a/n: I honestly want to deeply apologize for the wait you all had to endure to receive this chapter. Just note, this is (most likely) the second to last chapter. THERE WILL BE AN EPILOGUE.

I hope you all had a lovely holiday season & THANK YOU for the 10.5k followers! That's incredible! Also, we're more than halfway to 300 followers on Twitter so thank you again!

p.s. In response to the birthday wishes and present ideas, I have added a bonus scene featuring Federico at the end of the chapter. Make sure to keep reading till the very end!

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"Be willing to walk alone; many who started with you, won't finish with you."

- - - -

There's a certain wave of guiltiness that hits you once the adrenaline levels in your blood begin to decrease, once your breathing returns to normal, and your heart-race slows. It hits you when you least expect it; it hits you right after you've closed your eyes, right after a crack of thunder ripples across the sky, lighting up the back of your eyelids.

It hit me as the van coasted smoothly down the expressway, rain drenching everything outside. I breathed out through my nose, resting my forehead awkwardly on the glass of the window, its cool feel releasing some of the pressure that was building in my head.

I didn't realize I was crying until I found myself bringing a hand up to my nose, wiping at the tears that were threatening to fall from the bridge of it. They were tears I had been holding in for a while and as they fell, the back of my throat burned. I felt like my chest was collapsing and the dull headache I had experienced earlier was beginning to come back.

Zara sat on the second row of the van, just a seat over from me. She was slouched in her seat, her arms folded over her chest. Her head had rolled to one side and her facial expression remained the same; pursed lips and connected eyebrows, the tension was easily spotted. I could've sworn she had been sleep, but when I saw a tear roll out the corner of her eye, I knew she wasn't.

William and Tim were up front – one driving while the other navigated. Then there was Rosalie, who was still fast asleep on the last row in the back. She was still unaware of everything that had happened and in a way, I was happy about that. But I knew she would raise hell when she woke up and Liam was nowhere to be seen. I knew she would throw a fit when she then realized that her Uncle Rico was gone. And the tears would fall from her eyes when she asked me where they all went; where her brother, her uncle, and her curly-haired friend went...

And the pressure of answering that question will be too much for me, because what do you say? How do you explain to a seven year old that her brother was arrested; arrested for a crime that could keep the two apart for the rest of their lives? How do explain to a seven year old that her curly-haired friend was murdered? And how do you sit her down and explain to her that her favorite uncle, the man that she runs to when Liam isn't around, left her when she needed him the most?

I probably shouldn't have, but I blamed myself for the outcome of the whole thing. And if I had one wish, I wouldn't just wish to rewind this night, but rewind the entire summer. I would've done everything I could to keep myself from being thrown – or dragged – into Liam's life. I would've done everything in my power to keep the outcome of tonight from happening. So if keeping the three of them safe meant never meeting them, I would gladly do it.

My eyes might have been locked on the outside, occasionally glancing at random cars as they either matched our speed or flew past us – but my mind was elsewhere. What next?

We were not out of the woods just yet, not with the ongoing threat that Peter's men – despite whatever order Xavier Corinelli gives them – may still come after us in retaliation. And with Liam in jail, Dominic's status currently unknown, and Federico's location N/A, I felt exposed, vulnerable, and afraid.

"What's going to happen now?"

William's question tore me out of my endless stream of thoughts and fears. Despite how dark the inside of the van was, I could see him lean up in the driver's seat, shooting me a look using the rearview mirror. I saw Timothy angle his body in his chair, looking at me over his shoulder. And I saw Zara turn her body more towards me, her eyes opening slowly.

Now was a better time than any to mention the fact that Liam's job isn't easy. Having everyone look to you for guidance, for instruction...it's hard. You have to be confident and sure of your abilities to lead and at the moment, I wasn't confident nor did I believe I could lead. I couldn't help what happened with Liam or what happened with Dominic, but now would've been a perfect time for Rico to reappear.

He might be younger than the other two, but he was far more experienced than me in this situation.

"—find somewhere safe and you lay low until help comes," was Rico's only form of advice before disappearing.

But with Liam locked up, Dominic's condition uncertain, and Federico's location unknown, help was something I wasn't expecting to receive.

"Maybe we can go back to the house?" I finally spoke up, sitting up slightly in my seat and sighing. I wasn't sure just how genius of an idea that was; the house was either going to be the safest or the most vulnerable place we could be.

Will spoke my thoughts, "That's a risky move."

His comment shouldn't have annoyed me, but with all of the events that have unfolded tonight, plus the fact that it was nearly 4:30 in the morning and I had yet to sleep, I was easily annoyed. I throw my hands up and rest my head against the window once more, groaning and mentally cursing myself out for hitting my head so hard. "Well I don't hear anyone else throwing out ideas!"

"The house would be smart," Zara speaks up for me, sitting up in her seat as she does so, "You will always have an advantage in your own home – you know the layout of the house, the enemy doesn't." She pauses for a long moment, "—usually they don't, anyways."

After conversing with Timothy for a second, William nods. "Sounds good."

The ride home was reflective, which only casted more tears out the corners of my eyes. The rain casted a steady beat on the window beside my head, raindrops sliding down the glass. I found myself smiling when my thoughts drifted to a happier place; from Liam pulling me towards the bed, saying that he would rather lose everything he's built, than lose me. I found myself smiling at the way Federico said, "Rainbow sprinkles," that night we found ourselves alone with the piano. I found myself smiling at the wide smile that spread across Dom's face as he called Federico one evening, only to hear, "Thunder buddy!" come through the phone in greeting.

I found myself laughing at the memory of Federico singing along with Olaf to his infamous Summer song in Frozen. I found myself laughing at the endless flow of memories that streamed through my mind like a well-coordinated movie clip. But my smile faded when it ended with short, curt clips; with Federico turning his back on me and walking away, with Liam staring at me as I walked away from him, potentially for the last time, and with Dominic lying on the floor, a pained expression on his face as a tear caused by pain made its way out his eye.

By the time we pulled up into the driveway, I was beat – physically, emotionally. The house was dark, cold, and uninviting. No lights were on outside, nor were there any on inside of the home. Dark, creepy shadows casted themselves by the occasional glimpse of moonlight that came and went – all depending on the stormy clouds.

We all exited the van, each of us fanning out to do something different. William tossed Timothy the house keys, ordering him to open the door as he reached into the back of the van to gather a sleeping Rosalie. I stretched, yawning while I did so. In the meantime, Zara stood a few steps to my right, her body angled towards the direction of the driveway that we just drove up.

"Something doesn't feel right," Zara let out a breath as she shook her head, taking a step in the opposite direction of the house, away from me. I wasn't sure what she was staring at, especially considering it was so dark you could hardly see the outlining of the trees.

"Guys..." Timothy's voice comes through clear as he steps off the porch, forcing William, Zara, and I to turn around. I could've sworn he looked like he had just seen a Ghost. "The door was left unlocked."

"—or somebody made it here before we did," Will interrupts, thinking the same thing I was.

Seconds; that's all it takes for a horrible situation to turn even worse. In the blink of an eye, in the inhalation of another breath, in the twitch of a finger...

I was watching William stand Rosie to her feet, shaking her shoulders gently to wake her up. Her tiny hands reached out to stable herself on his shoulders, her eyes opening slowly as she yawned. The little girl wipes at her face and just at her expression, you knew she wasn't happy to have been woken up in the middle of her peaceful sleep.

"What should we do then?" Timothy takes a step closer to our group. "There are only four of us and this house is huge. People could be hiding anywhere—"

"—we run."

My eyebrows connected as I turned back to Zara, her voice rising over Timothy's. It wasn't until I angled my body to look at her did I notice that she wasn't even staring at us anymore. Her back was to me, her eyes locked on the portion of the driveway we had just driven up.

I didn't understand why she said what she said until I saw it with my own eyes.

Fear can be paralyzing; it can keep you from moving, from speaking, from blinking. That's how I felt the second my eyes landed on two pairs of headlights that were speeding up Liam's driveway. They were bright and blinding, but mostly fear inducing.

I was already beginning to walk backwards, heading towards the house. "What's the likelihood that these cars speeding up the driveway are actually here to help us?" My question was not rhetorical and I'm thankful William found time to answer it.

"Not very likely, Faith."

