a/n: The Final Chapter is split into 2 parts because of its length. Double update! YAY!

The Shine Awards 2017: GUYS YA'LL HAVE NO IDEA HOW BAD I WANT A CUTE LITTLE STICKER ON MY BOOK OMG. SO, it would mean THE WORLD to me if you all voted Luciano into the Best Romance category.  The book is in my reading list and I follow the account.  Voting is simple.

Just put the title, my username, category B, and tag a FIVE people! VOILA! DONE.

Do NOT forget to read the epilogue.  I will be following up with a few people who were not mentioned in this chapter.

Sorry for any grammar errors, I went through it a few times but I'm not perfect.

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"...I'll tell you all about it when I see you again," – Wiz Khalifa (Ft. Charlie Puth), See You Again

- - - -

RECAP:

Vincenzo De Santis waltzes in and saves Faith & Co. from their impending doom.  Dominic's whereabouts/health update is N/A.  Liam was arrested.  Federico is M.I.A until Vince finds him and sends a group of men in to rescue him from a room he set on fire purposely.  Liam left a note and told Faith it was best she go home.

He signs the note, LuLu.

Dominic Santiago.

I hadn't known him as long as I knew Liam or Federico, but he was just as special to me.  He had been a true gentlemen right down to the core from the moment I met him.  From the moment he dropped to his knees and pressed the back of my hand to his lips, to the last time I saw him in decent condition – kneeling down beside Zara and wrapping an arm around her, comforting her simply because he knew how to cope with the loss of a loved one.

I had crawled out of bed around ten o'clock this morning, feeling just as tired as I had when I had laid down in bed.  The bedsheets had been cold, the pillows hadn't been comfortable, and my thoughts were still racing even after I closed my eyes and tried to focus on falling asleep.  Sleep never came and when I realized that it wouldn't, I got up and let my feet carry me to my next destination.

My next destination happened to be Dominic's room.

His room was a mess and that just didn't seem like the Dominic I knew.  I had never seen him having a bad day; his hair was always jelled and curled to perfection, his outfits always matched and seemed well planned out.  He seemed like a generally clean person, but his room was far from organized.

Dresser drawers were pulled out halfway, clothes tumbling to the floor as though someone had rummaged through them quickly.  Dress shirts and pants covered the floor, along with necklaces and watches that had seemingly been thrown to the ground from their place atop his dresser.  The desk to my left was littered in papers and pens; some papers were balled up on the floor, while others were simply scattered across the wood.  But my eyes couldn't miss the hole in the wall.

I was doing okay until I stepped a little further in and the cologne that he typically wore rushed by my face in a breeze.  My eyes watered up with tears and I had to do everything I could to keep them at bay.  I lifted a hand and wiped at the corner of my dry eye, as if that was going to keep the tears from falling.

I drifted over towards the desk, scanning papers that had scribbling on it.  Most of them were quick notes he had jotted down, while another piece of paper seemed to have different memory verses written on them.  My heart actually hurt when I brushed a crumpled piece of paper out the way and glanced down at another.

I miss you, had been written in a beautiful cursive font, repeated over, over, and over again.  You could tell at the beginning Dominic had been taking his time, but the further my eyes scanned down the page and the farther I went, the messier his handwriting became.  The ink seemed bolder, thicker, as if he had been pressing the pen down with force.  The ending threw me off; he looked as though he was in the middle of writing another "I miss you," when his pen began to make uncalculated lines – as if he got angry and just yelled "Fuck it!"

I dragged my finger down the page, letting my thumb brush against a few easily spotted water stains.  At the realization that Dominic had begun to cry while writing this, made me cry.

My attention darted from the one page and turned to one of the many envelopes that decorated the desk.  One looked like a simple letter addressed to a Dominic J. Santiago.  It came from Florida and I could only assume it was his "mom", the woman that adopted him.  But it was the second envelope that my eyes fell on that made me pause.

I picked it up and allowed my thumb to brush along the company's name.  LabCorp.  A tear slipped out my right eye, then my left, and all I could do was lift my hands to my face to wipe them away.  My bottom lip quivered at the realization that Federico was never – and had never – been alone, and I was positive that the letter in my hand would prove that.

"—was he married?"

By the time I wipe at my blurry eyes and look up, Zara is standing by Dominic's bed.  A bathrobe clings to her body as she leans against the bed, holding a picture frame gingerly in his grasp.  Even from here I could tell it was Dom and his late wife Rose; even from here I could see the smile on his face, the happiness in his eyes.

I press a finger to the corner of my eye to stop one of the last tear before nodding, "He was.  She died a few months before I met him."  Zara tilts her head to the right, eyeing the photograph even harder.  I clear my throat and try to speak up, but my voice only comes out as a mere whisper, "—earlier this year anyways." When Zara doesn't respond, I finish with, "Terminal cancer."

"I—"  Zara's bottom lip twitches as she rests the photo down and when she turns to me, tears are brimming.  "Federico had been right," She wipes at her eyes and turns around, dropping to the bed to take a seat.  "They had missed someone.  And by the time we realized that—"  Zara brings two hands up to her cheeks, wiping the stream of tears away.

"He took a bullet for me," She continues, "And you could make the argument that I could've gotten out the way if Dominic had time to step in between the shooter and I, but..."  Zara looks up and to her right, shaking her head as I come into view, "He moved faster than he could speak and in the end, he saved my life and I'll forever be grateful."

I took my time walking over to her and joining her on the bed.  A long moment passed, mostly filled with sniffling and haggard breaths.  I found myself staring at Zara's profile, watching as a tear streaked out her closed eye and slid down her defined cheekbone.  I wanted to comfort her in some way, maybe in an awkward, one-armed hug, but I didn't.  I found myself frozen, unable to move as her lips parted once more and words came spewing out.

"—and I feel like a bitch, because if I have to be honest... If I lose the man who gave me his name and my baby boy, life for me wouldn't be worth living and Mr. Santiago's death would be in vain." 

