way or the other. I already knew he had wanted to find his parents, so I thought using that means—though cruel—was the only way to get his attention.

"Well, you might not be the owner of this place, but I can tell you do well with it. It's...it's nice."

"Thank you. Hopefully, I'll burn it to the ground soon," I said with a sharp smile, and he frowned.

"Why?"

"You'll know. I want you to get settled in first, and then I'll explain every—"

"Miss Faizan,'

I raised my head to see one of the stay-in guards standing by the entrance of the wine bar. Upper had turned, too.

"Any problem?"

"No, Ma'am, you have...visitors."

I frowned, "Visitors?" that was plural. And whoever they were, they had, one way or another, caused a little hiccup due to the look on the guard's face.

"Yes, ma'am," he now wore an apologetic look as he spoke, "I'm sorry to discomfort you, but you might want to come...see what they...what is happening."

I blinked and exchanged a look of confusion with Upper before we both started out of the wine bar, following the guard outside. I tied the thin material of the robe around my body as we reached outside.

The moment I caught what had distressed the guard, my footsteps came to a slow stop.

Upper snorted.

I blinked, watching the two tied men beside a car, trying to fight off the ropes that held them and the tape on their mouths that held back groans and huffs of discomfort. I couldn't recognize them, but I could recognize the person standing in front of them, a phone pressed to his ear, having a heated conversation with whoever was at the other end of the line.

"You wanna bet he didn't know he had company until he reached here?" Upper said.

"I'm more shocked that he's here at all," I murmured, my happiness bubbling at the seams of everything I was made of.

I went down the stairs, and Upper followed.

Dog.

He stood there, a tight frown on his face as he raked his fingers through his hair. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with them? How and why the fuck would you even tie up suspects...Jesus fuck, Tulip, I'm in Europe on holiday with two literal possible homicide suspects stuck with me!"

Yikes.

He hadn't noticed us approaching, "Oh...oh sure, Tulip, they are the perfect company, you fucking bitch. You did this on purpose, didn't you? My superior loses the case, yours triumphs, and your name is blasted in the front desk of big-time directors so you can make detective before me; I know how your silly little fucking, dirty, sex-muddled, fucked mind works,"

I exchanged another look with Upper, who had a smile on his face.

"You know what? Fuck you, Tulip, fuck you and your fucking husband, I hope he dies from diabetes. Fuck off." the moment he ended the call, I spoke up.

"Why diabetes?"

He snapped his head towards my direction, and his eyes hardened. "Well, you look like shit; I guess that's one great thing about my fucking day," he said before glancing towards Upper, "Sup."

Upper nodded almost awkwardly because Dog had averted his gaze from us almost immediately. He was rapidly texting someone on his phone now.

I looked around to see guards watching the scene with eyes that told me they were ready to gun down anyone who would make the wrong move.

Looking back at the scene, I moved closer, "What's going on?"

"Homicide suspects." Dog answered without looking at me. "A colleague of mine had used my car for a little cut and run. I had given her some cash to help ship my damn car here with a passing ferry because I had an early flight. I never checked the fucking trunk of the car because I didn't think she would forget people she had fucking—ugh," he sighed sharply, "Let's just say this is going to be bad for my portfolio."

"What can stop the, uh...the bad portfolio? What's the easiest solution," Upper asked.

"Making them disappear," Dog answered, watching the tied-up men fuss even more after hearing what he had said. "This is just blissfully fucked,"

I cleared my throat, "It doesn't have to be. I can...I can make it happen."

Dog threw me a glare, eyes as hard as they had been when I walked into the hospital room to see him a year ago...right after I had left him to die.

Aside from the vacant look in his eyes when he stared at me, everything was more or less the same. He had filled out more, a clear observation showing he had worked on his physique the past few months. His job probably required it—All in all, my best friend stood before me, and I knew he wouldn't tell me it was okay to hug him. We still had a long way to go before we could ever get to that point in our relationship—if—we ever get there again.

"I am very capable of attending to my problems, Faizan; I don't need your help," he said; the disdain in his voice was quite audible.

"It's not about needing my help, Dog—"

"It's Reagan to you, don't fucking call me Dog,"

I swallowed, "Right...Reagan. It's not about needing my help. They can't leave here alive...as long as they weren't invited."

He scoffed, "So what? You want me to stand by and watch you kill innocent people? That might be an everyday occurrence for you, Faizan, but I'm an officer of the law, and I won't stand by and watch you murder people—"

"You said they were homicide suspects—"

"Yes, suspects, meaning, we are not sure if they are the ones we are looking for...and if they're here, and my colleague did this shit to fuck with me, that means they're not the bad guys, and my colleague probably nailed the real bad guys."

"I understand your concerns, but it is the rule of the estate that—"

I was cut off when a sleek red car drove into the compound, the guards following the movement with their eyes, not too alert because they knew it was one of my visitors...Milk.

How in hell did they all arrive on the same day? No less than an hour interval, too?

"Was this whole thing planned?" I whispered to Upper, and he shook his head.

"Nope...haven't heard from Do—Reagan since last year when everything went down and—Penelope, well...we kept in touch, but we haven't spoken in months...it was a little strained."

I nodded, wanting to ask him about Devil but refrained.

The car stopped, and I could see her hesitation before she opened the door and stepped out.

She looked...she looked great; her hair was different, red...longer, and she had a new kind of brightness and innocence around her that had me dreading when I had to tell them about everything.

Quickly and awkwardly grabbing her purse from the car, she locked the door and started walking towards us, eying the tied men on the ground. "Do I even want to know?" she asked tentatively.

I watched Dog eye her form from head to toe—it was quick, though, barely noticeable if you didn't know how often he stole glances at her.

Milk, in turn, didn't look at him...not once; you'd almost think she was making it a point not to look at him.

"Hey, Pen," Upper said, and I watched her face soften as she moved to hug him.

"Archie, it's so good to see you,"

They pulled apart as he smiled, "Likewise,"

Her gaze flickered to me, her warm smile dying immediately as I watched her take me in.

I swallowed, "Hi, thank you...for...for coming."

"Sure—"

"As I was saying," Dog cut in, his gaze landing on me, indifferent and blanker than before, "Killing them is out of the option,"

I tore my gaze from Milk. "It's a general rule, Reagan."

"Well, it goes against everything I stand for now. They aren't guilty of any crimes, and this whole incident will be a lot to sweep under the fucking rug."

"How was your colleague even able to ship them with the car in the first place? Don't they like...check or something?" Upper asked.

Milk cleared her throat, "Who are they?"

"Homicide suspects," We all answered simultaneously, and a very noticeable two-minute silence filled the air until Dog broke it by digging into his jacket pocket to pull out his badge.

"This badge holds certain privileges...for example, making sure people don't ask questions you don't want them to ask. My colleague happens to own one of them."

Upper nodded. "Got it,"

"You said you wanted them to disappear, and I—"

"I said making them disappear would be more convenient. I didn't actually mean I was going to do it, though I wouldn't blame you for taking it seriously; you seem to be very skilled at getting rid of people who don't mean shit to you,"

"I—"

"As I said, I can handle my own problems; I don't need you or your goons making things more complicated than it has to—"

Two loud shots from a gun rang out before he could let out his following words, and both men in question slumped over in death, bullet wounds on each of their heads respectfully.

A cold, calm quiet settled around us as we turned towards the house entrance just in time to see Vitale throwing his gun to one of the guards as he approached us, hair wet and sleeked back like he had just gotten out of the shower and had combed through with his fingers. His shirt was unbuttoned, giving me and everyone around us a peek of the tail ends of the large serpent tattoo around his sculpted torso.

He had black slacks on, belted and buttoned.

However, the look in his eyes was one ladened with annoyance, primarily directed at Dog.

When he reached us, his arms came around my waist, pulling me to his body and kissing my lips softly, "Baby, why don't you go in, freshen up, and get ready for breakfast? I'll see to it that your...acquaintances are well settled,"

"Baby?" I heard Milk whisper under her breath.

I could feel all their eyes on us, and I had to do everything in my power to withhold the glare I so wanted to give the man holding my body to his.

Forcing a smile, I tried to leave his hold, but his fingers dug into my waist, keeping me in place. "You didn't even let me introduce you, V."

"No worries," bright blue-gray eyes bore into me. "I can do the introduction." He smiled, turning his attention to the several eyes on us. "I'm Vitale Conti, Zahra's fiancée and second master of Maniero de Diavolo; welcome to our humble abode," he said, bitterness lacing the tone of his voice. "I have heard a lot about the little...thieving group...oh, sincerest apologies, I mean...what it used to be, happy to finally see the faces behind the odd names...who's the Dog?"

"Vitale—"

"Go inside, come down for breakfast when you're well dressed,"

Milk's eyes bulged, Dog's frown deepened, and Upper blinked in shock.

I looked around to see every guard watching the whole scene, both the ones in charge of reporting security detail to the society archives. Our façade was simple; there was a power hierarchy. I owned more than Vitale...but he was the Serpent head, ruled over the whole damn estate that wasn't on the map, and we had to make every single soul around us believe our relationship held the same hierarchy. I might have more than he did, but his word, command, and demand were final.

Lead by example, and everyone was bound to follow. If they believed someone as strong as me bent to his will, it gave everyone good reason to bow to him during his probation period and after.

Now, he was using that to his advantage, and I was counting the hours until I stabbed a non-vital organ in his body. Instead of being rebellious, I forced on a smile. "Of course,"

His grip released, and I gave one last glance to STREET. "I'll be right down...and um," I looked at Dog, "Don't worry about the guys. My people will clean any record on them; their deaths won't give you a problem."

"Gee, thanks," he said dryly, eyeing Vitale and then me.

Sighing, I caught the slight concern and curiosity on Milk's face before I turned and headed back for the house.

Vitale's voice telling the guards to get rid of the bodies was the last thing I heard before I disappeared into the house, my emotions messier than they had been before I rushed down the stairs to meet Upper. 

Thanks for reading!

What did you think of this chapter?

Do you think Devil is going to show up?

Do you think STREET were concerned for Zahra at some point in this chapter?

What's your favorite part of this chapter?

Random question: You're stuck in an elevator and you have to choose one character from this book to be stuck with you, who would you pick?

Till the next update, see you!

Hi!

It has been getting difficult and difficult to do Monday updates. I am trying to rectify this.

Although, I'd love to plead with you guys. Your comments help a lot, and I would not lie and say the slight lack of comments and engagement on the last update made me feel a little lazy. A generator doesn't work with fuel or diesel, the body doesn't work without food or water, the updates doesn't flow without your beautiful thoughts and comments, so please, let's be energetic, and I promise to be as energetic to write new updates, and even surprise updates too! I miss those Wednesdays!

A little appreciation to the handlers of Angelo and Gemma's accounts! They truly made my week with the amazing posts and captions! I love you guys so much! Here's a heart ❤️

Okie dokie, let's fix things in this one!
Enjoy the update!

_______
ELIO
_______

NUMEROUS FILES and papers were scattered about on the table before me. I'd arrived at the compound early this morning after I dropped the call with Zahra. It didn't take long to reach my home there, heading straight for my father's study; I had unlocked the safe and retrieved all his private files.

Before I delved into them, I'd taken a blank sheet of paper, sketching out the serpent tattoo I had seen on her chest. It was familiar. That particular one. I knew it was likely related to the Serpent society she was now mingling with. What had me questioning myself was the pattern in which it was drawn. It looked like a tattoo but blended inside her skin like a carving.

It seemed as though she had endured too much pain to get that carving on her chest. A kind of pain that enhanced the sadness that had been in her eyes. Those engagement pictures had been nothing compared to seeing her physically.

My head hadn't settled the day after seeing her; I had been too angry and hurt by her words to ask myself questions, to read entirely between the lines with how she looked, talked, and even gestured. Her body language gave a lot away, and it all came rushing back when I woke up after drinking myself to tiredness and ignoring her messages and calls.

I flipped through the files on the desk, looking for the file stuck in a memory that felt very distinct. The Society was tight-knit and handled their business impressively. They were almost invisible if you didn't have eyes and ears in places one shouldn't.

I would have never known of their existence if it hadn't been for my father's previous relations with them almost decades ago.

Now I wanted to know everything.

What business my father had conducted with them, why he had pictures of that particular tattoo, and why he had hurriedly taken them from my view when I'd reached his office on a very dark Sunday.

I could still picture how his wrinkled and weak, fleshed hands shook on the papers and pictures when he shuffled them inside the file and shoved them into his safe, like having them on the table for me or anyone to see could burn the whole building down. Of course, I hadn't cared about it or the business he was trying desperately to hide from me then. I merely glanced and got to why I had come to see him.

I admit. I used to be ignorant. And sometimes—as shameful as it sounds in our current situation—I was still mildly ignorant.

There was an innocence in being oblivious to things that could alter the bearing of any man. I already had too much to deal with, many people to look after, and an unsteady health balance to battle. My therapist would say to take things one at a time so as not to feel crowded, but my therapist was oblivious to a lot of things. He was oblivious to the fact that when it came to Zahra, I was willing to cloud my mind with damaging information as long as it worked for her benefit.

Now, I needed to find information on the things I was certain she would leave out of the conversation if we ever got to confront every issue we had. The things she had sworn secrecy to.

I found the file I was hunting a few minutes later, slapping it beside the sketch I had drawn. I pushed all the other files furthest from me to give my vision a clear focus as I turned the file open and was met with pictures.

Pictures of...

Of children...several of them. Dead. Pale and white as a sheet, like all the blood had been drained right out of their body.

And then...there was the carving of a serpent.

One was on the anterior part of a little girl's elbow, curved around cutting scars—scars which seemed like it had harbored and endured numerous amounts of cuts. Another child bore the carving on her wrists, and as expected, there were several cuts on the child's wrist; another was the neck, another was the lap, and another was the base of the throat.

It seemed like some sort of ritual.

I dropped the pictures aside, checking the documents on the side. My father's signature had personally authorized these girls' transit to The Serpent Society. All their files were here. Date of birth, and an updated file with time of death. They were all between the ages of eight and twelve. Shipped from different European countries, direct locations unstated, and likely shifted since it was—according to the dates recorded—nine years since this negotiation went through. Maybe even later, seeing how clever my father was for covering tracks.

One couldn't investigate cases that happened in the future—and he was competent to date the whole thing years before it actually happened. There was no way for me to start tracking because I would never find anything related.

"Elio? You in here?" the door was already pushing open before I could give a direct order for my brother to either stay out or come in.

By now, soldiers at the compound were used to him. It wasn't surprising to have him walk into this building like he owned the space...he did.

When he spotted me, he stepped in, shutting the door behind him.

"You always complain about boundaries," I said, "Yet I find you crossing mine again and again,"

Ignoring that, he strode towards me. "You've been avoiding me since you returned from Sicily."

"You don't say," I said with a dry tone.

"We need to talk." He pulled back the chair, "There's a lot you should know about—" he stopped his movement, gaze dropping and freezing on the images on the table.

I made no move to shield them from his gaze. I wasn't a coward like our father had been.

Elia frowned, "Where the hell did you find those?"

I watched him take a seat as he stared at the images with recognition.

"When my father was still alive, he made it a point to hide them from me. Am I to presume that you have seen that tattoo before? Did you perhaps meet with Zahra?"

He shook his head. "No. But I have seen the tattoo before," he said, looking away from the images to me.

I frowned in question, but his eyes did not give anything away.

He sighed, "I will explain."

"You better—"

"But first. Zahra called and texted. She said she was in Milan and wanted to speak to you urgently. I would have let you know, but you weren't available to speak to at that time—"

"She left."

He stopped, his shoulders falling as he nodded slowly. "That's..."

"She shared her location with me, but I only found it in the early morning, and I was too intoxicated to go to her because I didn't trust myself not to go berserk, as you seldomly describe me—"

"I didn't—"

"I went this morning, as soon as I woke up, but she was already gone. Now I am here, trying to understand why and what this infernal tattoo means, and why it was on her chest around the bullet wound...wound..." I trailed off. "Like the scars on these little girls."

"It's a ritual," Elia said. "I can't explain it, but it means sustenance. It's some fucked up occultic shit, a ritual to keep bringing a person back from the cusp of death."

I looked at the images in front of me, sitting up. "These little girls were cut repeatedly...telling from how pale they are, they had been drained from their blood. The ritual was performed on them to keep them alive while they kept draining them," I said, my frown deepening as I slowly looked up at my brother. "The question burning my mind now is...how in hell did you get that information?"

I watched him forced down a swallow. "That is what I need to talk to you about."

I stared at him for a long time before sitting up, tucking all the pictures into the file and closing it as my mind raced with thoughts, my chest tightening with worry, and then maybe a sprinkle of anger as I pushed all the papers to the side, making him my focus.

