a/n: I apologize for the wait! I literally had to update from a library because my Wifi isn't working, but now that I work more, I hardly have time to write. However, Thanks for being patient!

[if you couldn't tell by the title and don't follow me], I have indeed entered Luciano into the Wattys this year. Like I said on my wall, I appreciate the love and support this story has received from all of you! I never imagined to get this much love on this story and it's incredible. I appreciate you all so much.

As for those that are asking about the voting, I'm still learning everything about the Wattys because when I joined and started writing last year, I completely blew it off and didn't truly understand how everything happened, so if you know more and want to add info in the comments BY ALL MEANS, GO AHEAD!

The People's Choice award is the one award that (if I'm not mistaken) you all can vote on. Voting starts August 1ston Twitter. To nominate, just type = "[story title]" #MyWattysChoice

NOW SCREAM IF YOU LIKE LONG CHAPTERS!

[P.S. I had to update this chapter from the library because my wifi is being an ass at my house. I apologize for any errors. ENJOY!]

- - - -

"If you think Federico De Santis is crazy, then you haven't met me." – Vincenzo De Santis

- - - -

Federico De Santis had contemplated suicide on multiple occasions in his lifetime. The thought often crossed his mind, but he had only attempted on going through with it a handful of times. He had tried two different tactics on two different nights, but each of them had the same result. The first night he had put a gun to his head, he had closed his eyes, and he had also clicked off the safety. The second night, he had dumped a half of bottle of sleeping pills into his hands and brought them to his mouth, but similar to the previous night, he hesitated. It angered him, straight to the core, simply because he could kill others without batting an eyelash. But when it came to himself, he didn't have the balls to pull the trigger, nor did he have the guts to swallow.

Rico didn't know much when he woke up; just that he was alone and in an unbearable amount of pain. His eyes were heavy, weighed down and they stung due to the amount of tears that had fallen just hours previously. His breathing was shallow but still caused him to wince whenever he inhaled and exhaled. He hardly moved, but when he did shift from his position on the floor, pain flared in his back and he dropped back to the ground and rested his cheek against the cool concrete. It was the only thing at the moment that felt good.

He could see the whip that had been used resting in one corner of the room, his own blood having stained the material. Slowly, his attention fluttered over to his shirt, his weapons, and lastly, his phone that Peter's men had thrown in the farthest corner of the room, far out of his reach. He stared at his pile of belongings longingly, but didn't budge towards them. What Rico couldn't see, were the marks that had been inflicted on his back; they ran horizontally, from the left side of his back to the right. A few even wrapped around to the front. There were six or seven wounds that were deeper than the others and sadly, they easily threatened to leave permanent scars on his back.

Grayson, Federico; he was never one to regret. He had slayed the lives of many; from crooked bank tellers that did his family wrong, to strippers that had stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars from his father. He had killed people with guns and knives, with throat-cutters, and other miscellaneous objects that he had found around their home upon entry. He had even slipped poison in a woman's drink while seducing her, only to watch her topple over, dead, before he even had the opportunity to take off his shirt. He never regretted it, but what he did regret, was attempting to take his own life.

The sayings were true; you never truly appreciate something until its gone; and in Rico's case, until it's hanging by a thread in front of you.

No one knows how long he laid there, attempting to focus on his breathing in hopes his concentration dulled the pain. He didn't even attempt to move, knowing the consequence of his actions would cause him pain; pain he didn't feel as though he was strong enough to bare at this exact moment in time.

With his eyes closed and his breathing even, his thoughts wandered. They drifted from his house in Detroit where he grew up, to the multitude of states he had visited in his lifetime. His father had even allowed him to venture out the country for jobs, which had always been his favorite opportunities. Then they landed on Liam, on Dominic, Rosalie, and lastly on Faith. Although the men at his father's home would often try to include him and make him feel as though he was part of a family, he never felt as though he was. He was an asset that brought in thousands of dollars. With Liam and every acquaintance he's made since he's been in Los Angeles, he's felt like he was a part of something; whether that was a group of close knit friends, or even family.

The echoing slap that bounced off the concrete walls seemed louder than it should've been. Federico's palms burned as he rolled over on his stomach and dropped his forehead to the ground. He let out a loud, "Fuck", followed by tears and the shaking of his shoulders as he cried.

He wasn't a pretty sight; blood rolled down the sides of his back and sweat caused his hair to dampen and stick to his head and forehead, giving it a wet appearance. Giving up was never in Federico's nature, he was taught to fight even after the ending bell rung and the situation he was put in, angered him. He was helpless and despite the amount of will he had to get up in his heart, his muscles failed him. His arms shook as he attempted to push himself up to his knees, but they failed almost immediately.

"Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground."

It had been a moment of complete silence until Rico could've sworn a radio was playing Taylor Swift in the background. "Fuck you, Taylor," was all he could mutter as the room grew hotter and the song that he had listened to just a few hours before ran through his head; then he heard it. It was a soft chirp that was clearly muffled, but similar to when a puppy hears a knock on their master's door, Rico lifted his head. He knew what it was immediately; his phone. It was a warning, a notification that lit up his phone on a daily basis, warning him that his battery was low and needed charging as soon as possible.

The chirp was all the motivation Federico needed. Maybe it was the fact that he knew his only form of communication, his only source of help, was about to die that motivated him. Or maybe, it was a simple reminder for Rico that he wasn't about to die here, like this, nor by the hands of Peter Corinelli.

He gritted his teeth together and mentally prepared himself for the pain that he knew would ripple through his body like a wave. Standing was easier thought of, than done. Rico didn't even stand up straight, but he was more in a hunched over type of stance as he stumbled towards his belongings. The pain he had anticipated had been ten times worse and like it, he couldn't control the tears that rushed to the corners of his hazel eyes and fell. His legs threatened to give out from beneath him, clearly not able to support his two hundred pound frame. By the time he fell to the floor, much closer to his belongings, he was breathing heavily and the tears were freefalling, rolling down his cheeks at a rapid rate.

The excruciating pain clouded his thoughts, causing him to let out a cry that he truly didn't mean. "God, just kill me. Just...kill me," The silence was eventually interrupted by his sobs and the sound of Rico coughing. He had to lay still for a moment, hoping his world would stop spinning and his vision would finally clear.

Federico finally took the opportunity to reach for his phone, but not after it alerted him once more about the battery. He lifted it to his face and squinted his eyes; the battery percentage that his phone was displaying was far worse than Rico had initially thought. Instead of twenty percent, it was at five.

With his phone critically low, he types in the only number he knows by heart and presses the phone against his ear. He called the one person he knew would answer his call no matter what time of day it was. Seven years ago, at the age of fifteen, Vincenzo De Santis had promised Rico that he would always aid him if needed. "Just call me Rihanna," He had said, "Because you can stand under my umbrella. Ella, Ella—" Federico had punched the man that had rightfully adopted him, causing the two to laugh. But the memory never faded, nor did Vincenzo's oath of always being there to protect him.

The distant dialing of the phone grew dim in Rico's ear before it finally faded, signaling to the man that his call had indeed been answered. The infamous, "What's up, Bitch?" greeting by Vincenzo never came, as if the man already knew that his son was in trouble. Federico was thankful, because he spoke up as loudly as he could.

"Help me," Rico tried to keep his voice from cracking, he tried to keep himself from sounding weak and pathetic, but he knew he had failed. "Please," A sob escaped his lips and his entire façade flew out the door. He knew he was desperate when he called Vincent, 'Dad'. "Dad, please."

Footsteps; they were so loud in Rico's ear he could've sworn someone was standing right beside him. But he didn't turn his head or open his eyes, he knew damn well it was Vincent walking through his home. "Where are you?" It was one of the many questions Rico had assumed he would be asked, but also one he didn't really know. Vincenzo's voice was deep and filled with concern.

