Danny Torent's POV

"Since when do you drink?" I settle beside the Griffin spawn that has refused to say anything since we stepped onto this plane.

She sighs and continues to sip her drink. I study her features and notice how different she looks since the torture session with the French spy. The wrinkles on her face are more obvious, paleness in her skin and little grey hair are also present, but the feature that stands out the most is how blue her eyes are.

No contacts.

I don't know how Sam got through to her, but by looking at her, I know he did a good amount of damage to her mental health.

I close the documents in front of us and ignore the questioning look Penny sends my way. Grabbing her forearms, I raise her from her seat. She stands close to me as I rub my palms on shoulders and upper arms.

I whisper, "You can fool Sam, but you don't fool me. You are not Lola. You don't drown your sorrows in alcohol, and you definitely don't confuse your personality with hers. Cut the bullshit and act out, or so help me. I will tell the pilot to turn this plane around."

Her face pinches with irritation, but I remain unfazed. "What's it to you, Danny? You aren't the one who has to rule a bunch of savages in six months. You're not the one that has to sleep with one eye open till the day a lucky fucker lands a bullet between your eyes. Now tell me, isn't change the most constant thing in the world?" Her tone matches the hidden threat in her words.

She gestures to her body, "This is the new me. Best you get used to it."

I raise an unimpressed brow. "Don't talk like that. We've been in this shit show since the beginning of the year."

She scoffs and tries to walk away, but I tighten my grip on her. Her resolve was as thick as always, but I know how to get through to her. "Peyton Griffin, soon to be queen of the British Empire. Is your crown slipping? Are you having your fill of the Empire? I love to be the breaker of news to you, Love. This is just the beginning, so I suggest you suck it up. We do this for the people we love, to protect them at all costs, and if it means getting scarred then, so be it. You once said it yourself, that family is one thing that keeps you fighting, well then the battle is far from over. Best get your sword out."

The fight in her eyes is toe to toe with mine. We stand between the seats, glaring at each other, waiting for the other to back down. Two different people fighting for the same thing in two different ways.

After what felt like hours, the fight in her eyes diminishes. The fire in her eyes extinguishes, and tears replace it. They race past her lips, and some land on her trembling lips. A sob escapes her lips, and another, and one more. She bites her lips to keep the sounds at bay, but I pull her into my arms.

She cries into my shirt while I rub her back, rocking us from side to side. I don't know how long we stand there, but when one of the flight attendants brings us dinner, I shake my head at her. She nods in understanding and goes back into the cockpit.

When Penny calms down, I raise her head from my chest. "I can only imagine what is running through your mind, but if you can stay strong till we get past this. I'll do the killing if need be. Deal?"

She sighs and rests her head back into my chest. I hear her muffled reply, "Deal."

I rub circles on her back and lead her to a chair in the corner. I place her in it and recline it.

"Get some sleep. I'll finish up the rest of the files before we land." I assure her.

"Thank you Danny," she mumbles.

She's out like a light before I can sit down.

Trauma isn't something that is foreign to me. If you live in the Empire, you will see blood and gore occasionally. That isn't the case for Peyton Griffin. She has never killed someone before. I know something will tip her off the scale, and she will take her first life. I can only hope things do not escalate faster than she can handle.

"There's power in family, even though it seems farfetched." I whisper into the air. I take the half filled beer bottle and settle onto Peyton's former chair.

Nurse Valentía Duenas, born on 24th of December, 1980. Based in El Salvador, she was one of the lucky survivors to flee the country to Miami with only her brother. Her brother died two years after they settled in the city.

The report ends there, clearly failing to state where she ended up after her brother's death. I drop the file on the table harder than necessary, making Penny stir in her sleep, but she doesn't wake up.

-

Penny and I walk side by side out of the private plane. Well, I walked while she ran into Caleb's open arms as he stood on the runway.

Jack claps a hand on my back. "Good to see you again, man."

"The pleasure is all mine," I grin.

Jack and I load the luggage into the car, waiting for us. As Caleb and Penny were reuniting, I turn my attention to Jack.

"So, what have you found out?" I ask.

He scratches the back of his head. "Trish locked her mount tight, and Marci has refused to tell me, even though she knows."

