Markos took Misty back to the apartment where Meadow and Millie were waiting. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Millie and Meadow rushed to Misty and bombarded her with questions. Misty appreciated that they were so concerned, but at the same time, she found it overwhelming. It had been such a long night already and with the state Markos was in, it felt like the tip of the iceberg.

"I'm fine, really. I just need to sit down."

Misty pushed past them and then flopped down on the couch. She put a hand over her throbbing head. She had cried herself out, and now she was dealing with the aftermath. Every part of her body ached and she was both physically and emotionally exhausted. The worry of what Markos would do compounded her existing problems and added to the ache in her head.

Her mind kept jumping from one side of the fence to the other. Her heart was at war with itself. One half of her heart was as scorned and hungry for revenge as Markos. It hated Scottie and everything he did to her. It wanted to add flames to Markos's fire and build it up until it burned Scottie and everything he stood for to the ground.

But the other part of her heart, the side that was naive and vulnerable, still cared for Scottie. It craved to believe him and prayed that he would prove her wrong. The other half of her heart wasn't plagued with the pain of anger, but rather by something else entirely. It was watching your fruitful daydreams turn to barren nightmares. It was feeling all your faith and hope slip through your fingers like coarse grains of sand. It was heartbreak. And in a way, it was so much worse. Because the blood that beats the broken heart is warm with love forsaken.

"Are you okay here, Miss?" Markos said, pulling Misty out of her inner thoughts.

She looked around and saw that Millie and Meadow had moved next to her and were watching over her. Markos stood behind them, his face hard and stern.

"Um, yeah," Misty said somewhat hazily.

Her emotions were spinning her around in circles, making it difficult for her to concentrate. But then she saw Markos nod and head towards the door, and a heightened awareness shot through her. Markos was leaving, and she knew exactly where he was going. He was on the hunt for Scottie.

Misty jumped up from her seat, but she didn't try to stop him right away. She was at odds with herself. She was stuck between the boy who held her heart and her vengeful brother, who meant well, but was often misguided. She didn't want to choose. But maybe she didn't have to. Maybe she could save them both.

"Wait," she said, pulling him back by his shirt sleeve. She looked him deep in the eyes and whispered, "what are you going to do?"

Markos could hear the concern in her voice. For a brief second, it gave him pause. A tiny flicker of sanity flashed in his mind. There was a light that showed through the darkness of his anger that made him second-guess himself. But he was too far gone. Darkness had him in its clutches and it wasn't going to let go. It wrapped it's bony fingers around that tiny bit of light and dragged it back down into the depths of hell.

"Don't worry about it."

Markos turned away sharply, his anger returning in full force. He walked out on Misty, slamming the door behind him. This was no longer just about Scottie. It was everything. The Assembly. Their refusal to help his dying sister. His parent's unjust punishment. All the years of torment his sisters had to endure. And Scottie was the culmination of it all. The walking, breathing representation of all his life's hurt in the flesh. And Markos was out for blood.

***

Music blared through the speakers, the beat bumping and shaking the walls. Smoke billowed up from the floor as colored strobe lights flashed and bounced off the ceiling. Scottie's friends were all on the dance floor letting loose, while he was slumped over the bar. He tossed back the last of his drink and then slid his glass towards the bartender.

"Another one?" The bartender asked.

Scottie nodded solemnly without a word. The bartender sighed reluctantly and poured him another glass while shaking his head. Scottie took his eighth or ninth drink, he didn't know, he had lost count and slugged it back. He set his glass down and stared at it, thinking of all that he had lost. As he sat there, he felt a pair of arms slink around his chest and a warm body lean against his back. He turned his head just enough to see Maddison Pritchard hanging onto him with a big smile on her face.

"Hey you," she whispered in his ear.

He shrugged her off and turned back to his drink.

"Hi," he said weakly.

She was disappointed in his sulky mood, but if anyone could break him out of it, she knew it was her.

"What's with you?" She teased and playfully pushed him on the shoulder. "You're usually way more fun."

Scottie sighed and straightened up to talk to her. He wasn't in the mood for a conversation, but Maddison was the type of girl that always got what she wanted. If she wanted to talk, you were going to talk.

"Not really up for it tonight, I guess."