If there was anything that I learned within these few months was the simple fact that you needed to learn how to make quick decisions. In a world like the one I was thrown in, seconds can decide whether you live or whether you die. And in a matter of seconds, we all had made the same decision to rush towards and inside the house, knowing that although there was still a threat lurking inside, we would be safer in there than out here.

Unlike three seconds ago, Rosie was wide awake; we didn't need to push her towards the door nor did we have to tell her to run. Maybe it was the fact that she noticed her brother wasn't here, maybe it was because she noticed that her uncle wasn't among our group, or maybe she realized that Dom wasn't with us that made her realize something was really wrong.

All five of us reached the door at the same time; Timothy and Will let us go first and I was thankful for that. We pushed our way inside, silently praising that nobody was waiting on the other side with a gun. I, on the other hand, was quietly praying that this was all a dream and Liam would descend down the steps, orders on the tip of his tongue as a group of armed men rushed out to defeat the enemy.

But this was not a dream.

I was brought back into realty as Rosalie reached out and grabbed my hand, her eyes brimming with unfallen tears. I had to clench my jaw to keep myself from crying at the pained expression on her face. There was a lot of shouting coming from the outside and you could hear the guns being checked, but that didn't distract me from the words that Rosalie mouthed after tugging on my arm.

"Where's my brother?"

"Faith, back up!" Will shouted at me, forcing me to tear my attention away from Rosalie. Zara was slowly backtracking to where we stood in the middle of the dark foyer, surrounded by open space and rooms. I did as I was told, marching backwards and standing near the stairwell.

Timothy and William had their shoulders thrown into the door, using as much leverage as they could to keep Peter's men from getting inside. The two sides fought for a good minute; Corinelli's men trying to enter, while Will and Tim tried to keep them out. The constant banging rang in my ears and I knew it was only a matter of time before the men on the other side found enough strength to overpower the two.

The two tried to hold on as long as they could, but eventually their strength failed them and the door was thrown open. Timothy went stumbling off to the right, falling to his knees as he did so. Will was shoved towards the middle of the foyer just as men streamed in, filling the once empty foyer with their presence.

I counted them all quietly, reaching seven in total. They were all decked out in black gear, with masks covering their faces as they tried to hide their identity from me; all had a mask on but one, the leader. The small group of seven fanned out as they entered the foyer; three went to our left, three to our right, and the leader took a few confident steps towards me, closing the large gap of space between us. Six guns were up and aiming at us before I could even take another miniscule step back.

"Sir," I wasn't sure which one started speaking, but I assumed it was the one holding on to William's collar. "What should we do with blondie?"

The command that the leader gave was simple, "Kill him."

My stomach did a flip as I watched the man pull a gun out the holster on his thigh, flip off the safety feature, and jam the barrel of the gun in Will's temple.

Time slowed like it always seems to do when an important decision needs to be made. My mind replayed the good moments we had; the laughs and the smiles. He was there with me when Liam still had the dickmode switch in the on position.

But when times became tough, he turned his back on his friend, on me, and he told Michael Luciano he would help murder me - as you can see, he failed, but that doesn't disregard the fact that he tried.

And a part of me that was still angry at him, said to let them go ahead and put the bullet in his temple.

But the compassionate side of me saw a 28 year old that still had his whole life in front of him. A 28 year old that was worthy of love, of friendship... a man that made a horrible decision and was sorry for it. And maybe it was the look of fear he gave me that made me step forward and raise a hand, shaking my head all the while.

"No."

The leader of the pack was a shorter than average man, but he was more of the stocky type than anything. His arms were large, his skin darker than the others, and he was sturdy, mostly muscle rather than fat. His hair was cut low and as he took a few intimidating steps towards me, I noticed a scar that started from his eyebrow and curled upwards towards his hairline.

His scowl was terrifying and the dark look in his eyes scared me, but I wasn't about to lean away from him – I wasn't about to let him see just how scared I really was. I stood up straight, tilting my head up just a tad as he came toe to toe with me. I had to look up to him just a bit, but nothing too excessive.

"What did you just say to me?" I heard the hint of another accent as he snarled at me.

My eyes drifted away from him as I risked a glance over his shoulder at Will, who was still being roughly held by his captor. I swallowed and turned back to him.

"I said no."

I didn't see the slap coming, I only felt it.

This one hurt more than the last.

I stumbled back into Zara, whose arms kept me from falling. My vision was blurry for all of three seconds, but I saw Will flinch. He wrenched his arms from the man who was holding him and despite the amount of weapons that were aimed at us, he ran towards the leader. I was waiting to hear a gunshot, something, but it never came.

Will reached the man's side rather quickly, extending his arms and shoving him away from us. But Will didn't continue to fight the man; instead, he angled his body and outstretched his arms, pushing Rosie and Zara closer to me in an attempt to shield us from harm.

"Touch her again, I dare you."

Tears were beginning to brim out my left eye, the sting of the slap forcing unwanted tears to rush up.

"That bitch murdered our boss, you bet your ass I'm going to touch her again," The leader shoves Will back into us as he upholsters his weapon and aims it back at me. "And if I have to go through your pale ass to get there, I will."

"—don't hurt Ms. Faith!" And with tears in her eyes, Rosalie could no longer be restrained. She broke free of the loose grasp Zara had on her shoulders and began throwing uncoordinated punches.

She swung with her eyes closed and because she was nowhere near her target, her fists met air and nothing else. A few chuckles rippled from the men that stood in the background, their guns still aimed in our direction; and if my mind wasn't churning with more serious thoughts, I would've laughed myself.

Time seemed to slow as William reached out and got a hold of Rosalie's forearm, yanking her back behind him, back to safety.

But the realization dawned on me that we weren't safe. We were surrounded by men that wanted us – that wanted me – dead. Although we did have an option to run past the stairwell and out the back doors, I didn't advise it; who knew the trap these men possibly had waiting for us. And because we were outgunned, outnumbered, and certainly out-trained, I saw no way of escape.

I took a few steps forward, Zara's words of warning fading in my ears as I left her and William behind me. My eyes drifted from the men on the left, to the men on the right, before landing on the man before me.

At this point, exhaustion struck me and I was no longer afraid of my fate; sure, I was afraid of something happening to Will and I was afraid that Zara would get hurt, but I was terrified of the fact that Rosalie may possibly see something that she would remember for the rest of her life, something that would scar her, forcing nightmares upon her for the next twenty years.

I swallowed hard, before asking him a question he wasn't prepared to answer. "What's your name?"

He looks at me unbelieving and after a moment of staring, his shoulders began to shake. He shot a humorous glance over his left and right shoulder before turning back to me, his smile as wide as ever. His arms were folded behind his back, hinting to me that he was hiding a weapon behind his back.

"Trey," he finally answered.

"Well, Trey," I start slowly, "I regret nothing." I made sure not to slouch, to project my voice, and to make eye contact – because little do many people know, those three little things can make all the difference. "That man wouldn't have hesitated to kill me, he wouldn't have hesitated to take everything Liam Luciano owned, and that's why we didn't hesitate when we killed him." He took a towering step towards me and I had to will myself to keep from stepping back out of fear, "And if I had to do it again, I wouldn't have changed a thing."

He was smiling once my spiel ended and I was worried. I let my confident façade drop as he stepped forward, his chest bumping mine as he did so. Trey's voice lowered as he leaned in, speaking only loud enough for me to hear.

"Do you know what power is, Ms. Crawford?"

I didn't give him an answer, prompting him to continue.

"Power," The man continued to bark in my face, "Is the sizable advantage I have on you right now. Power is the amount of weapons you have. Power is the amount of money you have. Power is the reason I'm standing here and you're standing in front of your friends, unarmed, like the pathetic little bitch you are."

When Trey turned to look over his shoulder, I lifted my gaze and glared at him. I was incapable of killing someone in a gruesome manner, but I knew a couple people – one in particular – who would have a field-day with this man.

I watched the men over his shoulder lower their weapons and I was just about to speak, just about to ask a question, but a hand clamped itself around my neck and yanked me to them. My nails clawed at the large hand, the same hand that was making it hard to breathe, making it incredibly hard to inhale. I felt my feet graze the floor and the surroundings began to blur, yet, I could still hear the cries of Zara to "let her go," and the distraught sobs of Rosie. I'm pretty sure it was William's curses and threats that floated through my ears as the world that I knew slowly began to fade away.