"There is a possibility that Taryn and Charlie have ties to each other."

You'd have been a fool not to see their resemblance when they met during the wedding. The resentment was so thick that one of Chloe's knives would break while trying to cut it.

"You might be lucky and squeeze the answer out of Trish herself, or there could be another way..." he trails off while deep in thought.

"What are you talking about?"

I've always been curious about Charlie's origins. Chloe had her for Oscar when Shane was still with his father and the Empire was still firmly in the UK. After the whole shit show, Sam had them moved to protect the last member of the Sandel bloodline since Oscar's parents were late.

"Danny?" Penny snaps her fingers in my face as she frowns.

"Are you two done sucking faces, or do we have to stand here for another hour?" I grin, hiding the fact that I zoned out.

She rolls her eyes and makes her way past me and Jack to enter the car, with Caleb following behind her.

I nod at Jack to show that this conversation is far from over before we join the reunited couple and make our way to the Penthouse.

Miami looks just as it did the last time I came here, given that it has been close to a year since last I came. The humidity is very high, and it has me shaking water droplets out of my hair when we come down from the car.

The Presses waste no time and make a beeline from the lobby towards us, but Jack pulls me back into the car. We drive around the building to an underground garage.

"I don't know about you guys, but they have groped me enough today," Caleb shudders.

We come out of the car and make our way to the Penthouse, using a small flight of stairs and the elevator. A maid is dusting the furniture as we walk in. After exchanging pleasantries with her, Caleb takes Peyton's hand and leads her to her room while I follow Jack into the kitchen.

"As you were saying," I sat down and wait for him to continue.

He pops some popcorn out of the microwave and pours it into a bowl. "My girlfriend has a twin brother who goes by the name Terry Alden. He hardly comes to visit, but when he does, he always carries trouble along with him."

"Where do I find him?"

He throws a kernel into his mouth, "You don't."

"He has the information I need, so how do I get to him?" I repeat my question and ignore his previous statement.

Jack sighs and drops the bowl on the table, taking a seat across from me. "Terry is a funny character and you can't get to him without Trish's help. He is also a ticking bomb waiting to go off. If you plan on having a conversation with him, I suggest you wear clothes you don't plan on wearing ever again."

I process what he says and the only thing that comes to mind might make him explode, but it's worth a try.

"Where is Taryn?" I bite the bullet.

Jack's eyes narrow, and he pushes the bowl away from himself. "I only agreed to help you because I'm worried about my girlfriend. If you plan on interrogating her, I suggest you think twice."

Those were his parting words before he took the bowl of popcorn and walks out of the kitchen.

I sighed and hung my head on the back of the chair. There was no way I was going to talk to Taryn without pissing off Jack. If I do that, Caleb will be angry and then I'll have Penny to deal with. Coupled with the fact of what she is going through, I'd rather not add to her plate. I hope Caleb will know how to handle the situation because there is only so much I could do for her.

My phone rings and I pick it up. "What is it?" I resist the urge to make my tone cold because the man on the other side of the line has little reason to keep me alive for long.

"No need to sound irritated, Daniel. How is she?" At least he has the guts to sound apologetic.

I scoff, "Why do you care after you've inflicted damage? You keep stepping on toes that could wear your shoes, might even wear them better than you."

"Is that a threat?" His anger is on the edge of coming out, but since I'm miles away from him, I might as well continue digging myself into a hole. "A reminder. That is what you are grooming us for, isn't it? To rule as good as or even better than you. It doesn't matter how many hurdles we have to cross to get to your state." I drum my fingers on the table as I wait for his reply.

He releases a sigh. "I didn't know that she has never killed someone before." he admits.

This angers me more, but shouting at the top of my lungs would alert the remaining occupants of this house. I inhale deeply before I speak. "Sam, you claim to have kept tabs on all of us. You would do well to work on your lying habits."

I end the call and slam the phone on the table, which is the exact time that Shawn walks into the room.

I observe the quiet man, who is very skilled in the kitchen, as he makes dinner. I sigh and drag myself to my room and continue my research on a certain Nurse.

My only option would be to get a hold of Shane, the man who apparently knows everybody's dirty business, but the chances of him picking up his phone aren't very high. I turn my attention to read up about the French Dynasty.