A long, seemingly never ending silence followed.  The rain pelted the glass windows beside the bed and the thunder that occasionally roared drowned out Zara's cries.  I wiped at my own tears that were beginning to skate out the corners of my eyes as I stood.  I had come to the conclusion that she wanted to be alone, away from people, away from everything.

Zara's hand stretched out and grabbed mine, pulling my attention back to her once more.

"I asked him why he did it," She started out, her voice shaking, "I asked Dominic why he took that bullet for me, why he risked his life for someone he didn't know..."

It took every ounce of willpower not to allow my voice to crack, "What did he say?"

Her eyes fall to the floor, "He said he didn't do it for me.  He did it for Liam."  She didn't waste any energy to reach up to wipe away her tears, allowing them to fall freely.  "He just kept saying that Liam couldn't lose me again—"  Zara shook her head one last time before falling silent.

I knew she didn't have any more intentions to speak once her attention lifted itself to the wall and stayed there.  She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth to keep it from quivering and she remained silent.

I bowed my head, allowing the envelope that I still held tightly in my grasp to rotate.  It had been clearly opened, the letter removed, and shoved back inside.  My fingers parted the top of the envelope to peer inside briefly.  I felt my chest tighten at the idea, at the thought, at the feeling that this letter had answered the question I had posed to Liam all those weeks before.

Are they brothers?

The memories of that night flowed to the forefront of my mind and I smiled at the idea of all of us watching Frozen again, but the tears didn't actually begin to fall until I came to the realization that Dominic knew.  He had known – for how long, only he would know – but in the end, he knew.

While he jumped in front of that bullet, he knew.  While he bled out in the middle of Corinelli's foyer, he knew.  While Federico dropped to his knees and yelled at him to keep his eyes open, he knew, yet he never said a word.  And that fact alone broke my heart, because then Federico would never know.

Rapid knocking drew me from my thoughts, forcing the oncoming tears to halt as I looked up.  The bedroom door was flung open, banging against the wall as it was nearly yanked off its hinges.  Vincenzo De Santis strode in with aura of confidence that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

I had to do a double take at his appearance because certainly, this wasn't the same man that glided down the marble steps earlier this morning wearing dress shoes and a suit that probably costed more than the down payment on my parent's home.

His curly hair didn't quite have the same volume that it appeared to have during our earlier meetings; it was wet, dampened by either a shower or sweat.  His tattoos were visible thanks to his sleeveless muscle shirt and his calves were exposed because of his shorts, easily providing evidence that he spent a healthy amount of time at a gym.

He was blind to my stares as the door began to slam behind him, but nobody missed the shout that came before the door closed.  "Vince!  You shouldn't be talking to anyone! You haven't taken your medication yet!"

I was going to say something about the shout, but due to the irritable look on Vincenzo's face, you could already tell he was in a mood.  His eyebrows were connected as he nodded upwards, speaking in a deep voice that suggested he had just recently woken up himself.  "Good morning, Ladies."

His mouth fell open, as if he were about to continue, but Zara stood up hastily and wiped at her face before making a beeline towards the door.  She muttered something about, "Excusing herself," as she brushed past me.  Vincenzo caught her before she could get past him, his large hand easily wrapping itself around her bicep.  He pulled her towards him so quickly that she had to bring a palm up to brace the impact she would have against his chest.

Vince lowered his voice, dropping it an octave deeper to make sure he got Zara's undivided attention.  But by the way the muscles in his arms bulged at the simple motion of pulling her to him, I'm sure he had her attention.

"If you need to talk, you know where to find me," It was the first time I actually had to strain to hear him speak.  "Okay?" I could hear the strain in his voice as he tried his best to comfort.  Zara nodded and her lips hardly moved, but I knew she had mouthed a simple response.  Vince's hand traveled down her arm as she pulled herself away from him, but before she could slip from his grasp he pulled her hand towards his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, making eye contact with her as he did so.

My head tilted to the side as I stood up, silently watching as Zara slipped out the door.  It wasn't hard to notice the way Vincenzo's eyes lingered on the door even after she was gone.  It wasn't hard to notice the softer tone he used when speaking with her, the gentle way he would hold her – whether that was a hug or the simple way he allowed her hand to rest in his.

I cleared my throat, but even that wasn't enough to yank him from his Zara-induced trance.  Folding the envelope in my hands, I shoved it in my pocket and spoke up again, louder this time, "Have you heard anything?"

He turned around and lifted a hand to his hair, tugging at the curls for a second.  For just a second, I saw an exposed Vincenzo; a human being, someone with their walls down, and their vulnerabilities on view for the world to see.  The confident aura was gone for all of three seconds, the slouch in his stance was easily to be seen, and the way he leaned more on one knee than another was obvious.  His eyebrows had relaxed and the irritable look on his face had faded, but as quickly as it had disappeared, it came back. He blinked and the walls shot back up, his stance was perfected and the confident chip on his shoulder returned.

Whatever he had thought about for that split second was enough to cause the noticeable change in behavior, but the likelihood that I would ever find out what had gone through his mind was just as likely as Peter surviving being burned alive.

I was just about to reiterate my question when Vince nodded. "Liam's currently being held at the L.A.P.D. precinct till they speak with him," He takes a careless step back, "The word maximum security seems to float around his name, so the likelihood of him escaping is about as likely as me pulling down my Calvin's and exposing a well-shaved vagina."

I couldn't help but laugh at his use of words.  My arms folded themselves across my chest as I bowed my head, chuckling briefly.

I was expecting to lift my head to meet a smile as wide as mine, but Vincenzo's facial expression remained neutral, his lips pursed in a straight line.  I chuckled once more before clearing my throat and forcing the serious look to return to my face.

"That smile," Vince started, "I can see why Liam fell in love with it."

I groaned as the heat rushed to my cheeks.