"What is going on, Elia?"

His jaw clenched. "There are a lot I didn't tell you before. "Mostly because you didn't ask—and I thought it was...convenient that you didn't because—because I wasn't sure I wanted to tell you, but first off," he squared his shoulders. "It wasn't just Casmiro,"

"Elaborate,"

"Moving Zahra. He didn't do it alone. I was involved as well, and I know that I was wrong, and I should have told you sooner—"

"Do I look stupid to you, Elia?"

He paused for a second before shaking his head and answering. "No,"

"Good. I know of your involvement. I do not want to discuss that because it isn't high on my priority list as of this moment." I watched him steadily. "How, brother of mine, do you know about the Ritual?"

He cleared his throat, "Like I said, you didn't ask me, and that was the only reason I didn't feel compelled enough to tell you."

"Didn't ask you what?"

"About me," he said, a tightness in his voice that told me this topic of conversation was something he had thought about before, something he held a slight grudge for. "Never once, since I came to live with you, have you asked me what I had been doing with my life before I met STREET. When I came back to Italy."

I kept my face expressionless, "I never asked because I thought you would tell me on your own time,"

He frowned, "Or maybe you didn't care enough to ask. That's what I think,"

"Oh,"

"Yes, Elio, because if you really did care, you would have asked me how I coped, how I lived, and who put a fucking gun in my hands for the first time."

I studied the anger dancing in his eyes before relaxing. "Well, if you must know, I cared, Elia. I care. There will never be a time in my life when I would stop caring." He worked his jaw, letting the silence stretch. I continued. "I knew that if I asked, you would have never told me,"

"Maybe." He conceded, "But there would have been the knowledge that you asked."

"Okay," I relaxed back on my chair. "You can carry on and be angry about that minuscule issue. But I also reserve my right to be angry that you left the safe place I found for you. You would have led a better and normal life if you hadn't returned. If you harbor blame for whatever conditions you might have endured, it is completely your fault, not mine."

His frown deepened. "You can't be serious,"

"I am. You might be here, and I enjoy your company most times when you aren't stabbing me in the back, but I still think you would have led a better life if you had never chosen to be rebellious."

His glare would have ignited fire if that were possible, but I remained unmoved. Yes, I was still disappointed and furious at him for his involvement with Zahra's disappearance. It was why I had tried my best to ignore him. I wanted to see beyond the anger and talk to him without holding any contempt, but unfortunately, he sought me out.

I straightened my hands, twirling my wristwatch a little before stapling my fingers on the table and pinning him with my eyes. "I didn't allow you to settle in here completely to rehash old issues, Elia. You know about that tattoo. How?"

His jaw clenched. "I've seen it before. On a job."

"A job..."

"Yes. Years ago." we sat there, staring at each other, my thoughts running, his eyes searching to see if I had figured it out, but when he spoke his following words, I understood the hesitance in his stare. "Aside from Devil and Elia, I also go by E2."

"No."

"Yes. I kill people. Sometimes for money and sometimes for information."

"No."

"Yes. That was how I got the information about the tattoo. There was this kid...she had it; she was dying, left in an abandoned car, legs wounded and dirty, lips chapped and pale. Her wrist was split open, dried blood from the cut. I knew there was no saving her, but I also knew the carving tattoo around the wound was somewhat responsible. I took a picture of it, and on my next job, I asked my client to pay me with information. What the tattoo meant. That's how I know."

Everything he said registered in the corner of my mind. But only one piece of information was reluctant to settle.

"E2..." I trailed off, unable to put a definition to my emotions. I was as angry as I was disappointed. I knew that name. I'd heard of his stealth in getting jobs done. He had been recommended to me a dozen times, but I had never indulged in the recommendations because I never go outside the family to handle inside affairs. And to think—

"I know it's—"

"Get up."

I caught him stiffening. "What?"

I was on my feet the next second, walking to the door behind me. A place I hadn't entered since my father passed. A room secluded inside his study, where he loved to teach me lessons when he didn't feel like taking us in a dive for the pool or tongue-lashing me with words that made me feel even more worthless than I was.

Opening the plain black wooden door, I ground my teeth together, looking back at Elia, who held a look of worry on his face, still seated.

"Would you like me to repeat myself?"

With a frown and hesitance, he got to his feet, walking towards where I stood.

Jacking him by the collar of his shirt, I pushed him into the room and closed the door behind us.

My hands, already used to the dark space, found the switch beside me as I flicked on the light, revealing the empty space, safe for the single surgical table in the middle of the room.

Even now, after years of never stepping in here, I could feel nerves and anger crawling up my spine. The fear was missing, but it didn't erase how it was so easy for my mind's vision to picture myself in this room. A victim. A son. A brother. Taking pains for things he could have been gently corrected for, things he didn't do, things he had hurt himself for, just so he could remember why he shouldn't do what he did to make his father angry enough to raise his hands.

"What is..." Elia trailed off, seeing the whips hanging on the wall. Different sizes, depending on my father's anger and how badly he wanted it to hurt.

I felt Elia's eyes on me. Confused and scared.

"I spent almost all my life," I stopped, my voice echoing. "Almost all my life enduring pains in this room...just so my father would never think of transferring the pains he inflicted on me to the people I love. My sister, my little brother, you...and most times, when I can stop it, my mother."

He remained quiet, listening to me.

"I sacrificed my sanity, my innocence, everything that kept me from becoming him. I sacrificed it, protecting the ones I love," I looked at him now, just in time to see him swallow. "Protecting you," my stare hardened because, for the life of me, I couldn't comprehend it, couldn't understand where exactly I had gone wrong, trying to shield him from all the ugliness that came from the life we led. "I did all of that, endured all of that...and all for what? You being paid to kill people, Elia?"

I noticed him inch back a little. "I did what I had to do to fit in."

"Fit in where? In this deranged world? Can you listen to yourself?"

"Perfectly! I had nowhere to go, and I got mixed up with the wrong crowd. I did things that shifted everything I knew and believed in, but you know what? That was the only way I ever felt closer to you."

"By killing people?"

"It's what you did! You didn't think I was strong enough to be in your world, so I had to show you that I could fit in perfectly! I thought that was the only way you'd ever accept me. When I realized it wasn't—it was already too late. I was in too deep."

He looked away from me. "That was when I met STREET. It was the first time anyone ever truly saw me. The first time anyone ever made me feel like I could belong somewhere, that I was wanted. They took me out of that dark place. They helped me, but then, everybody left me. And I didn't—I didn't know how to—how to live with you; I didn't know how to cope, though I was trying, but I needed something familiar, so I went back to the job—"

"Why didn't you just talk to me? Why didn't you tell me you were struggling?"

"I couldn't."

My chest tightened. "Why!"

"You were dealing with a lot...with Zahra being in a coma, and—and then Gran Louisa falling ill. Your therapy, your health?" He swallowed, fussing with his knuckles, cracking and flexing, still unable to meet my eyes. "After what happened that year on your birthday, I didn't—I didn't want to say anything to burden you when you already had too much going on,"

"Elia—"

"I don't love doing it. Hurting people. I don't love it. It's just all I am without STREET. And it was impossible to jump back to the kind of relationship we used to have. You're not the same person you used to be before, and I'm not the same person either. I just—I felt a little lost."

I didn't need to think back to know that while I had been present, I wasn't really there for him. We had conversations, but they weren't the ones we needed to be having. I had been neglecting and overlooking too many things in my own head.

Sighing, I walked to him and pulled him in for a hug. "I should have checked in," I said. "After the incident on my birthday. I should have checked in with you, and I'm sorry I didn't."

I felt him nod but didn't respond.

When I pulled back, I let my hand rest on his shoulder, making him meet my eyes. "Never hold back from me. I am your brother. I don't want to know if I carry a look that says don't talk to me; you come right to me if you have something to say; you don't think twice. You're my family. My only blood, and I will always, always have time for you. If we quarrel and have disagreements, it doesn't matter; you talk to me. If I ignore you, you better bulldoze your way into my space if you have something you want to say. You don't feel lost when you are with me. You don't need to be a killer to feel connected to me, you got it?"

He nodded.

"Answer."

He swallowed and nodded. "I got it."

"Good," I said, stepping away from him. "It's done. This job, you're done."

He nodded.

"I mean it, Elia. No more sneaking around. No more killing people. Unless necessary."

"All right," he said with an assuring nod. "It's done. Unless necessary."

My eyes searched for deceit in his, but I found none. "Let's get out of here."

He looked surprised but relieved. "It's not...you're not going to—"

I frowned. "Going to what?"

"Nothing." He said, sweeping past me as though the ground he stood on was on fire. Still frowning, I made my way out of the room, locking the door behind me. "Listen, I uh..." He spoke, standing by the door to leave the study. "I have to leave...for Sicily."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Penelope informed me that the rest of STREET is already there with...with Zahra. I'm pretty sure this whole thing has to do with the MCSS, so I thought it would be good to go there and find out everything her people have planned, see if we can—I don't know, work together if possible?"

"Hm." I nodded, and a small silence stretched.

"But if you don't think it's necessary for me to go—"

"You don't need my permission," I told him, pulling back my chair and settling on it. "It is your decision."

He watched me for a bit before nodding, "All right."

"How long will you be gone for?"

"I don't know, but if I'm urgently needed here, I'll be by your side."

I nodded. "Okay. Good."

He opened the door, about to leave.

"One thing before you leave," I called.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Find Casmiro; tell him to wait for me on the roof."

Elia's brows furrowed into a frown. "It's a friendly conversation, right? What you intend to have with him...on the...roof?"

I stared blankly for a long minute before speaking. "Ensure you send my regards to STREET, let them know I will be in Sicily in the coming week, and I'll be hosting dinner. They're all invited."

"Sure."

"Hm." I looked away from him, pulling the papers back in front of me. "Have a safe trip, and message me when you arrive." My gaze met his again. "I worry."

"'Course," he said, nodding once and disappearing out of the study, closing the door after him.

***

Casmiro stood close to the railing when I reached the rooftop. He looked well-dressed like he had just resumed work at the compound. A gentle wind was up here, familiar and tugging to the point that it softly resurfaced memories. I knew if there was any place we could talk, it would be here...I tend to make good decisions on this rooftop.

I moved closer to him, and upon hearing my footsteps, he turned and straightened a little, building up an armor, closing up a gate that would stand against the sting of every decision I had to make today.

I knew the decision I had to make, the decision my father would have made if he had been in my shoes. Fortunately, I wasn't my father, and fortunately for my best friend, I still liked him breathing, and though I might not be happy about how he handled things, I still appreciated the initiative. In a way, Zahra was alive because of him.

He had also been willing to take the fall for Elia's involvement. He was always the selfless one. Throwing himself under the bus so there would be less heat directed at me from my father.

It had always been that way when we were little; he knew my father's methods and what I got after every punishment. Though he couldn't stop many of these punishments, there were some punishments he had made hurt less.

He cleared his throat, inclining his head down a little, "Boss—"

"Cut the bullshit, Cas," I said, walking to stand beside him as I shoved both hands into my pockets, looking right ahead at the vast expanse of the compound, watching cars go in and come out.

The man beside me went quiet.

I didn't fill up the silence that had enveloped us. It went without saying that there was a lot for us to talk about. Things that went beyond him letting Zahra out of the compound without my permission.

We both knew she had tried to kill him. We both knew I had let it go when I shouldn't have. We both know that action created a little bridge between our work and personal relationships. We both knew it needed to be addressed.

I heard him exhale a breath before looking away from me and speaking. "I should have taken it seriously,"

"What."

A little hesitance from him, and then, "When you said you would fuck up our relationship and I'll hate you for it." he said, taking me back to that moment when he asked me to trust him, to let him in. "You said there would come a time when you would have to choose between me and something you want badly. I should have taken your word for it."

Staying still for a moment, I nodded slowly. "Yes. You should have."

Windy silence stretched between us. From my periphery, I caught him shaking his head and looking down.

"I can be out of the compound in a few hours." He said after a while, squaring his shoulders and looking at me. "I already packed my things and informed my family I might be moving—"

"Might?" I asked, turning to face him.

"I still need you to sign off on it. Unless you have decided to kill me." He stopped suddenly and frowned, glancing at the far ground below and then at me, "You didn't call me up here to push me down, did you? If that's what you had in mind, I'd like to request a bullet to the skull humbly, please."

I scoffed with a smile, shaking my head and looking ahead again. "I'm glad you have your things packed."

Hesitation, then, "Right,"

"Hm," I said, not needing to see his expression before feeling his disappointment. "For someone who wants to leave so quickly, you sound disappointed."

"No. I just didn't think you would make the decision so quickly. If I didn't know better, I would have thought you were counting the hours until I left the compound."

"I am, indeed, counting the hours, Cas," I said, meeting his gaze. "In fact, I'm hoping to shorten the hours to minutes. I was about to leave the compound myself; we could drive together; I would be very willing to drop you off."

"Wow, you must be very eager to get me out,"

"Yes, I am. I have been waiting for the opportunity to show you the building I'm currently living in, and also," my hand grabbed the single key card in my pocket. Pulling it out, I tossed it towards him, and he caught it easily. "You have your own condo in the building. I was going to show you at the opening party, but, for some reason, unbeknownst to me, you didn't show."

He blinked at me, then at the white key card in his grip. "What does this mean?"

"It means you're not going to Capri. You're moving out of the compound to our building, not far from the compound. There is a place for you there. There has always been a place for you. Also, I should relay some essential information before you move: Angelo's condo is right across yours; although he hasn't moved in yet, he plans to in the near future."

"What—" he shook his head, confused. "What about everything else?"

"What thing else? Be kind to clarify, please?"

His eyes narrowed, confused. "The—I betrayed you, E."

"I betrayed you, too. I don't see you beating me up for it. I don't see you judging me and hating me enough to let Zahra die when you could have just ignored the cult man and let the efforts of the doctors bleed away with her life."

He swallowed, looking away. "I did that because I was only—in a way, I was trying to make up for the shit I said about her dying when it first happened. Not that I cared about her or anything. I thought I had jinxed her recovery with my words when it all worsened."

"Hm. Of course."

"It's the truth."

"I did not say otherwise, Cas."

"You sounded otherwise...it's the way it sounded."

"Of course."

He glared, but it didn't hold any genuine malice.

The silence that settled between us now was free of tension. There was not much to be said—an understanding simmered in us. There were no sorry and thank yous in our friendship. There was only a realization of where we had wronged each other and a silent promise to make better decisions next time—and yes, there would be a next time. It was inevitable in this kind of world we lived in, but I was optimistic that if we could go past this, we could go past anything.

Straightening, I pinned him with a serious look. "Now, come with me, before we start moving plans, there is a very weird cult group carving snakes into loved ones we have to look into."

_

Thanks for reading!

Who doesn't love a good reconciliation? Whose reconciliation do you wanna see next?

The Society is becoming more and more ugly as we read, how do you think Zahra's gonna remove herself from their grasp?

This is the 10th chapter mark of the story, I want a little review on what you think of the story so far, as we are quarterly through the story, and things are about to get more heated.

Elio went to the restaurant, doesn't this make you wonder who and what and why she was woke up elsewhere before he could even get the chance to see her and see that she waited for him?

Quick question: We know all of STREET's real names. Which do you prefer to read throughout the rest of the story? Their real names or their code names?

Till...hopefully, Monday. (Hopefully)
See ya!

Well, what did I sayyyy!!!

The power of your comments on the last chapter pushed out this update, I was writing past by coffee-induced brain into the dead of the night! Ahhh, I love progress! Thank you guys so much for your engagement in the last chapter! Let's do it again! Comment your thoughtsssss, and compel another update with your superpower! (Insert reader evil muhaha laugh)

Enjoy this one my loves!

_______
ZAHRA
_______

THE SHOWER wasn't enough to wash away the nerves curling around my bones.

Nerves originated from the fact that I was about to speak to my friends. To reintroduce myself and allow them see sides to me they would have never guessed were there. I was about to put an awful shift to their reality, rip away a little bit of their innocence with the fucked-up hands woven around the dark crevice of my life.

One way or another, I had to get through today. They were my family, and although a lot of time had passed, I'd like to think I still knew them. They weren't insensitive; they would care about the children we needed to save. Their being here was proof of that—although I wasn't sure Devil would make it, not with the state I'd left Elio in and the trouble he had to go through, keeping the secret about moving me from the compound to Vitale's hold.

Sighing, I closed my eyes, pushed my wet hair back, and raised my head as the water sprinkles from the shower sprayed my face.

A flash of Elio's face before he turned away from me haunted the darkness behind my closed eyelids, and while I was trying to block out those thoughts from fully taking hold of my mind, my head took me back to my missing time, and the whole wariness looming around it.

