Never in her wildest dreams did Millie imagine that presenting Davyn to her mother would go so well. Part of it was Davyn's fault for being so unpredictable and brooding. But this time, he'd put on his best act, released his charm, and won over both her mother and Max.

By the time lunch was over and she retreated to her room to finish packing her bags, she couldn't believe how well everything had gone. Not only was she going to leave with Davyn and go back to Chicago a month early, but she had her mother's blessing as well.

Predictably enough, Davyn didn't want to stay for the night, even if Sophie offered, and it was very easy to convince her that they should go. Millie found it a relief because she didn't think she could handle knowing Davyn was so close and that she couldn't go to him.

So the two of them said goodbye, Millie hugged her mother and promised to be good, and they got in the car.

As Davyn drove away, her heart started hammering against her ribs, aware that they were alone now and that everything could shift. But he still had that easy-going smile on his face, his eyes on the road. For the first few minutes, he said nothing, and it made her even more nervous.

"You're so adorable," he said as they exited the small town and drove on a county road through a thick forest.

"Um, what?"

"You're nervous. Like it's new, and you don't know me. I'd forgotten how endearing this awkwardness of yours is."

"You're teasing me."

"That I am."

"I'm starting to recognize you, too. You were way too charming back there."

He grinned at her for a moment before focusing on the road again. "One of my many talents."

"That's frightening, you know."

"And why's that?"

"Because you're able to get people to like you and do what you want too easily."

He didn't answer, just checked his watch, and then his rear view mirror. "You know, it's been four hours since we saw each other. Way too long."

"What?"

Before she could wrap her mind around the meaning of his words, he pulled off the street and among a clump of trees. He killed the engine, turned to her, and took her face in his hands.

"Hello, darling. I've missed you." And he kissed her.

It felt electrifying, and she kissed him back greedily, more than eager to feel him again. It was raw and needy, as if it had been difficult for him to play house with her there. She liked that. She also felt they'd gone way too long without kissing. Before she knew what she was doing, she was in his lap, and their little greeting had turned into much more as their hands moved under each other's clothes.

"Damn, I should really get back to driving," he muttered, running his hands up and down her back.

"Yes, definitely," she breathed. "Do you think you could drive like this?"

"I'd drive us right into a ditch if you keep moving like that."

"Could be worth it."

He laughed. "It would be totally worth it, but I want you too much to be satisfied with something like that. I need the works." He eased her back into her seat, readjusted his own, and turned the ignition again.

"The works sounds great."

"I appreciate your lack of overalls, though."

She knew he would. "I decided to try and change my style a bit. Use the overalls for painting."

"You do know you're beautiful, no matter what you wear, right?"

Millie did a double take. She couldn't believe those words had come out of his mouth. "Didn't you say they were horrid?"

He smirked. "True. But it turns out I fell in love with you while you were wearing them."

He'd said it first. He'd mentioned he loved her before she could bombard him with saccharine declarations. For some reason, it felt like she'd won something.

"I know you love me more when I dress nicely."

"I don't love you more. Is it harder for me to resist your charms? Yes. The amount of love stays the same."

His words made her blush. She'd never thought he could be so blunt and romantic at the same time.

"I love you, too, you know."

"I do know."

Of course he did. And she couldn't wait to show him what else she'd missed.

♣️

Being back with Millie made everything better. Once they reached the apartment, Davyn was more than ready and willing to get reacquainted with every inch of her body. It was divine the way she moved, the sounds she made. He'd almost forgotten how intoxicating she was in every way. That first night, neither of them got any sleep, but he didn't care. His sleep had been shitty anyway.

But over the next few nights... He slept like a rock, without any intrusive dreams or worries. He'd almost forgotten how that was, too. It was definitely worrying, how he depended on her for proper sleep, but he guessed the best solution was never to be without her again. Waking up with her cuddled against him made every day a beautiful one.

It was very easy to fall into a schedule. Since summer school was a real thing, Millie was free to use the art room and the music room and return to practicing and improving. In turn, he used those hours to read the real estate reports as well as Baron's latest takes on their business. Sometimes, he left Millie sleeping to go to his crime boss office and speak to Baron in person, but he'd rather do as little of that as possible.

Harkin hadn't been impressed with his choice to shave again, and scrunched his nose whenever Davyn showed up in jeans and t-shirts. At least until he'd threaten to punch his nose back into place. Baron had taken a leaf out of his book and was now constantly wearing fine suits and was growing facial hair. It was a good strategy, so Davyn left him to it.

Yes, this could work. He could do everything he set his mind to. And with Millie there, he felt like he could rule the world. He finally understood why his parents had been so enthralled by each other. If their love made them feel this way, it made sense that they wouldn't want to be apart, lose this feeling.