The older man began to back away from me, clearly preparing to make his exit.  "Your ride to the airport is ready whenever you are, Ms. Crawford.  Breakfast is also available downstairs if you're hungry." He nodded downwards in respect.  "If you need me, you know how to find me."

I mumbled a "thank you," and remained still, watching as he fully turned his back to me and strode towards the bedroom door.  My eyes fluttered closed as I grasped either hand, gaining the courage to ask one question that had been eating me alive.

"Do you love him?"

Vincenzo stopped midstride and wasted no time slightly turning towards me, his eyebrows slowly growing closer together.  I took an unnoticeable step back as he gave me a look out the corner of his eye.  It forced a shiver to ripple down my spine, causing goosebumps on my arms and legs to rise.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable.

"Why do you want to know?"

I clenched my jaw at his response.  I wanted to snapback at him with a smart-ass comment, but I knew better, I knew I had to stay in my place – especially after everything he had done to protect us.  But there was a reason as to why I wanted to know.  Last night my mind refused to rest and the simple fact that Federico could still feel alone despite a father that claimed he cared for him, confused me. The situation with his long-time "best friend" confused me and if anyone had answers, I knew it was the man standing before me.

"Because—" Before I continued, I hesitated only slightly.  The devil on my shoulder was urging me to press Vince for information, telling me to "go for it" because "what would hurt," but the angel on my shoulder was telling me to back down, to forget it, that everything would be okay and this question would only harm things, not help them.

I took a deep breath and sided with the devil, "-because Federico is always talking about how alone he feels, and if you were as amazing as a father as you claim to be, why does Rico still think he's alone?"  I tilt my head as I question him, my eyebrows connecting in a frustrated state of confusion.

Vincenzo looked skeptical of my mildly accusing words, but he didn't say anything.  He gave me that same unreadable expression, never hinting to me the emotions that were beginning to swirl in his veins.  Maybe it was a defense mechanism that he learned as a child, or maybe it was just handy for his line of work – either way, reading him was next-to-impossible.

"You know what," At this point, I was just beginning to ramble, "What confuses me even more is the whole story behind Rico's childhood friend." I press a hand to my temple and rub in a slow, easing circle. "I've known Federico for a few months and yes, I admit, I was terrified of him when he first came into the picture."  Vincenzo's eyes draw to a near close as I continue, "I was terrified of what he could do and what I knew he was capable of doing.  But after I got to know him," I shake my head in disbelief, "He's the sweetest, most down-to-earth man I'll ever meet! And I just don't understand how someone who would have known him practically their entire life could even—"

I blinked and I realized the answer to my unorthodox rant was standing right in front of me.  My mind spewed out ridiculous theories and I stuttered at my epiphany.

"—she didn't leave him willingly," my voice came out like the squeak of a mouse and that scared me.  A dark shadow crossed over the room, darkening the inside.  The clouds outside blocked the sun, keeping light from entering in the window.  The blowing of the wind outside made me shiver and I found myself stepping back.  I rubbed either hand on my arms, trying to suppress the goosebumps.  "Did she?"

Vincenzo lifted a hand to the necklace around his neck, neatly tucking it inside the collar of his shirt before speaking.  "Some people cannot handle others at their worst and I'm afraid to say that Ms. Vega simply couldn't handle Federico."

You could tell he was done with this conversation the minute his son's name came flying out his mouth.  He turned back around briskly and I spoke, only to make him spin in a complete circle to reface me.  Irritability was beginning to cross his handsome features.

I tilted my head to the left this time, watching Vincenzo's leg begin to bounce.  My mouth fell open, closed, and opened again.  "You made her leave him, didn't you?"

Vincent spun towards the door before I could catch the look that crossed his face.

"I suggest you drop the subject before you learn something you wish not to know, Faith."  I cringed at the sound of my name.  I actually had to take a step forward to hear the rest of his statement.  His voice dropped in volume and the tone that he spoke in was enough to frighten me.  "I also suggest you stop asking questions because I indeed have time today and I really don't want you to see the side of me people often fear."

I took note of the way he was clenching and unclenching his fists at his side and although I refused to stop my interrogation, I did decide to tread carefully.

"It makes sense," I spoke with certainty, but I kept the volume of my voice down.  I knew the anger Federico was capable of, but I had hardly glimpsed the anger that resided in Vincenzo and I didn't want to find out just how bad it was.  My eyes bore holes into his back as he refused to walk out the door, but instead he listened and stayed, keeping his expression hidden from me.  "The way Rico talked about her, the way I envision her, she loved him – whether as a best friend or something more – and that type of love just doesn't disappear." I took a step forward, "And all these years Federico blames himself for her leaving, but it was never his fault, was it?"

Vincenzo's shoulders visibly tensed.

I continued, "And while she came up to him and told him a bullshit lie about how he was changing, all Rico saw were the tears in her eyes but he didn't see you standing over his shoulder, intimidating the girl he cared about."  I felt a rush of anger and a surge of energy as I took a dangerous step closer. "That's exactly what happened, isn't it Vince?"

He didn't respond.

"And now I wonder why.  Why did you do it?"

I was still in speculation mode, but Vincenzo confirmed my theories with his next few words.

His voice sounded small, he as a person sounded small, uncertain of his own self.  It was a rare moment, one I knew I would most likely never see again.  "She was a distraction."

I let a second pass before speaking again, "Because she made him happy?"  There was a silence and I knew that that couldn't have been the reason.  My eyes trained themselves on Vince's back and after close analyzation; you could see he was fidgeting.  He would occasionally ball his hands up into fists to keep his fingers from shaking and he would sway back and forth on his feet, as if keeping moving was the only thing calming him.

"I highly suggest you stop asking questions, Faith." I didn't miss the way his voice faltered.

"And I highly suggest you answer them, Vincenzo." I take another step forward, "Federico is my friend."

"—and Federico is my son!" At that, Vincenzo whirled around and took a hard step forward.  The muscles in his biceps grew rigged and the veins coming up from his hand, leading to his elbow and above were beginning to show, visible against his mixed complexion.  His jaw was clenched tight and he stepped forward again, causing me to lean back. "I don't need to tell you shit!"    