What I last remembered was accepting a drink from the staff at the restaurant and then waking up back here.

There was a possibility I had been drugged, seeing as accepting the drink was the last thing I remembered, but it didn't answer the question of why. What reason would the staff have to spike my drink? I didn't know him, can't even remember his name. I knew he didn't know me either, and he was a pretty average guy...except...from the moment he had disappeared and returned, he had been acting a little out of it. When he served me that drink, he looked almost scared, although he blamed it on his lack of sleep, which I understood pretty well, but could somebody have gotten to him? And if that were the case, who could it be?

I opened my eyes again, now frowning at the fogged-up shower glass in front of me, my eyes narrowing.

No one but Vitale, Elio, and Devil knew my whereabouts...Vitale was in Sicily; Elio did not show up but called me today to check if I was still there. He also wouldn't do that to me—not when our first break up had originated from me drugging him—that leaves Devil, who, if I think about it, had no reason to drug me or show up. He hadn't responded to my text or calls, I could have been texting a blank wall for all I knew, and if he had wanted me out of Milan, he wouldn't go through the stress to drug me; he would show up and tell me to my face to fuck off.

So, if it wasn't them...

Could it be the person behind those pictures? The person who had taken those tarnishing pictures and had done nothing with them but send them to Vitale to cause problems with our relationship, using Elio.

I was drugged and transported back to Sicily...I wasn't harmed or kidnapped; instead, I was brought back to my bedroom, and whoever they were had changed me into my nightwear; they had somehow slipped into the mansion without the knowledge of the heavily guarded compound and right into the privacy of my room without getting caught.

I tilted my head, my brain working to crack this fucking uncomfortable puzzle.

It had to be someone familiar with this place. Someone my people trusted. Someone close to me. Close to the society.

Vitale was the only one I knew would never be questioned if he were to arrive with me unconscious—no one else.

But it couldn't be him...why would he lie? And if this person was connected to those pictures? Why would Vitale send me the photos, pretending he had just received them himself? Why would my stalker tell me I could have a stalker? And why on God fucking earth would Vitale stalk me?

I trusted him with my life, as he did me. There was no way it could be him. Besides, just like the picture, this whole incident caused another argument between Vitale and me, simultaneously causing Elio's little faith in me to dwindle. Whoever this person was, they were hell-bent on entering my head and ruining my relationships...either that or it's...it's nothing.

Maybe the pictures were nothing, and perhaps I had ordered a drink afterward and got stupidly drunk to the point I couldn't remember when I had taken the flight back to Sicily...maybe Vitale had been right: drinking did cause a little bit of memory—

My thoughts halted, ears perking up as I stood still.

That was when I heard it.

The slow thump of footsteps coming from my dressing room.

Slowly, I lowered the force at which the shower worked so I could listen well.

Thump.

Thump.

Stop.

I stopped, too, freezing when I didn't hear anything except the light sprinkles of water—but I was sure I heard footsteps...and they were heavy.

My bones tightened in alert as I turned off the shower completely, grabbing my bathrobe.

"Vitale?" I called out, but there was no response.

Slipping both hands into the sleeves of my bathrobe, I tied it around myself, stepping out of the shower. "Vitale?" I called again, and I heard nothing—heard nothing but saw the flash of a shadow underneath the door to the dressing room.

My heart jumped, and quickly, I dashed to the mirror cabinet, pulled it open, and grabbed the pocket knife I had kept in there. I flicked it open, the sharp edge jutting out as I angled the weapon into a tight forehand grip.

"Vitale?" I called, my voice firmer this time, annoyance twisting at my insides as I advanced towards the dressing room door. Careful, even though I heard nothing from the other end.

I curled my hand around the doorknob, setting my stance, ready for a fight. With apt precision and a made up mind, I pushed the door open, rushing inside the dressing room and stopping short when I found it empty.

With my chest heaving, I whipped around. Several clothes and shoes dedicated to their shelves still lined the walls, all possible hiding spaces empty, and the door to my bedroom was shut close as it had been. Nothing was amiss, except...

Slowly, my feet led me to the table in the middle of the room, where a short maroon-colored dress lay, coupled with pretty black suede heels and black crystal jewelry to match, all arranged on the table.

On top of the dress was a white note.

My heart dropped little by little with every step I took, my senses just now picking up the familiar and stomach-twisting cologne in the room. Swallowing, I stopped right in front of the table, falteringly dropping the pocket knife by the side.

Before entering the shower, I had selected one of the two pieces I had sewn out of Milk's design; now, they were hung back perfectly to where I had taken them from.

Confusion pulled at my insides as I picked up the white note.

Scribbled on it, with a gut-tugging, very familiar handwriting, were the words: What have I taught you? You don't plan to invite your good friends into our world without wearing the colors that define it, do you? 

My hands shook, and I dropped the card as if it burned me, stumbling a few steps back, staring wide-eyed at the table, the card, everything.

I was frozen to the spot, clenching my fists to stop them from shaking; my hair dripped water everywhere, and my body grew weak as a dull headache began to form in my head.

I pressed my eyelids tight.

It's all in my head. This is all in my head.

Snapping my eyes back open, my knees bulked, seeing the dress still on the table. The note. The heels. The pieces of jewelry.

Nausea gripped me immediately, my stomach twisting in a damning ache.

"Hell no," I muttered, rushing to my bag shelves, aiming for the sixth row up top, and grabbing the white bag sitting pretty by the left side. I flicked open the purse and, without thinking twice, grabbed the almost empty flask that I hadn't touched in weeks. Labeled on the stainless steel was a rough: Xtra, Xtra emergencies.

Coming to terms with, in fact, an extra emergency, I opened it hurriedly, and with just four half-full gulps of the strong gin, it was empty. It burned my throat, cut off the nausea, and awakened me a little.

I tossed the flask to the floor with a glare; my gaze lingered on the table for a while.

This was a sick joke.

A very fucking sick joke.

Grounding my teeth, I walked to the table and proceeded to get dressed.

A few minutes later, I was heading down the stairs to the dining room, where I heard familiar voices.

My phone was glued to my ear, and I was angrier than before. "What the hell do you mean you have no idea who I am?" I asked with my voice a little raised when I stopped halfway to the dining; I could swear conversations halted from that direction.

"We recall no transaction or negotiation of that kind, ma'am—"

"I paid for a singular overnight service just yesterday, and a staff of yours, whose name I can't remember, was with me throughout the night; he—"

"We get a good number of clients at our restaurant, ma'am. Everyone comes and goes, and we never offer single overnight services. Are you sure you have the right restaurant, ma'am?"

"Are you—what the fuck does that mean? I was literally at—" I groaned, looking up and snapping my fingers at one of the men standing guard in a corner. He came rushing to me. To the person at the other end of the line, I spoke with the confusion and anger making my head spin, "Listen here, I don't know what kind of fucked up game your restaurant and staff played with me last night, but I swear to every fucking god I've ever prayed to, once I'm done with you and your establishment, you will run for the hills when you hear the words restaurant and ma'am."

I ended the call, facing the guard. "Your rank?"

"First base, Miss Faizan."

"Perfect. Gather your best men; you're all taking a short trip to this restaurant," he brought out his phone on cue, and I caught his details popping up on my phone; sharing the location with him, I continued speaking. "Bring me their manager, and every fucking stuff you find there, don't forget to bring the ones who work the night shift too; someone has got to remember me; not all of them would have gotten dementia overnight."

"The location is out of our jurisdiction to carry this out. Should we proceed?"

"Jesus fuck, if I didn't want you to proceed, would I give you the order?"

"No, Miss Faizan. All inquiry is for your protection. The area is right in the center of the Marino empire; if their people intercept us, we'd need clear orders on the next step to take."

I squared my jaw, seeing the sense in all he had just said.

"Fuck," I muttered, my heart thumping at the solution that crossed my mind. I gulped down before nodding. "Give me a second," I said to the man, bringing my phone to my view and navigating my call logs.

Without second-guessing my action, I clicked and placed a call through to Elio's contact number.

His contact name was familiar and, at the same time, distant when it appeared on the full screen of my phone.

Bigbaby. With an outrageous amount of emojis from when I'd changed it from Dad, so no one would question the three consecutive eggplants before the many hearts and flower emojis.

I sneaked a glance at the guard before turning slightly and pressing the phone to my ear.

If he didn't answer, I'd send my people anyway—they'd just have to be invisible—

"I see the concept of space eludes you."

His voice reached my ear, and my spine straightened. I had to force down a swallow to find my voice. Glad but, at the same time, surprised that he had answered.

"Hi, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called, but I had to."

A sigh and, "¿Qué quieres, Zahra?"

(what do you want, Zahra)

I melted. Completely. My whole body softened, and my tense shoulders relaxed for him. I almost forgot why I was calling him in the first place. Almost.

"Tu ayuda,"

(Your help.)

"¿Qué pasó, estàs bien?" The worry in his voice tugged at my heart, and I had to bite my bottom lip to stop the whine of longing from escaping.

(What happened? Are you okay?)

"Sí," I answered, "I'm okay," I reassured, going to the matter on the ground, knowing if I let myself dwell on his concern in his voice and presence at the other end of the line, I'd be lost before I could get all my words out. "I'm pursuing a lead on those pictures and need your authorization. I'm sending some of my guys to the restaurant I waited for you at, and I don't want their operation interrupted."

"What does the restaurant have to do with the pictures?"

"I think the person who took the pictures followed me all the way to Sicily. They're claiming they don't know me. I can't remember having left the restaurant in the first place, and I know I was there because I was there, but for some reason, there's someone hell-bent on making me and everyone around me believe I was never there, and it's fucking me up."

There was a little silence from his end before he spoke, "Should I take care of this?"

I was stunned to silence for a minute, never expecting him to speak those words or even think to offer me anything...not after all I had done and said to him.

I shook my head. "No. No, it's fine; I'll handle it myself. I—there's so much we need to talk about, and I, I don't want this to—it's unfair to ask anything from you right now, not when we're not—when we're not in good terms and have so much we need to clear up and—do you understand what I'm trying to say, I don't know how to put it into the right words, I don't—"

"It is unfair to ask anything from me? What do you call the subject matter of the reason for your call?"

He was not going to make this easy. "I need your authorization to access an area in your territory."

"Clarify this for me. Are you, or are you not already asking me for my help?"

"They are different circumstances, Elio. I need your authorization; you are offering to help me solve everything without needing your authorization. But now I'm telling you, I can handle it myself; I just need your people to stand down while I get what I want; this is serious, Elio."

"You understand this obsession you have with handling things yourself is the core reason you and I are communicating miles away from each other, right?" 

"Elio, please understand,"

"Understanding the reason for your stubbornness will probably pull me a thousand steps back from the impressive recovery I've made mental wise."

"Jesus Christ, Elio—"

"Let me handle it."

"No." I said, my voice low, "For your sake, the sake of our relationship, and the—hopefully—positive effect from the space you need until we can talk and sort things out, I am respectfully declining your offer."

I waited with bated breath as the silence stretched between us.

"Okay. Your people won't be interrupted."

I released a breath. "Thank you, and—"

"Goodbye."

The line disconnected, and I winced at the abrupt end of the call. However, unlike the call from this morning, the emptiness was missing. Instead of feeling down, I suppressed a small smile before turning to the guard. "Go ahead,"

He nodded and swiftly went on his way.

Squaring my shoulders, I walked to the dining room, where everyone was seated. There was an awkward quiet in the air as I turned my head to find Vitale standing by the side, his head downcast but rising upon my entry.

They'd probably heard everything...me mentioning Elio's name a couple of times—even a bat flying by would know I was speaking to somebody named Elio—and with how soft my voice had gone, anybody without sight would see that whoever this Elio was, held a special place in my life.

Well, considering everyone in this room was aware of who Elio was to me, they were also aware that I was engaged to the man standing by the side, watching me like he wanted to dip my head into a toilet and torture me until I swore never to make such phone calls when we were trying to pretend we were in love to my friends...my friends who were currently watching and waiting for a scene to unfold between my fiancé and me, because, for someone who was happily engaged to her fiancé, I was pretty fond of calling my ex and speaking to him like he was the center of my world. I could see the wheels turning in their heads right now.

Milk's eyes flickered from me to Vitale; Upper had a hand covering his mouth in embarrassment...for me. Dog, well...his frown was calculating, and if I knew him at all, I knew he already pieced everything together but was keeping silent to see the drama unfold because...why not?

I cleared my throat.

Vitale took me in from head to toe, his glare turning to a confused frown. "Lovely dress," he commented, waving away the real conversation topic he wanted to have—the topic my friends wanted to hear.

"Of course, you selected it."

His frown deepened. "I did?"

My pointed look turned to a forced smile. "We need to talk about your new habit; I thought you trusted my dress sense?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"No?" I crossed my arms, "You didn't just come to my dressing room? Leave me a note..."

"I've been here, entertaining your...visitors since you went to freshen up."

My forced smile faded slowly when I saw the seriousness in his eyes. I turned towards the watching eyes. "He has?"

"Yup," Upper answered. "Been here the whole time."

"Then who was—"

Vitale approached me, gloved hand pulling my arm so I could face him. When he asked, His voice was low for the two of us. "Why would you think I was in your room?"

"Because I saw—I heard—" a chill ran up my spine. For some reason, I had mentally registered the whole dressing room incident as Vitale's doing, even though there were obvious signs that proved otherwise...but those signs brought in impossible conclusions. It couldn't be...

It was impossible.

"Zahra," Vitale pressed.

"I don't know," I blinked, "I don't know what I heard."

"You've been drinking."

"It wasn't that—"

"Are you kidding me, Zahra? I can smell the alcohol in your breath. Don't you ever listen to a word I say?" his voice raised a little.

"No, not really."

"First, you were missing time; now you're seeing and hearing things, yet you won't stop drinking—"

"Oh, cut me a fucking slack, Vitale! I'm fine!" I yelled, shrugging my arm from his hold.

"No, no, you're not fine because you're about to go kidnap innocent people from a restaurant out of our fucking jurisdiction!"

"Which I got authorization for, Vitale! If you want to eavesdrop on my fucking private conversation, do it well!"

"It's not eavesdropping if you're speaking for the whole goddamn mansion to hear."

"Oh, fuck off!"

"You fuck off because you're slowly losing your damn mind, and you're the only one who can't fucking see it!"

"Sorry to interrupt," Dog spoke up, "But I was wondering when we can get to the hate-kiss, hate-fuck, part—"

Vitale sent him a glare that had him raising his hands in surrender, "I meant no harm, Mr. Cunt. I just needed to ask so I could be prepared, you know."

"For the third fucking time, It's Conti," Vitale said with a grit.

"Sure cunt," Dog responded with a blank stare.

A groan erupted from Vitale's throat as he looked at me again. "You're the only reason he's alive; I hope you know that."

I sighed. "The jig is up. I'm not pretending to them that this thing between us is real,"

"You fucked it up when you called him," he responded.

"I had to,"

"You didn't—"

"I had to, V. You'll have to trust me on this. I've never lost my mind; someone brought me back here, and it could be the person who also took those pictures. You're right, I have a stalker, and whoever they are, they're close."

"Damn, the drama." Dog said.

"Knock it off," Upper chided.

I didn't take my eyes off Vitale. "You've trusted me all these years; have I ever let you down?"

"Well, would you look at that? She has selected people she doesn't let down. That's news." Dog, again.

Vitale transferred his glare to him. "This doesn't concern you."

"You're literally having the conversation in front of me—"

"Would you just shut it?" That came from Milk, who was now frowning at Dog, who, surprisingly, kept quiet with a grunt.

Vitale looked at me. "We'll talk about this later, at length. For now, let's get to the reason they're here." He said.

"Finally," Dog muttered.

Vitale resumed his position by the side.

I turned, facing the familiar faces. "I'm sorry about all that."

"It's all right," Upper said, and I averted my gaze towards Milk, who quickly removed hers from mine.

This is going great.

I dragged in a breath and let it out. "First off, I just want to thank you guys for showing up despite everything. I know you probably have so many questions about all this, and I promise to answer them."

"Amazing. Go straight to the point. What's this thing you said about some organization causing harm to kids?" Dog asked.

I nodded. "Yes, right. The whole...thing...is bigger than how I phrased it on the phone. A conversation like that wasn't what we could discuss miles away from each other."

"How big are we talking?" Upper asked just as a guard arrived with binding files, handed them to Vitale, and walked away. Vitale was kind enough to pass each file to the questioning eyes around the table.

"Big. Big and expanding, becoming a global menace in the underground world. Encompassing Europe to other continents gradually," Vitale informed, standing straighter as we watched them open the file, looking through.

Milk's shocked frown drew my attention. "Children trafficking?"