She made that small flat their home, bringing in decorations, filling it with colors as she continued to paint. She still hadn't finished any one painting, but whatever she started always looked amazing. Watching her paint was becoming one of his favorite pastimes. What he loved even more was how daring she was getting in bed, how she would light candles and wear sexy clothes for him.

Life was great. And he was going to enjoy it to the fullest. The way her skin looked in the candle light proved that there was beauty in the world. That and the flames. He'd always found it fascinating how there could be no color attributed to fire. It was conventionally red, but there was orange and yellow in it as well, in varying degrees, forever changing with every flicker. It was never just the one color, but a mesmerizing combination of all, sometimes even with a hint of blue at the root.

"You sure like fire," Millie whispered.

"Huh?" He couldn't take his eyes off the flame, watching it dance.

She blew lightly and the fire flickered for a moment before it continued to burn, consuming the wax around it.

"I like the changing colors," he said.

"Yes, those are nice."

"Isn't it strange how it doesn't actually have a color? It's not red."

She moved closer, laying her cheek on his shoulder. "It's a combination of shades, really, but it all burns down to the basics. Red, orange and yellow. Is it just the colors though? I've never seen you this enthralled by anything else colorful."

Nothing else colorful was moving like this, looked alive. "I guess it's the thought of what it does as well."

"What, destroy?"

Yes, there was that. But also so much more than that. "I guess you could say that. But it purifies. It sets the stages to rebirth. Think about the legend of the Phoenix. From ashes, everything grows stronger and more beautiful." 

She hummed, lifting her head. "I guess so. But the idea of fire is still frightening."

"Only if you see it as the end and not the beginning."

He frowned, realizing how he'd been so against Freider incinerating their father. He'd never taken into consideration the effects of flames. But it didn't matter. Not when his dad had wanted to be buried. Their conversation replayed in his mind, and he realized his feelings were the same. He wouldn't want to be incinerated either.

It also reminded him of something else. He should return to the police station for more information. He'd finally decided to go ask questions. It hadn't ended well since the detective insisted it was a an accident, but he'd decided he wanted to go and ask again, even if only to annoy them.

"It's hard to see it as the beginning when it kills us," Millie said.

"Well, yes. But it can also help us leave things behind."

He picked up the notepad he had on his nightstand for jotting down ideas and tore a page out. He then wrote three words on it and passed it to her.

She frowned. "Hatred. Pain. Resent."

"Yes." He took the piece of paper back and held it above the nearest candle.

The flame licked the paper for a moment before turning the edges black. Then, the myriad of colors spread over the words, devouring them. Davyn felt the knot inside his chest loosening up. It was something he'd learned to do while Millie had been away. Once he'd started writing letters to her, he felt the need to write more. Pour his soul out and burn it.

"And just like that, they're gone," she whispered.

He nodded, though it was hardly that simple. Even if doing this was cathartic, it served more to help acknowledge negative feelings and things he wanted to let go of. It didn't solve problems, didn't eliminate the source. Though, as he kept glancing at the flames, he realized they could eliminate a lot.

"Maybe there is something to fire," she said. "I mean, it could fix a lot of issues for some people."

This grabbed his attention, and he turned to her. "What do you want to burn down?"

"Me? Nothing." She nestled against him, a light blush spreading over her cheeks. "But you did say at some point that you would burn the world down for me."

He grinned and rolled over her, pinning her on the bed. "That I would. I wasn't lying."

She giggled as he kissed her neck. A part of him expected her to add something nice and suitable, like how she hoped he wouldn't have to. She didn't. And as she came undone under him, he wondered if maybe she loved knowing that he would raise hell for her.

♣️

The police station was as crowded as ever when Davyn stepped inside on a hot day at the end of August. Ignoring all the fuss, he headed for the information desk and waited for the officer there to get off the phone.

She spotted him and narrowed her eyes, but continued her conversation for another minute before she finally hung up.

"You again."

"Yes, me again," Davyn said calmly. "I told you that I'll be back."

"What is this? Your fifth time here?"

"Third, actually."

"Detective Morales is busy."

"I'll wait." Just like he had the last time seeing as the detective clearly didn't want to see him anymore after their first conversation.

The woman rolled her eyes, but it wasn't like she had any reason to kick him out, so she just answered the next incoming call. Davyn stepped further inside the station, all too aware that she wouldn't call Detective Morales. But he would wait. He had nothing better to do while Millie practiced her piano.

After all, a police station was an interesting place, so it was hard to get bored. Today seemed even busier, with officers fussing about in apparent disarray. 

"Kid, over here!"

