I'm dazed as I'm thrown into the back of the vehicle rather unceremoniously. My fingers clutch and rip my vest as I twist and sputter, trying to see how fast I'm going to die. I must be bleeding out; this hurts too much. Searing pain radiates from my back, through my chest, and down my ribs, cold and hot all at once. I cough and gag, on my blood or my panic, I'm not certain. 

Tonic clutches my hands as the vehicle speeds off, and I look over his shoulder out the rear window to see the pile of bodies where the small group stood. 

"You killed them?!" I wheeze, hardly able to speak as my lungs scream for air.

"They attacked us first."

"I scared them!" I gurgle and cough, trying to clear my throat of salvia as my body rejects my internals and begs for air. I claw at the apparatus on my face, and Tonic helps me take it off as I gulp in big mouthfuls of air. Unsatisfying, but at least I'm not restricted, I unbuckle the vest and rip it open as I look for a hole, but there is none.

Marcello watches me in the overhead mirror. "Are you done, princess?"

"What..." I manage. "There's no hole?"

"That vest is bulletproof. It was a warning shot. But, not to be taken too lightly. We can't risk anyone finding the compound or deciding they want you and Tyler for themselves, they saw your abilities and shot you anyways, any enemy of the cause is an enemy of mine." He glares ahead at the road and I can tell Tonya is distraught, she clutches herself quietly as she tries to hide the emotion on her thin face. 

Her hair is disheveled, messy, and shoved about from her fingers, frantically trying to soothe. These people aren't warriors. 

They're just people. 

People that I'm dragging to darkness with me, yet this is a dark cause. "I thought you have no enemies?" I respond shortly.

His fist clenches on the steering wheel as he thinks it over; I can see the strain on his scalp as he grits his teeth. "I'm sure you know the difference between enemies and threats."

It seems like a fine line, one that I don't care to redefine right here when I'm so conflicted myself. I press my hand to my chest, and I quietly thank the vest for the lack of a hole. A failed attempt, a horribly failed attempt. Was I so bad at this?

 My time in school was mostly spent just trying to survive; maybe it's the only way we learn, as Solomonari? When I was sent to Penelope, I was trained, but I was still weak. 

Tyler is raw materials, ready to be molded with what little talent he possesses. 

Where do I start? 

Where could I begin in the vast expanse of knowledge I had amassed?

 What was easy for me was difficult for him. I clutch my book closer to my chest and hand him the water bottle; he reluctantly takes it. "I'd understand, iffin' you don't want to train me anymore, sir."

He was offering me a way out. I could tell him no, figure it out myself, go off and do this on my own. But, as I look at his face, those green eyes full of disappointment, his mouth pulled down in harsh lines of self-deprecating judgment. I open my mouth to tell him that I'll be taking my leave, but it won't come out. 

Since the moment I found out that Verando would, once again, be a father, I wanted something that was my own. I wanted progeny, to teach and nurture. There has been an ache in my non-existent womb for a life that needed me. Verando does not need me; he loves me and wants me, but he would continue to survive without my interference. 

Tyler might not have that opportunity. This world was crumbling, crashing to the ground around us. I'd seen firsthand its sickness, its lack of balance. 

How could I turn away that which I had wanted for so long?

I couldn't have children, and he didn't seem to want to adopt. 

Could I ever adopt a child, given my profession?

 Given the way that we live our lives? 

I think of Reid, his devotion, his adoration; Verando had given him guidance in the darkest time of our history. I sit up, adjusting myself in my seat as I take in what could very well be the only relative I have left. 

Slowly, I reach over and take his hand. "Tyler, I'm going to tell you this as often as you need to hear because I wish someone had told me. I'm not going to give up. This was just day one; it didn't go as I expected, either, and I have some baggage to work through, but if you're willing to do this, then so am I. I want to help you, and I will help you." 

In my head, I can see Young Nicolas silently approving of what I had longed to hear when I was thrown to the wolves, so to speak. Someone to guide me, help me, and tell me they wouldn't give up on my broken body. 

Tyler wouldn't have to suffer as I did; I would do everything I could to be for him what I never had.