Then I was saved by the bell, or more specifically, I was saved by a voice.

"Power, Potere, does not have anything to do with the amount of weapons you have, nor does it have anything to do with the amount of money you possess."

I hardly broke my fall as the man released me, my mouth immediately opening, allowing air to swarm into my lungs. Using the energy I had, I rolled over and faced the direction the voice was coming from.

My vision cleared quickly and I was able to see Vincenzo De Santis descending the staircase like a king descending from his throne.

His expression was neutral, but his facial features were hard, his jaw shut tight as if he were angry, annoyed with the fact that he actually had to walk down here and associate with commoners like us. The wine colored suit he wore stood out against the marble and he matched the jacket with a black shirt, one that blended well with his complexion.

I knew it was him when he hit the first floor and pulled a suit-matching bandana from his dress jacket. With a flick of the wrist, he lifted it to his head and tied it, pushing his thick curls up from off his forehead and away from his ears, allowing them to sit on top his head in a messy, yet good-looking style.

William and Zara both rushed over to me, grabbing me by either arm and pulling me away as my attacker stood where he was, still attempting to remain calm after a surprise entrance. I watched in a frightful state as Vincenzo marched confidently towards Trey and his merry group of men. Federico's father didn't stop walking until he had to stare down the bridge of his nose to look at the leader of Peter's group.

Despite the height advantage Mr. De Santis had, Trey didn't back down. Puffing out his chest, he shot Vince an all-knowing smile. "Aw," The man laughed in Vincenzo's face, "Who brought their disabled father?"

I, too, had noticed the slight limp that Vincenzo walked with on his way over.

"Look," Trey chuckled again, even after Vince's non-response, "I don't want to hurt you, old man. I just want the girl." He tried to bypass the larger man, but Vincenzo shot an arm out, his forearm blocking Trey from making a move towards us. I couldn't specify the look Vincent shot him, but I knew it was deadly.

"You're going to leave them alone," Vincenzo twisted his head to the left, giving all four of us a glimpse before turning his attention back to Trey. He left no opportunity for a question, it was a command.

Brushing Vince's forearm off his chest, Trey takes a step back. "If I have to go through you in order to get to her, I will."

Taking a step forward, Vincenzo adjusted his suit jacket and stepped to the side, giving the four of us another glimpse. He didn't make eye contact with any of us, but he turned around anyways. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

Trey didn't back down, "You're probably just another poor boy that's trying to make it big," His arms extend, pushing Vincenzo backwards as he tries to regain any lost territory. "I've seen enough of you all and I'm sick of ya'll." He got right back up in Vince's face, his threats loud enough for everyone to hear, "And I'm going to tell you exactly what I told that bitch, just in terms that you may be able to understand. I have you outnumbered, I have you outgunned, and I have you outtrained and I wouldn't think twice about putting a bullet in your head. You would be ignorant to think you could take us—" Trey steps back, indicating to every man behind him, "—one on seven."

It was then that I noticed the wire that ran up the back of Vince's neck, curling and inserting an almost invisible ear piece in his ear. And that was when I was hit with another epiphany; we had never been alone. Vincenzo might have been upstairs throughout the entire altercation, but when I looked closer, when I looked harder, I saw figures drifting in the shadows – I could only imagine the amount of people that he had hidden in the living room just off to our right, or the backup that was waiting in the kitchen.

"—lay low until help comes," Rico had said. My eyes landed back on Vincenzo and it all clicked, right into place like a perfectly constructed puzzle. I thanked him, I thanked Federico over, over, and over again for sending help.

After a moment of silence, Vincenzo spoke up again, his voice deeper than the last time. "I think it's funny how you can threaten me from your position at the bottom of the pedestal, while I sit on my throne."

"That's just me," The two men gave neither any type of personal space as they spoke. I figured it was some sort of alpha-male thing that us women didn't know much about. "I don't bow down to no one and if you think I'm about to get on my knees and worship you... you must be crazy."

I could practically hear the smile in Vincenzo's voice, "That's where you messed up. You don't know when to concede, you have yet to master the art of realizing when you should surrender or when you should fight and because of that, you will always be someone else's bitch."

"Then it looks like we aren't very different then," was the retort.

Vincent's laugh was clear, his smile white as he turned back to look at us. He did that often and I was unsure as to why. When he turned back to Trey, he had a response, "No, we're still very different. I have bitches, but you are one."

Vincenzo took another step in Trey's direction, all-while the men behind their leader began lifting their weapons. But they didn't aim the barrel of their guns at Rosalie, Zara, William, or I – they aimed them at their only true threat. I wasn't sure whether Mr. De Santis even noticed their movement; he didn't act like he did.

"Like I said earlier, power does not depend on weapons, nor does it depend on the amount of money you have." Vince took another step, looking down on the leader with authority and dominance. Planting his foot, Trey holds his ground once again.

"Power," Vincenzo continues, "is the ability to command without having to speak," and as he finishes, he lifts a palm to the sky.

And if you could've taken a camera and panned away from the scene, you would've seen a man standing alone, six others aiming guns at his head, ready and willing to kill upon their boss' word. But in any one-on-seven situation, you would think that the group of seven would look and appear more confident, but this wasn't the case. As Vincenzo's hand balled into a fist, you could see a few of the men glance at each other – some wondering whether the older man had lost his mind, while the other few actually contemplated whether they should stand down or not.

From beside me, William snatched Rosalie up into his arms, pressing her firmly to his chest as he rested a hand on the back of her head, whispering gently, ordering her to keep her head in the crook of his neck till he said it was okay to look. He must've anticipated what happened next, but I hadn't, and I continued to watch on in awe, wonder, gratefulness, and slight amazement.

Releasing his fist, Vincent aimed his palm downwards – towards the ground – and just like his hand had dropped, so did Peter's men. In silence, I watched a man on the left drop first, then a man on the right. It happened almost simultaneously, the shots were coordinated so well that nobody in the group had time to gather their bearings before a bullet was implanted in their temple. They fell like dominos; as one went, so did the next. And before you knew it, there was only one left.

I took note that Trey continued to stand where he was, casually shooting a worried glance over his shoulder at the sight of his dead men. His attention swiveled back to Vincenzo, who had quickly lifted a fist, before dropping his entire hand to his side, his hand no longer giving out any type of silent commands.

Despite the fact that the battle had seemingly be won by us, I still felt a certain tightness in my chest as Vincenzo took another step towards a receding Trey.

"Oh, they missed one," Trey's voice wavered just the slightest, but the confident tone in his voice never faltered as he lifted his chin, locking eyes with a man far more skilled than he.

"They didn't miss one," Vince's hand reaches neatly behind his back and the mystery as to where he got the knife may never go answered. My eyes locked on the sharp, silver object; the same one that Vince was rotating easily in his hand. His thumb flicked the blade out into the open and it was game on, "They just left you for me."

"You're cra--!" Trey never had the time to finish. Vincent proved the "old man" comments wrong, moving quicker – if not faster – than I had ever seen his protégé move. The knife was lifted and in a blur, he jammed it in Trey's neck, using it as leverage to pull him closer.

Vincenzo spun them around in one fluent motion, letting all of us feast our eyes on the torture that Trey was currently going through. His screams and cries of pain sounded inhuman as Vince kept his eyes on his victim, wrenching the knife deeper and twisting it slowly, teasingly. I felt just an ounce of fear creep into my soul as Mr. De Santis looked up for a mere second, locking his cool, chilling gaze on me.

He returned his attention to the body he had pressed to his chest, the body whose soul was slowly seeping out the hole the knife had caused. Trey's legs grew limp, forcing Vincenzo to use more of his own strength to keep the man where he was. Trey's arms went limp slowly, his eyes began to close; but if there was one thing I knew about the De Santis men... was the simple fact that they always get the last word.

Leaning his head to Trey's ear, Vincent spoke loud enough for the entire room to hear his parting message. "I am not crazy. Federico De Santis is crazy. I'm psychotic."

Trey's neck was slit in one fluid, calculated motion and his dead body dropped to the floor with a resounding thud.

Trey was dead, yes, but he was certainly dead by the time Vincenzo stepped over his body and unloaded an entire clip into his chest. With every shot, the body on the ground jerked and more blood found its way to the floor. Yet, with every shot, Vincenzo's anger didn't seem to diminish and by the time his gun clicked - signaling he was empty - his face was red, his brows furrowed, and his skin layered with sweat.