"He deserves to know!" I raised my voice, allowing it to match his in volume.  When Vince didn't respond, I continued.  "He deserves to know that she didn't abandon him just like everyone else in his life has!  He deserves to know the truth—"  I was good until I uttered the last line, "—and I'm going to tell him."

I knew I had said the wrong thing when Vincenzo cocked his head like a confused little puppy with floppy ears.  A slow smile graced his lips but it wasn't formed out of happiness, but anger.  He shot a glance behind his shoulder, eyeing the empty doorway, before taking a step towards me; then another, and another.  I had begun to sink further into the room as he approached, but quickly told myself I needed to form a backbone and stand right where I was.

If you found Vincenzo De Santis attractive, then the idea of his lips coming within inches of yours would probably be a turn-on.  And although I couldn't deny that he was a looker, I was far more intimidated by his presence and frightened of the side of him I had only seen from a distance.  I held my breath as his nose brushed against mine.  I could feel his breath against my lips and his dark brown eyes pierced my soul.  But there was nothing, absolutely nothing romantic or even remotely sexy about it.  Only God knew what was going through his mind as he stared me down, forcing me back a few steps.

His eyes closed momentarily and I wondered if this was my sign to make a break for it.  But before the plan could fully develop, Vince's eyes were open and they were trained on me.  I shivered underneath his gaze and I could only imagine the twenty-three different ways he just envisioned on killing me.

"I think this is a perfect time to inform you, Ms. Crawford, that I taught Federico De Santis everything he knows," I took another step back out of fright, "but that doesn't mean I taught him everything I know. So if you were afraid of him, then you better be terrified of me."

I took another step back and mentally cursed at the feeling of the wall pressing against my back.  Vincenzo took his time closing the gap.  Casually, he rested his forearm on the wall above me and he leaned down, cornering me perfectly.

"This is how this is going to go," He continues.  His voice is surprisingly calm, but I'm not fooled.  The anger is still there, the accent only distracting me from the brutal truth.  I had pissed him off.  "You're going to walk out that door—" He shoots a finger in the direction of the door, "—and you're going to completely forget everything we talked about. This conversation never happened."  I blink in response.  "And if you even remotely hint this information to Federico—"

I poke my chest out a bit, eyeing him quizzically, "What're you gonna do? Kill me?"

Maybe it was the playful smirk that I had plastered on my face, or maybe it was my tone, but whatever it was, it sent him up and over the top.  His casual position was quickly flipped and if I thought I had been cornered, I certainly was now.  With his forearm already on the wall above my head, he spun his body towards me, slapping the wood with his left hand.  My head vibrated at the movement of the wall and he pressed his body against mine in an uncomfortable manner, forcing me to wince in pain.

His voice was harsher this time around, "This help mission I was sent on will suddenly become a takeover."  I didn't think it was possible to slap the wall equally – if not harder – than last time, but he managed too.  "All these mafia bitches down here think they're the shit, all these other pussy's calling themselves king when I'm that."   A deep chuckle past my lips as Vincenzo dipped his head, pressing his forehead against the wall beside my head. His voice lowers to a cool whisper, "I respect your boytoy, but don't confuse my respect for fear."

I couldn't move even if I wanted too and if Vince had leaned back any more, I probably would've fallen to the ground.  And as if my heart wasn't already beating erratically, it nearly leaped out my chest as I felt him angle his head to the right, his curly head of hair brushing against the side of my face.

"—and if you, for one second, believe that Federico would stop me from doing so, I hope you remember this...  He's my son before he's your friend."

Those seven words hit deep and suddenly the thought of Federico being torn between two groups of people tugged the underside of my heart. My eyes were closed and I was attempting to get my breathing rate back to normal when I heard it.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I went to respond when I realized Vincenzo wasn't talking to me, but talking to a figure that stood off to my left, his right.  Vincenzo leaned back just enough to allow Veleno to come into view.  He was leaning forward, holding either index finger a short distance away from the other as if he were measuring something.

"I'm measuring the distance of space between you and the young lady and if I could put a word in—"

"—no, you can't—"

Veleno cuts Vince off without a second thought, "—you are dangerously close to her and as a friend, I would suggest you take about ten steps back and let the poor thing breathe."

The internal struggle was visible as Vincenzo glanced at Veleno, at me, then back at the man I assumed he mentored just as he did Rico.  In a matter of seconds, the decision was made and Vince backed off, allowing my feet to feel the solid ground after a good few tension filled minutes.  I unruffled my shirt and ran a hand through my hair, evening out my breathing.  I took note that Vince did the same, before turning that ice cold glare in the direction of the man standing beside me.

The stare down didn't last long.  Vincenzo turned and walked away a second later, not giving either of us a second glance.  Although his physical presence was gone, I couldn't help but still feel a bit uptight.  I clear my throat and look back to my left, my eyes roaming over the body of the man that stands beside me, his attention still on the door his boss just waltzed out of.

I took note of his all white attire; from his ripped white jeans, his shirt plus the white denim jacket, and his shoes.  The only ounce of color that came from him was his complexion that reminded me much of smooth caramel and his dark, black hair.  The white, along with the tanned skin, and the dark hair helped emphasize the color of his eye once he turned his right side to me, blessing me with the sighting of the prettiest shade of blue I had ever seen.

But then he angled his entire face to me and I found myself suck a long breath in and I couldn't decide what was more worthy of my undivided attention – the beautiful eye that was mixed with gorgeous shades of light and dark blues, or the side of his face that carried around an impossible to miss scar, plus the obvious blindness of his left eye.

"Answer me truthfully," I finally speak up after regaining any lost air.  His attention lifts to my face, "Is Vincenzo a threat?"

Veleno shoves a hand in his pocket, but what I admire is the fact that he doesn't shy away from eye contact.  "If you have to ask me that question, then you already know the answer."