"Thank ya, sir. I'll try my hardest to do right by your teachin'. I might not be brought up in it, but this cowboy ain't goin' home empty-handed. Give me that bottle." I hand it over, and for the rest of the ride, we try to separate the silt from the water. 

"Practice when you're in the shower; turn the water hot and cold on your own," I tell him, recharged by the time we climb out of the vehicle. The metal doors slide open, and once more, we're entering the depths of the earth. Our footsteps echo ominously as the lights flicker on, illuminating the dark hallway. 

I'm feeling better and more positive, as if I have a clear goal and a mission. 

My life had felt impossible before, with one massive task after another, but maybe this was something I was meant to do. Guide and instruct? My first day had gone poorly, but I felt a renewed conviction and determination to see this through.

 For my blood, for my family, for what I couldn't do for this mystery child I had with Fillipa. As the doors slide open, we chat idly as we enter the room.

"Again, Papa Randy!"

 What should have filled me with joy leaves me with an empty ache in the pit of my stomach. I watch him jog around the couch for what could be the hundredth time, with little Silvia clinging to his back. Rhea rests on her hip with Helen beside her while Briley scribbles on a notepad, rolling her eyes at the group. 

It dawns on me that this is why I had kept Helen a secret, and I almost want to hide, I want to leave and never come back, for it feels unfair. He had never gotten on the same page with Tonic after Delta died; they had come together, but Tonic was, for the most part, estranged, and that suited me fine. 

He was as alone as I was, with no real family to his name. We had only each other. The introduction of Helen changed things. 

Another life with a woman, bearing him children, growing a family with him in a way that I couldn't.

 I watch the giggling, pale-haired girl, clinging to his neck, and he truly laughs. I can't help but feel I've been lied to. As for his indifference, his aloof nature, how could he be so happy if that were true?

"Tyler!" Silvia squirms and kicks as he sets her down, and she runs to throw her arms around the redhead's legs, peering at me. "Did you save the world?" Her shimmering eyes failed to melt me this time. 

 "Not this time," I tell her, flinching as he nears me. 

I have no right to be upset with him, but I'm livid, hurt. 

Did I expect him to sit here, angry, miserable, without me? I suppose I did; he doesn't even look upset that I left. 

"Snuck out, I see?" He comments, raising a brow only to take a small sniff and near me quickly. My body tightens under his fingers, and he turns me around, touching my vest. "What happened?" His voice is stern, the fear creeping in.

 It satisfies me just slightly. 

"What is this? Gun powder? Nic, were you shot?"

"Shot?" Rhea repeats, making Silvia run to Tonya, who leaves the room in a weepy mess. I note the white-haired man stalks out of the kitchen to chase after her. 

I shrug, "A misunderstanding." Don't embellish.

Marcello eyes me, raising a brow at my sudden behavior change. 

"Another group got spooked from the training exercise. Twinkle toes here made an ice sculpture, then put some voodoo on the water and cleaned it, turned his ass around, and ran for the edge. I suppose it makes sense, but you're aware of our no-tolerance policy. We had to dispatch a few. Tonya's taking it hard." 

Helen curses under her breath and leaps up, running after her mother as well. 

Verando takes my face in his hands, gathering my attention. The warmth of his palms soothes my chilled skin. I hadn't even noticed that I'd gotten cold. "Are you alright?" He asks, searching my face. 

His accent had refreshed with time spent around those who spoke like him, becoming heavier and purer. 

"I'm fine. Tyler did well on his first try." 

Tyler glances towards me sheepishly before vanishing to wash or throw up; by the look on his face, he seemed overwhelmed. 

"Yeah, he looks excited... What's your measure of success? Staying alive?" Verando's voice drips with sarcasm, and I narrow my eyes at him as if he had been doubting me all along. 

"It was his first time!"

He pulls his eyebrows together, "Just looks as if you had a rough go, is all-"

The scrutiny I could do without, my emotions were on edge, I'd claimed Tyler as my own, and I wasn't ready for Verando to criticize him. "Why don't you go back to playing house? I have studying to do." I storm off, unable to stop the words from coming out of my mouth. 