The French Dynasty hasn't been operational in years and has always kept to themselves, especially after the revolutions that happened. Their money comes solely from prostitution and gambling at the side. They also stick their noses in petty businesses as well, like cock fights and exploiting the peasant farmers that live on the outskirts of the developed areas. The hierarchy system in the British Empire and the Spanish Mafia is not the same as the French Dynasty.

Instead of it being passed down from Father to son, it works in a series of fights. The son of the leader will have to fight his opponents to show that he is strong enough to hold his own before he can lead the people. And whoever he lost to automatically became the leader, so it stacked the odds against him.

Reminds me of when Joey played mind tricks on me when I was a teenager. I wanted his approval so much that I did things that should get me a prison record. I'm surprised that I don't loathe myself for all the dirty work that he has had me do.

Would Caleb have been a better son?

The thought has crossed my mind many times, but it is worth considering.

We might have not been from the same woman, but we share the same father. Judging by the blood sample results I got the other day. Caleb is Joey's son. If they did not use him as leverage against his mother; maybe we might have grown up together. Maybe, just maybe, he may have turned out better than me or worst. I'll never know for sure, but I will unravel all the secrets that were kept from me one by one.

-

Jacob runs down the stairs panting as he heads straight for the elevator and start pressing the button with more force than needed.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Caleb asks from his place on the couch.

Jacob didn't bother to turn around to answer the musician; his sole attention was getting the big metal doors in front of him to open. "Dinah called me to get Marci from school. Marcel just got shot in his own home. His relations are loosing their shit."

That explanation was enough to get all of us to join him in front of the elevator and push through the presses towards the cars parked into the underground garage. Caleb, Peyton, Shawn and I got in one and made our way towards the home of the owner of Wellington Records.

The air had a pungent smell of blood and I flattened my hand against Peyton's back as we walked through the front doors that were blown off their hinges. The furniture was in disarray and all the security men were all nursing one injury or the other. Spanish conversation filled the void in the house and we followed the noise to see a group of people who looked more of Spanish descent than America. The oldest woman in their midst pulled out a newspaper from her long skirt and waved it in the air.

"¿Quien diablos eres tú?"

Translation: Who the hell are you?

I stretch a hand in front of Penny; fight and flight instincts coming out to play. Caleb shakes his head softly and lowers my hand.

"This is Marcel's family, the Lealtads. This is my girlfriend Peyton and her stepbrother, Danny. They came from Britain to visit me." He introduces us but made no move to walk further into the corridor that would take us to Marcel's office.

The old woman nodded and turned back to face the rest of her family as they continued conversing.

Jacob's unmistakable voice made an appearance, "Marci, wait!"

The bearer of the name ran into the corridor like a black ball of energy, past all of us, even though we tried to stop her. She stops at the entrance of Marcel's office and her hands fly to her mouth as she takes in the scene.

I was yet to see what happened to Marcel, but Marci's expression was enough to assure me how huge the damage was. Sirens blare from outside, and paramedics storm into the house. They ignore Marci's shaking figure and carry Marcel's body.

Bullets cover his body, but none of them were at fatal points. His knees were bent at odd angles with bullet holes in the caps, making me doubt if he will walk after surgery. The family follows his body outside the house and into their various cars parked outside. They ride after the ambulance to ensure that they are there for him when he wakes up.

My heart clenches for Marci; her expression darkens as she walks past me and enters a car with the crazy woman of before. I heard about the divorce and I wonder how she is handling herself. I don't think seeing her father in this state will help, but can only hope.

After they live I walking to one of the security detail that was holding his injured arm with a pain expression.

I kneel before him and offer him a vodka bottle I snagged from the kitchen. He takes it gingerly from my hand, drinks it, and pours some on his injury.

He passes the empty bottle to me and sighs, "We didn't see her coming. She was small and fast on her feet, shot all of us on pressure points to prevent us from reaching her on time. She let herself into Marcel's office and locked the door behind herself."

I nod and study his features. He looks to be in his forties with his greying hair and frown lines. A few scars cover his face, but absurdly they make his brown eyes more profound. Hidden experience hide behind them along with the resignation of his next actions. His foreign accent was the next thing I notice, but it is hard to place he is from.