"Bloody hell, when you said causing harm to children, I wouldn't have thought—Breeding?" Upper trailed off.

Dog was quiet as his eyes took in the content of the file.

"The MCSS..." Milk spoke again, looking up at me this time. "It says...Marinocaporegime sovereign society?"

I nodded.

"Wait...the Marino we know? As in, Elio?" She asked to clarify.

I nodded again, "The very one."

Her frown deepened as she dropped the file on the table. "That's impossible. He would never be involved in something like this."

"He isn't," I clarified. "His signature, though...isn't very innocent."

Upper whistled.

"Those records are just the background scope of what they do," Vitale started, "Child trafficking and reproduction... for all the wrong purposes," His eyes trailed to me before focusing on STREET. "They use these children for several sexual activities. All children are born based on specific orders from clients."

"The fuck..." Dog's voice was twinged with disgust.

My heart pounded twice as hard at its original pace as I took over the explanation. "Like, say some sick fucker has a fetish they want to sate with a half Asian, half African child, or half American, Asian. We have people on ground ready to deliver sperms and eggs, and a waiting womb ready to carry. I'm talking thousands and thousands of people," I said. "These children are taken care of until they're five years old. When they reach that age, they're trafficked to the state of preference or order. Deposited in different houses, each one getting handlers, you can think of it as foster homes, but with adult visitors daily who like to get their cocks sucked."

"Oh my God," Milk said, the horror in her eyes draining whatever blood had been on her face.

"If this is breezed by under the noses of authorities," Dog pondered aloud. "it's gotta be funded by powerful governmental bodies from different continents...states..."

"And worse..." Vitale injected "made men, secret societies, criminal rings with several underground businesses tied to their names."

I nodded, "The larger scope of this organization doesn't exactly center on pedophilia. It's sex trafficking. When these kids turn 14, they're taken out of those houses, boys, girls, distributed to different criminal families, whore houses funded by the men at the top. These kids, at a very young age, are introduced to prostitution and drug testing; they're made airheads, addicts, and—" My throat clogged, and Vitale's eyes met mine, a small understanding silence passing between us.

"And there's no one doing anything to stop it," he continued for me. "Zahra and I had a long-standing plan; there was enough information on one of those flash drives to put these fuckers in their place. But we underestimated the whole thing; it turned out to be bigger than what we bargained for...our years of hard work bleed into nothing because we needed to re-strategize."

"This plan he speaks of," I took over, "Is why I came to Milan, in search of those drives. We knew little about its whereabouts and needed to be as quiet about our search as possible. I found a way to blend in with—the creation of STREET and lying in wait for years, knowing how important those drives were and the number of people who would want to get their hands on it, peradventure they find out about them. We knew if it fell into the wrong hands, we'd lose everything, and this whole thing would continue,"

There was a silence that I welcomed and let settle.

When I found the courage to speak again, I blew out a breath. "My actions during our last mission were carried out with blinding emotions and promises of the bigger picture. I didn't say those things in that hospital room because I was a narcissistic bitch on a self-sabotaging rampage. I knew what was coming, and I thought it was best to have you guys out of it because I didn't bargain for how big the whole thing was going to be. I knew you all had your own thing you wanted to get done, and I couldn't drag you guys into my mess,"

"It wasn't your mess," Vitale said, voice hard.

"It was. I don't think anyone wants to discover they are in love with the very person they'd spent all their lives hating right after they'd left their friends to a fucking sinking ground, all for nothing. I was a complete wreck that day, but I knew I had to get you guys out of that life. Though, I admit and take all the fault for handling it as I did. I can't blame my emotions for everything I said," I looked towards Dog, "And everything I did, but I know getting you guys out had been the only good decision I made that day. It was worth it to see how far you all have come and the people you became on your own."

There was another long quiet before Dog dropped the file on the table, not meeting my eyes as he asked.

"How did you find out about the organization? You said you and your mock fiancé have been at this for years; you both seemed to be well informed, even without details provided by the flash drives."

My heart skipped a beat with a hard thump that had me swallowing and looking at Vitale, whose eyes were already on me.

He offered me a small encouraging nod before I turned to the group again.

Letting out a breath, I braced myself before letting the words that had suddenly gone dry and tight out of my throat.

"I was one of them," I said, pressing on the burn in my chest as a deafening quiet settled around the room. Dog's head whipped in my direction, the shock in his eyes mirroring the same look in Upper's eyes.

"W-what?" Milk's voice was merely a whisper, her whole body going still.

My voice was chapped and thick as I spoke, "I'm well informed about this organization because I was in it..." I swallowed, "I was one of the kids we are trying to help."

__

Thanks for reading!

What did you think of this chapter?

Zahra and Elio's mini conversation? What are your thoughts on that? Did you expect it?

The mystery surrounding Zahra's missing time, and the pictures keep extending, who do you think is behind this and the dressing room incident? Or...is this all a figment of her imagination from her alcohol addiction?

What was your favorite part of this chapter?

What are your theories, If you have any? If you don't, just tell me what you think is gonna happen in the next chapter, based on Zahra's revelation to STREET. Are we seeing a reconciliation? Or just a peaceful co-existence and understanding?

Random question: How did you spend your Valentine's Day?

Till the next update! See ya!

Hi!

If you're on the discord server, you would have been aware of the update coming today instead of Friday. I got the flu, and I'm under medications, hence why I was unable to update at the scheduled period. I shouldn't even be here, but I promised, and I love keeping to promises so...here you are!

Don't forget to comment, each comment is a magical pill that cures cough and restore dead voices due to cold. Don't forget to vote as well.

Enjoy the update beautiful people,

_______
ZAHRA
_______

THE SILENCE that stretched around the dining room was cold and quiet as my words settled.

For a moment, I wondered why I felt the silence so strongly, why I felt the cold brush of its chilly hand graze down my spine, sending an odd calm into me, muting the noise in my head, pulling away the heavy bricks on my shoulders and chest. The fear of letting this part of me out in the open was now free of its hold on me.

I let out a silent breath, gathering the courage to take in my friend's expressions.

I looked towards Dog in time to see resignation settle on his face as he fell back on the chair. Upper had a sad frown on his face, his grip on the file releasing.

Milk held the remorse she felt so firmly in her expression, and I didn't miss the way tears brimmed in her eyes as she got off the dining chair, making her way toward me.

My heart was pounding, my stomach curling with anticipation when she reached me and, without question or verbal exchange, pulled me in for a hug.

I held my breath, unable to relax; my bones felt stiff, my mind empty, wondering what her hug meant, hoping it wasn't pity, hoping she didn't think I revealed all that because I wanted her forgiveness without having to let her know how sorry I was for all the things I said to her that day because it wasn't—

"I'm sorry," she whispered, halting my thoughts. "I'm so sorry you had to tell us about you this way. This should have been on your terms, not ours."

Softly, slowly, I felt myself relax in her arms; not until this moment did I realize how much I missed her and the friendship we used to share. I didn't deserve this, not one bit. "Thank you," my voice croaked out.

Gently pulling away, she blinked back the tears in her eyes before they could fall. I smiled at her, and she returned it with a small, stiff smile, glancing towards Vitale and then me. "Do we have a plan?"

"We better have a plan," Dog injected immediately, this time, with a glare at no one in particular as he sat up.

I suppressed a smile, knowing that though things might not be smooth and sailing between us, some silent understanding lingered around our midst, and while Dog might not say it out loud, I could see the concern in his eyes and the anger he now held on my behalf. "These people shouldn't exist."

Upper nodded, "You're right, they shouldn't, and if the information on this file is as accurate as it shows, taking them down will take...time, and by time, I'm not talking months; I'm talking years."

"Not unless we have an inside man," Vitale said.

"Cut the head; the tail becomes useless," I joined.

"Cut the..." Milk trailed off, her eyes growing large, "Marino is basically the head,"

Vitale and I nodded.

This brought a frown to Upper's face, and Dog raised a brow in question. "You don't plan to kill him, do you? Because you gotta know that's impossible unless you wanna go all Eve on him,"

I shook my head, "No. Before it all went down with the gold, Elio had been very willing to fight the fight with me. Hopefully, he's still as willing. Devil was the chain we intended to use since he's a Marino and should have enough say in the matter."

"But apparently, he's a no-show," Dog said.

"Actually," Upper spoke up, clearing his throat, "He should be on his way,"

We all turned to look at him as silence filled the room.

"What," Upper stated, eyes darting around us as if he couldn't guess why we were all looking at him.

"What do you mean what?" Dog asked, "How do you know what you know."

"I just do,"

"Are you tracking him?" Milk asked.

"With his consent, yes."

"The fuck does that mean?" Dog asked, seeming even more confused.

"That is an information I would not like to divulge. Now, back to more important matters—"

"Have you guys been talking?" Milk asked, turning fully to face him, "Have you been talking to Devil while leaving me on seen for four freaking months?"

"He left you on seen?" I asked.

"What? No—I mean, yes..." Upper panicked, "But I've not been talking—I didn't leave you on seen, I just—it was—I had school and—and homework and family shit and—and stuff that, I didn't talk to no—ugh, no comment."

"Should have just gone with no comment before the whole ramble," Dog advised.

"You try being in the spotlight for a change,"

"I'm always in the spotlight,"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, just last week, I was—"

"What exactly are we talking about now, and how relevant is it to the children we must save?" Vitale cut in, and silence fell upon us.

I cleared my throat, "Okay, we can adjourn this until Devil arrives so he can be included in all we talk about. For all we know, Elio might have something planned. I'm hoping to discuss more with him when we meet once he arrives in Sicily,"

"That's a start," Dog said, "It would also be wise to get a whisper to the authorities as well. Get in a little case opened without the knowledge of people who shouldn't be involved,"

"How's that going to be possible?" The question came from Milk, and I caught Dog stiffen, gaze darting at her momentarily before he responded.

"It is if you know the right people. To take down something this large, we would undoubtedly need a bit of flexibility here and there,"

"He's right," Vitale said. "Pulling down the MCSS wouldn't be quiet."

"Won't this also hurt, Elio? Say we manage to pull it off, his name is all over the place, and the authorities are going to take it into account," Upper pointed out.

I frowned, "That's something we'll have to look into, but I won't deny it, Reagan is right. Something that big won't go unnoticed; laying a foundation somewhere is better. If someone doesn't take the fall, someone has to take the credit. This could also speed up Reagan's push for making detective—"

"Not like I need the push," He added quickly, gaze falling on me. "I don't care about whose name gets on the paper; I care about stopping more innocent children being roped into the bullshit." 

"Yeah," I answered with a swallow as he looked away.

"I'll have our people share the contents we found on the flash drive. It must be studied to understand what we are dealing with here." Vitale stated. "To proceed with this, I must ensure we're all on the same page. Now's the time to leave if you don't want to get involved because once you're involved, you must be willing to do and sacrifice whatever it takes to see this mission through." He punctured his words into the air, giving them all a choice.

We were silent before Upper closed the file in front of him and shrugged, "I don't know about anyone else, but I never back down from a challenge, especially when it involves helping people who can't help themselves. I'm in for the long run."

"Me too," Milk announced, "Not going anywhere until we make this change and save the world—"

"It's not that deep," Dog muttered.

"Didn't ask for your opinion, but if you must know, a great man once said, children are the world," Milk responded with a firm glare.

"Sure, Michael Jackson was great," Dog said in a bored tone, sitting up, "I'd rather be here solving a real case than in Washington trying to decipher why some psycho husband killed his psycho wife,"

"That is settled then," Vitale nodded, "I'll work on having the contents shared with you guys, and we will double back in two days. That should be enough time to get acquainted with your surroundings, as I assume you are all staying. Till then," Vitale turned to me, "I have work to take care of," he came close enough to me, placing a soft kiss on my hair and saying softly, "Don't forget dinner tonight,"

"Actually," I started with an apologetic stare, "Can I skip? I'm not...I'm not feeling up to it, but I will...tomorrow—when I'm more...sober."

His eyes searched mine, and he hesitated a few seconds. "Okay, I'll call my mom and let her know. We'll talk later."

"Yeah,"

He walked away, leaving me and STREET alone.

"Now I'm confused," Upper said. "Are you guys real or...fake?"

I smiled, "We're good friends,"

Dog snorted, "He wants to fuck you."

"He doesn't—"

"Or he's in love, one of both. Not that I care or anything," Dog said, getting to his feet, "I have work to do, thanks to your mock fiancé who thinks shooting people automatically erases them from the face of the earth,"

"We can—"

"Still don't need your help." He said, pinning me with a stare and lowering his voice, "We'll talk about the other stuff later."

The other stuff being the information I had about Tora Vuković.

I nodded and gestured to a guard to come over. "Show them to their respective rooms," I said, looking back at them, "You've all come a long way; we should meet back here and discuss over brunch. I'll ask Aurora to make something else since breakfast is basically done."

"Cool," Upper said, "Would you be up for a tour of the mansion later? There's a lot to see here,"

"Of course," I beamed, turning to Milk, "Do you want to join?"

Her eyes shifted between me and Upper, and I knew her answer before it came. "No, uh...not today; I have work to handle and things to oversee and rearrange. I didn't think I would be here long, but you guys have fun...touring," she said, walking away with a guard.

I didn't bother asking Dog because he was already leaving with one of the guards.

I dragged in a breath, and Upper offered me a wide, close-lipped smile. "They'll come around; I'm sure they understand,"

I nodded. "I still need to talk to them, one on one, but I guess they need the rest, time to process everything they've just learned,"

"Yeah," he said, "But hey, um—I just wanted to say I'm sorry. What you had to go through and—"

"It's okay, it was a long time ago,"

"Still, I want to—more than ever—stop these guys from this shit they're doing, it's diabolical. No one deserves to be a victim of the whole bloody system,"

"We'll do all we can to stop them." I smiled, "I'm more confident now that I know you guys are on board."

He returned the smile with a firm reassuring nod.

"Wanna take that tour now? I'm not doing anything at the moment; I might as well show you around,"

"Yes—"

"And maybe I can pull out some things I'm eager to know...like you and Devil? What's happening there?"

"No comment,"

"Oh, come on," I put my arm around his, pulling him with me, "you saying no comment makes me want to bug you more. Come to think of it; you only mentioned your communication status with just Reagan and Penelope, not Elia..."

"No comment, still. There's never going to be a comment on it,"

I chuckled, "Well, good thing the mansion is quite huge; I have a lot of time to frustrate the 'comment' out of you,"

***

The whole day went as planned; I took Upper on a mansion tour before he retired to his room to freshen up while Aurora made brunch for everyone. Dog requested to have his in his room, Milk came down with Upper, and I watched from a corner in the second floor how they conversed easily, knowing the whole atmosphere would change if I interrupted.

I had asked Aurora to bring the food to my room, but I could not eat. I only had two to three spoons of the food and then discarded the rest in the toilet, knowing Aurora would be ready to report my returned—still filled—plate of food to Vitale.

I spent the rest of the afternoon interrogating the people who had been taken from the Milan restaurant; of course, they knew nothing. Vitale hadn't been happy with the idea of having outsiders in here, so he had gotten them back, seeing as they weren't of any use.

Disappointed, I managed a conversation with my assistant for the rest of the afternoon, catching him up on everything he had missed due to his absence while caring for his newborn and wife.

Due to his insistence, he would be returning to work by the following week.

I decided to take a little break myself until he returned. I needed some time to speak to Reagan and Pen, to apologize for all the shit I pulled personally—I couldn't do it today, though; I wasn't sound enough.

After the tour with Upper and the failed brunch, I began to feel sick. The familiar sickness that took hold of me whenever I refused my body the substance it wanted.

I just had to wait it out.

The afternoon turned into night, and I found myself pacing in my room, refusing to eat dinner because I lacked the appetite. Aurora had said all my friends were already at the table, and I wondered what they thought of my refusal to join them. It probably wasn't helping my case to get on their good side. 

But I was a mess; I'd rather them think the worst of me than see me like this. I didn't know which would be more embarrassing.

I had showered three times and been in the bathtub for almost an hour, fighting off the urge to appease the need for alcohol. I should have never taken the little I did today—but what was I supposed to do? I needed to clean the edges of my mind before I could face STREET or forget that someone had been in my dressing room.

I glanced at the bedside clock; it was almost eleven pm, and I still paced in my nightwear, a glass of non-alcoholic wine in my grip, trying to drink myself to slumber, but my eyes were as open as a bat's.

It didn't take long before the sweating started.

I dropped the wine glass on the nightstand, darted into the bathroom, and took off my clothes to escape into the shower.

I stood under the cold spray...long enough to catch a cold, long enough for my legs to feel the strain of standing for so long, and when I couldn't stand the strain on my legs anymore, I turned off the shower and wore my robe, shivering slightly as I got out.

