3 DAYS LATER

"Is he better?"

"The doctor says he's still severely underweight and it'll take another two days before they can discharge him."

"But can he talk?"

"I guess, but - "

"Then that's good enough for us. Blackcroft's future can wait no longer."

Three men in black suits pushed their way past the protesting nurse and entered the ward. For over a month now they had been acting as interim dons, a rare occasion where the leaders of the three major triads came together. Of course, each worked with the other purely for their own gain, but eventually after endless bickering and discussions there had been only one conclusion.

Stalemate.

Without the will, neither of them could gain the edge that made them don. But now, that edge was here.

There was a boy, about sixteen years of age, lying in the hospital bed. Eric Blackcroft, son of Gideon Blackcroft (deceased) and brother to Hayley Blackcroft (disowned). Despite the heavy bruises around his face, chest and legs, his eyes were sharp and bright.

"You have the will?" the first man asked.

Didn't even bother pretending pleasantries, Eric thought. No 'are you okay?' or 'good job on getting the will back'. Just straight business. But Eric could understand that. He too, was a man of business.

From underneath the blankets, he produced a tightly rolled parchment sealed in a vacuumed plastic bag. He passed it to the man.

The man narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why isn't it in the case?"

"Because that's the first place Black and Tan would check. I had to store it somewhere else." Eric shifted, and smiled charmingly at the nurse who was adjusting his glucose drip. She blushed. "You can check it for authencity. The seal is unbroken."

The man took the plastic bag and peered at it. There was a seal on the parchment and it was, indeed, unbroken. He passed it to the second man, who brought it close to his eyes for inspection - and immediately wrinkled his nose.

"The hell? It smells like shit and piss! Where did you hide this?"

Eric thought about those long, long weeks in the dungeon, where Black and Tan had put him through every method of torture that they could devise. Where the only toilet he had was the piss bucket in the corner of the dungeon, that got emptied whenever Black and Tan felt like it, which was not often.

He thought about the many times he had been fed nothing, and he had been forced to eat whatever that came out from his own body.

Eric reached forward and took a big spoonful of the rich, indulgent strawberry cake that he had specially requested for lunch. "You don't want to know," he said, before biting down with relish.

"Well?" said the third man impatiently. "Open it, Byron!"

"It should be done by the Blackcroft lawyer. Otherwise it won't be deemed legitimate."

"Then get him here!"

The lawyer came five minutes later, accompanied by two secretaries and another associate. The medical ward was suddenly crowded. Timidly, Eric's nurse requested that they didn't stand too close to the patient's bed, which resulted in the burly men being jammed up near the door. Eric watched their discomfort with some satisfaction.

Snapping on latex gloves, the lawyer took a penknife and slit the plastic bag open. The parchment fell on to the table with a dry crinkle that reminded Eric of fallen leaves in autumn. The lawyer held the parchment high so that everyone in the room could see the unbroken seal. There were in total ten witnesses.

Rolling out the parchment carefully, the lawyer began reading out aloud.

"This is the last will and testament of Anthony Blackcroft, 8th don of the Blackcroft empire ..."

The contents of the will were as Eric expected. Edward Blackcroft as the new don, Ian and Gideon as vice and treasurer. There were other names, but it didn't matter. 

The teenager took another big spoonful of cake. The strawberries, decadent and polished with sweet syrup, sparkled on the silverware. They were juicy and burst on the tongue. As expected from Blackcroft, Eric thought, closing his eyes as he savored the tangy taste. 

"Well?" Byron said at last after the will had been read. "That doesn't solve the issue of who's don now! Edward, Ian and Gideon all died in that Black and Tan massacre!"

The lawyer spoke. He had a surprisingly feminine voice. "Naturally, their children should inherit the positions."

"Their sons all died as well! And Louisa - Edward's girl - can't be don. Obviously."

The image of a woman being a don send all the men in the room into laughter. Except for Eric, who was cleaning his plate.