"I, I don't—"

The other line of the phone went dead silent and it stayed like that for what felt like a lifetime. There was no sign of anyone of the other end of the line, causing Rico to pull his phone away from his ear in worry, frightened that his phone's battery had died. His hands shook involuntarily and although Rico would never admit it, he wished his father would speak up; at least he would know he wasn't alone.

"Pinned your location," Federico let out a sigh of relief as Vincenzo continued, "I've had a team out there in that area for the past two weeks. I'll send them your location and we'll have you extracted out of there in twenty minutes, give or take."

Vincent couldn't see Rico shaking his head from left to right vigorously. The younger man's heart rate quickened just at the thought of staying down here that much longer. "No, no, no, please," He took a deep breath, "Ten minutes," Rico suggested.

The silence this time seemed to last even longer than the last; but unlike last time, Rico didn't pull his phone away from his ear in a panic. He concentrated on his breathing and waited for the familiar accented voice to float through the ear piece of his cell phone.

"How's five?"

Rico made the grave mistake of nodding again. He let out a mumble of a response, but internally, he would forever be grateful.

"And Federico?"

Rico let out a grunt, forcing his father to continue.

"Whoever did this to you, promise me one thing."

"Anything."

Vincenzo's voice dropped an octave or two and gained a tone that Federico was all too familiar with. It was a tone of seriousness, one that Vinny only used when he didn't want to repeat himself. His words were a parting message for Federico; words that Rico took to the heart and vowed that he would do.

"Fuck 'em up."

- - - -

"Uno."

"Hah! Draw four, loser!"

Liam throws his remaining Uno card up in the air and I follow it, watching as it flutters and lands on top his head. It sits there for all of three seconds before falling off and landing in his lap, face up. "Are you fucking kidding me," He groans and throws his head back multiple times against the cushions of the sofa in a form of frustration. This was the fourth game that we had played and every time Luciano had come close to winning, I snatched victory right out the palm of his hands. The game ended the minute I glanced at his yellow seven.

I yelled "Uno" and watched as Liam drew four more cards, only to slap down my final blue card down for the win. My celebration had only just begun; jumping to my feet, I did my own little shimmy – one that included the flailing of the arms and awkward hip movements. My victory dance however wasn't the best part, but Liam's reaction was; his lips were pursed together and he had a look of sheer defeat written all over his face. Yet, despite the serious look he tried to etch out, I couldn't help but notice the slight twitching of his bottom lip, as if he was trying to smile but forced himself not to.

After rubbing it in his face for a second or two longer, I dropped back to the carpeted floor and crisscrossed my legs, all while letting out a satisfied, "Ah." Liam watched me all the while, a glare now crossing his handsome features. In my attempt to ignore him, I reached out and started gathering a few of the Uno cards that had been scattered around our legs. I put them together in a neat pile before finally speaking up, "You want to play another game?"

We had already played four games and the time had passed as quickly as we had liked, but I could tell Liam still wasn't impressed once he shot a glance at his wristwatch. I let out a sigh, knowing good and well why his eyebrows creased up and his teasing, yet playful look was switched with an expression of true anxiousness. Liam and I had arrived back at his now nearly empty home just a few minutes after nine p.m. In an attempt to kill time, we got comfortable and settled in his living room for a few games of Uno while we waited for Dominic and Federico to make their return; but with eleven p.m. slowly approaching and no call and, or, text from either of them, I could feel Liam's concern growing.

"Dominic and Federico can take care of themselves, you know this," I could sense the urgency in my voice and I know Liam did too; I said this as if I had confidence, but I could feel it wavering and I'm absolutely positive Luciano sensed it too. He gave me a closed lip, half smile and pulled himself to his feet. He adjusts the sweatpants that had ridden up on him and pulls his shirt down before addressing me.

"They both bleed red, Fi. They're human and they're vulnerable." He extends a hand to me, one that I grab and use to pull myself up. My reply gets caught in my throat as I look up, only to meet Luciano's gaze. Liam could have responded, he could have added to his statement, but he didn't have to. His words struck my heart without having to be repeated. He watched me as my mouth fell open and I stuttered. When I didn't say anything after a while, Liam just grabbed my hand and nodded towards the exit. "Come, I want to show you something."

I nearly tripped multiple times as Liam practically dragged me through his home. His legs were longer, causing his steps to be wider, forcing me to an almost jog to keep up. I was laughing by the time we slipped into the dining room, a smile was on my face and I was breathless. We let go of hands and I stepped to the side, forcing a hand through my hair. Luciano glanced over his shoulder at me a few times before tearing his eyes away from me and focusing his attention on the large dining room table.

I was impressed with the size and decoration of the room. Every piece of furniture and the walls matched to perfection; either Liam was an excellent interior designer or the person that he had hired was very good at their job. For the first time, I noticed the small, decorative pieces of artwork that hung along one side of the wall; but it wasn't until I finally glanced at Liam and zoned in on what he was staring at, did my pulse begin to race.

He had pushed two of the dining chairs apart and squeezed in between them. Liam used the table to support his weight, pressing his palms against the wood. His eyes were scanning the large, white sheet of paper that lay before him. It was ginormous if I had to be honest; but I couldn't read it in detail until I slipped in beside Luciano and glanced at it for myself.

The writing on the paper was faint, as if whoever had marked it had used a light, mechanical pencil. I squinted and pulled the paper closer to me for further examining. The penmanship was impressive and legible. I read a few words that stood out to me, "Kitchen, Living Room, Closet." I frowned and glanced up at Liam out the corner of my eye, my eyebrows slowly creasing together. He didn't return my stare.

Luciano's hand slowly starting tracing the larger square; from top to bottom. His thumb ran along the lower portion of the page before he started talking, "Rico outlined every portion of Corinelli's mansion by memory. He drew the layout of the man's house in a matter of thirty minutes."

My mouth dropped.

Now that I looked at it closely, I could see it. Federico had drawn a larger square, indicating the floor, and inside the larger square he had sectioned off portions and labeled them, 'Kitchen', 'Dining Room', 'Bathroom'. You could see a few places where he had scribbled and then erased his error. My hand ran along Federico's hand-drawn display of Peter Corinelli's home just as I let out a long breath.

"Wow, this is..." I was at a loss for words, especially after Liam flipped the page, showing me another sketch. This sketch portrayed Corinelli's second floor, at least what Federico remembered. I didn't really know what to say, so I just stared at it. What I couldn't wrap my mind around was the fact that someone could actually remember, memorize, a house that large and then come back and sketch it to perfection. "Rico did this?"

Liam finally glanced at me, letting out a soft laugh. "You sound surprised."

"This is the same man that introduced himself to me as Olaf. I think I have a good reason to be skeptical."

Luciano let out a clear, loud laugh. His smile was bright, but it didn't show in his eyes; they were dull, tired looking. It was clear that the sleep he got last night wasn't restful and I had expected that. He brushes a few eraser shavings off the paper. "Rico is smart; don't let the continuous sexual jokes and his love for Disney movies fool you." Liam shoots me a smile before turning back to the papers.

I was in the middle of turning to look at the clock that hung on the wall, when a gentle knock caused me to whirl around. Luciano took his time in glancing up, as if the layout of Corinelli's house was more important than the person that was calling for his attention. William and another blonde haired man stood at the door, their expressions were neutral.

The two didn't wait for Liam's order to speak to begin talking. William mouthed a greeting in my direction prior to smiling at me, while the other man rushed towards me. "Hi," he said and extended his hand, "I'm not quite sure if we've met properly, but I'm Timothy." We shared pleasantries as Liam watched, his arms folded. By the time Tim stepped back, Luciano was already making a motion with his hand, hurrying the two along with whatever they came here to tell him.

"You have a call on line one," William spoke up.

"- a video call," Tim adds, "To be precise."

Liam blinks, glances at me, then turns back to them. "It's almost eleven o'clock. I'm not taking any calls at this hour."