Thankfully, my stomach didn't ache this time; I only had a slight headache, sweating, and shaking hands. Even if I were to throw up anything, it would be the wine I had taken and the little food I had managed to get into my stomach, and honestly, I didn't want to let those go, knowing I would be weak as hell with nothing in my stomach.

I hated this. I felt pathetic.

Drying myself up and getting dressed into my nightwear, I was in my room again, my hair still slightly wet, but I didn't mind.

I got under the covers, checking the bedside clock to see it was almost midnight.

My eyes were still open; I was still craving—cold, but craving.

I folded into myself, closed my eyes, and stayed there for the longest time in the quietness of my room, with the knowledge that someone had been here; they had probably walked these four corners, touched my things...touched me.

My hands rolled into fists on the sheet, eyes tightening close as I tried to block out those thoughts.

Someone had drugged me, brought me here. Changed me, saw me naked, covered me...all without my consent. They had been in my dressing room while I was in the bathroom; I'd been so vulnerable, yet they didn't do anything but peruse my wardrobe and drop me a little note.

A note that harbored the handwriting belonging to a man who was supposed to be dead. A note left in the dressing room that had carried the musky smell of a cologne I had spent so many nights washing off my skin.

I'd kept the note to show Vitale later; only he would recognize Martino's handwriting as I did. His admittance that I wasn't being delusional would clear all my doubts and help me make sense of this odd situation.

It was driving me crazy. I knew I was careless, but not this wild. I was off with myself; I missed things; I lived in this dreadful mansion that held so many nightmares, sleeping in this room where the dead bastard had taken me in the pretense of being willing to give my body because we were in love.

And now...now this, a weakness that came from the inside, plaguing me even when I had my friends in the same vicinity.

Swallowing, I opened my eyes, watching the dark room highlighted by sainted candles at the corners, supplying the space with a warm glow that had been provided to help me sleep better.

Glancing at the bedside clock, I sighed, seeing it was already twenty minutes past one in the morning.

I stretched my body across the bed, reaching for my phone by the bedside table and settling back again. I scrolled through apps; maybe I could try watching a movie...or rewatching something I've seen before...the background noise might help lull me to sleep. 

When Martino first brought me here, I was obsessed with watching TV shows. They taught me a lot and helped supply the perfect escape. When I met STREET, I made sure they saw most of my favorite shows, and I'd even roped Elio into binging one of my favorite shows, too. I wasn't sure anyone noticed that I'd seen almost all the shows I made them see.

Instead of heading to Netflix or some other streaming app, I found myself in my messaging app, clicking on Elio's message box and seeing my string of messages from when I was at the restaurant waiting for him, all read with no response. It was a little embarrassing. Rereading my texts, I realized how extremely needy I had sounded—not that I regretted it—but if someone had told me I'd be this needy and clingy over some guy, I would have snorted and called them crazy.

But Elio wasn't just some guy...he was Elio. He held my heart on a platter; the feelings he provoked crept up on me and entrapped me in a warm blanket. A blanket that now carried a hotness filled with hurt, misunderstanding, and baggage, lots and lots of baggage.

I clicked on the message box, and the keyboard popped up. Hesitating for a few seconds, I typed and sent:

Me:
Are you awake?
Read just now

Read just--

My eyes widened.

He was...was he...Is he currently...

A smile grew on my lips as I took the impulse of the action to send another text.

Me:
Weirdo
Read just now

It took a few seconds, but the bubbles appeared, my heart was thumping hard as it fell once more, and I pressed my teeth on my bottom lip as it appeared once more...and then:

Bigbaby:
Creep.

My chest warmed, and I pressed the phone screen to myself, hugging the device as though it were him; after a moment, I brought the phone to my view and sent a response.

Me:
Asshole

His reply took a little while, but it came.

Bigbaby:
Greedy thief.

Me:
Psycho killer

Bigbaby:
Witch.

I giggled like an idiot.

Me:
Whore

Bigbaby:
Slut.

As relieving as it was texting him this way, I knew we shouldn't be doing this...but damn it to hell, I missed talking to him, laughing with him. I hated space. I couldn't do space. But we needed space...right? Ugh, feelings were confusing.

Me:
We shouldn't be texting like this.

Me:
We still have to talk.

His response wasn't as immediate, but when it came, I was smiling.

Bigbaby:
Here I was, about to commend your articulate "butt dialing" skills.

Chuckling, I sent a response.

Me:
It wasn't "butt dial" this time. I couldn't sleep.

Me:
Y are you awake?

Bigbaby:
I just showered from a late-night gym perspiration.

Me:
Wow...so that's why you looked hotter...the gym, when did you quit self exercises?

Bigbaby:
When you disappeared.

I paused, blinking and reading the message. Not wanting to leave him on read for too long, I bottled the regret creeping up my spine.

Me:
You looked good. The hair too...what's the story behind that? Why did you let it grow?

His response was delayed two minutes before it came.

Bigbaby:
I cannot say.

I don't know why I asked what I asked next—not when I looked like shit, but I had the strongest urge to see him. Texting him was helping distract my body from the desire to shoot off this bed and find alcohol by any means.

Me:
Can we Facetime?

I held my breath, waiting for a response...minutes passed...minutes that made me think he'd never respond.

Worry was beginning to creep in as I stared at the screen, manifesting with all my might that he said yes. I had mentioned earlier that we shouldn't be texting, but he had evaded that topic of conversation. That meant he wanted to talk to me, too, right? Maybe he just wanted to text? Perhaps he didn't want to see—

A Facetime call from him had my phone vibrating. My heart lurched, and I quickly brushed my hand down my face as if that would magically repair all that was wrong with my appearance.

I swiped right, accepting the call as I pulled the covers up until it covered half of my face. When he appeared, I realized he wasn't in bed like me. He wasn't even looking at the camera; he was busy opening a carton of milk; there was a bowl of cereal right in front of him, telling me he had placed the phone somewhere directly to his front where he didn't have to hold the phone.

He was in a modern-looking kitchen, probably sitting on a stool. The lighting was also dim, but I could still make him out. He was wearing a simple black sweatshirt. It looked very comfortable, big on his already big body, his hair was wet, and he did say he had just finished showering.

All that aside, my chest hammered with longing. He looked so good, so comfortable; what I would give to hug him right now. To have him hold me and kiss me. To have him by my side, to finally make things all right between us.

"Do people put sugar cubes in cereals?" he asked, and I had to blink out of my thoughts. I watched him hesitate before pouring the Milk, looking at the bowl like it held contents from the moon.

"I um—" clearing my throat from how croaked my voice sounded, "I think it depends on the cereal. Or your tastes in particular."

"Hm." He hummed, "Do you put sugar cubes in your cereal?"

"Nope."

Nodding, he proceeded to pour the milk. When he had gotten his desired amount, he dropped the box, mixing the contents in the bowl as he lifted his gaze for the first time, looking at me. His eyes took me in for a few seconds before he looked at the bowl again.

"Are you sick?" he asked.

I suppressed a smile. "No...it has been a very long day."

"It has?" he asked in an inquiring tone.

"Yeah, Dog, Milk, and Upper are here...I finally told them about—me and how I grew up."

His eyes were on me again, "How did that go?"

I managed a small shrug, "It went, I guess...they didn't make a huge fuss or act like anything has changed with how they see me,"

He nodded slowly, and I watched him take a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, chewing softly and swallowing. "How do you feel about that?" he asked.

"Honestly, I feel good about it. I'm glad they don't treat me any different."

"As I predicted," he said, "You should have told them a long time ago; you might have been able to avoid the fallout you created with them," he said as if this were normal, talking after everything that went down between us...as if we didn't have any issues...while I appreciated that, I was still curious.

"Why are you talking to me?"

He swallowed the other spoonful of cereal he had taken, a frown on his face. "What do you mean?"

"Why don't you hate me?" I asked, "I said some fucked up stuff, and we still haven't talked about it properly, I'm just...I'm a little confused about why you still indulge me when you can just...not."

His eyes took me in for a while before focusing intently on his cereal.

After a short moment, he looked at me, "No matter how much I wish to ignore you, I cannot bring myself to. It's impossible because I miss you, and I'm desperate enough to take all you can give me even when I'm not supposed to want what you want to give me."

I swallowed hard.

"I'm incapable of saying no to you," he continued, "It is just the way it is, I suppose." 

"It sounds inconvenient," I said softly.

He shook his head, "It isn't. Nothing that involves you is inconvenient to me."

My heart expanded as I watched him take another spoon of cereal, his face squeezing, "Fuck," he said with his mouth full, "Too soft," he was getting off the stool with the cereal bowl in his grip. Underneath the sweater were matching sweatpants. I smiled, watching him pour the contents from the bowl onto the sink, washing the mess.

My eyes took in stuff from the table, frowning when I caught a packed set of paintbrushes beside where he had dropped the milk carton.

"Are those paintbrushes?" I couldn't help but ask.

He turned, drying his hands with a small towel. "Yes."

"Are they yours?"

He hesitated for a bit before nodding and coming to retake his position. "Yes."

"You paint?"

"Therapy practices. It is nothing serious,"

"Can I see something you've painted?"

Another hesitation. "They really are nothing to look at."

"I still want to see..."

With a sigh, he stretched his hand and grabbed the phone, the camera shifting this way and that, "I'll send you something,"

His wet hair fell slightly to his face, and his grey eyes were brighter than they had been from far away as he navigated through his phone; shortly after, a slight vibration alerted me to a message he had sent.

I clicked on the pop-up and—

"Are you shitting me?" I asked quietly as my eyes took in the portrait.

Was this a portrait of me?

My eyes took in the image before my eyes, and oh my God...it was a portrait of me. I had never posed for any picture like this, but he had placed me in a scenario I had never existed in. I looked so at...peace.

"Is this me?" I asked, just to be sure.

"I suppose,"

"Elio, this is..." I trailed off, unable to hide myself under the covers anymore, "This is beyond incredible,"

"It is nothing—"

"Shut the fuck up, you could be selling this for so much money."

"Do not exaggerate."

"I'm not exaggerating anything. My God. The fucked up chihuahua painting doesn't even hold a candle to this; it couldn't even be compared."

"Zahra—"

"I am being very serious. Have you considered selling?"

He shook his head, "It is not for sale,"

"But—"

"Not for sale. Never for sale."

"But it's—"

"You really are very greedy, aren't you?"

"A thief is always a thief," I said, "By the way, where exactly is this painting located?" I might as well find time to nick it if he didn't want to sell.

He shook his head, and if I could tell from the lightness in his eyes and the slight tilt on his lips, I'd say he was fighting back a smile.

"You have no shame, none at all." He said.

"I don't know what you're talking about,"

"Right," he ran his fingers through his hair, "You need to sleep; you look exhausted."

"I'm not sleepy,"

"You look like you're one second away from fainting," he pointed out, and I didn't bother to correct him or tell him my appearance was due to the addiction I was fighting. "I'll let you go now," he said.

I wanted to protest but knew I would likely be pushing it. He was taking a lot to talk to me, and I didn't want to make him realize that.

Sighing, I nodded. "Okay, I will try not to call or text you until we...talk properly,"

"Acceptable." He said, eyes lingering on my form, before he spoke again, his voice soft, "Goodnight Zahra, take care."

My smile was small as I said, "You too,"

The call disconnected, and I was left staring at the blank screen.

Swallowing, I once again, hugged the phone to my chest, settling back in the covers with a smile on my face as I replayed our conversation, recalling every expression he made, every rise and fall of his voice until slowly, and surely, I slipped into a calm slumber—a slumber too calm that I felt reluctant to open my eyes when I felt a shadow breeze by me.

My subconscious mind was actively slamming alarm bells in my head. I knew I had been asleep briefly; it was one of the best sleep I'd had in weeks.

I shifted, my phone long discarded as I straightened my body in a sleep-ridden state, shivering when a cold breeze blew in from my side and frowning when the side of my bed tilted to the side a bit.

My bed...someone was—

My eyes snapped open, and I caught the dark shadow above me. "Ahmmmfff," My scream was cut off by a solid cold hand covering my mouth. My body struggled underneath the weight of the stranger.

"Shhhh," he silenced hurriedly, but I wasn't having it; my hands flew around, supplying blows, my legs raising to land kicks. The stranger groaned, "Would you—" I kicked him in the groin, "Fuck!" he shouted in a pained whisper, but still didn't budge. What he did, though, was take off whatever dark mask he had worn, and his familiar face came into view, "It's me, it's me, Z. Be quiet; there's someone in your fucking bedroom."

I froze, my struggle coming to a halt as my eyes widened, taking in the person above me.

Devil?

-

Thanks for reading!

What did you think of this chapter?

Elio and Zahra's interactions? Do we predict a peaceful interaction when they finally talk?

What do you make of Devil's entry? In the dark, and in the middle of the night?

Upper and Devil, what do you think is going on there?

Gosh, I wish to ask more questions, but I got to get off my phone to rest!

Till the next update, see you guys. Stay healthy.

Hey!

I'm alive, thankfully. It's been a minute since I updated. My flu is all gone, but there's no denying that I need a small break. From working behind the scenes to make sure you have physical copies of this series, to simultaneously working on giving you guys chapters and other side projects, I need a minute to breathe, take it all in, and not let life pass by while I huddle in the little screen of my laptop.

Don't forget to comment and vote as you read, your feedback is highly appreciated!

Enjoy the update lovely people,

_______
ZAHRA
_______

DEVIL REMOVED his hand from my mouth, taking my sudden stiffness and quietness for compliance. He placed a finger across his lips, a motion for me to remain silent, and then, in the blink of an eye, he was off me. The motion feather light

In the room's darkness, I caught his shadow whoosh towards my bathroom area. There was silence around the space for a few seconds, my muscles curling on tight as the final bouts of sleep left me, giving way to rational thoughts.

Someone was in my bedroom, someone that wasn't him...could it be...Oh God, no. Quietly, I slipped off the bed, stopping a moment as a wave of nausea attacked me. I pursed my lips, keeping my tongue flattened in my mouth while I dragged in a long breath, my chest expanding as the nausea calmed a bit.

Tying my robe around me, I stood quietly. What had Devil been doing in my bedroom? How had he gotten in?

My gaze moved to the opened window, catching the lights from the compound shining in, accompanied by the cool breeze that had me turning to my bedside table. It was almost 6 AM. It seemed I had slept a while since dropping Elio's call.

Audible footsteps approached from the bathroom, and I rushed to turn on the light switch. The room was bathed with enough light when Devil walked out of the bathroom with a confused frown. "I could swear I saw someone jump through the window...but it's—the room is empty, aside from me and you."

Putting my arms around myself, I watched him warily; he looked the same, shrouded in all black with a black mask resting below his face, his hair rough like he hadn't given care for it before he left wherever he was coming from.

"How a—" My voice broke off, and I cleared my throat, "What are you doing in here? How did you get in?"

"The window," he answered, eyes finally taking me in. sweeping quickly from my head to toe, "I arrived about two hours ago; I was shown my room, but I had to step out shortly after for some...work, snuck back into the compound to avoid being tracked based on the...work I had to do. I was heading back into the building when I caught a figure on the small roof by your window. It was odd, and I didn't think it was normal for people to sneak into their rooms around here, so I checked it out. I didn't know it was your room until I saw you lying there. but now...I'm not sure what I saw," his frown returned. "There's no one here but me and you,"

I swallowed. "This shadow you saw—can you make them out, like their height or what they were wearing? If it could be a woman or a man?"

He shook his head, "I caught sight of them for two or three seconds, and that was it. But if that was the case, someone is supposed to be here—"

"Someone was," I said, a chill crawling up my spine as I slowly began pacing, "Someone was here. I have a stalker; I've been—I've been seeing signs of them for a few days now, but I don't understand." I said, looking over at his concerned stare.

A dull headache plagued me, and I squeezed my fists on my arm, trying to stop my fingers from shaking. "I had pictures taken of me without my consent, then I was drugged and transported from Milan to here, and...and this afternoon someone was in my dressing room, and they left me a note, and now you see a shadow entering my bedroom, and suddenly they're gone?"

"What note?" Devil asked.

"Something about dressing in...hold on, it's over there," I brushed past him to the antique drawer chest close to the dressing room door. I had kept the dress, shoes, and jewelry I wore the day before, just as the way the person had splayed it on the dressing room table.

Lifting the lamp from the chest, I grabbed the long golden key hidden under it and quickly opened the first drawer. The dress, the heels, and the jewelry were in place, but that white card was missing.

I froze.

"That's impossible," I whispered, frantically searching the drawer, throwing out the jewelry, gown, heels, everything. "It was here, I...I kept it here," I whirled around to regard Devil. "It was here. They left a note, and I—I kept it because I was going to show Vitale,"

Devil's brow was laced in a frown, "So you think the person took it?"