I raise his hand a bit to inspect his shoulder injury, which makes his jacket's sleeve raise and expose the ink on his wrist. I push the sleeve away and see a tattoo of the French flag. Its faded outline tells me how old this soldier it.

With a scoff, I grab his neck and pull him into the air. I slam his back into the wall and bring my face close to his. "Tell your leader that I want to have a little chat with him."

He looks unbothered by his blown cover. He offers me a smirk. "I'd pick my friends carefully in this war, if I were you."

He raises his uninjured arm and plants a bullet in his own head.

My favourite colour splashes all over me, reminding me why I always liked it. The chilly night carries a familiar tune into my ears; the same tune Megan whistled when she made dinner for me. I turn my head to the entrance of the building and frown.

He rests on the door frame with a witty smile on his face and mischief in his eyes. After observing our surrounding, he shakes his head. Shane pushes himself from the frame and walks towards us.

The only people who left in the house were the two of us and Peyton; I thought that she and Caleb had joined the rest of the Lealtads to follow Marcel to the hospital. Turns out, I was wrong.

Peyton wasted no time in running towards him and gripping his shirt. "Where is she?"

Shane holds her wrists. "I understand that I have some answers, but you guys should not be here right now." His voice takes a frantic turn.

"Why?" I use my hand to clean off the blood on my face and amble towards them.

"The building is about to explode right off its foundation." Those words were the last thing I heard before smoke flooded the air and the windows shattered.

As the earthquake rattled through the foundation, the roof cracks. The stairs collapse and fire breaks out on the upper floors of the house. The fire eats the furniture and everything else in sight and heads for us. A chandeliers fall to the floor and the bulbs explode.

Shane's voice was loud enough to be heard despite the doom happening around us. "There's an abandoned playground just near the Ocean Drive, there will be a murder there if the both of you don't get there fast enough." Those were his parting words to Peyton as he grips her upper hands firmly and throws her out of the collapsing building.

He walks deeper into the crumbling building. He tries to walk around me, but I stop him by grabbing his forearm.

"You don't have time. You must get to her on time!" Agitation coats his face and if he could throw me out of the collapsing house as easily as he threw Peyton, I knew he would.

"Shane, where is Lola?" Despite the chaos going on around us, my voice was deathly calm. I need to know what happened to the blonde girl with blue eyes we all took for granted.

Who knew that would be our biggest mistake?

"You will meet her in due time." was all he said before he pushes me towards Penny's frame outside the building. "You have a girl to save."

He didn't give me time to process his words before he took off again towards the corridor that was being consumed by flames which had Marcel's office. I would have gone after him, scratch that, I should have gone after him, but I knew better. I would have to trust the Ghost.

I dived through the door just as the roof collapsed in the foyer and joined Peyton on the floor. The pillars holding up the building fell apart as the windows burst open and the flames consumes the building whole.

Peyton sighs and stands up. "Best we continue with our night. Shall we?"

There was dust around us and I didn't need to check the rubble to know that Shane got out of there alive. It's one of his tricks and or talents; blending into anywhere and getting out of some nasty situations.

Her mood was understandable, another opportunity to find Lola ripped out of her hands before she could it grip it firmly. I just hope that Shane knew what he was doing when he walked into the corridor.

I took her outstretched hand and together we hot-wire a nearby car and head straight to the address that Shane gave us. The only sound that was audible in the car was the heavy breathing coming from both of us as I sped down the roads of Miami towards an abandoned part of the city.

I park the car a few blocks from the playground and hand Peyton a spare gun that I had on me. We come down from the car and approach the place that looked just as desolate as the houses beside it.

I see a dark figure hunched over on the swing see. From the outline of their shadow, it had to be a young girl in her teens. Her cries became more distinct as we crept towards her; she shook as more sobs came from her mouth along with murmurs that weren't clear. A hiss comes from Penny when she stubs her toe on the see-saw a few feet from the swing set. The crying figure shot up her head, tears covered her face and her hair resembled a bird's nest, but the deadly glare on her face was prominent.

Seems we are intruding on a moment.