William and Tim shoot odd looks at each other out the corner of theirs eyes before shifting their weight to their opposite foot. Will clears his throat first, then Timothy. "About that," William laughs, "I don't know about you, Liam, but I really enjoy my life and I, personally, don't want to die—"

Tim steps up, "What William is trying to say, is that we told the caller we didn't think you would take his call at this hour."

"What did he say?" Liam steps forward.

"He said..." Will and Tim look at each other again. It was clear they were growing uncomfortable. Tim continues, "He said that if we didn't put his call through, he would find us...find our mothers... and shove us back up her vagina--."

"—head first," William adds with his index finger in the air.

A smile crosses Liam's face, one that I do not share. I didn't find whoever's threat funny, but quite painful at the thought. Luciano's laughter started as a low chuckle which ended up evolving in full blow, shoulder shaking laughter. His head was bowed, his arms still crossed as his laughter filled the room; William, Timothy, and I just glanced at each other. I was pretty sure Luciano had lost it by the time he looked up with tears in his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a breath of air before pointing to one of the two men. "Put him through."

Luciano brushed past me without a second look and he was quickly trailed by Tim, Will, and finally me. We marched back through the house and into the living room Liam and I had just been occupying. I was completely lost and confused, so when Will and Tim veered to the left to head back to where they came from, I let my questions go. "Who is it? Why are—"

Liam's jaw went slack as he prepared to answer my questions, but a voice that didn't match his answered me. It started with a deep laughter and was followed up by a voice that matched. It was deep and was laced with an accent much thicker than Liam's, far more authentic. "Ms. Crawford," I felt my body tense under my name, "Questions like that get you killed."

Luciano didn't tear his gaze away from me at the sound of another voice in the room; instead, he quirked an eyebrow and a corner of his lip pulled up in a teasing manner. When I turned my head towards the sound of the voice, towards the television, so did Liam. Maybe it was fear or maybe it was adrenaline that rushed through my body that urged me forward, closer. A man stood on screen, his hands folded neatly in front his body, his fingers interlocked together. He stood with his head held high and he seemed to carry himself with dignity and honor; he was important, that much was obvious.

I couldn't exactly determine his height from here, but he was nowhere near short. His hair was dark and curly and it stuck to his forehead like a wet mop; it curled around his diamond studded ears and a few curly strands fell over his forehead. It was clear that this man had either been sweating, or had just taken a shower only a few minutes before. His lips were thin and his complexion was a tad darker than Dominic's, indicating to me that he had to be of a mixed race. He wore a black, sleeveless, skin-tight Under Armour workout shirt; between every muscle in his chest, it dipped and hugged his abdomen like another layer of skin. Then my attention fell to his arms; both arms were covered in black ink – one more than the other. The tattoo sleeve on his left arm seemed uncomplete; it started at his wrist and ended at his elbow. The swirls and patterns etched his entire right arm, all the way up his bicep and shoulder.

There was no way in the world I knew this man, but he knew me.

I didn't have a verbal answer for him at the moment; I just gaped, confused. Liam noticed my hesitation and rested a palm against my lower back. He pulls me close and points at the screen. "Vincenzo, Faith; Faith, Vincenzo."

I still shook my head.

"-De Santis," Liam adds. I could feel the holes his eyes were burning in the top of my head.

Those last two words sealed the deal for me. My mouth fell open and I'm pretty sure I stuttered on the first few words that slipped past my lips. My eyes were certainly the size of saucers as I stepped forward, "Oh my God," I nearly squealed, "Mr. De Santis?!" My excitement died down almost immediately; if Federico was as crazy as he was, I'm certain the man that adopted him was nothing short of insane.

"Vincenzo, Vincent, Vinny; we're friends, Faith, no need for formalities." The man on screen adjusted his stance, angling his body more towards Liam than me. It was a non-verbal way of stating that he was done talking to me. "Liam," He spoke Luciano's name with authority, but he said it in a way of superiority.

"Vincenzo."

Then Vincent was back to me, eyeing me with a look that could've melted ice. "Everything that I say will be confidential; am I right, Faith?" I nod a little too hard, "I trust that everything I say to Luciano will stay between us and only us," I nearly take a step back at his tone, despite the fact that he was miles and miles away from me. "And if it doesn't-"

"-It will," Liam assures him with a nod. I breathe a sigh of relief, but internally I'm bothered. I was prepared to hear the threat Vincenzo was about to lay me with. I sidle back up to Liam's shoulder as he addresses Mr. De Santis again. "What do I owe the pleasure of this conversation to, Vincent?"

There was a period of silence from Vincent's part as he glanced away from the monitor and focused on whatever was distracting him inside the room. I heard a few voices, some mumbling and a tad bit of squeaking. Vincent's hand went up as he shooed the people out the room. The second the sound of a door slamming shut echoed through the speakers around Liam's living room, Vincent's attention was back on us.

His demeanor changed, that was evident. His features hardened and his eyes transformed to mere slits. I could see his biceps constricting as he squeezed his hands. He folds his arms across his chest and he shifts his weight from his left to right foot and back again, before speaking. Liam and I both watched as he stroked the thin layer of facial hair on his chin, searching his vocabulary for words. He pointed at the screen a lot, then laughed and shook his head, changing his mind. I felt the room grow hot.

"See this is why..." He mutters the words to himself before pulling up a seat and dropping in it. I eyed Liam out the corner of my eye just as Vincenzo dropped his head into his hands and sighed loudly, a few muffled curses being heard on our end. He ran his hands down his face before lifting his eyes to meet ours, a look I couldn't discern crossed his face.

His voice started out low, soft, gentle even. "Do you know why Rico called me twenty minutes ago?"

I looked to Liam for the answer, but when Liam shrugged, I figured he didn't have one.

"Well then...here's a hint," I was about to point out Vincenzo's sarcastic tone, but I didn't have the chance. "It wasn't to talk about the motherfucking weather." The look that his eyes held were familiar, I had seen it before, I just couldn't' remember where.

I could see Liam leaning backwards, as did I. We watched in silence as Vincenzo De Santis closed his eyes, brushing his index fingers across either eyelid in a calming manner. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, his tone shaky, but even. "There is not much that can upset Federico. No, he isn't a fan of spiders, nor does he care to talk about his past, but both of those things are bearable; but the type of pain that I heard in his voice tonight... It was nothing I had ever heard before." I could sense Liam tensing from beside me. I could feel my heart beginning to race and I was certain so was Luciano's.

Neither Liam nor I spoke, but I don't think Vincenzo had any problem with that. He truly didn't give Luciano a moment to let out a breath, let alone words. Liam's eyebrows furrowed as Vincent continued to speak, telling us everything we needed to know.

"Federico didn't say much to me," He shifts in his seat, "I didn't expect him to." Vincenzo glances down and to his left. He uses the moment to pause, one that I assume he uses to eye his phone, before turning back to us. "He called for help and help I gave him."

Liam swallowed hard, "Is he okay?"

Vincent picks up his mobile phone and rests it in his lap before nodding, "He's alive—"

"Vincen—" Liam was already beginning to shake his head, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but Mr. De Santis would have nothing of it. With a palm in the air, he paused Luciano mid speech.

"My men that helped him, he kept mentioning something about Peter Corinelli, something about a whip...something about pain..." Vincent's voice fades as the goosebumps rise on my arms. "I called your father," The man clears his throat and his attention drifts back to us, "I couldn't talk to you at the moment, I was angry, pissed that Rico was hurt doing shit for you. But your father, Michael," Vinny laughs, "He explained everything for me; he told me why Peter hated you, why he would probably hurt Federico, he explained it all."

There was a pause and then an, "And?" from Liam.

I remembered where I saw the look in Vincenzo De Santis' eyes now; it was from Rico. The same murderous glare he had shot at Camilla Rodriguez and Peter Corinelli that one evening. It was pure satanic and chill inducing. I took a miniscule step back, one neither Liam nor Vincenzo noticed.