"Obviously!"

He looked uncertain, "I don't know Zahra, I was pretty quick in following the shadow; I don't think they would have been quick enough to—"

"But you said you saw someone,"

"I could have been mistaken; it was quick. I have had a long day, and I've been chasing and assassinating shadows all night; I might have—"

"No," I shook my head, "You did see someone; they came in here, they took the note because they knew I would want to show it to Vitale; they did this; whoever that person was, they did this."

"They would also be here...if I really did see someone enter the room," he thought aloud, "If no one is here, then..."

"I know what I'm saying,"

He sighed, "Do you have any idea who this...stalker might be?"

I remained quiet momentarily, running my hand tiredly down my face. "I have my suspicions, but the person at the center of them is...the person is supposed to be dead, so I'm not sure, maybe...maybe it's not them, maybe someone is fucking with me, pretending to be them,"

Devil looked around the room, "Do you have CCTV cameras installed here?"

I shook my head, "There's none in the house. The previous owner refused to have them installed, and it's been that way for years," I rubbed between my eyebrows, "I should have had that changed, fuck."

"This person you suspect...Is he Martino? The previous owner?"

"It's foolish. He's dead. It shouldn't be."

"Yeah, it shouldn't." he responded, "And you're sure...of this...everything? The note? And you being drugged?"

"I...yes, it all happened, but I don't—I don't know...Devil. I have no way to prove all this. What if you had indeed seen that shadow? If someone had really been in here—" I said, holding myself tighter, "If that truly were the case, then we'd have found someone...God, I feel like I'm going crazy."

The moment I said that, I felt another wave of nausea; this one was strong to the point that my feet were carrying me straight to the bathroom, my chest and throat felt tight, my stomach turned, and my knees buckled the moment I got in front of the toilet seat. I was falling, opening the lid, and throwing up the little food I had managed to get in yesterday. Food that, apparently, never digested.

I didn't register Devil's footsteps until he was hurriedly crouching beside me, taking and holding my hair back as he rubbed my back, stiffening beside me for a second when his palm connected with me while I emptied my stomach, coughing and wincing at the strain on my ribs and stomach muscles.

"Easy," he said soothingly.

I heaved until nothing was left to give; my hands shook, and sweat beaded from my skin holes, making my skin hot and sticky.

I felt so fucking empty, drowsy, weak, hot. My insides felt so, so uncomfortable.

I allowed myself a chance to breathe before lifting slightly and flushing the vomit. Squirming off Devil's hold, I let my back rest on the ceramic build of the toilet, ignoring his confused stare as I dug the heel of my palm into my eyes. The shaking of my fingers was evident as I tried to push back the sting in my eyes. "I can't do this...not now," my voice shook. "I can't be weak now; there's so much—so fucking much I have to be strong for,"

"What do you mean? You're not weak," he said kindly.

"I am—I am, but I don't have time to get my shit together," I said, my throat sore, "I want to...I want to get my shit together, but I can't do it now...not with everything happening. Someone is messing with me, I know it...I fucking know it and this is not helping," my eyes were wet when I took my shaking hands from them. "I need to be strong, and if I can't do it the right way, then I'll...I'll do all I can to be strong for now, and—and find this person...if they're not in my head...which I'm sure they're not...I'm sure. I don't know," joining my hands together, I jammed it lightly to my forehead, "I don't know anything,"

We were quiet before he spoke, "What is wrong with you?"

I remained quiet, shame bathing me in all colors of red. I couldn't look at him, couldn't tell him how far gone I was, how different I was from the person he once knew. I couldn't let this secret leave the threshold of Vitale and me. My friends relied on my strength, and as much as it seemed dull now, my determination fueled theirs. I couldn't let them see this side of me, creating doubts that I wasn't strong enough to end the MCSS.

I folded my hands into fists as I shook my head, "Nothing...I'm just—this whole thing is a mess, and it's fucking with my head...I'm trying so hard not to panic." I met his gaze. "I also need alcohol," I said, hoping shame didn't reflect in my voice, "just something to help me get through this whole stalking mess, to help me think straight, get the edge off."

He nodded, getting to his feet as he outstretched his hand to help me up, "We can go down—"

"There's no alcohol in the house," I placed my hand on his, letting him pull me up, "Vitale's odd rules," I lied, standing on my two feet, letting go of his hand and hiding the dizziness that took over me as I stumbled to the sink to rinse my mouth.

"I have a bottle of whiskey in my bag; I brought it for the road," Devil said, and Relief flooded my system as I dried my mouth, holding myself up on the sink, trying not to let any eagerness show because he was beginning to eye me warily.

I couldn't hide my gratitude, "You're a lifesaver. And—God, it's really good to see you, all this aside, I—I missed you,"

Sweat rolled down the side of my face.

Devil nodded with a tight smile, still watching me. 'It's good to see you too, Z."

I nodded with my heavy head, "I'll take a shower, and I'll be right down in the lounge area,"

"Will be there with the drink," he started to turn but stopped to look at me again, "You sure you're good?"

"Yeah, definitely."

He nodded, "We'll figure it out, Z; if someone really is stalking you, we will find them. Okay?"

I managed another nod with a smile this time, watching him leave the bathroom and the room.

***

When I reached the lounge area, I spotted Devil and Dog.

Dog was behind the counter, work papers and a laptop in front of him, with a plate piled up with delicious-looking sandwiches, while Devil sat on a stool, two glasses on the table, each containing the whiskey still half-filled right next to them.

I managed my steps so it wouldn't seem hurried. I needed to think straight and feel strong, not weak. This was the only way. This was the only thing I could do to properly assess my situation.

Or was it? Am I being purposefully delusional? Is this the addiction speaking?

Dog raised his head when he spotted me, but he looked back at the laptop. It was small, but I noticed how his form tightened.

"Morning," I greeted when I reached them, slipping by the counter to grab a whiskey glass. My fingers shook, and I almost dropped it, but thanks to quick reflexes, I managed that little mistake, raising my gaze to find the Devil's eyes on me. Studying and watching, waiting for a slip. "Pour me a drink?" I asked, slipping the glass towards him. I couldn't trust my fingers to lift the bottle, and I also needed to quench the awkward quietness as Dog concentrated on his work with a frown on his face.

Devil made busy by pouring me a drink. The sharp tang of the alcohol in it had my head spinning, and I mentally stabbed myself multiple times for that craving.

"Thanks," I said when Devil dropped the bottle, pushing the glass towards where I stood a reasonable distance from Dog but still beside him.

I picked up the glass and wasted no time gulping down the whiskey without consciousness. I didn't stop to savor, breathe, or taste; I just swallowed, knowing I needed the effect rather than the drink's flavor. It burned down my chest to my stomach, and I felt my muscles relaxing and easing. I drank until the last drop; my eyes closed as my body grew warm. It was not the warmth that brought the sweating; it was the kind of warmth that made me feel good. So, so good. Strong...calm, and normal.

This feeling was a terrible illusion. A craving that called for more and more, but at the back of my mind, I knew I wasn't alone; I could feel eyes on me. I remembered instantly where I was and in whose company.

Shit.

Opening my eyes, I caught Devil's suspicious frown trained on me. I moved my gaze to Dog to see him staring with one of his brows raised as if to ask, 'What is happening right now,'

I swallowed, flickering my gaze between them as I awkwardly lifted my glass, "It's...good whiskey; it's been a while since I've had good whiskey,"

"Seems like so," Devil said as Dog looked away with a shake of his head.

I swallowed, getting the courage to reach for the whiskey bottle, pour another drink, and sip normally this time.

"I thought you took a vacation from work?" I directed the question at Dog as I shifted closer, looking at the papers and pictures of case files.

"I did." He responded.

"You're still working,"

"I am," he said.

"What are you working on?"

He lifted his gaze from the laptop, looking in my direction and catching me staring at the files. "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked sharply, his frown turning into a glare, as he shoveled the papers away from me. "These are classified,"

"It's sprawled for everyone to see," Devil said, taking a sandwich from the plate beside Dog, who sent a glare his way. "That looks gruesome; what was it? Hit and run?" he asked with his mouth full.

I caught the picture Devil was staring at. A woman, all bloodied by the side of the road, pale and very, very dead. Telling from the picture, she had probably been dead a couple of days before they found her.

"The body was staged there," I said, and this time, Dog directed the glare at me.

He smiled widely at me, and there was no denying how fake that very action was, and his following words were proof of that tiny observation, "That's awesome, Zahra; help me with a case you are not supposed to know about, and of course, feel free to give me your opinions I never asked for because I am a dimwit who can't figure it out myself."

I blinked.

Devil snorted, "You are a dimwit; I honestly wonder how you cope with your collogues. They must hate your gut,"

"Yes, because they want to be me,"

"Of course. Everybody wants to be Reagan; it's so cool being in your shoes," Devil said with an eye roll.

"Good morning," Milk's voice came from the entrance, and I turned to see her stretching and massaging her neck muscles. She was in pink pajamas with fluffy pink bedroom flip-flops. Her eyes took us in, and she smiled at Devil, "When did you arrive?"

"A couple of hours ago." He said, "Love the hair,"

She beamed and grinned. "Thank you,"

She had that 'woke up like this look.' Her hair was a lovely red, and the waviness of it held a perfection I could never get my hair to. I felt a slight twinge of longing to talk with her, ask her how she stayed radiant, how she could still look like she woke up in a bed of roses in this house, this house that held so many mental scars with just a glance at a small corner of a room.

Most of all, I just wanted to talk, catch up, and ask her about her life and business. It was a longing that expanded to me wanting to know all about Dog too, what he had been up to, what life was like on the right side of the law, his friends, if he had any. The most ridiculous case he had ever worked on, if he ever dated, and what went down between him and Milk because I had noticed him stiffen with her appearance, and she had equally done what I expected, ignored him like he wasn't there.

"How did you sleep?" I asked with a smile as she settled on a stool beside Devil.

"Good...I guess. At first, I suspected the mansion was haunted; I did a little cleansing and went to sleep. It was a good sleep."

"Cleansing..." I quirked my brow. "I think I might need some of that."

She offered a small smile, and I wondered if now would be an excellent time to take her aside and talk to her.

I drank up all the whiskey in my glass, moving to take another round when I felt myself getting better than the shaky leaf I was before coming here.

I picked up the whiskey bottle and began to—

"Planning to get drunk, Faizan?" Dog said without looking at me. He was rapidly exchanging messages with someone on whatever secret platform the FBI used to communicate.

I looked towards Devil to see him questioning me with a look. "Was wondering the same thing."

"Is there an occasion?" Milk asked.

I looked around them, Dog finally tearing his eyes off his laptop to stare at me.

"I—no...there's no occasion, I'm just...tired and need a head start for what looks to be a long day. it's normal...I drink all the time. Did you guys forget?"

"That was beer," Dog said pointedly, "This is whiskey. You're drinking it like it's water,"

"All alcohol tastes the same to me; like I said, it's good whiskey." I shrugged, ignoring their inquisitive stares.

"Well, I guess I need a head start, too," Milk broke the silence as she gestured for a glass, which I provided, pouring her a drink.

"I don't remember any of you being early birds," Upper said, walking in with a water bottle, running shorts, and a tank top with boots. I already knew he was going for a run.

"Morning," I said with a smile; just the same time, Milk waved, and Dog gestured his head in greeting before resuming his work. Devil leaned a hand on the counter; body angled towards Upper with a smile on his face.

A smile on his face.

Something sure was going on, and I was itching to find out when, why, and how it all happened.

"Want a running buddy?" Devil asked. "Didn't sleep at all last night, and Z says today might be a long day,"

Upper returned his smile with a sly tilt of his lips, walking backward. "If you can keep up. See you fuckers later," he said, turning and walking out of sight.

Devil hopped off the stool, "Guess I'm going for a run," he announced before following the same path as Upper and disappearing from view.

"Yup, definitely fucking," Dog said.

"Mind your business," Milk said, getting off the stool. She stole a sandwich from the plate beside the dog, took her whiskey glass, and then walked away, leaving me and the guy watching Milk disappear around the corner.

He shook his head and focused on his laptop.

"Did you make the sandwich?" I asked.

"Yes. Aurora permitted me; did I need to get your permission?"

"No," I shook my head, smiling, "It's just cool to see that despite the whole FBI thing, you still love cooking—"

"Nope, we are not doing that," he straightened.

I frowned, confused. "What?"

"Talking and reminiscing shit like we're old buddies."

My shoulders slumped, "We kind of are...if you—if you think about it."

Scoffing, he shut his laptop with a soft smack, dark eyes holding a semblance of irritation. "That's the thing about all this bullshit, Faizan. We never were. I understand why you created STREET, but it doesn't erase the fact that we were pawns. A cover-up for you—"

"That's not—"

"I've been thinking, trying to understand why you would pull the shit you pulled. But then your explanation yesterday gave me my answer. STREET, me? We mean nothing to you; like you said, we were a means to an end. You leaving us to die in that next-level stranger things underground is enough proof of that, so let's not stand here and pretend like we know shit about each other, or we care about each other because we don't. We have one common goal, stop those motherfuckers from hurting more children, and go our separate ways so we never have to see each other's faces again. That's what this is."

I swallowed hard, frozen in place when he gathered the papers, slipped his laptop under his arm, and carried his plate of sandwich, "Enjoy the rest of your good whiskey," he muttered, and then he walked around the counter and out the lounge area, and I was alone—and it was quiet. It was so quiet that no one would believe some of the best people in the world had been here with me just minutes ago.

A sudden sadness enveloped me, and I dropped the whiskey glass. Losing the zeal to stay strong.

It seemed as though everyone had moved on. Found a purpose. A life. Had new friends and relations I knew nothing about, and had experiences and conversations I wasn't a part of. It was like standing in a room of very familiar people, but somehow, there was a spotlight on them and a dark cloud around you.

Left out.

Displaced.

Alone.

I covered my face with my palm.

Did I truly lose them? Have I truly gone and destroyed whatever chances I had to get back into their lives? Was this how it was going to be from now on? Me chasing and them uncomfortably running away because they had no place for me?

Sighing, I rubbed my palm down my face, eyes taking in the empty bar and...and freezing.

I squinted at the white card in the middle of a table by the far corner of the bar.

"What the—"

I rushed around the counter, waving my way across the bar, between tables and chairs, as I reached the particular table the card laid.

My head spun as I picked up the card, very similar to the one that had been on my dressing table.

I flipped it around and—

When will you realize I am the only one who wouldn't leave you when you need a companion, My Zahra? When will you understand that none of those people are meant to be in your life? It's just me and you. It will always be me and you.

I was interrupted last night, but I will count the hours until I see you again... Amore mio.

-

Thanks for reading!

What did you think of this chapter?

Zahra is mostly used to handling things herself, do you think she'll show this new stalker evidence to Vitale and Devil? Or do you think she'll keep it to herself in order to protect them?

What do you think could have happened between Milk and Dog?

Do you think the stalker is really who Zahra thinks it is? Or is someone pretending to be him?

Random question: Can you bury a body for a friend?

Till the next update!

See you!

Hey!

Jesus, the dust in this space is almost alarming! How did that happen? Why did it happen? What happened?

How are you guys doing, hope you won't hesitate with the comment section this time, the comments in the last chapter were amazing, but I need more, I need something to knock me off my laziness and get me back to the land of the living. (Updating this book is The Land of the Living btw)

All in all, I still had a wonderful break, spending time off writing and just being with my family.

Hope you, enjoy the update!

_______
ZAHRA
_______

IT WASN'T until noon, after the new note arrived that I realized the aim of my stalker.

Distraction.

Whoever this person was, they wanted to distract me. They knew me, knew what would unsettle me, knew who could get in my head with the mere thought of their presence, and then they went headfirst, using that person to penetrate my walls.

But I wasn't stupid. Martino was dead. He had been dead for years now; there was no way he had survived and somehow managed to stay in hiding all this time. That wasn't his move. Martino was more of the attack now, regret later kind of man. He didn't lie in wait if it wasn't completely necessary. There were many times I had been vulnerable, many times he could have started this whole shit show...

Why wait now? Now that I have all the help I need, now that I'm working fervently to bring down the MCSS once and for all.

It begged the question of who this person was...and what in hell they had to do with the MCSS to the extent that they would pretend to be a dead person just to distract me and mess with my head. If I wasn't entirely out of it, they probably wanted to make my friends think I was crazy, too.

Why?

Was this someone from the society? Someone from the Marino empire? Or someone entirely out of the sphere my alcohol-muddled brain couldn't comprehend at the moment.