I let out a deep, shaky sigh as I bring my hands to my head, massaging my temples gently.  My eyes close and I take a few moments to myself, breathing in and out, my heart rate regaining its composure.  When I opened my eyes, I was expecting to see Veleno leaving, but he didn't.  He stood by my side, staring at me like you would stare at a random injured civilian on the side of the road.

"Vince has control issues," the man started to explain, "and when he feels as though someone is overstepping their boundaries, he has no problem putting them back in their place." I nod in understanding, "It also doesn't help that he suffers from serious anger management problems."

I scoff, "He should see a doctor."

Veleno rocks on his heels. "He did," He responds casually, "And now he's facing an assault charge at the beginning of September."

I let out a not-so-humorous laugh, "I should've figured."

The man's smile was contagious; wide and white, thanks to a lot of brushing and some expensive whitening strips.  I tilted my head at the realization that the left side of his face didn't lift nearly as much as the right when he smiled.  His lips curved upwards but his cheek didn't lift as high as the "good" side of his face did.  It wasn't creepy by any means, but certainly noticeable.

Despite his visible flaws, Veleno was still a handsome young man.  His hair was short, a couple months post-buzz cut.  His eyelashes were long and his jaw was well defined.  His lips were full and his pierced ears pinned back, nestling not too high – nor too low – on the sides of his head.  He displayed young features but guessing his age was tough; at certain angles he appeared older, whereas in others he seemed young – my age, maybe close to Federico.

I run a hand through my hair and extend a hand, clearly my throat as I do so.  "I don't think we've been properly introduced," His attention falls to my hand and he gives it one good shake. "Faith Crawford." Veleno's handshake was rough and you could tell he didn't interact with delicate – per say – things on a daily basis.  I wince and shake out the pain, forcing an apologetic look to cross his face.

"Sorry," He glances at his hand, "sometimes I underestimate my strength."

I let out a soft smile, "It's okay."

"You should probably go get your stuff ready, your ride is waiting."

"Right, yeah," I nod and follow just behind him as we head towards the door.  I felt an ache in my chest as I stood underneath the doorway and turned around.  Veleno had kept walking, but I couldn't.  Tears brimmed the corner of my eyes as I turned around, my eyes immediately falling to the photos of Dominic and Rose.  Again, I smiled, because if I had to remember Dominic is any way, I would've preferred seeing him smile than lying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood.

Another thought hit me as I turned around, scanning the upper floor for Veleno.  I jogged a few steps ahead, catching him just before he descended too far down the steps.  I uttered a, "Wait!" and he stopped and turned over his left shoulder.  His gaze, his eye, sent an unpleasant chill down my spine as he waited.

"What does 'Veleno' mean?"

He offered me up a weak smile before continuing his descent, leaving my question unanswered.

The next twenty minutes went by quickly.  I gathered as much of "my" stuff as I could.  Most of it included clothes that Liam had bought me, a toothbrush, and a few haircare essentials that he had sent other men out to get for me.  I thought it was quite convenient that I had a suitcase waiting for me but I found it crazy that I was having trouble fitting everything into it.  Especially from the fact that I had practically come here with nothing.

I was in the middle of suppressing my crying due to the fact that the bedroom wasn't helping with the memories.  I remembered Liam and I's conversations on the balcony, to where I poured his alcohol down the drain, to when he kneeled before me as I sat on the bed.  Plenty of tears had been shed here, but mostly laughter, lots of hugs, and kisses.  I brought a hand to my eyes and the tear was just about to fall when they came in.

Rosalie marched in first, her tiny body covered by a hoodie so large it looked like a dress on her.  She wore a hat, the brim sideways as she sauntered in.  I let out a laugh as she threw the hood up and danced her way to a corner of the room.  The music was faint and I wasn't exactly sure where it was coming from till I turned around, facing the doorway.

"Eenie meeny miney mo, catch a bad chick by her toe, if she holla (if, if, if, she holla) let her go."

Federico De Santis stood in the doorway for all of two seconds, a song that I recognized playing from a bedazzled, older edition iPod.  He, too, wore a dark hoodie and a hat, his hood, however, was thrown up over his head.  It casted a shadow over the majority of his face but I did catch the upturn of his lips as he danced past me to join Rosalie.

Rosie sang first, throwing up presumed gang signs.  Rico needed to stop.  "She's indecisive."

Rico follows, "She can't decide."

"She keeps on lookin'."

"From left to right," I let out an amused laugh as they stay synchronized, both of them looking from left to right just as the lyrics say.

I lean back on my heels and fold my arms across my chest, happiness bubbling inside me at the scene unfolding.  Although Rosalie was a bit off-tune, she kept up, "Girl c'mon get closer."

And again, Rico finishes it with, "Look in my eyes."

"-Searching is so wrong."

"I'm Mr. Right!"

I laugh, hard, as the two dance to the beat.  It's hardly synchronized but for the next few lines they spin in circles and stifle their laughter.  My smile was so wide I swore my face was going to split and it only grew as they hit the chorus.

"You can't make up your mind, mind, mind, mind, mind!"

I nearly fall to the floor in laughter as Rosalie drops to the ground, clutching her stomach at the amount of breath that last line took from her.  The music fades and the beat is replaced with laughter.  I lean up against the wall as our laughter is replaced with heavy breathing and I can't help but allow my attention to drift from Rosie to the man lying face-first on the bed.

Even from here, despite the hoodie, I could see Rico's crisp, boyish smile.  My cheeks warmed as I turned to Rosie, who was still trying to gather herself on the floor.  She stands suddenly, resting her hands on either side of her hips.  "Uncle Rico! You were definitely off beat!"

"Me?!" He rolls over on the bed and stretches arm, resting his hand behind his head.  The move forces his hoodie to come up a bit, revealing the lower portion of his abdomen.  "I thought I did excellent."