I feel insane and ridiculous for feeling so hurt. He's the one person I can talk to, the person I can tell anything to, and yet I want to be away from him. Was it the wolf messing with my emotions? Or was I that upset about the death of people whose only crime had been their fear of what they didn't understand?

Verando follows after me. I sigh as the door to our room closes later than it should.

"What?"

"What's going on with you?" Verando presses, trying to catch my gaze, but I turn my head away as I hang up my vest, rubbing roughly at my eye with the back of my hand. It's rough, uncomfortable, and dragging my skin. I curse the material as I scramble to get out of my belt in my frustration. 

"Nic, talk to me." His hands cover mine, and I jerk in his grasp, yet he doesn't let go. "Is it Rhea? Are you pissed that I was with her?" My eyes jerk up, and I narrow my gaze at him, only to have him roll his eyes dramatically. "You know what I meant."

Pullling out of his grasp, undoing my front zipper, I flinch at the discomfort in my back from the bullet bouncing off the vest. "No!" I snap, outraged. 

Beyond my comprehension, I storm around the room as I pull at my suit, forgetting how difficult it was to get it on. I yank my arms out of the sleeves and sigh in relief at my sweaty body's exposure to the cool air of the room. "No, no, please continue to enjoy the fruit of your loins. You looked like you were having a marvelous time with her."

He exhales slowly, not following me, only standing in place to watch as if he agreed that I was currently unstable. "She means nothing to me; she was just watching Sil play." 

My heart breaks all over, but not for the woman, but for the nickname. Sil. 

I'm frozen in my tracks, and I fold my hands over my chest for a brief moment. He can't help with this; he can't just spontaneously give me what I've been asking for. I'm reminded of Penelope, telling me Rowan would belong to me and thinking with delight about what I would call her. 

Lily.

 Isabella. 

Anastasia.

 Cautiously, he takes my stillness as an invitation to approach, and I feel his hands on my sides. I spin out of his grasp, shimmying out of the bottom of my suit. 

"Talk to her; I don't care. It's not that." 

Could I admit this to him? 

"You... you didn't miss me." I lie. His lack of theatrics had been refreshing; he was beginning to trust me, trust that I could handle myself. I'd rather fracture that sanity than admit my own darkest wishes. "I expected a bigger welcome party, is all. It was like you thought I would fail or something."

Gingerly, his fingers curl around my wrist, Verando pulls me to him. His thumb and forefinger catch my chin, and he tilts my head up to meet his eyes. I notice that he's cut his hair shorter on the sides and messier on top. His scruff was freshly trimmed to a fine stubble. 

This was my actual issue; he didn't need me; he functioned fine without me. 

"Were you hoping for proclamations of love in front of the lot of them? Seemed like an odd time, what with the crying and all. Would you like a speech at dinner professing my love and adoration?" I note the sarcasm and cover his mouth with my hand, blocking out that smug expression. 

He kisses my palm, and I sigh, calming myself. 

I do love him. 

"Maybe not, it might make everyone feel weird, I suppose. They don't need to know what an emotional creature you are."

"Would you have preferred I ravage you the moment you walked in? That outfit leaves little to the imagination. Would you like me to confess just how much it irritates me that any man gets to see that much of you?" He growls in my ear, and I make a sound of frustration at him. 

"Randy!" I sigh, but the grin finds its way onto my lips. Maybe he does need me in some regards. "Awfully foul-mouthed for a grandfather." 

That amused but annoyed look curls onto his lips, and I kiss him, relishing in my favorite expression. "And yet, I'm nearly one of the youngest. Fancy that." It must amuse him. I'm not used to a pleasant, calm, and well-adjusted Randy. "I'll also remind you that I didn't expect to get to go this morning. As I told you, I'm not supporting this cause."

 I stop to gape at him, my jaw falling slack as I take him in. What? 

"Are you serious?"