I rinsed my mouth, dropped my toothbrush, and breathed into my enclosed palm to smell my breath. It was clear from every stench of Devil's whiskey and of every proof that I had taken in alcohol today.

I spotted a lunch tray on my bed when I walked out of the bathroom; Aurora must have decided to bring it up since I hadn't left my room. She always assumed I wanted it up here when I didn't come down.

With a sigh, I plopped down on the bed and slipped my hand underneath the pillow to pull out the note from the lounge area, rereading its content.

My jaw tightened.

I'd made a decision not to show anyone.

I wanted to deal with this motherfucker myself because I didn't trust whoever they were, neither was I aware of what they were capable of. Or the lengths they would go to get what they wanted from me. I couldn't put the people I cared about in their path.

Vitale was a pain in the ass sometimes, but I liked him alive, and Devil was one of my best friends and the only blood relative the man I love had; we still haven't settled our differences, and I didn't want to add putting his brother in trouble as one of the things I needed to apologize for—so this stalker bullshit will be my problem to solve.

As foolish as it might sound, it was for the best. If I were dealing with someone intimately familiar with Martino, I'd have to protect my friends until I understood what was happening, and if it got out of hand, I could always rope Vitale in.

But for now...

I stared at the plate of food in front of me. It looked like some familiar Italian dish made with boiled sweet

potatoes and seafood garnishing. It smelled amazing, too, and I managed to take in five spoonfuls before I suddenly became tired. It felt like my stomach was already sleeping, unable to collect more.

I stopped, swore under my breath, and went to dispose the rest of it, asking for wine to be brought up; at least I could keep that down with the bit of food I had eaten.

I stayed up for a few hours afterward and decided to swallow my hesitance when I finally stepped out of my room towards the direction of the visitor's bedroom quarters, stopping right in front of Milk's door.

It was muffled, but I could hear voices, one distinct, the other, which was clearly her own, louder.

I had to talk to her, clear the air as best as I could, and apologize for all the shit I said; maybe it would make the atmosphere around us more tolerable, make her smiles less forced or tight with discomfort—I really messed things up between us with what I said, and I doubted a simple apology would help much, but I had to try.

Knocking softly, I dragged a breath through my teeth as nervousness clamped up my throat, looking down the long, dark hallway where Dog and Upper's door stood facing each other. Devil's door remained at the far end of the hallway.

I knocked again, boldly this time, but not too boldly. My hesitation was like fire in every movement I made, raging and hot. I was bad at this, bad at apologizing, at saying goodbye, and at letting people in. Those three things were core aspects of any human's life, and I didn't excel in them. I never once tried to, but then again, I didn't lead an everyday life, and no one practices this stuff. It's just something everyone should know.

All I knew was regret; my being knew how to work and wield that feeling because it always came with a solid need to rectify the things I felt regretful about, even if it meant letting my pride slip up a little—but this was different, this wasn't just about my regret, though it was a huge part of it, but it was also a mistake, a very terrible mistake that had me losing the trust and affection of someone very close to me.

Though it was long ago, I wouldn't forget the apprehension that had been in Milk's voice the day I called her. She sounded irritated, uncomfortable, and maybe a little scared, like my voice was a needle struck against the perfect bubble that was the new life she had gotten for herself.

I'd never heard Milk use that tone on anyone. It had me almost refraining from calling the others because if Milk could respond that way, I wondered if the others might be even worse—but that was all in the past. Now, I had to fix things...as best as I could.

I knocked again, and the voices from inside stopped with Milk's voice yelling a small, 'Coming!' It was followed by soft footsteps quickly approaching the door, and then the oak wooden frame was pulled open, and her eyes widened a little when she saw it was me.

"Hi," I said with a smile.

"H-hey," she stuttered, a furrow dropping her brows.

"Can I—" I gestured to the bedroom, and she looked confused for the first few seconds before she opened the door wider, stepping aside.

Her laptop was on her bed, a bowl of ice cream by the side, and several nail polishes on the other side of the bed.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" I asked.

"Oh...no," she said, closing the door and walking over to her bed, tucking her hair behind her ear as she settled on the bed, "Just give me a sec," she said, clicking a button on her laptop as a bright, comfortable smile appeared on her face, "Hey guys, I gotta go now, I'll continue the movie from here, and text my reactions as I watch."

"Aww, It's tradition, Pen!" A voice said from the laptop, unfamiliar. One of her new friends, probably.

I shifted uncomfortably.

"I know," she said, almost like she would give anything to have me out of the room, "But um..." she raised her gaze to me and then back to the screen, "I really gotta go, it's uh...family stuff."

Family...

I suppressed the urge to smile as I shifted, watching her say goodbye to her friends, close her laptop, and settle fully on the bed, ice cream bowl in hand, as she looked at me, "Ice cream?"

I made my way to the bed, sitting at the end as I shook my head, "No, thanks,"

"It's vanilla, you like vanilla,"

"Yeah..." I couldn't remember the last time I had anything Vanilla, "I do, but...I'm still very full with lunch, so..."

"Of course," she said, dropping it to the side and looking at me.

Clearing my throat, I clasped my hands together. "I wanted to come up and...and talk to you...about, before? The—everything that happened in that hospital room, the things I said to you..."

She didn't speak, but I knew she was listening.

"I'm sorry, Milk—I-I mean, Penelope—"

"Call me whatever, it's fine," she said.

I nodded, "Okay," I said, readjusting my position on the bed, "Those things I said...while I meant some of them to an extent...I shouldn't have commented on your...on your body, it was wrong, and low, and shameful on my part, and I shouldn't have made a comment on your mom, and used something you told me in confidence against you...it was fucked up. So fucked up, and I'm so sorry."

She swallowed, looking away from me for the first time.

"I know it's not something you can forgive, which is okay. I broke every trust we shared and ruined our relationship in the worst way possible. I just wanted to let you know that no day has passed without me regretting what I did...all I said to you." I said, and she raised her gaze to me and sighed. 

"Yeah," she said quietly, "Thanks for...for telling me all that."

I nodded.

An awkward silence passed, and I realized it might be my cue to leave. I had nothing more to say, though I would have loved to talk more, but maybe she needed the space to let it all sink in.

I looked away from her, attempting to stand.

"I'm sorry," she spoke up, and I stopped my movement, settling back on the bed and returning my gaze to her, "I'm sorry if I'm—if I'm a little stiff," she said, "I just—I just need some time to...to settle with it all...you were right when you said I wanted my own thing outside of STREET, I did. I wanted a real business, more relationships...though I never thought I would have had to leave STREET to find those things,"

"You didn't have to...none of us had to do anything on our own. I was foolish and didn't think before making my decisions. We could have still been a team and a family while we moved forward to achieve our own. I know that,"

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right," she said, "But I feel like this was meant to happen; we each needed to find ourselves without anyone pulling us back." She said, hesitating, looking down at her fingers before speaking, "I've spent the past year trying to evaluate...I even started seeing a therapist online because I thought I had issues with always putting my body forward before my brain,"

My heart squeezed. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it that way—"

"But it's the truth," she said, a resignation in her eyes. "My mom had us surviving on the money she made from private hookups with rich men, some younger than she was...and most times they would come to the house and try to talk to me; they'd say I was prettier than she was, and she would get mad...it was always about beauty to her." she smiled sadly, "You'd see her fuss over the smallest wrinkle on her face or a small loose in her blouse...though your words hurt, it made me realize that I might need a little help myself."

I didn't know what to say, so I kept quiet.

She sighed loudly, but there was a smile on her face, and it wasn't as tight as it had been. "But really, Zahra, thanks for...for talking to me and making an effort."

I smiled back. "Of course,"

She nodded, getting more comfortable on the bed as she eyed me with curiosity, "So..." she drawled, "you're engaged, that's...that's new,"

I moved my head this way and that, "Not really, I've sort of always known I would be engaged to Vitale for years...before street.

She nodded in understanding, "Oh...but there is something, right? I mean, the way he looks at you and the dynamic the both of you have, you seem very familiar with him,"

"That's because we're friends; I met him when I first moved into this estate, and we trained and worked together to achieve all we have now. Our engagement won't last; it was done to help him achieve something he needed, and we're almost at the finish line."

"And Elio?" she asked carefully, "I mean, I don't really know how it ended with you both. I uh...I heard about the shooting when you were in a coma?"

"Yeah, that." I blinked, "Feels like a long time ago..." I trailed off, "Elio and I, it's complicated, a complication I hope we'll solve when he comes to Sicily,"

She nodded.

"What about you?"

She frowned, "Me?"

"I don't know anything about you...other than that you started your own company, which is amazing, by the way."

She grinned, "Thank you, it feels amazing, finally got that dream,"

"Yeah," I swallowed, "I'm sorry I have you taking a break from it,"

She shook her head, "Don't apologize, it's for a good cause, that's all that matters."

When I started nodding, she brought the already melting ice cream between us again, "Another go at vanilla? A little crossing the water under the bridge treaty,"

I looked at the bowl, completely unwilling to eat, but I smiled and accepted her offer nonetheless, taking a small scoop of the ice cream into my mouth.

"Hmmm, it's good...so good," I nodded, forcing myself to swallow, "Well, I should—"

"Do you wanna meet my friends?" she asked, and my eyes widened.

"Uh..." I blanked, shocked at the question. I didn't think she'd ask me that...maybe she was being polite? "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Why not? They know about you...but they think you're dead." she blinked, and I nodded slowly.

"How are you gonna wing that?"

"I don't know? My family's weird? People come back from the dead cause we're literally living in what looks like—some mystery mansion or something. They were shocked when I gave them a virtual tour; I'm allowed to do that, right?"

"Sure, as long as you didn't share the location."

"Of course. It's secret, I know." She smiled, "So, you ready?"

I wasn't ready; I didn't want to see or speak to anyone, didn't have the energy or the zeal to meet new people, people who wouldn't understand half the shit I was going through because their lives were so...normal, and they might spot I wasn't like them with just one look at me. I could only do friendship with girls when it came to Milk, but any other girl...I wasn't too sure about that.

"I would love to," I smiled apologetically, "but maybe some other time? I have some work I have to finish, and next time, I might do a little dress up so I don't scare anyone off,"

She nodded, eyes scanning me from head to toe, "You look...okay?"

"Since when did you start lying about my looks? You were always honest. I know I look like shit."

"Yeah, you look like you've been dragged through the mud and out, and your hair is a mess and needs good treatment; you probably need a little tan because, honey, you look too pale to be alive; your nails are also chipped and shaped weirdly, and I feel like you haven't cleaned an eyeliner makeup you applied badly a week ago, your lips could also use a bit of hydration, they look so dry, you need to care for them, and your eyelashes look like they're falling out, I don't think you've been using the right mascara, your wardrobe sense seems to be the only thing that has improved since I last saw you. Other than those things, I think you look amazing,"

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, of course, amazing."

"Nothing a few days attention won't correct,"

I smiled, "Got it, but I'll let you finish your movie for now," I got to my feet, "I'm glad we had this talk, Milk."

She returned the smile, "Me too, Zahra."

When I left the room, I left a little lighter than I had been when I first stepped in. We might not be all the way to being besties again, but we were getting somewhere, and honestly, I appreciated it either way.

Now, I had to talk to Devil and Dog. We needed a cordial environment to work, and I'd try to make it possible, even though it meant facing Dog and listening to him pushing reality back into my face.

***

I found Aurora stepping out of my bedroom when I reached my hallway, which wouldn't have been odd if I had sent for her.

When she spotted me, she smiled, "I just dropped tea in there; I'm about to head home."

"I didn't send for tea, Aurora,"

"I know," she said softly, "But since you probably didn't eat much of lunch, you should have that at least."

Frowning, I regarded her with confusion, "How do you know I didn't have much of lunch?"

"Your plate was returned almost immediately it came up, and you sent for wine." She said with a knowing look, "I don't want to know what you do with the portion you don't eat because in my family, we never waste food, and I refuse to accept that you are up here wasting food, so let's not go into it. Just have your tea, and dinner will be microwaved and served when it's evening."

I sighed, "You won't tell Vitale, will you?"

"I am obligated to," she said with utmost determination.

"Can you not tell him? I promise I'm trying. I just lose appetite the moment I see food, I don't—"

"You should see a specialist about it, Zahra. You can't keep skipping food like it isn't essential for you to have food."

"I know, I will ask Siro to make an appointment, but for now, can you—can you keep this between me and you?"

She supplied me a stern look for a few seconds before relaxing and nodding, "Fine, but if I don't see changes—"

"You can go ahead and do the needful,"

She gave me a firm nod, "I'll leave now; make sure you finish the tea. It's very important for your vitamins; it's herbal from my hometown."

I smiled, appreciating that she never failed to look out for me. "Thank you, Aurora."

She nodded, bidding me goodbye as she went out of view. I escaped into my bedroom and saw the tea on the side table.

The first thought I had was to do with it what I had done with the food, but that would be unfair. She had taken her time to fix up something for me, knowing I hadn't eaten the lunch she made. The least I could do was chug it down and manage to keep it down after.

When I picked up the teacup, my phone lit up with a notification to show it was fully charged. I was about to look away when I saw the notifications on my phone.

A missed call from Elio.

Shit.

I dropped the tea cup eagerly and picked up the phone to see that he had followed it up with a text message.

Bigbaby:
Arrived in Sicily.
38 minutes ago.

That's...earlier than expected.

I smiled.

Was he as eager as I was to clear the air? To have us talk this whole shit out? Kiss, make up, and be together? Because I was down for that. I was more than down for that.

I put a call through to him, jittery as I got to my feet again, pacing. The phone pressed to my ear, ringing.

I would run out of this compound in seconds if he wanted to meet now.

Would he want to meet?

Fuck...I looked like shit. Milk was probably right about the eyeliner thing, but would he mind? He's seen me look like shit many times before; he wouldn't mind, would he?

No, he wouldn't.

He wouldn't...but it didn't mean I wouldn't at least try to look okay.

I was sober enough, thank God.

I wouldn't freak him out holding my stomach, howling in pain, and puking all over the table—that is, if he wanted to meet at a restaurant or where he was staying. Where would he be staying? And how the hell did he enter Sicily without it reaching me before he could inform me?

Was Vitale already aware? Was—

He picked up the call, and my heart jumped...jumped and sped.

"Oh God, it answered."

My heart stopped altogether, halting with a loud grounding screech.

That wasn't his voice.

I brought the phone to my view, making sure it was his contact.

It was.

But the person who answered...was a woman...a woman with a clear English accent.

My heart began racing, but this time for all the wrong reasons. It wasn't racing with anticipation or eagerness but with fear, apprehension, and worry.

Why in hell's name was a woman answering Elio's phone?

__

Thanks for reading!

What did you think of this chapter?

Milk and Zahra's conversation?

Aurora and Zahra's conversation?

Do you think Zahra's decision to keep everything to herself was a good one?

Alizea answering the phone, what do you make of that?

What do you think is going to happen in the next chapter?

Random question: If you could pick up your phone and call anyone from your past, and anyone you want to meet in your future, who would that be?

Till the next update, see you.

Hey all, Please note: There is an important announcement at the end of this chapter. Please make sure you read it before you leave. Thank you, love you.

_______
ZAHRA
_______

EVERY WEAK and desperate bone in my body hardened almost immediately. My excitement died, and anger simmered in its place; I balled my free hand into a tight fist as she spoke again, still not addressing me.

"I'm sorry," Her voice was smaller this time, and footsteps surfacing from the end of the line, "I was juggling everything and trying to get the phone to you and—"

"It's all right, Ali. I already have people helping with our luggage, prepare for the auction; I will be with you shortly,"

Light footsteps faded, and a door slamming shut was heard before a small clearing of the throat and, "Hello, Zahra,"

I was unnerved, ridiculously annoyed, and curious—so, so curious to know who that was and why he spoke to her with such familiarity. She was no room service, and he had referred to her by her name, 'Ally,' and she was involved in their luggage. He said 'our' luggage. They would be going off to some auction later. Whoever this 'Ally' was, he traveled with her—arrived with her. They were staying in the same vicinity, and if the luggage was being brought in, it meant they weren't staying together for a day but for the duration of his stay.

Was she an escort? Elio didn't do escorts; Elio rarely ever attended these events himself unless it was completely necessary. Elio wouldn't leave his cell phone in someone else's hands unless there was complete trust between him and the person, or he probably forgot it on a table somewhere, and she had indeed—whoever she was—tried to get the phone to him.

"Zahra." His voice pulled me out of my head.

I clenched my jaw, digging my nails into my palm as anxiety and curiosity battled to take control over what I said next. Who was that? Why does she have your phone? What business do you have with her? Why do you speak to her with such familiarity? Are you fucking someone else while I'm here longing for you and being wholly unashamed and horrifyingly pathetic about it? Did you move on? You better not have touched a single hair on that woman's head, or I swear to God, Marino, I will hunt you down and—and—

"I missed your call...I thought you were supposed to be here next week?" I said instead, biting down on my impulsiveness, anger, and thoughts.