Rosalie just laughs as she hops on the bed, then on her uncle Rico.  His smile grows as she pulls him close, muttering in his chest.  Rico hears her, as do I.  "I'm so glad you're back, Uncle Rico! I hope you don't leave!"

Federico sits up as Rosie hops off and bounds out the room, an obvious pep in her step.  She didn't look back to notice the crestfallen face on her uncle; she didn't notice the way his smile vanished suddenly, or the dark look that crossed his face after her words.  I close the door after she goes and turn back to him, watching now as he slides off the bed and lets out a loud, frustrated sounding sigh.

My smile dimmers, but it doesn't fade.  Just seeing Rico – all in one piece, might I add – was enough to smile.  "Your reaction to her statement is a clear giveaway," I clear my throat and hold my head up, just praying that the dam didn't break.  "You're leaving?"

He takes a step forward, his head bent just a bit.  He motions to the suitcase and looks up at me, "I could ask you the same thing."

I went to answer but I caught myself.  The feeling of my throat growing tight and my vision slowly blurring was enough to know what was to come.  Federico noticed my quick hesitation and he looks to my feet.  I pull my bottom lip into my mouth and sway on the balls of my feet, shaking my head as if that was going to stop the tears from eventually falling.

Something told me where this conversation was bound to head and I didn't want it to reach its destination.

Goodbye.

When I first met Federico, those were the first words I felt the urge to say.  I hadn't wanted him in my life and for a while, my feelings for him stayed that way.  But now, today, I didn't want him to leave – I didn't want to leave.  The inevitable "goodbye" had been pending for a while and now that everything was practically over, it was sitting before us but neither of us wanted to say it.  Neither of us wanted the conversation to drift that way, even if it would whether we liked it or not.

Having found the emotional strength, I spoke up, "I don't want to leave, you know I don't, but—" I bite my lip and fall silent for another second, "—but both Liam and your father say it's the best thing to do." I look away before adding, "There's nothing I can do here, there's nothing I can do for either Dom or Liam."

For the first time in a long time, Federico doesn't have a verbal response for me.  He just nods and looks about the room, avoiding eye contact with me.

My next statement throws him way off, "I wanted to thank you."

His head jerks back to me and I could just envision him frowning beneath the brim of his hat.  "For?"

"For protecting me."

"I was paid to do so," was his simple reply, "and even if I wasn't, I still would. I still will." He looks away again, "Even after you go home, after we..."  His jaw clenches and this time, he's the one that stops talking.

I take a nervous step forward, anticipating his next few words.  "After we say goodbye?"

He nods quietly and a peaceful silence falls over us.  I felt my jaw clench as a tear slipped out my eye, leaving a distinct line as it slid down my cheek and rolled off my jaw.  Federico noticed the tear, his eyes locked on to it and he followed its journey all the way down my cheek and off my face.  His eyes fell to my feet, staring in the general area of where the tear fell.

"After I left you the other night, when everything went down, did you think I left you to fend for yourself?" He shoves the hoodie off his head, plucks the hat off next and tosses it neatly on the bed.  My stomach dropped at the condition his youthful face was in.  He had a black eye, a large black and blue bruise on the side of one cheek, and the corner of his upper lip was in a bad shape.  There was nothing I could say and instead, I just made my way towards him.  My hands found either side of his cheeks for just a second, before they fall to his abdomen.  I wrap my arm around his rigged body and pull him close.

I could feel Rico tense even more beneath my touch but slowly and I mean slowly, he relaxed.  I felt him sling an arm around my shoulder, then another, and he finally pulled me closer to him.  The question had been asked in anticipation for an answer, but this was the best I was going to do.  I found myself reflecting more on the fact that I've found better friends in three months then I have in 21 years.

I closed my eyes and just held him, hoping that if I squeezed him enough, he wouldn't continue to fall apart.

Federico was growing uncomfortable at the length of the ongoing hug; I could sense that by the way shifting in his stance.  But before I released him, I was determined to get out a question of my own.  "I want you to answer this question for me, please," I mumble against his hoodie and once he grunts, I continue, "If Vincenzo didn't come get you, would you have stayed in that burning room?"

The time between my question and his pending answer was long enough to cause concern.

"I had no reason to leave that room."

That was just a more complicated way of saying, "no."

We had both pulled back from the hug by now and he brushed past me, slowly distancing ourselves.  I let out a disappointed, "Rico," forcing him to hold a hand up to stop me from continuing.

"Don't," He shakes his head, "You don't understand what it's like to want to be happy, but you can't be.  You don't know what it's like to lay in bed till four in the morning because your anxiety won't let you sleep.  You don't know what it's like to pour a handful of pills, or put a gun to your head, or put a knife to your throat because the little voice in your head is telling you to do it,"  A tear falls from his face as he turns away from me, adding softly, "It's not like anyone is going to care anyways."

I let out a sigh and take a step towards him, hoping with all my heart he didn't notice.

"You..." I was unsure of how to approach this, so I did my best, "You don't come off to me as someone suffering," I let out a breath, "You keep up a perfect façade, Rico, and you walk around and joke and tease and nobody knows and because nobody knows, nobody can help you." I felt him jump as I pressed a hand to his bicep in a comforting manner.  I lower my voice, "You can't keep walking around, pretending like everything is okay, when it's not.  You need to want help to be helped."

He turned around slowly, digesting my words.  He gave me a quizzical look and I smiled, hoping he had something positive to say back to me, but he didn't.  His eyebrows touched and the red in his eyes slowly faded as he threw the hood back atop his head.  Rico dropped to the bed, the mattress squealing in distress under his weight.

"I'm sorry I even brought this shit up."

"No, Rico," I turn to him and the words are already out of my mouth before I realized it, "Don't—" and then I can't help but sigh.  He tilts his head up, his hands resting in his lap as he eyes me with innocence.  The wall was back up, the emotion in his hazel eyes long removed.  The smile that crossed his face was far from authentic, but to anyone else it was real, it was cute.  He stood up and I just shook my head.  "How does a smile so fake look so...beautiful?"