Vincenzo leans forward in his seat now, his back arched and his palms on his thigh. I couldn't help but notice the rings that decorated his fingers; one on his thumb, index, and middle finger. "And if you don't kill him, I will." Liam's mouth fell open as he prepared to speak, but Vincent would have nothing of it. "By the time I'm done with his fucked up ass, he will be crawling into his grave." The veins in his neck pressed against his skin.

"Vince—"

But there was no stopping Vincenzo De Santis once he got going. "He tortured my boy, he fucked with a part of my family; Liam, I don't know how you handle your business, but I end anyone that lays a finger on those I love." He shifts in his seat and the hand motions he uses doesn't help, causing me to wince as his threats wandered into my ears. "I will cut off his dick and shove it so far up his ass it'll get lodged in his throat."

I wince.

Vincent scoots even further off his seat, "I will cut off his head and shit down his neck, you tell Peter Corinelli he better watch who he fucks with." The man leans back in his chair, far more relaxed now. With wide eyes, Liam and I watch as he sighs deeply. His voice was far more even toned as he spoke once more, "I will piss on his grave and ejaculate on his tombstone because I always mark my territory."

He leans forward once more but this time, he whispers, "No demon in hell or on earth will dare to fuck with Peter after I'm done with him, because they'll know he's mine."

Neither of us had words to say.

Sitting back now, he adjusts his shirt and shimmies his shoulders comfortably. His voice raises an octave, "I trust that you'll keep me updated on Federico's condition."

"Ye—sure?" Liam spoke for both of us.

For just a fleeting second, Vincenzo's eyes tear themselves away from the monitor. He glances about his room, before returning his glare to us. "If you think Federico De Santis is crazy, then you haven't met me." With one hand, he makes a swift cutting motion across his neck and within seconds, the live feed ends.

The television displayed a black screen for the longest, quietest, five minutes of my life. I was the one that cleared my throat in hopes it cleared the air, then I spoke. Liam and I's shoulders brushed together as we kept our attention trained on the TV, as if Mr. De Santis was about to pop on screen once more.

"Well," I let out a gentle laugh, "I see where Rico gets it from now."

"Like father like son," Luciano however was the first to move. He had just moved to another side of the room to pick up his phone, when the doorbell rang. He nodded towards the door and I walked out the room and headed in the direction first with Liam following closely behind. His phone had been pressed to his ear before we had exited the living room as he frantically called someone.

I leaned on my tip-toes to glance out the peep-hole. When I shot a look over my shoulder at Liam, his head was bowed and he was typing another number into his phone. I watched him hit Dominic's contact before putting the phone back to his ear and closing his eyes. I didn't wait for his authorization to open the door.

Federico barged into the house causing me to jump to the side. Liam's eyes went wide and his phone fell to the floor as shouts, screams, and cries filled both of our ears. Rico looked awful; dirt stained his forehead and blood splotched portions of his face. The strands of his jet black hair that had grown out and were plastered to his forehead due to sweat. He stumbled to the ground but in an attempt to stand back up and run, he fell.

"Don't touch me," He kept screaming it, over and over and over again. His voice was scary deep and his eyes dark. Rico breathing was heavy and with the facial expressions he made, you could tell it pained him.

"He's been yelling that since we got him," A man I didn't recognize stood at the door, confusion written all over his face. A car idled in the driveway and obviously, thanks to common sense that wasn't necessarily very common, I figured these were the men that worked for Vincenzo. The other man just nodded, frowning. "He wouldn't let us get anywhere near him with any type of first aid; he needs it."

Liam treaded carefully towards Federico, who had nearly pushed himself against the wall. You could still see his hands shaking and his pupils were dilated. His eyes were down casted towards the floor but his attention wasn't on it, or anyone in the room, that much was clear.

"Thank you, I got it from here," With a curt nod, the two men disappeared out the door. The one that had hardly spoken a word, had the phone pressed to his ear before they had even gotten off the steps. His words faded as I closed the door behind them.

"Vinny, he's good—"

I didn't turn back around until I heard Liam call Federico. Luciano stood off to the side, a good distance from Rico to stay safe in case the man on the floor just snapped. Rico sat on the floor, his shoulders slumping and his head bowed slightly. His shoulders seemed to shake and his hands fidgeted against his lap. When I noticed that his lips were moving but no words were coming out, I shot Liam a confused and highly worried look.

"Rico?" When Liam took a cautious step towards Federico, so did I. He squatted in formation and tapped the younger man on his calf, gaining his attention. The look in Federico's naturally hazel eyes was one I had never seen before and it wasn't anger. They were glassy, covered over by unfallen tears; he looked broken, defeated, as if his fighting spirit had been beaten out of him. "What happened?" Luciano's voice was soft, gentle, far from overpowering and intimidating.

"I—" His bottom lip quivered before he pulled it into his mouth and I could've sworn he bit down so hard he almost drew blood. Rico's eyes darted between Liam and I's stares, then they floated around the room, his attention never laying on anything in particular for longer than two seconds. He was antsy, nervous, and when thunder roared outside, he jumped.

"Rico?" My voice was far more high pitched than Liam's and I hoped it had a more calming effect on him than Luciano's. "It's okay," I eased up beside him and kneeled down. His hands were still visibly shaking and he seemed as if he was still on high alert. "Just tell us what happened."

"I can't help you if you don't," Liam adds.

But no matter how much we pleaded, Federico didn't speak. He didn't utter a word and I would be lying if I didn't express just how much that frightened me. Liam eventually got Federico to peel his shirt off and show us what had been done; I cringed and felt a chill ripple down my back at the sight. The marks that lined his back were red and a few still bled. A few of the marks were deeper than the others and it saddened me, knowing good and well that most of those would leave permanent scars on Federico's back; as if he didn't already have enough – seen and not seen.

We led him up the stairs in silence. He had an arm thrown over Liam's shoulder and a hand held on to mine; the grip was unforgiving and I was pretty sure my hand was broken, but I kept my complaints to myself.

Federico didn't utter a word all the way up. He didn't speak when we led him to his bed and helped him climb in it. He didn't say a word as he fell face first on the mattress and lied eerily still. Rico didn't say anything as Liam took the gun he had stashed in the nightstand beside the bed, nor did he speak when Luciano gathered the remaining pill bottles that rested harmlessly beside the younger man's head and pocketed them.

Luciano and I stood under the guest bedrooms doorway quietly. He had a hand in his pants pocket while his opposite arm was thrown high over his head, his fingertips gripping onto the top of the doorframe. His shirt rode up a bit, exposing his so called 'happy trail' of hair to me; and if the situation wasn't as serious as it was, I definitely would've stared and appreciated it longer.

I wasn't sure what Liam was about to tell Federico, but the sound and feeling of vibrations tore both of our attentions away from the still figure that lay on the bed. Liam's head dropped and I turned to my left, eyeing Luciano's pocket. He pulled his phone out a second later and at a glance, his eyebrows connected and a look of worry crossed his face; then he turned the phone's screen to me.

Dominic Santiago sent a video (2)

I didn't have to tell him to play it, because he already had the volume turned up and the video playing before I could even blink. I appreciated the fact that he leaned done to me, allowing me to see. I heard Dom before I saw him; the screen was dark, but a few faded lights in the background gave me a slimmer of hope that we would see him.

"You're fucking crazy," Dominic sputtered then coughed, his breathing was a mere wheeze. Then we saw him. He didn't look like the clean cut, always well put together man that I knew. Although we had just sent Federico and him on their way a little over five hours ago, he looked awful. His hair was soaked and stuck to his head. The earrings that had been in his ears had been ripped off clearly and where the studs once lay, was not bleeding. He had two lacerations on each cheek, including one across his temple. It appeared as though he was sitting in a chair and his hands were tied behind his back.

The screen cut to a crystal clear, HD pictured Peter. He was sitting in a well-lit office behind a large desk. A cigar rested peacefully between his lips and his feet were hurled upon his desk, his fingers pressed against each other, dancing in a manner to pass the time. Smoke escaped through the corner of his lips as a smile attempted to creep across them. "Good evening Liam, or...goodnight? Fuck," He shrugs, "I'm sure you've been sleep since eight. That's when children go to bed anyways." He laughed fairly hard at his own joke, one I didn't quite find funny. Neither did Liam; he was practically seething with anger from beside me.