Making no mistake on how she looks right now, I know this face all too well. The youngest in the Wellington bloodline; Marcella Freya Wellington. She might not be aware of how many would tremble in fear of just her last name, but with the glare on her face, she could strike fear into the dead.

She sniffs. "When did you two get back into town?"

Her face softens when she saw it was us, but I was no fool. Her entire body language screams tense from her rigid shoulders to how her jittery feet.

I cock my head to the side as Penny and I exchange looks. She nods and approaches Marci with hands raised to show that she meant no harm while I scope the area for any threat.

"Hey Marci," Penny sits on the swing next to her.

Marci narrows her eyes. "Ironic of you two to show up here. Run into Shane?"

At least I know one of the many reasons that Shane was moving back and forth. Penny maintains the small smile on her face even though it looked forced. "I know this sounds confusing, but we need you to come with us."

The smell of cigars made its way to my nostrils, and I frown. The rickety contraptions on the land creak, giving me an eerie vibe.

How is this a haven for a teenager?

Marci kisses her teeth. "Don't allow the door to hit you while you leave, because I'm staying."

"Seriously, Marci, you aren't safe here?" Penny argues.

A humourless laugh left her lips. "Trust me; I've come here even during stormy nights. This is the safest place for me to be tonight."

The sound of someone cocking a gun cracks through the night and I instantly duck while Peyton drags Marci along with her as they fall off from the swing set and onto the ground. A few shots whizzed into the air and land on the monkey bars behind us.

"Your definition of safe is questionable," I scoff.

I cock my gun and send a few bullets into the air in different directions. I look around and wait for more signs of life, but whoever is watching us is enjoying the show because they have the advantage of the shadows of the night.

"Get to the car." I command the two of them as I grip the gun harder and focus in a particular direction.

The girls scramble to their feet and run to the car while I let my curiosity get the best of me. I stay rooted to the spot and look for the shooter.

"Show yourself, bitch! I know you're out there Valentía, let's get your death mapped out and continue with our night." I shout.

A chuckle too deep to be from a woman wafts into the air. "I thought they filled the British Empire with stuck up pricks. Turns out you people have emotions, scary."

The thick French accent didn't go unnoticed by me as men come out from different parts of the playground. They surrounded me and there was no way I was getting out of here unharmed unless I was faster than Mike Tyson.

The voice that taunted me matches the face of the buff man that came to stand opposite me in the circle his men had formed. No scruff of hair is on his head. I saw instead a tattoo of a skull with FRANCE written in it. He is the same man that attacked me and Megan in Las Vegas; the second in command of the French Dynasty.

You'd think the higher ups were good at their aims.

"I'm only going to say this once, and you'd do well to listen." My hand tightens on my gun as he walks in circles around me. "You bunch of Wankers are going to give Kasie up to us, and we can all save the stress for another day."

"And why would we do that?" My voice is void of emotion as I study the man before me.

He might be rough around the edges and have a useless aim, but I could bet he could beat a gorilla in a fight. Judging from how tense the members of the French Dynasty are as we scrutinise each other. If he can strike fear in their heart, then I wonder how the leader operates. Maybe this world power runs on fear just like its counterparts.

"You're obviously not stupid, Danny. When you get back home, tell Sam that we will visit before the year ends." He walks closer and whispers into my ears, "I'd be careful with you allies if I were you. After the world's vanities easily sway all men."

I bite my tongue to not allow the insult that plays on it to slip out. If they kill me, Sam will retaliate by starting a war. I know that I still have much to do in this world, and I can't do that if I'm six feet under it.

He stands upright and nods his head to the side. "Get away while you can. We will meet again."

Inhaling deeply, I turn away from the mob that could shoot me in the back but decide not to and head towards the car. I open the driver's seat and settle in while ignoring Penny's questioning look. I start the car and before it can move; the second in command of the French Dynasty shoots at us.

Missing the whole car, he orders his men to do it, but we had already gone a far distance from them.

-

The car ride back to the penthouse is quiet as we all mule over what happened. I decide to have a talk with Marci later, but for now; I have to talk to Sam ASAP and check in with Carlos to make sure that Megan is being kept in check. We will pay dearly is if we underestimate the French. I think I speak for all of us that mistake won't be happening again.