His response was to point over my shoulder, indicating the presence of someone else in the room.  I turned around at his hand motion, only to find a well-dressed man waiting for me.  I wouldn't admit out loud that I was slightly disappointed it wasn't the man dressed like an angel from earlier.  He was interesting, intriguing even and I wanted to learn more about him.

"Ms. Crawford, your suitcase is ready?" I nod and step towards the man, pulling the suitcase along with me.  He grabs it and smiles, glancing over my shoulder at Federico as he does so.  "You should probably hurry up, Vincenzo needs the plane and he's on a strict schedule.  The sooner we drop you off, the sooner we can return to business."  He nods in politeness and backs up out the room.

I whirl around, my eyebrows lifted.  "The plane?  Tell me why I thought I was flying Southwest Airlines."

Both Rico and I shift into a round of giggles before my name is called once again, "Ms. Crawford!"  I stand back upright and purse my lips closed, my gaze drifting over Federico's face once more.  His lips were turned upwards but his eyes remained dull and dreary, not nearly as bright as I've seen them.  Or maybe I've just been lucky enough to see his hazel eyes brighten up because deep down I did sense that it didn't happen nearly as often as I thought.

The thought made me sad and I felt a weight rest on my shoulders as I turned and slowly strutted towards the door.  Federico's head simply dropped as I reached for the handle and turned, my heart already clenching at the anticipation of our next few words.

"Whatever you do," Rico's voice forced me to pause and turn back to him. His words caused my heart to skip a beat.  "don't forget about me."

I let out a genuine laugh, "You aren't easy to forget."

I was blessed to see the smile once more before he bowed his head, his attention falling to his lap.  I step through the doorway and I was about to close the door when something came to mind.  I leaned forward and spoke up, but his attention never drifted towards me.  Yet, I knew, he was listening.

"You're going to go back and get Liam, right?"

His non-answer was enough.

I click my tongue against the root of my mouth and back out the room, closing the door as I did so.  "Of course you will."

- - - -

If you would've told me that when I left Los Angeles, when I left Liam, when I left all my newly acquired friends that I would do so with Vincenzo De Santis by my side, I would've called you crazy.  But that was exactly how my "goodbye" to the beautiful city played out.  There were no hugs, no kisses, no laughs, or smiles.  There was no Liam, no Rico or Dominic, no Rosalie or Zara.  Hell, William wasn't even there.

That was one week and 2 days ago.

A week and two days since I last talked to Rico.

A week and two days since I last spoke to Rosalie, who only ended up running away from me and crying when I told her I had to leave.  "You can't leave! Liam would've never left you!"

A week and two days had passed since I uttered my condolences to Zara, apologizing for the loss of her first love.

A week and a few days since I had last seen Liam, last heard his voice, last hugged him.

And in that week, I had fallen in a boring, predictable routine.  I walked around with my phone attached to my hip, hoping and praying I would receive a phone call or a text, updating me on the situation back home.  Then I would realize my use of the word home and blush, mutter a curse, and continue about my day.

I established a goal the first day I got back to clean at least one thing a day and I was doing well sticking to it.  I focused on cleaning out the refrigerator one day, the next I wiped the glass and mirrors clean, followed by dusting and wiping down wood.  In just a week, I made the house look as though someone had been living in it for three months.  Mission accomplished.

Typically, I would take a break from cleaning and drop to the sofa, flipping on the television in search of the only news I wanted to hear.  But nobody was talking about it and by it I meant Liam's situation.  And day after day, my heart would pound against my chest as I flipped through the news channels in desperation, wanting nothing more than to see the name of the man I love scrolling across the bottom of the screen.  And every day, I would be disappointed because indeed, there was nothing.  I even got desperate enough to flip to CNN.

They let me down too.

Then in frustration, I would shut the television off and toss the remote somewhere in front of me and huff.  I would soon wallow in the silence of the building that I had once called my home, but as I sat there, I felt out of place.  That's how I was feeling now as the silence practically overwhelmed me.  The sofa that I had once adored to sleep on, was suddenly hard and uninviting.  The material of my pillow I was cuddling was hard, not graced with song, plush feathers like the pillows in Liam's home.  The blanket in my hand was rough to the touch, not even close to the fuzzy blankets I remember cuddling in LA.

I let out a groan and angled my head to face the door.  From here, I could see the sunlight streaming through the blinds of the windows I had yet to open.  The forecaster had predicted excellent weather for the next few days.  75 degrees, clear skies, few clouds, and a refreshing breeze for the nearing of the end of summer.  It was the type of weather everyone dreamed of, yet, here I was sitting inside, completely uninterested in the outside world.

I turned back to face the television screen, eyeing my reflection in it.  My parents were due home tomorrow afternoon and I wasn't even excited, quite frankly, I didn't feel like I cared as much as I should've.  I had far more important things on my mind as I slid down in the sofa, groaning loudly.  When I realized that more of my body was on the floor than on the sofa, I shot up to my feet and decided to take things into my own hands.  If nobody was going to reach out to me, I would have to reach out to them.

Zara and I hadn't exchanged numbers, which I ended up realizing was an incredibly stupid thing to do.  I could've used it right about now.  I called William first, his phone was off and I decided against leaving a message.  Liam's phone number was probably the most useless one in my contacts at the moment, but for some reason, I clicked it and waited, the dial-tone humming in my ear as the call processed.

I was just about to hang up when the line picked up.

I frowned at the silence that greeted me and slowly, I spew out, "Hello?"

"Hi."

My frown only deepens at the weird-sounding voice on the other end.  It didn't sound masculine.  "Um," I pull my phone away from me ear and glance at the number on the screen.  The contact name I had for Liam was up there and I knew I had the correct number, "This number belongs to Liam..." I felt weird saying his last name also, but I did anyways, "...Liam Luciano, right?"