We all watched in silence as Vince chucked his gun and knife to the floor – both in a different direction. The gun skidded to my feet, while the knife slid away from us. He bowed his head for only a second, yanking the bandana off and clutching it tightly in his grasp.

We stayed silent as he stepped away from Trey, his back now to us as he faced the shadows that lined the walls of Luciano's home.

And in a deep, accent filled voice with both of his fists clenched; he yelled out, "When will these motherfuckers learn?"

- - - -

The house had never been more alive; people wandered from room to room and chatter erupted from every corner of the well-lit house that early, early morning. No matter where I turned, I was surrounded by people; yet, I had never felt more alone.

I felt like an entirely different person after I showered, changed into comfortable clothes, and put my hair up. I had been accompanied by one of the many people that had followed Vincenzo here; it had been a pleasant looking young lady who couldn't have been any older than me. I hadn't asked for her help, but she assisted in dressing me, doing my hair, and told me to come find her if I needed help with anything else.

"Wait! What was your name again?" I caught the young women before she left the room. She turned back on a dime, ready and willing to offer her help to me if I needed it.

"Destiny, ma'am," Her smile was radiant.

"Destiny," I mumbled it to myself, nodding in approval as I brushed past her. She followed me through the upper floor, easily dodging men that lounged around outside, chatting. "How long have you worked for Vincenzo?"

We hit the top of the steps together and began our descent. My eyes drifted over to her, watching as she shyly tucked a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. "Uh... about seven years now, I suppose."

I frown, shooting another look at her youthful profile. "How old are you now?"

"I'm seventeen, Ma'am."

"Wow! You're you—"

"—young, I know." She lets out a breath, proving to me that she's heard that one too many times. We pause on the steps for a long time, overlooking the foyer. A few men were just starting to clean up the bodies, slowly dragging each out the front door. A group of women were kneeled on the hardwood floor, scrubbing the blood stains vigorously.

Destiny continues, answering a question I had hesitated to ask. "I was living in the streets when he found me; he gave me a good job, food, and a home I could come back to." She clasps her hands and lips together in thought. We land on the first floor and she turns to me, "If you need anything, please, come find me."

I was in the midst of bidding her goodbye when her name was called and a damp cloth was thrown in her direction. She shouted at a smiling woman on the floor before dropping to her knees, joining the other ladies in cleaning the stained floor. I smiled as I watched the four laugh to themselves, holding a lighthearted conversation.

My eyes drifted over the flutter of activity that came and went in the foyer. Men constantly walked in and out the door, allowing a cold, early morning breeze to blow through everyone's hair. Some women stood up and stretched, while others accepted clean buckets of water and handed off their filthy towels, waiting for another set of women to bring more. I nodded to myself, impressed at the tight – yet perfectly executed shift – Vincenzo could run.

"Ms. Crawford?"

I turned around at the sound of my name, only to be greeted by another man. He was tall, with light eyes and light hair. His face resembled that of a child, but it was clear he was much older than that.

I heard someone shout "Baby-face!", which caused him to smile. I let out a laugh and glanced around the packed room, unable to find the culprit. "Baby-face, huh?" I glanced up at him and extended a hand, smiling softly. "I don't see it."

He didn't acknowledge my statement; instead, he shook my hand and pointed in a direction. "The boss would like to speak with you." And those eight words would be the only thing he said to me before dropping me off at the door and leaving.

Slowly, I turned away from the empty hallway and faced the door. I let out a deep breath and felt my shoulders slump and my eyes close. I hoped with all my heart that whatever Vincent had to say was short-lived, because I knew I couldn't keep my eyes open much longer. The adrenaline had stopped rushing through my veins a while ago and weariness had already begun to take over.

I opened my eyes long before I heard the shouting that was coming through the thick door. I knew if I kept them closed any longer, tears would either rush up, or I would fall asleep standing up.

The sound of feminine shouting only grew as I pressed my ear against the door. Slowly, I turned the handle and pushed the door in, stepping in quietly and observing the scene that stood before me. This was one room I wasn't familiar with, but it was decorated like all the others; two small sofas sat in the middle of the room, facing each other. A coffee table looked as though it had been kicked from its original position between the seats.

Vincenzo and Zara stood in the middle, facing each other with little to no space between them. She, too, looked as though she had been given the opportunity to freshen up. Her hair damp and wavy black hair fell to the middle of her back and her face was clean; no dirt or blood stains to be seen. She looked gorgeous in all honesty and I'm certain Vincenzo was thinking the same thing.

"—twenty goddamn years, Vince!" Zara sounded hurt, angry, and ultimately upset. She had to look up to meet Mr. De Santis' gaze and she didn't seem threatened by the difference in their height. A finger of hers was pressed to his chest, poking him every so often. "It's been twenty years since I last heard your voice. So don't come in my face and pretend to care about me now—"

Zara was only getting started and because Vincenzo saved me, I thought it would be appropriate if I did the same and saved him – at least for the moment.

Balling my hand in a fist, I tapped it against the hardwood, "Knock, knock," I uttered it as cheerfully as I could.

Both of their heads swiveled in my direction and even from here I could see the tears that were forming in Zara's eyes. She was overwhelmed and I could understand completely; from losing the man she loved, to watching her only son get arrested, to having the shock and surprise of another man – whose friendship clearly meant a lot to her – now back in her life, it was a lot to take in and she wasn't handling the situation very well.

Vincenzo on the other hand shot me his own look, one I couldn't discern. He didn't look angry or sad, but he didn't look happy or cheerful either – but there was a gleam of something that glinted in his eyes and by the time he turned to face Zara, his lips now curled in a devious smile – I knew I had fucked up, somehow, someway.

His eyes closed and his arms raised and he stood like that for just a couple seconds, the clocks on the wall filled the silent air with their ticks and tocks.

And then he spoke, or, to be more specific, he sang and if I had to be honest, for someone who had no music or piano accompaniment, I say he did pretty well.

"Soon as we get started makin' love goin' harder, hear a—" Forming a fist, he pretends to knock, "—knock, knock, knocking on the wall."

Zara pushes him back and turns away from him, flipping her hair over her shoulder with such force that I swore it gave Vincenzo whiplash.

But that didn't stop him. He scatters over to her as she tries to walk towards me – towards the door – and he grabs her forearm, pulling her close. Her chest bumps into his and his hips continue to make sexual motions as he continues with, "—and as soon as I do deep, getting it then again, there's a—"

"Seriously, stop," Zara was having none of it and her expression proved that. My lips had begun to twitch in a smile, mirroring the smile and laugh that was on the tip of Vince's tongue. She shoves him one last time, creating just enough distance to turn away from him and continue heading towards the door. I move to the right, giving her just enough space to squeeze by and rush out the room.

She transitions into a full blown sprint by the time she hits the hallway and Vincenzo pushes me to the side and leans out the door as his hand grabs hold of the doorframe. "Zara! I was just joking!" I wouldn't consider his tone that follows "sad", but it wasn't anything I had heard from him before. "I was trying to make you...smile."

"I doubt she's going to smile," Vincenzo tensed under my words, as if he forgot I had been standing behind him. "Not after what happened tonight."

His light-hearted demeanor was gone as quickly as it took him to turn around. His dark eyebrows connected as he buttoned up his suit jacket neatly. His lips were pursed in a thin line and he looked focused. Vincenzo nods towards one of the sofas and demands, "Sit."

I wasn't about to test him, so I did as I was told.

"Look, first of all, I wanted to say thank you," The sofa cushions sink under my weight and I nearly sigh at how comfortable they are. My attention drifts upwards, watching as Vincenzo marches slowly around the sofa just opposite of me. "You didn't have to help us and you certainly didn't have to bring an entire army," I let out a breath or air, "So thank you."

"No need to thank me," Vincenzo pushes the door closed slowly, letting the click of the lock resound throughout one of the smaller rooms in the house. His back stayed to me as he kept a palm pressed against the wood of the door. Gold rings decorated his fingers, shimmering underneath the lights of the room. He turned his head to the left, getting a good look at me out the corner of his eye.