Byron shrugged. "So with their kids all dead, I guess it's up to the triads to decide who's the don - "

"Not all their kids are dead," Eric said quietly. "You seemed to have forgotten me, Byron."

All heads turned to the boy in the hospital bed. 

"But - but that's preposterous!" Byron blustered. "You - you're just sixteen! And your family's in disgrace!"

"My sister is in disgrace." The sentence carried no emotion at all. "But my father served and died valiantly in the fight against Black and Tan, and my grandfather was the eighth don of Blackcroft for over 40 years."

Eric sat up, and his voice blazed with challenge. "You would call their names a disgrace, Byron?"

"That is - I - " Byron stuttered. "Of course not - "

The lawyer cleared his throat. "According to the Blackcroft rules, laid down by our founders and lasting three hundred years into today, Eric son of Gideon is perfectly right in claiming that he is the new heir. He is of sound body and mind, male, and the closest kin to Edward. He is also of age, passing his sixteenth birthday half a year ago. From the legal side of things, I see no disputes. Unless of course, Byron, you wish to challenge this claim ...?"

Challenging an heir's rightful claim was another way of saying outright war. And Eric knew Byron couldn't afford it - not when Blackcroft had just taken such a massive hit and been leaderless for too long.

Byron started and spluttered and eventually stammered himself into silence. The lawyer came forward with a bottle of red ink and a gold-edged document. Eric dipped his right thumb into the bottle. Taking a deep breath, he pressed down firmly on the document, and just like that - Eric Blackcroft, son of Gideon, had become the Blackcroft empire's ninth don, keeping his family's seize on the throne secure for another year.

A thick, silver ring with an emblazoned B was slipped onto Eric's index finger. Grandpa's ring, Eric thought. Or to be more accurate, the don's ring and the empire's heirloom. The lawyer bowed respectfully.

"My sincere congratulations to our new don," he murmured, kissing Eric's ring.

The lawyer's colleagues and hospital staff bowed deeply, repeating the same sentence. Then the three triad leaders came forward one by one, with congratulatory messages of their own. Eric watched with some satisfaction as Byron kissed his ring.

"We will inform the triads duly," Byron grunted. The three men in black suits left.

The lawyer turned to Eric. "The official signing in ceremony and celebrations will of course be held after your discharge. But from now, you may execute any orders you wish, that is if you have any - "

"I do. It's a statement of immunity concerning four individuals, and I expect the entire family to be aware of this."

"Oh?" The lawyer snapped his fingers and one of his secretaries immediately had pen and paper at ready. "How long will this immunity be held in effect?"

"For as long as I am in charge."

The lawyer raised an eyebrow. "Very well. And who are these individuals?"

Eric spelled out the names carefully. "Without these four individuals, we would not have had our latest victory," Eric finished. "They saved my life, the life of your new don. No Blackcroft is allowed to touch them without my permission."

"Very well. Anything else?"

"I want our people in the police force to pull some strings and close the Octagon case as fast as possible. I want absolutely no leads back to us, or those four individuals I mentioned earlier. If anyone gets jailed, it should only be Black and Tan. I also want post-humous bravery awards for all the men who died in the Octagon trap. Special mention must be given to Damian Blackcroft, without whom we would not have succeeded. Let Damian's portrait and name hang in our Hall of Fame."

"That would take some time," the lawyer interrupted, "as the Hall is full at the moment. We will need to erect another pillar."

"He can take Jasper's place. Remove Jasper Blackcroft from our halls. We have no need for a traitor."

The lawyer nodded, scribbling.

"And a post-humous award of bravery, as well as post-humous acquittal for Thomas Blackcroft, who died four years ago," Eric continued. "Wrongfully accused of betraying us, when in truth he was the one who was betrayed."

The lawyer raised another eyebrow at this, but wrote down the instructions obediently. "That is all?"