The moment we walk into the penthouse, Marci runs to her room. Caleb goes after her, but judging from the curse that leaves his mouth, he didn't make it to her on time.

He walks back in with a crumpled expression. "What happened?" He looks at Peyton for answers.

She in return glance as me, which makes everyone averts their attention to me.

Way to put me in the hot seat, sis.

"As you can see, a lot of things happened tonight," I say, but I'm cut short by a certain petite woman.

"Here's an idea. How about the beginning?" Comes from the one and only Patrisha Taryn Alden.

She leans on the banister with a frown. Jack stands beside her with a glare fixed on me. "It's only fitting you tell us why both of you decide to visit us unexpectedly. After all, death always follows members from the British Empire, doesn't it?"

The snide comment about our origin has Penny sucking her teeth and me raising my brow, "Taryn, I'd be careful of my words if I were you, you already know what were capable of if you can't handle your mouth."

Taryn lets out a humourless laugh. "A threat from a dealer herself. Why am I not surprised?" she descends the stairs and comes to stand in front of Peyton, with barely an inch between them.

She whispers onto her lips, "That place you call home bears similarities to mine; so if you want to make a threat towards me. I'd pick my words carefully because where I'm from, we either go big or go home."

A bright smile creeps up Taryn's face while Penny looks ready to kill. She's about to reach for her gun while Taryn rests her weight on her left leg, giving her access to the right one.

Caleb comes to stand between the two women. He runs his hand through his hair. Turning to the babysitter, he scolds, "You might have a bone to pick with them, but let's focus on problems that affect all of us. Alright?"

I raise another brow.

Taryn scoffed but remained quiet whilst glaring at Penny.

I take the floor. "The British Empire has a target who we have tracked to Miami. Penny and I are here on an extraction mission to take her back with us. As for the issue with the Wellingtons, I'll resolve it personally. Meanwhile, Marci should not be on her own because she is on the target's list of people to kill." I explain.

The less these people know about us, the better. They wouldn't be useful in this situation. Judging from the digs from Taryn, she must have an in dept knowledge of what we are, even deeper than what Penny has told Caleb. Either that or love is blind to the American musician.

"How's Marcel?" Peyton asks after an awkward silence breaks in.

"He's breathing, at least. They removed the bullets from his body and have patched his internal bleeding up. Abuela decided to stay with him for the night and ordered us all to go home. We didn't have a choice when her newspaper roll made an appearance." Jack said as he glances from Peyton to Taryn, a hidden emotion playing between his eyes.

My eyes narrowed at the action. What does he know?

"It's been a long night and I believe sleep would do us all some good and if not, I have a club on speed dial." Jacob says.

"So what will we do about the princess of dark clothing?" Jack nudges his head towards Marci's room.

"We'd have to leave her to her own devices and hopefully, she'll come around by morning. I don't know what Dinah told her, but it clearly took its toll on her." Caleb has a sad look on his face as he talks about his adoptive sister. He turns to me. "Thank you for bringing her home."

I could only nod. I gave Peyton's shoulder a squeeze as a warning. We are not in the right circumstances to have an argument with the petite woman who could throw as well as a Sandel.

Stripped to just my shorts, I take in the starless sky from the window of my room. My thoughts swim around warning that I've been hearing all night.

Pick your allies carefully.

Someone was going to betray me, intentionally or not. Betrayal can be associated with secrecy and there's nothing I hate more than secrets. It's like a spiral set of stairs in a black and white room that never ends. An angry pack of wild dogs that eat you alive. The start from little white lies and from there it just gets bigger and bigger till it's a web of lies that could rival a mind map.

Secrets never end well, at least not for me and the people I care about the most. It's hypocritical of me to not want any secrets kept from me when I can't return a favour, but it's who I am.

I had to grow up in a dysfunctional family, used as a pawn for his father's amusement and introduced to violence as a way of peace. At thirteen I discovered the British Empire. I had just lost my virginity to a redhead in my bedroom. Came down for a can of sprite and saw my dad passed out on paper work, normally he would spend long nights trying to establish his pharmaceutical company, but I felt drawn towards those papers that were under his head. With enough stealth to rival a shadow, I read the documents, but they made little to no sense to me until now.