"No," the faux deep voice said, "This is Patrick!"

The fit of giggling that followed answered my next question.

Rosie.

I rolled my eyes as I dropped to the sofa.  I rested a hand on my cheek and balanced my elbows on my knees as I spoke.  "Rosie, why do you have your brother's phone?"

There was some muffling coming from the other side of the phone, as if she wasn't standing still.  Her breathing was uneven and I could see voices in the background; it sounded like the T.V.  "Because," her high voice said, "I got to visit him a while ago and the police said they didn't need it anymore.  So they gave it to mom—"  The muffled sound returned, only to leave once Rosie added, "—I mean, Liam's mom."

My heart practically jumped at that, "You got to see him?"

"Yeah..." her voice faded and I knew I was already losing her attention.  I quirked an eyebrow, hoping to get some details but her laugh filled the air and I realized she was done with the topic.

"Rosie, is Zara there?"

"Nope! She went out earlier, she said she'd be back later. Did you want to talk to her?"

I let out a sigh, "I did."

"Okay! I'll tell her to call you."

"Okay," I felt my voice strain and I rushed to add, "wait, Rosie?"  She mumbled something into the phone and I continued, "Is Uncle Rico still there?"

I could practically see her face fall, "No," She muttered, "He left a long time ago."

My interrogation never stopped, "He left with his dad?"

"Uh huh, I miss him."

"Me too," There went another sigh, "I'll talk to you later, Rosie and don't forget to tell Zara."

"I won't. Oh and Ms. Faith?"

"Yes, Dear?"

"Liam has a lot of pictures of you on here and a video."

I frown, "Sweetheart, I don't think it's a good idea to go through his photos.  You might—"

"But it's funny!" She whines, "You were sleeping and it made him laugh," Rosalie's voice drops significantly in volume, "...I like watching it, his laugh makes me laugh.  I miss him."

I lean over on the sofa and close my eyes, suppressing the tears.  "I miss him too."

The line is quiet for a long while and I'm pretty sure after a few silent minutes that I hear crying.  "Bye, Ms. Faith," then the line goes dead.

I run a hand down my face in frustration and annoyance.  I wasn't annoyed at the little girl, but mostly frustrated at the fact that I still knew nothing.  However, I didn't let one dead end ruin my search.  It took only a minute to grab my laptop and power it on, clicking on the internet icon and waiting for my google search bar to load.

I typed in one name.

Vincenzo De Santis

I bit my lip, my finger hovering over the 'enter' button.  I wasn't exactly sure why I thought this was a good idea, but a part of me was hoping his phone number would magically pop up at the top of my search.  My head bobbed from left to right and before I confirmed the search, I added:

Detroit, Michigan

Then I hit 'enter'.

I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was disappointed when a Wikipedia profile didn't pop up for him.  Within the first few seconds I realized that I wasn't going to find out what I wanted, but my nosy ass continued to scroll down the results.

The first things to pop up were photos.  A few photos were of burly men with chest hair and I knew that wasn't the Vincenzo I knew.  But the longer I scrolled, the more accurate the photos became.  Most of the photos were taken without him noticing; one was of him exiting an exotic vehicle outside of a courthouse.  Men in black suits surrounded him and you could tell the media was trying to get as many photos as they could.

I scrolled some more, noting a few more interesting pictures. He looked even younger in these, his curly hair was short and less bushy.  His shoulders weren't as broad and his chin lacked the facial hair he had now.  This time, he – along with the congregation – was standing in a courtroom before a judge.  The room looked packed, but from the angle this picture was taken, all you could focus on was Vincenzo's jawline.

The four other pictures I found resembled the others.  The only thing different was the fact that whenever Vincenzo appeared before a courthouse, his suit would change and he would look younger than the photos previous.  So, he's been caught more than once, was really all I could tell from them.

A few articles from the Detroit paper popped up with his name, Vincenzo De Santis, in bold.  The oldest article was dated back as far as 1990.  I whistled, I wasn't even born then.  My eyes scanned over articles from 1993, 1999, 2004, and 2015.

The first article started off with: 4 counts of murder at the age of 16?

I scanned the article, dismissing useless information.  My eyes ran over one line and I frowned.

16 year old, Vincenzo De Santis, acquitted for the murders of 4 beloved Detroit natives. – 1990.

I noted a pattern as I read on, one word being repeated over and over.

Vincenzo De Santis acquitted for the murder of 37 year old, Demetri Rhymes. – 1999.

Man acquitted for the murders of 9 local gang members. – 2004.

I was practically trembling by the time I scrolled down, skipping a few years – and a few other headlines – as I did so. Vincenzo had been documented three times and all three times, he had been acquitted, found not guilty all three times.  The likelihood of that was mind-blowing and I knew, I knew, the jury had nothing to do with it – it was his name.  It had to have been.

No one man should have all that power.

I rolled my way to the top, clicking the most recent link I could find.  It was exactly three days old.

The Judge that was ordered to see Vincenzo De Santis's assault case was shot dead outside of his home this morning, around 10:05 EST.  The hearing was set for September and will be pushed back due to unforeseen circumstances.

I slammed my laptop closed and shut my eyes, taking a few deep breaths.

After a few silent moments, I pushed my laptop off my lap and shook my head, "Forget this." I quickly grabbed my phone and pulled up my contacts, confused as to why I didn't do this in the first place.  I tapped "Rico" and pressed the phone to my ear, waiting.

I didn't have to wait long.

"I'm sorry, but the number you have dialed is no longer in service—"

I wish I could've seen my own reaction.  Not believing it, I dialed his number again, then two times, three times, and I whispered up a prayer and dialed again.  I received the same message each time and on the end of the fourth attempt, I threw my phone.  It was still sailing through the air when my eyes teared up and I fell over on the sofa, crying as the sound of my phone thudding against the floor filled my ears.

I cried and fell asleep.

Because that's how I deal with my stress.

- -

a/n: for part 2, keep scrolling...