"It's about, oh, nearly midnight?" Peter glances away from the screen for just a moment, "I'm assuming Federico has come crawling back to you now—" At the sound of his name, Rico lifts his head, "—or maybe not. If he hasn't, hint hint, he's probably bleeding out somewhere." He pulls the cigar from his lips and eyes it with intensity. Then he shrugs, "Good riddance."

"Why was I sending this video to you again?" Peter frowns as he shoves the cigar back in his mouth. You could tell the lightbulb in his head with off because his finger went in the air and he sat up straight; his feet on the floor and his back arched properly. He leans forward, "Yes, I remember now. You want to know why I'm after Faith, yes? I'm after Faith because I'm after you. At first, all of this was about Faith Crawford and the rumored loads of cash that was in her name, that her father gave her; but now..." He lets out a hearty laugh, "I have my eyes set on a much higher prize."

Liam seemed like he was about to respond, as if this video feed was live and Peter was actually listening.

"You," Corinelli answers the unasked question. "And If I don't get what I want, then you might want to take these next clips seriously—"

His creepy wink sends the screen back to the dark, dim room that Dominic had been in before. A soft, blue light cascaded overhead, giving the room an eerie feel. A lone, metal chair sat in the middle and the camera that had been recording this, was set just a few feet back. But instead of Dominic sitting in the chair, it was Rosalie.

"Tell Liam goodbye," a voice stated.

"Why?" Rosie's hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She had a few band aids covering her face. The little girl appeared to be wearing shorts and a white tank top. Her hands were under her thighs and her tiny legs swung back and forth as she sat atop the chair. When the initial voice didn't answer, you could hear the worry grow in her voice. "Did that bad guy hurt him? Did he hurt Liam? If you hurt Liam I'll—"

The video had clearly been interrupted. There was static for merely a second, before Rosalie was back on screen, tears running down her face this time. She looked distraught and the sobs that echoed through the speaker of Liam's phone nearly made me cry. I could see the grip Luciano had on his phone tense at the sight of the little girl crying. Her bottom lip shook as she looked up into the camera.

"I love you, Liam. Um..." She sniffled, "I liked the bedtime stories and the songs and I'm sorry for calling you daddy in front of mom and dad. You said that wasn't nice and I felt bad." Luciano let out a breath from beside me.

"Is there anyone else you want to say goodbye to?" The camera shifts momentarily, before focusing back on the little girl. She nods.

"Uncle Rico?" Her voice sounds so far away, but even Federico heard it from where he lay. He sits up a little more on the bed, the little girls cries having peaked his curiosity. "You sometimes try and act mean but you're the nicest person ever and you're the funniest." She giggles through her tears, "You make me laugh all the time-" We all sensed a 'but' coming, "But... you never tell me you love me, even when I say it to you. But that's okay; I still love you, Uncle Rico."

There was a mumbling in the background and Rosie's eyes got wide. She hopped off the chair and waved to the camera innocently. "Hi, Ms. Faith! Thanks for making Liam happy again—" and before we could even bid her our own unheard goodbyes, she was gone. The image however was burned into the back of my mind, even while I stared at the now black screen; there was Rosie, waving and smiling even through the tears that stained her cheeks and threatened to fall from her eyes.

I had to grip Luciano's arm to bring him back from reality. Whatever trip his mind had taken him on must've been miserable. "Liam," I tugged on his forearm again, trying to pull his attention away from the screen. I truthfully didn't know what to say.

"There's another part," His voice sounded rehearsed, mechanical almost, as if he had to focus on those three words for a period of time before saying them. His hands started shaking so bad I had to take the phone from him to operate it. We both breathed in as I clicked to play the second video Luciano had received.

This time, Dominic Santiago flashed on the screen. His hands weren't tied behind his back this time but the cuts that had lined his face previously were still there. He had on a tight black shirt and his hands were resting neatly between his legs as he sat on the metal chair. His hair was as curly as ever but that wasn't what had my full attention; what gained my most worried glance was the fact that he was smiling.

To Dom's left, a gun was pressed against his temple and the man welding the weapon was visible. It took me a second to recognize the dark hair and the tad bit of facial hair he supported. Strands of hair fell over his forehead and his lips remained pursed, his trigger finger was practically twitching. I recognized him almost immediately; Peter's right hand man. The same one that I could've sworn was trying to take a peek up my dress the other night.

"Don't shit yourself over Peter's threats, Liam. Everyone in this house is a rent-a-thug—" Dom cracks at his joke but the man that had introduced himself to me as Xavier didn't laugh. He curls his right hand and clocks Dominic on the side of the head with his wrist. It didn't look excruciatingly painful, but a simple reminder that Dom could be in much more pain if he didn't quit it.

"Look just..." Dom sighs and grows serious. His hands interlock and his thumbs twirl, as if he doesn't know exactly what to say. "They keep asking questions about you, Liam. They tried punching the answers out of me," He points to the corner of his lip where blood rolls down and the highest part of his cheek, where a bruise is slowly beginning to form. "And there's no doubt in my mind that they may kill me, so a goodbye is what they're asking for?" He shrugs, "I don't do goodbyes, but what I will do is thank you. Thank you for everything you've done for me.

"Faith?" He continues, "You're beautiful and don't you dare listen to anyone that says so otherwise. I understand we don't know each other as well as we could, but I am so glad I met you. But I'm glad Liam met you first or else I would've had to snatch your ass up—" His wink forces a laugh out of me. Dom's chuckle fades as he shakes his head, "Just kidding. But thank you, too, for the laughs and for listening when I spoke. Thanks for also keeping Luciano in check."

On screen, Dominic sits up and clears his throat, clearly speaking to the man that presses a gun against his temple. "Cut the video, please." Xavier nudges him with the gun.

"You're forgetting someone, no?"

The length of the eye contact they shared was unnerving. Dominic looked hesitant but Xavier was confident, cool. He points the gun to the screen as he nods in our direction, urging Dom along.

"Rico," The man on the bed sits up even more, his eyes on us but his ears tuned into what Dominic said. Liam and I could see the slow smiling crawling across Xavier's face as Dominic continued, "In my room, on my desk... There's a letter opener. Brand new," His voice grows in volume and by the end of his message to Federico, he was shouting, "You take that letter opener, dip it in acid, and shove it up Peter's--!"

Not a second later, the screen went black.

We had lost Rosalie, we had lost Dominic, and in a sense, we had even lost Federico to Peter. While Rosalie and Dom were prisoners in Corinelli's home, Rico was also a prisoner in his own thoughts that evening. He was with us physically, but emotionally and mentally, he was gone.

He remained quiet, speechless even as the eventful night began to wind down. Luciano was back in his room on the phone and despite the privacy he had wanted during his phone call, he was still shouting through the walls. I let out a laugh, hoping to ease the tension that seemed to float around the silent room.

I currently found myself straddling Federico as he laid face first on his mattress. The sweatpants he had finally changed into hung low on his hips and they revealed a portion of his navy blue boxers. His bare back was exposed to me as I dipped a towel in warm water. I rang it out over the bucket I had set up beside me and I leaned forward, taking his back into perspective. He had a few, very tiny, yet faded scars on the base of his neck but nothing compared to the fresh lines that nearly seemed to cover his entire back.

"This may hurt," I winced for him as I gave a pleasant warning. My warning was appropriate but it didn't seem to cause him much pain at all. He whispered a curse word and he bit into the pillow that he had used to prop his head up, but other than that, nothing. I had to assume that his pain tolerance level was fairly high because I was certain if this was me, I would've been passed out.