I wasn't sure what prompted him to state the information he said next, maybe it was the look on my face, or maybe he wasn't psychotic, but he was actually psychic. Vincenzo turned away from the door and immediately unbuttoned his jacket and slid it off his shoulders, exposing the crisp black dress shirt that it had been hiding.

"Rosalie is currently upstairs, being taken care of by one of my favorite maids; she's in good hands," He looks as though he was attempting to smile, but it fell through. "William is currently being questioned about tonight and your friend, uh," Vincenzo snaps, forcing me to speak up.

"Timothy,"

"Yes, Timothy," Nodding, Vincenzo takes a lingering step towards me. He seemed taller than I remembered. "He's currently going through a concussion test, but it looks like he'll be fine."

I felt relieved at that, but a million questions were still running through my mind. What would happen to Liam? Is Dominic okay? Where the hell did Rico go? How is Zara holding up? And although I was worried that I wasn't able to answer them, I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to answer them for Rosie. It was only a matter of time before I saw her again, it was only a matter of time before she realized – if she hadn't already – that people were missing, important people.

"Hey," Vincenzo's voice was deep, but underlined with a soft tone that forced me out of my thoughts. I nearly jumped back at how close he had come, but the hand he had on my forearm kept me from doing so. "I know it's going to be hard, but I need you to tell me everything that went down tonight."

So when he finally took a seat on the sofa directly opposite of mine, I talked. I backtracked all the way to the beginning, explaining to him as much as I could. I, then, informed him of Rosalie's mother – Melanie – and how she died. Then came Ryan Costello's smoothly executed death and how Federico pulled the trigger – Vincenzo smiled at that. But when I mentioned the warrant that was issued for the arrest of Liam for his death, his smile vanished. I explained Zara and how she came into the picture, I explained how Peter wanted me, but he mostly wanted everything Liam had – everything Liam built. I ended my story with the way tonight had ended; Liam was taken by police, Dominic was taken on a stretcher, and Federico had left.

Vincent was silent for all of three seconds and for the first time since I started telling my story, he changed his position in his seat. Instead of sitting back, seemingly relaxed and comfortable, he nearly scooted himself all the way off the cushion. With his feet firmly planted on the ground and his fingers interlocked with one another, he broke eye contact and bowed his head. The curls in his hair moved forward just like he did and they covered the majority of his face, hiding whatever expression had crossed his features within those few seconds.

I heard him, but I didn't see his lips move. "So, Liam is under police custody right now?"

"Yeah," I stated slowly. I wasn't sure why I sounded so unsure when Liam's whereabouts were the only thing I was sure of right now. "And I believe if they have enough evidence to issue a warrant, then they have enough evidence to put him away."

Vince lifted his head back up to face me, using his hand to push his curls up and off of his forehead. He looked like he was deep in thought as he pressed a hand to his ear, still speaking clearly into his ear-piece. "Send someone in here, please." He clears his throat and sits up a little straighter, "I had someone on Liam's witness, Emmanuel Williams, since Rico called me and told me the situation that had unfolded. If he isn't dead by now, I'll be pissed."

I nod out of thanks and let out another sigh. "Without a witness," I speculate, "Would that change anything?"

A knock on the door cuts our conversation short, but after Vincent orders for whoever to "come in," he turns back to me, "I don't think the lack of a witness would dismiss his charges, but not having a witness would help him, not hurt him."

"You called?" Another well-dressed man stepped in the room and I had taken notice of the obvious trend. Of course, many of the men I passed tonight were wearing suits, but what I had come to notice was the fact that the majority of them were men of color. Some were darker than others, some lighter, and some were a perfect mix in-between.

The man that had just walked in was on the darker side, but his skin was void of any wrinkles or blemishes. Vincenzo stood for only a second, before dropping back to his seat. "I want an update on Emmanuel William's."

The guy frowns, "You haven't gotten an update, yet?"

And with a mouth full of sass, Vincenzo projects, "If I had gotten an update, I wouldn't be wasting my breath talking to you right now."

"Emmanuel William's has been taken care of, Sir." The man shifts in his stance, his eyes fall on me for all of two seconds, before he looks to his boss. "We sent Veleno out to do the job and he made it look like an accident, just like you wished."

Vincenzo leans back, throwing both of his arms over the back of the sofa. "Cause of death?" He inquires.

"Brake malfunction," his response is smooth and crisp. "In the eyes of the public, that's what it'll look like. He lost control of his car, his brakes failed to do their job, and he careened off a cliff to his death." Vincenzo lifts an eyebrow, "The police are on the scene and they're calling his death an accident."

Mr. De Santis nodded appropriately but before shooing the man away for good, he adds, "Find my son," and then the guy is gone.

Another wave of exhaustion hits me the second the door is closed and I do everything in my power to keep myself from stretching out on the sofa and falling asleep. My eyes close and my balance gives way, forcing my eyes to open once more. With heavy eyelids, I look up, only to meet Vincent's strong gaze.

My words came out so quietly, so unsure, that I scared myself. Resting my palms on either side of my cheeks, I sighed, "What do we do now?"

Vincenzo didn't stutter, "You, Ms. Crawford, go home."

I stand to my feet so quickly that my vision flashes black and I nearly lose my balance. I reach out quickly and open my eyes, only to find my hand in Vincenzo's. Seconds were all it took for my eyes to skim past the tattoos on his knuckles, glancing at the one etched near his thumb, slanted at a perfect angle.

They were initials and below them were the numbers 2-4, followed by the word "ore".

I wanted to ask about the tattoo, but when I spoke, I found myself responding to his most recent command. "I can't go home!" I shook my head and lifted my gaze, allowing my hand to slip out of his. Immediately, a fist is formed. "If you think for one second I'm going to leave while Liam is in jail, while Dominic is fighting for his life – if he's not dead – and while Rico is...is..." Tears rushed up and I felt myself getting choked up, cutting my declaration short.

Vincent wasn't keen with his demands being turned down and you could tell by the twitch of his eyebrow that he didn't care for it at all. I wiped at the tears that had begun to fall from my face; partially caused by exhaustion, the other part caused by emotion. I could feel him staring at me, his gaze was intense and uncomfortable to be under. I could definitely feel him judging me while I wiped at the corner of my eyes.

I sniffle and look up at him, "I see where Rico gets his empathy from." My sarcasm was duly noted and through the unfallen tears, I saw the twitch of his lips.

"I understand how you're feeling, Faith."

"I don't believe it; you have the same expression on your face as you did twenty minutes ago."

He steps forward, resting either hand on my shoulders. There was nothing romantic about it; it was comforting, it was nice. He closes the gap of space between us by leaning down, his expression continuing to remain neutral.

"I'm a creature of habit," He states with a lower voice, "So I do apologize for not appearing as though I care when I do. But I need you to listen and I need you trust me." I swear I feel myself being dragged down by his weight and just when I'm about to say something, he slides his hands down to my arms in reassurance. "There is nothing you can do for any of these men," I felt my heart break a little at the thought.

"But Liam..."

"Believe me, trust me when I say I will do everything in my power to free him," Vincenzo sounded sincere, he sounded worried, and although his look hardly mirrored it, he sounded sad. "But sometimes power isn't enough and I can't promise that I will be able to, but I've been around the block a few times Faith and if I am sure of one thing, it's this... get out of harm's way. You know Liam would want that for you, don't say he wouldn't."

I never found myself trusting someone I hardly knew, someone I practically just met; I didn't trust Liam and it took me a minute to trust Federico, but for some reason, I trusted Vincenzo. Maybe it was because I was desperate and in the end, I knew that he was my only hope – or maybe it was the look that resonated in his dark brown eyes.

I came to the decision that it was the latter. In a short amount of time I had seen the professional side of Vincenzo, I had seen the boss and I had also seen the funny side, but I saw another side of him – one that could hardly be explained through words. It was the eyes. They say eyes are a window to the soul and although Vince's eyes were dark, you saw specks of light brown dotted in them. But what I saw was deeper than color. He had seen things someone younger hadn't, he had been through more situations, and he had more wisdom than any 20 year old I would ever cross.

"I trust you," I finally said. I found myself saying it again, more for reassurance for myself than for him. "I do, I trust you."

His gaze was sharp as he stepped back and nodded, "Good."