My warlord nods, dragging his nose over my wrist to take in my scent. "I'm retired, I've decided. You don't need me, Nic. Today was proof enough; you handled it quite well and had enough sass to come back and tell me off. I think it's time I do what you keep asking me to do: get out of your way and step back. I disagree with this mission, but if you're committed to it, who am I to stop you? I accepted that that meant you would go off without me at times." 

I can't believe what I'm hearing, and I take a step back, trying to decipher the whirlwind of emotions racing through me.  

He wasn't going to help? 

Verando hooks one arm around my waist, pulling me to his body, and I watch the dark colors of his shirt, inspecting him for imaginary lint as I pluck at the material. 

"Besides, I have some digging I want to do around here. Investigate these individuals and learn what is actually happening. It's too many secrets for my liking."

 I sigh, rolling my eyes as he leaves a blazing trail up my neck, skirting over my skin with his lips. "You're completely insane. These people are your family. You're the only person I know who would suspect his own family." 

The gray-haired man shrugs. I place my hands on his chest, relieved that he is finally gaining back some of the weight that he had lost.

"I know their origin. I wouldn't trust me either." 

Maybe I'm better off without children. Could I handle being suspected so harshly by my blood? 

I suppose I did; my father sent me off to be killed- or was that Corina? I stretch on my toes and wrap my arms around his neck, pushing this conversation away and out of my mind. I want to feel something other than this ache in my chest, anything other than living this hell on repeat. 

"Can we stop talking? I want you, I want to know that I belong to you and you to me." 

Verando opens his mouth to speak, and I kiss him firmly. 

"No more words." I pull him to the bed and shove him back, attacking his pants as I yank them down. 

Change, the bain of my existence. 

When all else fails, I can find normalcy in our bed. I don't want to play, only to feel, I just want all of him. I fumble in the side drawer clumsily and produce a small bottle. He regards me suspiciously, and I straddle his hips. 

"Tonic mentioned it while you were sick. It's a lubricant, better than the oil we have in our time. No foreplay required."

Verando's body grows rigid as I wave my hand at his shirt, instructing him to take it off. "He did, did he? Why on earth would he mention that to someone he has no interest in?" 

I hadn't intended to distract him. Bending down to kiss him, parting his lips with my own to taste the morning coffee on his tongue, I sigh at his lack of enthusiasm. I'm met with a half-hearted attempt and nothing useable at my disposal. 

"I don't know, I didn't ask him. Why are we talking about Tonic right now?" I grind down against him, frustrated as I shove him back roughly and push his shirt up to attack his nipple with my mouth. "Randy. Come on, I'm dying here. It's been almost a month, you could at least get hard for me."

"Why were you talking to Tonic about lubricant?" He asks sternly, and I groan, flopping off of him and scrubbing my hands through my hair.

 Why was he bringing this up? 

Why did he pick this to focus on? 

It was an off-handed comment, not something meant to trigger this sudden 'Alpha male' that was lost to me not moments ago. Tonic was my friend, not my lover. He, of all people, should know that. 

"How would you feel if I talked to Rhea about sex toys?" My warlord insists, earning a glare of disapproval. 

He can't be serious. It's not the same thing at all. "Awful. Now, teach me a lesson. A quick one."  I attempt, stretching my arms over my head. I angle my body, trying to tempt him, urging him to come for me, to take it out on me, punish me, anything to bring me back to the ground, back to my senses. "Randy- Tonic and I used to talk about our sex lives all the time! I practically taught him the birds and the bees, now please-" 

Verando sits up, grimacing. "I'm his father, Nic. That's horrid."

"Neither of us knew! I think... it was a long time ago before he went crazy. You see him naked all the time; I don't see how this is any different." He's not looking at me, staring off into the distance as if he'd had an awful taste in his mouth. Realizing that this was a losing battle, I shake my head as I sit up and climb to the edge of the bed.

Of all the times for my warlord to find his jealousy, this was not what I expected. Had Verando ever acted jealous in any regard?

 "Forget it. Just... I'll not talk to Tonic about it anymore, alright?" With that, I depart to the shower to wash the grit from my body and take care of myself, feeling conflicted about my decision to bring us to this place.