I did that multiple times; I dipped the rag in water and restarted the process over and over again. He sighed a few times in content, admitting to me that the warm water felt good along his back. His breathing became a bit more even and I felt a tad better about his state of mind. However, I still knew Federico was nowhere near 100 percent, simply because I had been straddling him now for almost fifteen minutes and I had yet to hear a sexual, perverted, unnecessary joke and, or, comment.

While I was back there, I had to admire the work of art that lay before me. He threw his arm up on the mattress, resting it above his head. I had been convinced as of ten minutes ago that he had fallen asleep on me – or, well, under me; but his sudden movement changed my mind. Rico shifted his hips and before I knew it, I had lost my balance. In an attempt to not hit the cuts that had been inflicted on him tonight as I fell forward, one of my hands shot out and grasped the nearest thing. In this case, it was Federico's right bicep.

My hair fell over my right shoulder and I didn't realize just how close we were until I pressed my hand against a portion of the mattress that was open, just beside Rico's head. His head turned to the right as he pressed his cheek against the cool pillow and I watched as he looked to me out the corner of his eye. I held my breath as I pushed myself up just a bit after realizing just how close we had gotten; my lips had only been inches away from the middle of his shoulder. "Sorry," I kept whispering that over and over again, as if he didn't hear me the first time.

My face went flush the moment I dipped my head and glanced at the tiny amount of space that the fall had left between us. My shirt was just inches from his back and my crotch was now fully pressed against Federico's ass and in the end, it left me red and highly uncomfortable. I felt his bicep clench beneath my grasp and I let go far too quickly, slightly flustered. The move was too quick and before I had even regained my balance, I had almost lost it again. For the second time that evening, I held on to Rico's arm.

He never said anything the entire time. He had glanced up at me once, but most of his attention had fallen onto where my hand was clutching his arm with a death grip. I only realized why once I pulled away, brushed the hair out my face, and looked back. My nails had dug into his flesh and had marked the part of his bicep I had grabbed on to for dear life. I made a face as I whispered another apology.

The rest of the time spent in Federico's room was uneventful. I finished cleaning his wounds and hopped off of him, sending him a goodnight that was not returned. I began to leave the room feeling a tad hot and a little bothered before I stopped and turned back to the peaceful looking Rico.

"You heard Dominic's request right?" He didn't answer me, "Are you going to do it? Do what he said I mean?"

Rico's non-answer was my answer.

"Of course you are."

- - - -

"Why am I here again?" Michael Luciano's question resonated through the room. He spoke with his back to us as he regained a steady position on his feet. He was facing a small window, one that rays of moonlight streamed through. The natural light casted a beautiful color over the chess board that was propped on a table near the window.

"That's what I was wondering," I couldn't help but add my own smartass comment. I noticed Liam shift his weight to his left, his shoulder brushing against mine. It was hardly noticeable, but enough to know that he wanted me to cut it out. The feeling of his bare skin brushing against mine caused goosebumps to rise immediately.

It was nearly one-thirty in the morning and we had yet to consider sleep. The video that Peter had sent using Dominic's phone continued to replay in my mind and I was certain it was doing the same in Luciano's. We were awake because of worry, because of fear. It was an unsettling feeling in your stomach that simply didn't go away; it sent you appetite south and it messed with your head. It felt like we had gotten nothing accomplished, except for the fact that we had changed from our constricting clothes to something far more comfortable.

I glanced at Liam, my lips closed, and waited for his response to his father's question. All I got was a look of annoyance. He had a hand on his waist while another tugged at a few strands of hair on his head, leaving it disheveled. Liam ran his fingers through his hair at least five times within the second, leaving it a mess. He acted as if that was going to ease all of his struggles. A smile that wasn't so genuine reached his lips as his hand fell to his side.

Luciano's eyebrows connected, causing me to turn back to Michael. Mr. Luciano had sauntered over to the other side of the chess board and he had sat down, eyeing the pieces with intensity. His head bobbed to the left and right and his lips made an odd shape as he thought long and hard about his next move. After seeming satisfied with his most recent move, he stands up, walks to the other side of the chess board and sits down; where he repeats the same process.

"Are you playing chess by yourself?"

Michael makes a very long, very exaggerated "Ahhh," sound as he claps his hands, smiling at the chess game. He stands, straightens his suit jacket, and waltzes over to the chair seated opposite of him. "Yes," He states with no type of forced emotion as he drops down. His eyes scan the board before he turns to his son. "I'm a very worthy opponent if I do say so myself."

"You're insane." That comment came from me.

"I know," He holds a pawn up to the moonlight as he glances at me, "If your attempt is to hurt my feelings Ms. Crawford, then I suggest you say something I haven't heard."

"F—"

Luciano reaches out and grabs my arm, forcing my attention to him out of surprise. He shakes his head, his eyes closed, and I drop the comment I was about to shoot back. It was clear that arguing wasn't in Liam's agenda for tonight; at least, that's what he led me to believe. "We need you," Liam pulls me close, wrapping his arm around my waist as we bump hips.

That stops Michael. He drops the chess piece and leans back on the wooden chair, his arms folded across his chest. He has a look on his face that hardens his features and he looks between us both, as if he believes we're setting him up. He looks skeptical, confused, and for probably a rare moment in his life, lost. He tilts his head at such an angle that allows moonlight to cross his face. "Continue."

"I'm not asking for your physical help," Liam unwraps his arm around me and steps forward, using his motions to explain his point better, "But Peter has Rosalie and now he has Dominic and in a sense," He glances back at me, "In a sense..." He repeats himself, as if he lost his place, "He has Federico too. He hasn't spoken, not yet anyways."

Michael lifts an eyebrow. "You need a plan."

"I had one," Luciano shoots back. "Federico drew out the layout of Peter's home. He's the only one that knows when Corinelli's house is the emptiest, he's the only one that knows when Peter is the most vulnerable and at the moment, he isn't speaking. And without the help of Dominic, without Rico, we can't do anything. It's like he's already won."

"You give up easily," Michael seemed to have gotten comfortable. His shoulders relaxed and the look of uncertainty had fallen off his face. He still had his arms folded across his chest and his feet crossed at his ankles. He leans back at bit, a smirk slowly positioning itself on his face.

"I haven't given up—" Just the words that Michael uttered seemed to have upset Liam. His fists began to clench and the muscle in his jaw ticked.

Mr. Luciano turns his palm upwards and hovers it to his right, just beside the chess board. He changes the topic quickly. "Chess is a lot like life, yes? Did I not teach you that?"

"You did."

I take a step backwards as Michael leans forward, his elbows on his knees. "Then tell me, what's the most important piece on the chess board?"

Liam shrugs, the answer seeming easy. "The Q—" I wasn't very knowledgeable about chess, but Liam must've been; the look that resonated in his eyes suggested he knew exactly where his father was going with this. I, however, did not. I felt a lump grow in my throat as Luciano whipped his head over to me. A look of horror flashed across Liam's face, while a look of satisfaction crossed Michael's. Then the room grew silent; silent and hot.

It was like Liam couldn't' even stand looking at me for a second longer. His attention was torn away from me and his eyes rested on an art piece somewhere behind me. Michael stood up behind his son and nodded towards the door. "Faith, give us a moment."

Liam takes the opportunity to clear his throat and add, "Check on Rico for me, please."

The looks they were shooting me were enough to push me out the room alone. My walk to Rico's temporary room was filled with my thoughts and the voices that started to fade from behind me. They were arguing and they were trying to keep their voices down, their yells merely harsh whispers.

The only sound that came from Rico's bedroom was from the television. It casted a soft glow over the furniture in the room, including the body that lay on the bed. At first glance, Federico was lying on his left side, looking highly uncomfortable. He had his elbow pressed into the mattress and his hand propped up his head as he watched the screen with intent. You could see the picture reflecting off his eyes as you got closer. That was when I finally turned around; focusing on the T.V. to see what was playing.

It was Beauty and the Beast; the old classic that we all used to watch as children – the animated version to be precise.