A curt knock was thrown on the door behind us, forcing Vincenzo to turn around. I had to step to the side to see the man throw the door open and step inside. He was breathing heavily and he cleared his throat before speaking in a rushed manner.

"Sir, I—I apologize for interrupting but..." The man swallows and leans up, "we found Federico."

Vincenzo takes a step forward, his voice full of curiosity. "Where is he?"

It was the look that crossed the man's face that made my stomach curl up in a knot. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder and shook his head, "You're going to want to see this."

And we were off. I slammed the door closed behind me as Vincenzo and the man marched down the hallway. Nobody ever broke into a jog, but their steps were large and they walked briskly, easily leaving my tired ass behind. Vincent made it to the room second and I watched as the doors were thrown open and the sea of men crowding around a television that was hanging on the wall parted, allowing Vincenzo to reach the front with ease.

But before I could make it, the sea of men resumed their initial positions, blocking me from the front of the pack. I groaned in frustration and for a few moments, I walked back and forth near the back, attempting to stand on my tippy-toes in order to find the best view. But no matter who I stood behind, I couldn't get a clear glimpse of the television. I then tried stating, "Excuse me," but nobody heard, nobody moved, and nobody acknowledged my plea.

Someone behind me failed to stifle their laughter, causing me to look at them out the corner of my eye. The minute my eyes landed on them, I got Rico vibes. The man was sitting in the far back of the room, near the door. He was seated on a chair all wrong; with his butt on the top rail and his feet on the actual cushion, I frowned at him. A hood was thrown over his head and I internally questioned his reasons for wearing dark sunglasses inside of a house.

My eyes ran over the parts of him I could see; the bandaged knuckles, the stubble on his chin, and the scar that ran out from under his sunglasses. The scar ran straight down his cheek, curling outwards towards his jaw about an inch away from his lips. It faded as it reached his jawline and I wasn't sure if it continued and I couldn't tell thanks to the hoodie he was wearing.

"If you want to get through, you're going to have to be a little more aggressive than that," His voice was deep and like I had become accustomed to, laced with a rich accent.

"Okay," I fold my arms over my chest and eye him up and down, noting the ripped jeans he wore and the expensive looking Nike brand shoes that covered his feet. "And I should listen to the tool that wears sunglasses inside of a dark home, because...?"

He stands up on the chair and hops down to the floor, his hood falling off in the jump. He lifts to fingers between his plump lips and he blows, forcing a whistle out that could stop anyone dead in their tracks. I can feel his eyes turn away from me as he greets the heads of all those that turned around at the sound of the screech.

"Move out the way, let the lady pass."

And exactly twenty-one seconds later, I found myself at the front with Vincenzo. I tried to listen to the questions Vincenzo was asking his fellow men, but when my eyes lifted to the mounted plasma, I zoned everything – and everyone – out.

Rico was on screen.

"—we managed to hack into the security cameras. This one picked up movement and we found him," a voice said to my left, informing Vincenzo of the live feed that we were currently watching.

My heart swelled a bit at the sight of Rico, learning that he was still alright. He had a few cuts on his face, his clothes were wrinkled and dotted with – what looked like – blood. His hair stuck to his forehead as he turned in a circle, overlooking the room that he stood in. His chest moved up and down rapidly, as if he were breathing fairly heavy, but it wasn't until Vincent commanded that they zoom out, that I actually stopped breathing.

When the picture did zoom out, I finally saw what Federico had been overlooking just a few seconds before. Bodies, upon bodies, upon bodies; dead men were scattered along the floor, blood gushing out of fresh gunshot wounds and knife inflicted stabs. Their legs and arms were twisted at unnatural angles and most of them were face down, lying on-top of another dead man. They were everywhere and covered the carpeted room like a decoration. Federico stood among them all; and just like Vincenzo's men had bowed before them earlier, these men appeared to be bowing before Rico.

"Get me audio," Vincenzo snapped and in the five minutes it took for his men to obey his command, my eyes stayed on Rico.

He didn't move from his spot in the middle of the room; the only spot where blood hadn't begun to soak the carpet. He kept his head bowed and his hands folded neatly behind his back. I was silently questioning his antics when his head lifted, his hand moved, and he threw something to the ground, just a few feet in front of him. I was confused until I saw a fire spark and grow, immediately consuming the man closest to it.

I blinked when I realized what he was doing.

"Vincenzo," I reached out blindly for the man beside me, hoping to grab a hold of his sleeve and pull, "Vincent," My eyes followed the fire that had begun to grow, spreading across the bodies and traveling around the floor with ease. Rico had to have spread gasoline around the room for the fire to travel so easily. "Vince," I shook the man's arm once again as the fire began to consume every single body it wandered over, "Vinny!" I yanked at his arm this time, utterly desperate.

I was too scared to look away from the screen but the second I did so, I realized why Vincenzo hadn't answered me in the first place. Someone was handing him an ear piece, speaking rapidly while they did so, "Federico can't see you, but he'll be able to hear you. Speak up loudly, I'm not sure if it'll work."

Removing his previous earpiece and replacing it with the new one, Vince lifted a hand to his ear and moved his attention towards the television. My hand never moved from his bicep as I watched the fire grow.

"Rico?"

Federico didn't do or say anything to acknowledge that he heard his father's voice. His head simply turned to the side as the flames came into his view, slowly spreading around the room, circling and cornering him in his spot. They soon started crawling up the walls and over any piece of furniture that had previously decorated the room. And if it continued at this rate, smoke would fill the room and the only conscious man inside would soon join the others on the floor.

"Federico," Vincenzo's voice gained an edge on it that had I yet to hear. His accent grew deeper and his jaw clenched itself even harder after he spoke. "Answer me. If you can see me, look up."

Rico does as he's told and immediately begins glancing around the top of the room, looking for anything he could find. It takes a second, but his eyes finally land on the security camera that had been hacked; it was in the far corner of the room. He angles his body towards us and speaks over the flames that burn around him. His voice comes through the speakers crystal clear.

"They killed him," Rico's voice was hardly recognizable and if I wasn't able to stand there and watch him speak, I would've assumed it was someone else talking. It could've been the anger, or maybe the smoke that was beginning to rise was affecting his speech – who knows. "They murdered him, they, they..." His fists clench themselves at his side and he looks down, shaking his head.

"Get out of there," Vincenzo was having none of it, "Get out."

The fire was only growing by the second, having now consumed most of the carpet, the bodies, and furniture, it was beginning to crawl even further up the walls, preparing to consume the entire room. Federico still stood in the middle with the flames growing around him, unfazed, untouched, unharmed – for now.

A vein in Vincent's neck began to protrude as he stepped towards the T.V, his voice only growing in volume, "Federico De Santis—"

"—I watched him close his eyes!" Rico hardly let Vince get another word in, "—I watched him bleed out and I'm going to do the same and watch all these motherfuckers burn," The anger was evident on his face.

"You'll burn with them if you don't get your stupid ass out of there," Vincenzo took another step forward, followed by the group of men behind him. I felt someone brush up against my right shoulder, forcing me to give them a glimpse. It was the sunglasses man from earlier. "Is that what you want? To die in the presence of—"

"—is Faith with you?" Rico cut his father short, changing the subject all together. I felt every pair of eyes turn towards me, their eyebrows surely lifting at my involvement with Federico. Even Vincenzo glanced at me, before turning back to the screen and responding using the earpiece.

"She's right beside me."

I knew he couldn't hear me, but I found myself calling his name despite that, "Rico..."

"I'm sorry," A bead of sweat stuck to his forehead as I stepped forward, trying to get a better glimpse of him. He was beginning to sweat and he smacked his palms against his pants repeatedly. I swore I saw his bottom lip quiver as he looked up at to the camera as though a puppy would look up to its owner in a begging state. It was as if he was begging for my forgiveness. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save them," His shoulders began to shake just as his head dropped. His voice got louder, his tone deeper and for a moment, that was all he yelled, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Vince," another man stepped up to Vincenzo's left, speaking solely to him, "We can have an extraction team at Federico's location in a matter of minutes. Just say the word."

Federico continued stating, "I'm sorry," in a chant form and his anger was only growing, his voice had gotten louder, and the flames continued to rise. And as they rose, they also grew closer to him, inching towards his feet.

Vincenzo shook his head at the proposition, his eyes locked on the ongoing situation that was playing out on screen.