-

Dinah's Delabsy.

Was what the bright signboard read in front of the fashion enterprise that keeps growing as the days go by.

I roll my shoulders and enter the busy building; staff running from corner to corner as different fabrics are being made simultaneously. Stepping over a small pile of needles, I head over to the elevator to the office that has a transparent glass that overlooks the affairs of the workers. The blinders may be open, yet the room was dark. On closer inspection, I could see a small puff of smoke. I tried to open the door, but couldn't. I turn my attention to the assistant that files her nails as she watches me struggle with the door.

"Are you sure that you don't have the key?" I question her.

The woman continues to bluff. "I'm supposed to get fired today, so they took my key to any of the doors."

I roll my eyes and rack my brain for answers. My eyes sweep the floor below me that has fashion designers on sewing machines and weaving machines, making the latest trend. Acrylic is the new hit among women and so the floor is littered with the fabric along with others like cotton and linen. Security is stationed at different parts but five minutes is too much for them to reach me.

I ignore the snobbish assistant and head back to the worker's station. Grabbing a piece of the fabric, I make my way back to the office. I attach the fabric to the lock and light, since the material is little in amount, the flame should be enough to trip the fire alarm and disable all the locks in the building, manually locked or not.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The snobby assistant says while not looking up from her nails.

I scoff and follow through with my plan; the trickle of water that runs down my head along with the collective opening of doors is enough to bring a smile to my face.

The security team turns to me with fixed glares after viewing my stunt from the cameras, but I remain unfazed and open the office door. The shadow of a woman who looks half dead greets me and I lock the door after me.

"Mind explaining to me why you have taken the form of a businessman that needs to be put out of his misery?" I humor her.

I flip on the lights and walk deeper into the room and take in her appearance. Stress is clearly written on her face, from the amount of eye bags and stress lines that mar her forehead. The messy room and the smell of marijuana linger in the air indicating how much the situation is putting her through.

She turns her head to me, "Nice to see you again, Danny."

I smile. "The pleasure is all mine."

Dinah Wellington was a close friend of Chloe since they were both in the same field of work. I've crossed paths with her once or twice and I took an interest in her the moment I knew her last name.

"Tell me why you thought it was a bright idea to almost set my whole factory on fire?" She asks and wipes water droplets from her face.

"You tell me what's going with your daughter and I'll pay for damages. Deal?" I tease.

She scoffs and raises her head from the desks, "You can humor a homeless man with that deal of yours, but not me. Why are you really here?"

Play your cards right.

The woman still shows up to oversee her factory, when less than twenty four hours ago her husband got shot while her daughter ran off to an abandoned place in town. I might not have been raised by a good woman, but even I know horrible parenting when I see it.

"How about we start with what you said to Marci that made her run into the dark?" I narrow my eyes on her body, looking for clues that will give her away.

A glare takes root on her features, "That is family business."

"Anything personal that can harm those around you stops being family business and a crowd problem."

"If you want to know what I talked with my daughter, you'd have to ask her yourself. Although you'd have more luck in taking her virginity." she sneers and turns her attention to her nails.

"What about what happened to Marcel?"

"We both know my ex-husband's history with violence, so it doesn't surprise me when it comes back to bite him."

I cock my head to the side, "For someone as unbothered as you, someone would think you would at least have some care for people you once loved."

She remains silent and turns the paper to face me.

'The woman outside this door is out for blood. We'll talk in the Penthouse at midnight.' It reads

I nod and say nothing more. I study how she is handling herself when her world has flipped its axis and is spiraling out of control. She may think she has some form of control, but when guns and violence are in the mix, it's hard to tell the kings from the pawns.

Walking out of her office, I notice the missing snobby assistant. I walk over to her desk and inspect it. All the drawers are locked while the computer that was there before is now missing.

A sickening feeling crawls up my spine, I can't shake it off or pin point it, but I feel watched. Not from the security guards who are staring death at me for disturbing their protocol. I'm talking about a new stare, a new form of discomfort that can only happen when danger is near.

I glance at my watch and see that it's just past noon.

Less than 12 hours more.

I order an uber and make my way to the Park's Orphanage. I need some answers and I know just the right woman to get it from.

Thoughts? Theories?