"Yes. No, wait."

The lawyer waited expectantly. Eric sank back in his bed.

"Bring me another strawberry cake," he said.

|*|

I met Leila one last time before I left for good. She sobbed and cried and could only be appeased when I gave in to her request of maintaining contact.

"We don't need to call every day - or even every month! I just need some way to know if you're alive and okay. Please?" 

It was really hard to say no to her doe-like eyes.

So for the first time, I had my own Twitter account - 

"You could tweet cryptic messages and I'll try to figure out where you are now. Like - like, if you're in Italy right now, you could tweet 'Let's not confuse Nutella with shit!' and bam!" Leila snapped her fingers. "I would know you were in Italy."

I stared at her. "But why would I tweet that to show you I am in Italy?"

"Cos Andrea Pirlo once said that." Leila said it in the most matter-of-fact manner ever.

"And who's Andrea Pillow?"

"It's Pirlo," Leila corrected, "and he's the dreamiest Italian football player I've ever seen on field."

Sometimes, I think I have a better chance at understanding a seagull than Leila.

I left Pambrooke at midnight, less than 12 hours after the Octagon explosion. Emrys told me three days later that Roxy had died in her cell from a slash to the throat. Police hadn't been able to interrogate her in time and put her death down as suicide. I had other suspicions however. We weren't the only ones who didn't want her to talk. 

With Roxy's death, investigators were stumped for leads and no one seemed to suspect Emrys and William for more than who they claimed to be - innocent bystanders. Still, despite the case growing cold by the day, I decided that Pambrooke was simply no longer safe for me to stay in, and stuck to my decision to leave.

The night that I left, I came down from my apartment to see Thomas standing on the pavement. Waiting. We had parted ways without a word after dropping Eric off. Like me, he was carrying a backpack and luggage case. 

I stopped. The night wind blew through the empty skeletons of trees, whose branches clung desperately to the last few leaves. I was bundled up in jeans and a double-breasted coat, under which I was wearing a turtleneck jumper. Not the most fashionable, but certainly the comfiest. Winter was well on its way. 

"Are you going to the airport?" he asked.

I nodded. "...Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure." His eyes stood out warm and familiar under the yellow lamplight. It reminded me of nights under the stars, secret conversations in the dark, and hidden promises known only to two. "I came asking for your opinion."

He pointed down to the left of the street, where the airport lay. "Should I go there?" Turning his head to the right, he pointed to the buses trundling off. "Or should I go there?"

Silence for a minute. Then I said,

"You can go anywhere you want. The people who want to kill you think you're dead; you're a free man, Thomas. You're a ghost now, you're completely free. But I'm not. I don't know when Blackcroft is going to come for me - or even Black and Tan. I'll need to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life." 

"Then you'll need someone to watch your back for you, don't you?"

Cars zoomed past on the highway. Stars twinkled in the sky. I thought of my mom, and my dad. Thought of family and friends.

I cleared my throat. 

"I'm planning to catch the red-eye to Italy. Got some pizza coupons I need to use. Don't think I can finish them on my own though."

Thomas smiled, that smile that tugged my heartstrings and sent my stomach into whirly loops. It was Kaylan's smile, but it was also Thomas' smile all at the same time.

"I like pizza," he said.

I hid a smile of my own. We flagged a cab, squeezing into the back seats. I took the left and he the right, with the center seat occupied by our backpacks. There was still a sense of hesitation and uncertainty between us, but the distance felt much smaller now.

Thomas looked out the window and did a double-take. "Oh!"

"What?"

He turned to look at me, grinning.

"You wanna eat an apple pie?"

author's note:

Only one chapter left.

Also this song is probably my favourite TSFH song ever, so I thought it really fitting that it's used as the last chapter video in this book. The next chapter will be simply titled Epilogue and there won't be anymore TSFH songs to listen to :'D

this chapter is for perfect_otaku for being, well, perfect :D