It seemed to have captivated Federico's attention because even as I excused myself and blocked the screen for a millisecond, his eyes didn't wander over to me, nor did he blink. I looked to him, then the television. "Um, Liam wanted me to check on—"

"Is that me?"

They were the first words he had spoken this evening and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I let out a breath, one that turned into a gentle laugh. He had nodded towards the screen and I assumed he was talking about the beastly, hairy, almost scary looking creature on screen.

"No, that isn't you, Rico." I hesitated, but when he didn't say anything else, I crawled in the bed beside him.

With the covers beneath me, I crossed my legs and watched the movie with Federico. Yet, despite my physical presence, I wasn't there mentally. My thoughts wandered to Rosalie and the position she was currently in. I thought about how awful the living conditions may be and how awful she could possibly be getting treated. I thought about Dom and the leadership qualities I had seen pushing through since I've known him. He was smart, he was talented, he was dedicated, and he too was young.

Then there was Rosie; the sweet, innocent little girl that looked up to Liam as if he was a god. She was seven and she didn't deserve any of this. My decision was already made up by the time I scampered out of Rico's bed and padded my way to the door. But before I left, I hooked a hand on the door and looked over my shoulder.

"Rico?" He didn't answer my initial call. "Would you ever sacrifice yourself for someone else?"

He heard me and looked up, but I didn't believe in my heart that he would verbally answer me. It took a while, as if speaking pained him; but when he did speak, he made all the sense in the world.

"If I ride with you, I'll die for you."

I nodded in understanding, but my thoughts were quickly interrupted by shouting. Federico didn't like that one bit; he brought his hands up to his head and a look of discomfort reached his face. He winced just as I started to rush out the room, hoping to quiet the two whose talk had quickly turned into a heated argument. By the time I got back into the room and made my presence known, they were at each other's throats, literally.

Liam and his father were so close it made me uncomfortable. I'm positive their chests were touching and they had to tilt their head back just so they wouldn't bump noses.

"I will not watch everything I worked for crumble at your feet!" Michael was telling Liam. But their statements, despite their value, went unheard.

"I will not give up Faith because you're telling me to—"

"You stupid, son of a—"

"You worthless piece of shi—"

I didn't have to say anything to make my presence known. Both of their degrading statements faded as they both turned towards the doorway, their eyes falling on me at the exact same time. Liam's face was red and the look he had on his face was familiar; he was angry. Michael on the other hand had a finger digging into the collar of his shirt, easing it away from his neck. The temperature in the room had skyrocketed a few degrees within a matter of seconds.

Liam's eyes never left mine as he addressed his father, speaking of me. "I will not," His fist shook along with his head, "I will not," he emphasizes again, "Let go of my Faith."

Michael's attention followed his sons and before I knew it, I had two pairs of eyes staring me down. Mr. Luciano's gaze floated to his son's, who still stared down at me, trying to incorporate every type of emotion with just a glance. Something changed in Michael's eyes within those first few seconds that I had never seen before; it was something between compassion and an understanding of how his son felt – something I didn't believe he had ever been capable of feeling.

"I have told you a lot of bullshit in my life, Liam," Michael angles his body towards his son, gaining Luciano's attention. "But for just this once, believe me." The older man adjusts his suit jacket and sighs.

A forced demeanor that surrounded Michael Luciano for as long as I could remember was like a wall; in that moment, in the quietness of the study and in the seriousness of the conversation, it dropped. You could tell he was left vulnerable with the tension in his shoulders, the uncomfortable look that was written on his face explained to the entire world that he didn't like one minute of it. Yet, when he spoke, even I listened in.

"As a man, a woman is not only your greatest strength, but she's your greatest weakness." Liam was ready to argue, but Michael would have nothing of it. He raised a palm, shushing his son, and he continued, "They're your backbone, your support system; they make your house a home. They cook bomb-ass food and they hug you when you need to be hugged. They're there for you when no one else is, but they're our greatest weakness Liam whether we as men like to admit it or not; and that, that is why Peter is going after Faith."

"I wouldn't know," Luciano shoves his hands deep into his sweatpants, a harsh laugh on his lips, "Every woman that's ever been in my life, you've either killed or scared away." The two stared at each other for a long time, neither continuing to speak. After a moment of silence and an awkward step back, Michael speaks again; and he says the name that I'm sure, causes every muscle in Luciano's stomach to clench.

"Ellie, she broke omertà and I'm not going to stand here and bullshit the fact that she did not deserve to die because Liam, she did, whether you want to admit it or not." Michael's voice ups in volume as he continues, "But what I will stand here and tell you is this... In this life, in this world, you need a woman that's going to raise you up, not tear you down; and Ellie would've dragged you to hell with her, I assure you." Liam's eyes downcast themselves as Michael finishes, "You need someone that would be loyal to you and only you...and the simple fact that Ellie even accepted my pathetic offer, was a great indicator that loyal was something she was not."

Then there was quiet. You could hear the faint chirping of crickets from outside as the uncomfortable silence dragged on. Then Michael backtracked.

"I taught you chess when you were eight?" Liam nods at his father's words, "Do you remember why I said the Queen was the most important piece on the board?"

"She has no limitation as to where she can move."

"Exactly," Michael nods in confirmation, clearly impressed. "She protects the king. Depending how you play the game, she can follow your king around the entire board, making sure nobody makes a surprise attack. In real life, the Queen should always, always stands right here—" He points to an area of the floor behind him, "—Just two steps back and one step to your left; she stands behind the king. But she doesn't stand behind the king because she's inferior. She stands behind the king because she's superior."

Both Liam and I were nodding as I stepped further into the room, closing the large gap of space that separated us both by just a little bit.

"She stands there, she stands behind the king because that way, she can look ahead," Liam nods and finishes his father's thought, "Warn him of dangers he doesn't see."

"In chess, the Queen would sacrifice herself for the good of her King. Whereas in the real world—" I cut Michael off by joining Liam at his side. It took about ten minutes of courage building to do this, but with my hands folded, I spoke.

"She would do the same thing," I said.

Michael looked severely confused and highly offended that I had the imaginary balls to cut him off. Liam on the other hand looked horrified, but it was because he knew exactly what I meant.

In a split second, the horrified look vanished and he was glaring at me. It was a look of anger that was directed at me and it scared me; it scared me because he hadn't looked at me with such intensity since our first meeting; and we all remember how that went down. Liam didn't speak, he just stared down at me as if he couldn't begin to comprehend what I had said.

I finally found my voice again, but I couldn't look up at Liam and say it. Instead, I shot a sheepish smile at Michael and spoke to him. "I can't sit here and watch them treat a little seven year old like shit just because of me," I admitted. "And there's no doubt in my heart that they wouldn't hurt Rosie or Dom, because they will. If Peter doesn't get what he wants, they'll hurt them both." Then I turned to Liam, "And you would have to be stupid to think they wouldn't."

He stared at me for the longest time. His eyes read mine and he searched them for some time, certain that he would find a weak spot that he could exploit. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The lower in volume his voice got, the lower in base it go too.

"Yeah," Michael folds his arms over his chest, "Just call me Curious George."

I state my theory and my plan, looking between both of the men that stand in the room. "Liam and I cannot waltz into Peter's home and attempt to take out the guards he has on duty. The point, the entire purpose is the free Dominic, it's to free Rosalie, and it's to stall Peter. Rosie ends up safe. Dominic, you, and Federico are back together and Peter stops his attack on you to question me—"

"—giving Liam, Federico, and Dominic enough time to go back for you; in the end, killing Peter." Michael finishes my thought with a nod. A sly smile crosses his face as I nod in confirmation. He hooks a thumb to me, speaking to his son. "I think you found a keeper."

The compliment was taken with a grain of salt.

"Get out," Liam turned to his father, his fists clenched. "This conversation no longer concerns you." Michael didn't cause a scene. He mumbled something about sleeping on the couch and disappeared out the door. Liam wasted a precious few seconds by walking over to the door, dipping his head out into the hallway to make sure no one was out there, and he slammed the door.