"Sir?" Sunglasses man threw the hood back up on his head and took a slight step backwards, certainly addressing his boss, "Now or never."

Rico shoved his hand in his pocket as he glanced up one last time, but unlike last, tears were now brimming out the corner of his hazel eyes. He shook his head slowly and addressed me, "I'm so sorry I couldn't save them for you, Faith."

Before I could even digest his words, he lifted his hand and threw something at the camera. The screen showed static for a second, before turning black – the feed having ended. And the second the live feed was cut and we no longer had a visual on Rico, Vincenzo turned on his heel and barked the order.

I heard fear and worry creep in Vincenzo's voice as he spoke, "Get him out of there!"

So many people began speaking at once, I could hardly keep up. The room that had been silent for a good ten minutes, was suddenly alive again. Men ran out the room, while others turned to their leader and waited orders.

A man to my left started speaking to Vincenzo, "We pinned his location to a house less than a mile down from Peter Corinelli's home," the man tapped a few prompts on his iPad and continued, "Considering what you told us, I'm figuring those were Peter's men and this was a revenge mission he sent himself on."

Vincenzo nodded and started walking, unable to stand still any longer. I found myself following, along with iPad dude and sunglasses man. "How long would the trip take to get a team out there?"

iPad man looked skeptical, "I honestly thought he was closer than this, Vince," the man starts shaking his head, as if Vincenzo's demand was unreasonable.

Vincent's eyes squint as he snaps at the man, "I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses! I want a time limit!"

"—ten minutes, Vince." Our eyes roll over towards the sunglasses man, who slowly pulls his hood off his head. It only took me a second to realize just why he reminded me so much of Federico; his hair was short, buzz-cut short, and jet black. My eyes fell to his neck, where three lines traced themselves down his neck – three very distinct scars.

"Entertain me, Veleno."

Veleno – whom I've now learned was sunglass man – continued, "If we took the vans, we would be too late. Take the bikes, we could get there in ten minutes, easily."

"Yeah," the third man in the conversation scoffed loudly, "let the cops see ten men flying down expressway on motorcycles, driving in a reckless manner. You don't think they'll be suspicious?"

Veleno turned to the man and I could just imagine the glare he was giving the other man under his glasses. "And that's why Vincenzo never lets you out in the field, pretty boy, because you don't know how things work. We don't ride around in a reckless manner, everything is coordinated and in a straight line. When the leader merges, so do the followers; pristine and perfect, just the way Vince likes it."

A slow smile crosses Vincenzo's lips as he nods towards the man with the tablet. "You heard the man, I want an extraction team sent out now. Send Thomas' crew," He nods upwards, "And per usual, keep me updated on the unfolding situation." The man nods back and heads off, leaving just Vince, Veleno, and I standing there.

Veleno takes a step back, watching as the man walks away. He turns back to us, but mostly towards Vincenzo. He literally goes from 0 to 100 when he snaps, "Are you fucking kidding me?" He pats at his chest in emphasis as he steps forward, "That was my idea! Why the hell aren't you sending my team out there?"

Vincent's response was a cool and calm as you would expect, "I didn't want to."

"This is the third time you've done this!" The man continues to step up in Vince's face and I step away, my eyebrows raised. "You and everyone in here know damn well my team is head and shoulders above everyone else yet you keep sidelining us!"

Vincenzo lifts a hand, slowly. He shakes it in front Veleno's face for emphasis, "I will not repeat myself nor will I raise my voice, so you better listen," Mr. De Santis takes a step forward and to my surprise, Veleno doesn't step back. "I do not wear these rings simply for decoration. So unless you want a few more scars on your face, you better stand down."

People were beginning to stare. Men that had been rushing in and out of rooms, issuing and receiving orders were now standing still, watching the altercation go down. A few women huddled near the end of a hallway, watching and occasionally whispering to their friends. I felt alone, as if I sat on an island by myself. I wasn't exactly involved in the unfolding action, but I was standing far closer than anyone else.

But the question Veleno asked next was enough to make everyone pause. In a voice like a whisper, he questioned, "Is it because of my disability?" He let a moment pass, "Is that why you practically refuse to send me out there, just like the others?"

"What disability?"

When I realized I had said it out loud, I winced and inhaled sharply. Vincent stepped back and gave me a look over his shoulder, while I'm sure Veleno's eyes landed on me beneath his dark sunglasses. A couple people behind me took a sharp breath and for just another second, the two men stood face-to-face, neither saying a word.

Veleno made sure to be petty and bump shoulders with his boss before walking towards me. I inwardly chuckled about that. He marched in my direction and I found myself leaning back as he approached, a hand on the side of his glasses. But it wasn't until he came close did he slip them off and bend down to me, showing me exactly what he meant by his disability.

He was blind out of one eye.

I didn't know the specifics, but I knew enough to realize that his vision was certainly impaired.. My lips formed an "O" shape as he blinked slowly, exposing his left eye to me. It had a glossy, hazed over kind of appearance and it certainly gave off a chilling vibe – but it wasn't disgusting or creepy – it simply held my attention far longer than it should have. His "good eye", his right eye, was a gorgeous shade of blue; it had light blues and dark blues, all swirled and mixed together in a beautiful, natural mixture.

I was rendered speechless and I wasn't sure whether that was because of his bad eye or his good eye.

He slipped the sunglasses back on his face, but before he did so I was able to analyze his scars. The scar on his cheek started right below his eye and I could only assume that if you figured out the cause of the scratch, you could figure out the reason why he was blinded out his left eye. And without another word or a glance over his shoulder, Veleno marched down one of the nearest hallways, exiting the foyer..

Vincenzo spun in a slow circle and whenever his eyes landed on a group in the crowd, they all scurried back to whatever they had been doing previously. By the time he finished spinning around, almost everyone had returned back to their previous job; everyone except me. I stood in the middle of the foyer with my hands folded across my chest, thinking.

"Ms. Crawford," There was just something about the way Italian men said my last name that could gather my attention in an instant. Surely, it was the accent, or maybe I just liked the way they emphasized certain letters that us English speakers didn't. "I suggest you go to bed," Vincenzo's voice echoed throughout the still and silent foyer as the crowd of people thinned, leaving only a few stragglers behind.

"I feel bad for him," I angle my body towards the dark hallway the partially blind man had marched down. I turn back to Vincenzo and shrug, "Why didn't you let him go?"

Vincent's mouth fell open, he closed it, and let it open again, all while taking a few steps forward and lowering his voice while he spoke, "I don't want him meeting Federico just yet."

"Why not?"

With the foyer having cleared out, I was certain someone had begun to dim the lights. Vincenzo steps up to me, revealing just how tall he actually was. I figured it was the hair that gave him a few more additional inches. Or maybe it was the way he carried himself; maybe it was the slight limp or maybe it was the chip of confidence he seemed to carry on his shoulders.

"Rico is something special," Vincenzo answers me with no hesitation, "I had my doubts while I was initially training him, I didn't think he could do it, but the second he pulled the trigger on that sniper rifle and clipped three men in a span of eight seconds, I knew I had something special." He shoves his hands in his pockets and lowers his voice even more, "And I have trained dozens of men over my lifetime and nobody has ever even come close to the talent I saw in Rico. Nobody except him." He points a ring-covered finger over my shoulder in the direction Veleno had just walked in.

"You're saying he's better than Rico?"

Vince gives it some thought, "Not quite," He was beginning to pull away from the conversation, walking backwards slowly. "But if I have to be honest, Federico has some competition." He nods respectfully to me, "Goodnight Ms. Crawford, sleep tight."

I watched in silence as his tall and well-defined figure grew smaller. His dark suit eventually faded beneath the dim lights and at one point, the only defining feature of him were the curls in his hair, but I found myself stepping forward and speaking up. "Wait! Vincenzo?" He stopped walking all together, but let a second pass before turning his head to the right, revealing his profile.

I saw the outline of his lips, the tip of his nose, and the length of his dark eyelashes. A strand of hair fell over his forehead as he looked at me out the corner of his eye. His right eyebrow lifted in curiosity and I used the next quiet second to gather my thoughts and my courage.

"Three months ago, I wouldn't have the courage or the balls to ask this," I cleared my throat and lifted my chin a little higher, "But Peter Corinelli said you were more of a threat to Liam than him. Is that true?"