There was a light shuffle, and I could tell he had taken his seat somewhere, "I have business to attend."

"Business?" I frowned, pausing. "What kind of business do you have in my city?"

"None that professionally concerns you,"

"What the hell does that mean?"

He sighed, "You have no entitlement to something I don't think you need to know, Zahra."

But she knows, this 'Ally' person knows the business he had here in Sicily, she was accompanying him to it, and he won't tell me. He won't try to explain why someone was answering his phone.

He probably didn't think it was important information to divulge.

My anger flared as irritation joined it, stayed, and mingled enough to fuck with my head.

"If this business you have is being conducted in my city, and it was so important that it had you leaving your precious new home earlier than expected, then it is my concern; I won't have you fucking things up for—"

"Is this how you repay kindness, Miss Faizan?" his voice was low, a little annoyed, just like mine had gotten. "I allow you into my city, free of charge, to take whomever you want and question them, but I can't step into your city for some measly business without you verbally ambushing me for it?"

I shifted, pinning my gaze on the tea by the bedside table. "A verbal ambush I have every right to because I asked for your permission before stepping into your city and even told you why I was stepping in, but now you tell me you have business aside from coming to see me or for the event that's happening next week, and I ask what this business is, and you tell me it's none of my concern?"

Another sigh from him, the sound of a lighter flicking on, and then a tiny whoosh that indicated the lighting of a cigar. "If you are so powerful that I need to shudder and whimper at the thought of entering Sicily without express permission from Her Majesty, I wouldn't even be in Sicily because your 'subjects' would have stopped it from happening before it happened."

I gritted, the mocking tone in his voice inflating my anger.

"Is your security weak, Miss Faizan? Or are you truly not as in charge as you believe? Is that man you're engaged to running the show using your name? Are you the placeholder for his power? The perfect picture to his image, the tiny little flower he gets to parade around while he lives your life for you?"

"You don't know what you're talking about,"

"Don't I?"

A muscle in my eye twitched, and I was dashing towards the intercom in my room, quickly muting the call and speaking into the small device. "Send someone to my room immediately," I said, unmuting the call. "Why the fuck are you speaking to me this way?"

"And why won't you just ask the question that is really on your mind, querida?"

Despite the intensity of our conversation, I felt flutters in my stomach from that nickname.

In the silence, I could tell he was blowing out the smoke before he spoke again, "You don't have to project your annoyance into a conversation that could go without us fighting just because you're stopping yourself from airing your thoughts aloud, which previously wasn't a problem you had."

A hollow formed in my chest, causing spontaneous jolts and squeezes in my heart. I was scared to ask. I didn't want to upset him further by assuming things, but damn it to hell if I didn't want to know.

"Who was that, and why did she answer your phone?"

He let a few beats pass, maybe to toy with me or ask himself why he was dealing with me when he could hang up and let me stew with my assumptions.

"She's someone I know, and she answered by accident; she was rushing to hand me the device when she saw you calling."

"Someone you know." I stated with disdain, "That's what you say when you don't want to divulge the identity of a person you're in contact with,"

"You do know me. I should give you more credit."

"Why won't you tell me who she is?" I pressed.

"Because I simply don't want to. You are going to have to trust me."

I started pacing, tremors attacking my fingers. "Did you get a female assistant of some kind?"

"No,"

"Is she a friend of Casmiro's, Angelo's,"

"No,"

I ignored the disappointment in his voice. "Is she an escort to this auction you're attending?"

"No, she is not."

"Are you fucking her?"

"What sort of a question is that?" I should pause with the anger now lacing his voice, but I have to know.

"A question you're not answering. Are you fucking her?"

He scoffed, "Coming from someone who is always handsy with her fiancée, I should be asking you that question. Does your public display of affection extend into the bedroom, Zahra? The way you open your arms for him in public, is that the same way you open your legs in private?"

I'd forgotten how cruel he could be if he wanted to, my chest caved in, and my voice trembled as I spoke, "Fuck off,"

"Don't act like you're the victim; you asked me the ridiculous question first: does it feel good, doubting my loyalty just because I didn't answer my phone?"

"We're not in a relationship, so there's no fucking loyalty to be doubted, and that's the very reason I—"

"There we go,"

"Can't be sure you're not with her like that."

Silence stayed after I finished that statement, and I mentally replayed the conversation, trying to find where I went wrong."I don't know why I thought this would be a good idea," I didn't like the resignation in his voice.

"Elio—" A knock came from the other side of my door. I ignored it. "Let's just meet now and talk—"

"So we could exchange words? Yell at each other till I get provoked and say things I do not mean and then beat myself up for speaking to you in a way I would hurt people for? This isn't healthy, Zahra."

Worry and apprehension gripped me, and I retraced my whole step. "Okay, okay...It's my fault. I'm sorry, I—I heard her voice, and I got scared because we aren't together and you're with her, and you didn't want to tell me what business you had with her; and it's not like you to be with some other woman because that's not you, and if you are with another woman, then it's something serious. I was—I was worried and angry at our situation, and I didn't know what to think so I—fuck, I'm sorry, let's meet, and talk it out."

"No,"

"Elio, come on."

"No, if this whole conversation has taught me anything, it's that nothing good would come off us talking now or at the event."

Something held my stomach in a tight clench as my eyes stung, wishing I could rewind the whole mess of a conversation. "What does that mean, Elio? Where does that leave us?"

It was silent from his end until he broke it, "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know," I said quietly, wanting to push more but unsure what to say or where to start apologizing. I was confused; how had I let the whole thing go this far?

"I should go,"

"Wait—"

"We'll talk later." He said, and the line disconnected. My shoulders slumped, my fingers still trembling, just as the knock came in again, and I remembered I had sent for someone.

I blinked rapidly to remove the tears from my eyes, "Come on in,"

The door pushed open, and a guard dutifully stepped in. "Yes, Miss Faizan,"

"Mr. Marino entered Sicily about an hour ago; inform the data team if they aren't already aware and have security details trailing his every move. I want to know everything: where he sleeps, what he does, who he talks to, and if necessary, down to what he eats and where; I need no detail to be left out. Report back when everything is in place."

"Yes, ma'am," he turned to leave, and my gaze fell on the cold cup of tea beside my bed.

"Wait," I called, and he stopped, turning to look at me without removing my eyes from the cup of tea. "Have someone follow Aurora home...discreetly. I have been receiving some unpleasant attention, and I need to make sure the people closest to me are safe. I don't want her knowing I have someone protecting her," I looked at the guard, "I'd hate if she panicked,"

"Yes, Ma'am,"

I nodded, "Make sure the detail assigned to her report back to me directly."

"Will do, ma'am,"

"Good, now leave; make sure it's known to everyone that I am not to be disturbed for the next few hours,"

He nodded once before turning and exiting the room, closing the door behind him.

I looked down at the blank screen of my phone, itching to call Elio back, but I refrained. I'd call him in the later hours of today when he'd have calmed down from the argument and he wasn't thinking of cutting all ties with me.

For now, I wanted to pursue the first lead I had of my Stalker. I was done playing the fucking hide and seek game they're obsessed with.

I went to my drawer by the side, pulled it open, and picked up the cheap sachet of sleeping pills. I popped one into my palm and threw it into my mouth as I walked to my bedside table, grabbed Aurora's herbal tea, and swallowed the pill down with it.

One pill wouldn't knock me out, but it would have me relaxed, almost asleep, enough to see my visitor while they play around in my room.

I laid on my bed, above the covers, eyes on the canopy material above me as I waited, waiting to feel my bones softening or my eyes drowsy.

But nothing happened. My thoughts were heading towards Elio's direction, replaying our conversation while I tried to block it out, to block out the hurt at him sounding so unsure of what was next with us. I needed a way to rectify this.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let it back out.

It took only a few minutes for my eyelids to grow heavy and hard to pull open. Few minutes for me to realize that I might not be self-aware if my stalker happened to pay a visit. Few minutes before I lost all sense of consciousness to the vulnerability of the quietness in my room.

***

I was in a dining room.

A familiar one with two big chairs at each end and five dining chairs opposite each other. It was so familiar that my bones turned to ice in my body.

Despite how slow I felt, my heart was racing in fear. A fear that gripped my reserve in a tight vice grip.

My woozy vision and head slowly took in the space around me, my brain sluggishly catching up to my situation. Nothing made sense; the dining table was tipping oddly to the side, and the room came in and out of focus as I blinked, lights flickering here and there around me.

There was a distant whistling...

No, not distant.

I groaned slowly at the sickening turn in my stomach, turning my head towards the kitchen area to see the familiar back of Mr. Handler; he was busy with pots and pans like he always was, cooking and whistling that familiar tone.

Miss Grace must be out of the house, she was always—

I shook my head, looking down at myself in the white dress. My adult self, my hair was a curly mess around me, and I wasn't...

My head throbbed, my thoughts abruptly cutting off.

"Ah, you're awake."

I heard his voice before I saw him walk around the kitchen counter with a plate of sauced pasta, to which his gloved hand dropped in front of me. "Eat. You are beginning to resemble a stick."

I raised my gaze, focus zooming in and out as I looked at that familiar face while he placed the cutleries by my side. He dropped his own plate at the seat beside me, settling as if this were normal, as if we were a family about to have dinner.

"It's your favorite," he said, "I made it like I used to, remember?"

I swallowed, my heavy head dropping to the plate before me and raising to regard him. "Is it..." my voice croaky. "Is it really you? Are you...are you really here,"

Martino smiled, tilting his head to the side. "Have I not been obvious enough? Didn't you get my notes? Didn't you feel me there when you weren't even looking?"

Bile rose in my throat.

"Impo—impossible, you're dead..."

He laughed as he shook his head, picking up his fork. "One thing I love about our...sessions. That look on your face whenever you tell me that I'm dead even while standing in front of you, sitting beside you, lying by your side, and most times when I touch you, it's always baffling."

I froze. This time, my vision didn't go out of focus. "What the fuck do you mean sessions?"

He ate a forkful of pasta, chewing as he watched me. "Do you think this is the first time we've been here? No...with the kind of drug you ingest, you probably never remember what happens when we're in this house. Even when you remember, you might think they're dreams..."

The sickness I felt was slowly crawling up my stomach to my throat, worsening the bile. I felt like I was going to vomit anytime now.

"This is...no...it can't be,"

"It can, it is happening, My Zahra. The best thing for you to do now is eat, lest I get annoyed with you, and we fight again, like we always seem to do."

I gritted my teeth. "Whoever you are—you are messing with me; Martino is dead."

His chewing slowed as he watched me for a few minutes, quiet and menacing.

Suddenly, he dropped his fork, got to his feet, and stood beside me, picking up my fork as if attempting to feed me. "You are so stubborn; that is my problem with you. Your stubbornness knows no bounds,"

My hands balled into fists on the table as he gathered pasta onto the fork and brought it to my mouth, "Open up before you die of starvation. The drugs I give you have that effect. I should lessen the dosage. Go easy on you, would you like that?"

Anger flared inside me; despite my weakness, I wanted to cause damage so hard.

He pushed the fork unto my closed lips, and I impulsively raised my hand, sharply pushing his hand away, the fork and pasta flying to another direction of the dining room.

"You fucking—" his hand fisted my hair as he pushed my head back forcefully, my eyes locking with the angry blue of his, "Do you know how long it took me to make you something special?"

"Shove it all up your fucking ass!"

His grip tightened, and I didn't get to see his glare form before he slammed my head on the table, the pain slicing through my nose and forehead. He yanked my hair so my head was up again before I could dwell on the pain.

I raised my hand in defense, digging my nails into the hand, gripping my hair, fighting him off as he brought his face close to mine, gritting, "Keep this up, and I might have to fuck that attitude out of you."

"Touch me, and I swear to fucking God, I'll stab you in the eye." I gritted back, and he groaned, bringing his lips to my ear as he whispered harshly.

"All talk, no action, get the fuck up." he forcefully pulled me up, the room tilted further. His hand swept the table clean, the plate of pasta shattering on the ground with the wine glass and bottles. He shoved me into the table, his front to my back as he pushed me further, hand roughly pulling up the white dress I wore as he pressed his hard-on into my ass. "Having you unconscious is nothing compared to having you while you try to fight me off...in this house,"

His teeth grazed my neck, "Fuck...in this house, where I watched you grow up. You don't know how fucking good it feels to have you here again, amore mio," he gripped my hair, pulling my heavy head back, making me more disoriented as one of his hands squeezed my breast. "Touching you like this...on a table where I watched you eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, fuck,"

My glassy eyes frantically perused the table, looking for—

His gloved hand went between my legs the exact moment I grabbed the handle of the silverware on the table.

The room was spinning, but I was on the verge of throwing up with his hands on me this way.

"If only you could stop being stubborn—" I swung my head back abruptly, getting him in the nose with his fist on my hair. His hold loosened as I spun around, swinging my hand that held the knife and plunging it right into his left eye.

His scream was guttural and loud as he stumbled back from me, holding his bleeding face. I wasted no time, staggering from the dining room and bumping my leg on a stool. I didn't stop for a second to keep the furniture from falling.

Martino was still yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs; I didn't bother looking back as I navigated into the familiar living room. My legs felt like jelly, and my ears rang at the effort I took in trying to run.

"Fucking bitch! Fuck!"

I ignored it, using the wall to support my weight as I corned into the short hallway, breathing in relief when I spotted the familiar yellow front door.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you! Fucking cunt! Fuck!"

My chest heaved in panic and fear as I tried to increase my running pace.

Mismatched footsteps resounded from behind me, Martino's cursing from pain grew nearer, and my vision grew even blurrier.

I wasn't sure I could make it. Still, I pushed forward, grabbing a vase from a small wall shelf close to the entrance, and throwing it back at him, knowing it wouldn't do anything to stop him from catching up, and catch up he did, I made it halfway to the door before his body pushed mine against the wall, and I turned to see his face drenched with blood, eyes pulsing out, I tried to push him away, repulsed, but he was sinking something sharp into my neck, and whatever it was, began taking effect almost immediately.

I lost all feeling in my legs and arms as I fell to the ground with him above me, bloody spit drooling from his mouth to my face. "You wanna be stubborn, so be it. Remember, you asked for this shit, I wanted to go gentle on you before, but now, now I will ruin you until you can't tell the difference between what's real and what's fake; I'll make you so insane you'd be worse than I was when you tried to ruin me."

My eyes grew heavy, and my limbs weakened and failed.

His bloody hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing right. "You will pay, Zahra. You and that fucking cousin of mine, I will not stop until I make the both of you pay for what you did to me. You cannot stop me. Do you hear me? You cannot. Stop. Me."

The menacing hate and anger from his voice was the last thing I heard, the fear curling around my bones was the last thing I felt, and his face fading from view was the last thing I saw before the drug took complete effect, and everything went black.

—
Thank you for reading!

THE ANNOUNCEMENT

Hey guys,

As most of you know, I've been working fervently offline to publish this series. Before I began this book I informed everyone that there is a huge possibility that I would remove this series from Wattpad when it's time. And that time has finally arrived.

It has been a long time dream of mine to publish my book and just to share my work outside the scope of Wattpad. I was even more encouraged when I saw a majority of you wanting to have physical copies of these books! I want to see you all hold a copy of this book and the series in your hands someday, and I'm doing everything in my power to make that possible.

In order to pursue this dream, I am taking this story down from wattpad on the 14th of April. I know a lot of you will be disappointed by this, but I want to urge you to continue to support me. And though it won't be on Wattpad, I have plans to make the series complete and available in the near future.

Further notes: The series has now been titled (THE WICKED SERIES)

Follow my Instagram (Therebeccayouknow) to keep in tune with further announcements with the new titles for the rest of the series as well as other publishing updates!

I can't wait to share Elio and Zahra's full story with you all!

I hope to have your support on this new journey with me! I will continue to post spoilers and host quizzes on the discord server, so make sure you stick around not to miss any update or news!

As for the fate of all the other books in the series
(Angelo and Casimiro's story, Upper and Devil's story, Dog and Milk's story and Gemma and Vitale's story) stick around on the discord server (link in bio here on Wattpad) and my Instagram (Therebeccayouknow) so you don't miss updates about them as well!

I truly, from the bottom of my heart, appreciate your support so far! I wouldn't have gotten here without your comments, votes and enthusiasm! You all are the absolute best!

Stay safe out there, my loves! Can't wait to share more!

PS: if you're on discord, you can check the announcements on there, I already answered some core questions about this announcement!

Your author,

Rebecca. (Mommy R.)