I didn't have to see Liam's face to know he was pissed. Even with his back towards me, I could only assume how red his face had gotten. He probably resembled those old cartoons where the angry person's face got red and either the top of their head blew off, allowing steam out, or the steam came straight out of his ears. I stood in the middle of the room, highly uncomfortably. My hands clasped each other as time ticked on. The second Liam dropped his one hand off the door and began to turn around, I knew it was on.

Maybe it was just my own mind playing tricks with me, but I could've sworn the room grew darker. I knew it was my mind that made Liam appear five inches taller and ten times scarier. He treaded the space between us carefully, an eyebrow lifted, and a look of curiosity on his face. His hands dangled at his side and his eyebrows stayed connected. He was mad, yep.

His voice shook when he spoke and it was clear that he was trying to keep it even. "Have you listened to anything I've told you?" I winced, his tone was nowhere near friendly. It was one I hadn't heard in almost forever. But the look that floated around in his brown eyes scared me the most.

I took a step back.

Liam noticed, but he didn't say anything about it. He took another step towards me, each of them calculated and well thought out. Luciano drops his voice to a mere whisper, as if he fears of hearing them for himself. "Giving yourself up? Are you fucking insane?" He lets out a cold laugh, "There's an easier wa—"

I interrupt him. With my hands now folded across my chest I shoot Liam a glare. He was only about three, maybe four steps away. "Somebody had to put the pants on and make the only smart, slightly realistic decision."

He takes a step back at my jab. "Pants?" That causes a laugh out of him, "Faith, if you think this is smart—"

"It's smart compared to any decision you've made, Liam." My eyebrows connect and immediately, I'm in my defensive mode. "What decisions have you made to stop him?" Luciano falls silent, "That's what I thought. All you've done is run and look what's happened. He has Rosie—"

Luciana was already shaking his head, trying to dismiss anything I was telling him. "Shut up."

"—He took Dominic—"

"Faith, shut up."

"—And Federico," I shrug, "I mean, whatever Peter did, he pretty much fucked hi—"

Liam cleared the minor gap between us in the blink of an eye and if I wasn't petrified, I would've been impressed. I didn't realize just how many steps backwards I had taken until I took one more. My back hit the huge, full length mirror that was mounted against the wall behind me. It was the ultimate déjà vu as Liam pressed his body against mine, pinning me against the wall. He spoke through gritted teeth, "I said, shut up." He emphasized each word as he attempted to psycho-analyze me.

His eyes darted between either of mine for the longest time, then he spoke. "You're afraid of me."

He looked like a dear in headlights at his epiphany.

I swallowed a few tears and glanced down at my arm, the intensity of the pain was only growing. "Let go of me." That was when he noticed it to; I doubt he meant to do it purposely, but his hand had found my forearm and had wrenched it in a certain direction to keep me pinned against the wall. His grip was incredible; it was as if he had his hand around Peter Corinelli's neck rather than my innocent forearm. Luciano's gaze follows mine and in a matter of seconds, he detaches his hand from me.

I massage the red area for a moment as Liam pulls away, but just by a few inches. I wasn't afraid of Liam per say, but when he grew angry I grew cautious. What frightened me the most was the game that my mind had begun to play; his anger at me only made him grow in height and the simple fact that he hovered over me with clenched fists could cause anyone to temporarily panic. He had a multitude of inches on me, he outweighed me by an easy hundred and if a fist fight did, indeed, break out, I think we know who the loser would be.

Rico would have to scrap me off the floor with some type of high quality, overpriced cleaning device.

By the time I focused back on Liam, he was kneeling at my feet. His hands gripped the back of my thighs, pulling me out of my thoughts. He knew this would make it ten times easier talking back to him. Liam looked up at me with such intensity I could've sworn the glass behind me would break.

"This plan," Liam shakes his head, "What if we can't get you back?"

I didn't have an answer for him at that exact moment in time. But what I did remember was my mother reading a book just before she left on vacation where the main woman died, leaving the man heartbroken and alone. I said exactly what my mother had said to me when I asked her what she thought about the book; and with tears in her eyes, she said the exact same thing I told Liam, "It was a beautiful tragedy."

"You don't have a choice then," Liam stands to his feet abruptly. He looked annoyed, tired, and as of five seconds ago, done with this conversation. "You aren't going. We'll figure something else out."

But how many more, "We'll figure something else out's" and "there's another way" do we have until Peter puts a bullet in both Dom and Rosie's temples?

I push myself just a few inches from the mirror and step up to him, my head tilted towards his. He was looking down at me but kissing each other was the furthest thing from our minds. There was tension, but none of it was sexual. The look in his eyes had hardened to ice as he turned away, disregarding me or anything I had to say. He had only taken about a step from me when my next statement caused him to stop.

"No offense, Liam." He should definitely take offense, "But you don't have a say in this."

You could see his shoulders tense up, even from here. I mumbled a quick prayer as Liam slowly, methodically, turned around to face me. Anger, shock, annoyance – it was all there, written and etched in between every beautiful facial feature he possessed. "Are you questioning my authority?"

I kept my head held high, even though I was tempted to step back as Liam came closer. "I answer to my mother and to God and last time I checked, you're neither of them."

I had to assume that the fact that Liam hadn't properly slept in days contributed to his next move. His anger overflowed like a forgotten pot of boiling water on the stove. He was coming at me at a pace I couldn't match. My feet failed me at their most needed moment, leaving me frozen footed and vulnerable. I saw his face leading up to it; he was frowning, his lips closed, and his jaw locked tight. But his eyes spoke more to me than his body language. I suddenly missed the cool gray, emotionless looking contacts he had used because now, I could see every emotion that swirled around his naturally brown eyes and I didn't like it one bit.

Then he looked at me in a way that sent my blood running cold. He looked at me like he had never seen me before; like he had emotionally detached himself from every single happy memory we had shared. He looked at me as if the friendship never happened, as if the kiss never happened, and as if the multiple nights we shared kissing and touching each other had simply been forms of our imagination.

He looked at me like I had just spit on him.

He came at me with enough force that when he bumped into me, we stumbled backwards. I grabbed his shirt with clenched fists as his own fist collided with the mirror behind me. I heard the glass crack before I saw it. I pushed myself to the right, just off the mirror. My breathing was ragged and my hands were shaking as I looked to my left, noticing the damage he had done. His eyes bore holes into my head as he stayed positioned where he was. The cracks in the glass ran in all different directions; some ran sideways, others ran down, and a few ran up. I was positive that the glare he was sending me was capable of shattering the rest of it.

His free hand reached out and grabbed mine, yanking me even closer then I already was. I leaned down, as far away from his face as I could. It wasn't hard for him to pull me even closer. I could feel his heavy breathing on my neck, then he trails his lip upwards towards my ear and what he whispers next caused my heart to skip a beat.

I wasn't sure whether it was his words or his hand that caused the cracks in the glass to travel further; it shattered, raining down glass on and around me. My mouth dropped as my mind replayed his last few words to me. I watched Liam walk out the room with that same stride I had seen so many times before, but I had never focused on it like I focused on it now. The second Luciano stepped out the room, leaving me all alone, I had my conclusion.

His words had shattered the glass.

"Go," He had said, "But I can't promise I'll come back for you."

- - - -

a/n: I KNOW I KEEP BREAKING YOUR HEARTS AND I APOLOGIZE BUT ITS ALL NECESSARY I SWEAR .

So yes, I'm sorry for the incredible wait for this chapter. I started working and then life was like, "LOL NO WRITING TODAY." And then my wifi messed up and I just wanted to call my company like, "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?! I WRITE ON WATTPAD AND I HAVE 7K FOLLOWERS! COME AT ME B—" *dial tone*.

Speaking of, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 7.8K FOLLOWERS! THAT'S LITERALLY INCREDIBLE SO THANK YOU.

NOW...

Comments on the chapter?

Who was in the wrong? Liam or Faith?

Who will apologize first?

Should Faith go through with it?