With his profile still in view, I saw his lips pull themselves into a crisp, white, million dollar smile. I'm sure he had to thank braces for the blinding white, perfectly straight teeth that rested behind his lips. His tongue ran over his top teeth before he responded.

"I wouldn't consider myself a threat, Ms. Crawford," I saw a sparkle in his eye as his lips curled up even further, "But I'm the baddest motherfucker in the game and it's only a matter of time before people realize that."

I frowned a bit, "And when they do realize that?"

Vince turned back to face me at that moment. He lifted his hands to his head, resembling the motion of resting a crown on your head.

"They'll king me."

- - - -

Walking up the steps to Liam's bedroom was exhausting and I was breathing so heavily you would've assumed I had just hiked up Mount Everest.

My mind was still replaying the answer Vincenzo gave me to my question; in a way he had answered me, but in a way he hadn't. I groaned, purposely dragging my feet in the direction of Liam's bedroom. I found myself speeding up and when I pushed the door open, my heart fluttered.

The room hadn't changed at all since I had last seen it. It still smelt faintly of Liam's cologne and his suit jackets were still hanging up right where I remembered them. I walked over towards the top of his dresser, where his watches and necklaces hung and rested neatly. My fingers brushed over one necklace in particular; one broken necklace to be exact.

Lealtà.

"Rosalie; is she Michael's kid?"

I jumped and stepped away from the dresser. I hadn't meant to grab the necklace but when I looked down and opened my hand, it was resting gingerly in my hand.

Zara stood at the doorway and stepped inside without any response from me. She was dressed similar to me; sweatpants and a large shirt. Her hair was pulled in a ponytail and I watched as she closed the door behind her and looked to me, expectantly. "Is she?" She inquired, without allowing me to answer, "I don't have a problem if she is, she's adorable and sweet and funny and I'm glad I was able to meet her and convince her that not everyone she loves is leaving, but--"

"—she isn't Michaels," I shook my head, "Unless I was informed wrong, she's Melanie's. And I'm honestly not sure how that worked, but I'm assuming Melanie cheated on Michael and had her." I slip the necklace in my pants pocket and clear my throat, glancing about the room to ease the tension.

I catch Zara nodding out the corner of my eye and I swear her lip twitched upwards in a smile. I turned my back towards her and headed towards the bed, ready to rest my feet. She was speaking again before I could get another word out.

"I'm sorry about earlier, with what you saw with Vincent, we're—"

"—I understand," I shake my head and fall back on the bed, using my forearm to block out the intensity of the bedroom lights. "He seemed important to you."

"He was," I could vision her cringing at this moment, "he is. He was a friend, a close friend, and I'm sick of being there for people when they're at their worst and being thrown to the side once they hit it big."

I roll to the side, using my arm as a pillow. My vision blurs as I blink and I let out a yawn. "How old is Vincenzo?"

She lets out a brief smile and folds her arms across her chest, "How old do you think he is?"

I close my eyes and think quickly, "Well, he's far older than Liam; he's pretty smart too so he's been around the block a little bit... I'd say 48."

Zara's laugh is hard to miss. She throws her head back in a loud laugh. "If I still know him as well as I think I do, I know he would be pissed if you said that to his face."

I smile softly, "Fine, how old is he?"

She presses her index finger to her lips and takes a step back. "I won't give a number, but I'll say this; he's younger than me and I'm 45."

My eyebrows furrow as Zara quickly backtracks and begins to close the bedroom door. "That doesn't help me at all!"

I fall back on the bed with a chuckle and roll over on the other side, my eyes closing for a mere second. When they open up again, my smile as faded and my eyes drift up towards the side of the bed Liam typically slept on. My eyebrows creased together as I pulled myself up, noticing my phone that was purposely sitting on his nightstand. Beneath it was a piece of folded up paper, my name written in large, elaborate cursive. But it wasn't the loops and the twirls of the handwriting that caught my attention – it was my watch.

I had completely forgotten about it and the memories were beginning to flood back as I scrambled to my knees and crawled across the bed in excitement. My hand reached for the watch first and I rotated in my hand slowly, smiling at the fact that it was in the same condition as when I last saw it. I was just about to slip it on my wrist when my phone lit up and my eyes glanced at the number of notifications.

114.

I said the first thing that would come to anyone's mind, "Oh, shit!"

The watch landed softly on a portion of the bed before me as I reached out and managed to get another glimpse at the amount of notifications. My stomach did a few flips and I felt woozy when I realized that they were all from my parents. When I realized that I couldn't exactly pinpoint the last date that I spoke with them, I bypassed the notifications and immediately called them. I had my fingers crossed the entire time.

My mother's voice came through the phone after the second ring, "Faith Fucking Crawford."

I cringe, "Mom, that isn't my middle na—"

"I don't care what your middle name is right now, Faith!" The anger in her voice was evident, but she was worried, just like any mother would be. "I—I don't even remember the last time I talked to you! You haven't answered any of our calls or our texts! I thought something horrible happened to you!"

Well, about that...

"Mom," I closed my eyes and let out a breath, "I'm okay, I'm fine, so please stop yelling at me."

"Child, do you know how many times I called you?" I groaned as she went on for another minute, but I had zoned her out. My eyes were scanning over the message on the nightstand and I was itching to grab it and open it. "—you're grounded."

I blinked as the words processed themselves in my mind.

"Mom, I'm 21!"

"I couldn't give a rat's ass if you were 64! You're grounded and me and your father are going to be home tomorrow."

Wait, what.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," I inhaled sharply and rolled off the bed, not being able to sit still anymore. "Mom, enjoy your vacation and have as much fun as you can and make it back on your own time. Don't worry about me, I'm fine."

I heard my mother sigh and my father's voice came in from the background. I smiled when I realized he was siding with me. It took a minute of persuading, but her final sigh came from the phone.

"Fine. We were planning to stay another week and a half but that's it."

A week and a half, that was certainly enough time to get back home and clean the house up. It was just enough time to make the house look as though it had been lived in for the last three months. And it was just enough time to fool my parents into believing I had been there.

I clenched my fist and mumbled a, "Yes!"

We both stated our goodbyes and our 'I love you's' before I hung up first and dropped the phone to the bed. My eyes locked back on to the perfectly folded up piece of paper and I reached for it. My hands were trembling as the bed sunk beneath my weight and I inhaled deeply, knowing good and well that Liam had written the message.

I opened it slowly and scanned the length of it before starting at the top. I bit my lip at the entrance and I knew I would cry when I realized just what he had signed the letter with. I moved my thumb out the way and began.

Faith,

The evening of Ryan Costello's death, I gave you a letter and an order to only open it if I were to pass away. That letter has now be discarded and replaced with this one. Things have changed since then and our relationship has developed and because of that, I thought you deserved something better.

If you're reading this, then the situation at the Corinelli residence played out exactly as I expected it to. Do not blame yourself, Faith, because I know you will. I was tired of running, tired of acting like the little bitch many people thought I was becoming. Just know, if I wanted to escape, I would've been able to.

We live and we learn, we rise and we fall, and tonight, I fell.

Everything shattered and it's my mistake, but if you're reading this – which I assume you are – then I'm okay with that. I blame myself for trying to protect and save everything I managed to build, alone. I tried to support it on my own and I wasn't smart enough to realize that one man cannot support an entire kingdom. Tonight, it came crashing down and as long as the shards of glass missed you, I'm okay with it.

I know you're probably confused, lost, and unsure of your next move, so let me help you; go home. Get out of L.A, get out of harm's way, and go home. I know if I was there and told you this in person, you would give me attitude and probably yank off my second favorite necklace, but I'm glad we aren't talking in person because seriously...these necklaces weren't cheap.

In all seriousness, take the money I'll be leaving beneath my pillow and go, get somewhere safe.

Give Rosie a hug for me.

And as for you, I could list a million things to thank you about. I could thank you for all the laughs, the smiles, and the butterflies you gave me. I could thank you for actually making my family feel like a true family. I could thank you for making Rosalie and I happy once again, but I won't go into detail. Instead, I'll just say this...

Thank you for restoring my faith.

I was remotely okay until I read the very last line.

- LuLu.

- - - -

a/n: a part of me died when I realized that next chapter is the last. I don't want to say goodbye to my babies and Potere is the only thing keeping me from crying rn seriously