Maddison looked him up and down, examining him. Rarely did she see Scottie in a mood like this. He didn't hide in the corner, drowning his sorrows in his glass. He was a happy drunk, the first one on the dance floor, the one who's up for anything, the life of the party. He was never such a freaking buzzkill.

In her eyes though, it wasn't a total loss. It was the perfect opportunity to make her own fun.

"I know what you want," Maddison leaned in, whispering in his ear. "Something to make you feel good."

Maddison's blue-eyes glistened with mischief and a sly smile spread across her face. Scottie hated himself for it, but he considered her offer. He knew Maddison well. Her and Zacariah were one and the same. Always wanting him to be the one to take things too far. Dangling snake oil solutions in his face and daring him to chase the high with them.

"What do you say?"

Scottie nodded slowly, giving in. It had been a few hours. He could use another pick me up. Maddison bit her lip in satisfaction, knowing she had him. She whispered, "follow me," and he did just what he was told. She led them through the crowd, him following helplessly behind. For a second, he lost her. His eyes searched for her and he caught a glimpse of her curly blonde hair disappear behind the bathroom door.

Scottie pushed past the people standing in his way and eventually made his way to her. But when he opened the door, it wasn't Maddison that was standing there.

"Misty?" He breathed out in disbelief.

She sauntered toward him, a confident, seductive smirk on her lips. She grabbed him by his belt and tugged him closer. Scottie's breath caught in his throat, both confused and delighted by Misty's unexpected forwardness.

"This is what you want isn't it?" She said, but her voice...her voice.

Something about it was off. Sure, it looked like Misty. She had her overall look, but her finer features, the things that made her special and beautiful, were blurred and generic. She looked more like a recreation of how someone remembered Misty than Misty herself. And her demeanor, it was all wrong. Misty would never come on to him like that. Especially not in the bathroom of a sleazy club. It made no sense, but in Scottie's inebriation, it was extremely convincing.

He cupped her face in his hands, gently running his thumbs along her jawline, and looked deep into the eyes that weren't hers.

"Misty," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen."

An evil smile curled on her lips. Maddison had him right where she wanted him, completely convinced. It was so easy. He was like putty in her hands. All she had to do was say the words he'd been dying to hear.

"It's okay, Scottie. I forgive you."

Hearing those words nearly broke him. He choked out a sob and tears escaped his eyes. He was overcome with a mixture of relief and incredible hurt. He felt the taste of freedom but was chained down by the guilt of knowing he didn't deserve her forgiveness. It hurt like hell, but he was a glutton for punishment.

"Do you love me?"

"Of course," she said and ran her fingers through his hair. "I'll always love you."

At that moment, Scottie knew it wasn't real. Misty would never forgive him and she certainly didn't love him. Not after what he did. Even still, the temptation was near impossible to resist. Her lips were so close to his. The warmth of her body pressed against him. Her skin was soft like Misty's and her touch was tender and loving. He longed to surrender himself to the fantasy. But that's all it was. A fantasy.

"No," he said, shaking his head and backing away. "This isn't right. "

Scottie stumbled out of the bathroom and down the hall. He burst out into the alleyway, tripping over the step-down. He almost fell but managed to just barely keep himself up. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with the cool, fresh air. He patted his pockets, trying to remember where the hell he put his cigarettes and his lighter. His search was interrupted by heavy footsteps that were coming his way. He turned to the source of the noise and strained his eyes to see who it was. When he stepped out of the shadows, Scottie swallowed hard. He hadn't seen Markos in a long time, but he was instantly recognizable. He had the pissed off look on his face that only the older brother of a woman scorned could have.

"Hey man, hold up," Scottie spat out desperately, his sense of self-preservation kicking in. "It's not what you think."

Markos didn't give him a chance to explain. The last thing he wanted to hear was his excuses. He grabbed him roughly by the collar and shoved him against the wall. The wind knocked out of Scottie's chest, causing his lighter to drop out of his hand and land with a clink on the asphalt. His back was crushed against the hard, cold brick building. He coughed, struggling to breathe as Markos's forearm constricted his airway. Markos gave him another shove, knocking Scottie's head against the wall.

Then he growled, "you're coming with me."