It took Davyn a moment to realize that the police officer was addressing him. Ever since the whole Snitch Gravel business had started, his mindset had shifted enough to push him into the category of adult. But once he turned towards the man, he felt as if time had turned, and he was back in the middle of the night, taking the news about his father's death. After all, it was this particular officer who had delivered it.

"Oh, hello there, Officer... Jeffords, was it?"

The man seemed a little surprised that Davyn had remembered his name, but it was hard to forget the details of the person who launched the news which ended up torpedoing his life. For a moment, Davyn was taken back to that night and the feeling of despair and helplessness. Knowing his father was dead. Seeing his mother spiral out of sanity. His father's body in the morgue. 

It had been months since then, but it still made his hands clammy. He steadied himself and took a deep breath. He was too aware this would happen. He'd taken the risk into account when he decided to approach the police and ask questions.

The broad black man waved his arm from across the reception, inviting him to one of the nearby interrogation rooms. Davyn complied, making his way through the mayhem. Once he reached it, Jeffords closed the door, and the many sounds of the bullpen were silenced.

"The detective won't speak to you," he said without further introduction.

Davyn dropped on one of the chairs in the room. "I do still want to talk to him, though."

"Look, I know it's hard to let go, but there's no foul play. Your father had too many drugs and crashed his car. It's sad, but it happens."

Davyn clenched his fists but kept his neutral expression. "Yes, it happens. To people who take drugs. My father wasn't one of them. How could you not suspect foul play?"

Jeffords heaved a heavy sigh, as if Davyn were nothing but an exasperating child. "How well did you really know your father?"

"Very well, actually. Constant drug use is not something you can hide from your family."

"And yet, a lot of people do." Jeffords dropped on the other chair across the metal table from Davyn. "I've seen it before. High brow businessmen fueling their late night work with cocaine. They get addicted to the rush, to the illusion that it gives them more hours in the day."

"My father didn't need more hours in the day." As a matter of fact, Sirius had had too many hours he couldn't account for. It made Davyn a little nauseous. 

Could Jeffords be right? Did Sirius have some secret thing going on the side which involved drugs? But it was impossible. There would have been signs. He couldn't have hidden so well from their mother.

You promised!

What had he promised? That the drugs wouldn't affect their life, that they wouldn't kill him?

Davyn shook his head. He wouldn't fall into this trap. He knew his father, and whatever he was hiding, it wasn't drugs. It was the mysterious future he kept hinting at, the job he and Davyn would do together once he turned eighteen.

"We all do, kid."

"I'm his family. You can't assume you know more about him than I do."

"That's true, but I know his type."

"His type?" Davyn spat out. "He's a person, not a type." Was.

"We're all types. So are you, right now. The kid who worshiped the ground his father walked on. Because you never got to see him for what he really was. A flawed human."

"Addiction leaves marks."

"Addicts are great at lying and hiding things. Didn't you ever feel like your father had a secret?"

Davyn bit his lip, trying to fight the doubt and the rage rising inside him. It didn't help that the officer was watching him as if he were an innocent little foal.

"You can't assume you knew everything about him. Just like he probably didn't know everything about you."

That was unfortunately true. Davyn had kept things from his father. Like his escapades around the neighborhood or all the girls he either brought home or visited in the middle of the night. But those were little things.

"He was not an addict. He was happy. He loved his family. Don't you think it's worth investigating how the drugs got into his system?"

Officer Jeffords raised his bushy eyebrows. "Are you implying he was poisoned?"

"Yes, pretty much."

The man scoffed. "You're a smart kid, but here's some helpful life advice. The simplest explanation is usually true. Your dad was a secret junkie. And even if he wasn't, maybe he decided to try them that night, and it led to disaster."

"That makes even less sense!"

Jeffords narrowed his eyes and leaned a little closer. "We have a clear-cut case. A man under the influence crashed his car into a bridge and was killed for it. It's tragic, but it's not the first or last similar accident. Your opinions about your father, as sweet as they may be, don't change the facts. Don't change what we know or the results of our investigation. We are not opening it again. Case. Closed."

Davyn stood so fast, his chair toppled over. "So let me get this straight. You've solved this case on appearances?"

"No, kid. We solved it on fact."

For a moment, they stared each other down, but Davyn realized there was no use. The police wouldn't help. This was a minor thing they could easily dismiss based on what they thought happened.

"Can I have the tox-screen report?"

Jeffords' eye widened for a moment before he frowned and shook his head. "That's evidence in a case."

"Yes, a case you closed. What's the harm in handing me a copy?"

The man mulled over this for a moment, then let out a breath. "I'll see what I can do." He stood and indicated the door.

Davyn didn’t like it felt as if he'd lost, so he decided to push some more. "What's going on out there? It's busier than usual."

"Those damn trafficking rings. Now they're bringing drugs into schools, and it's mayhem. We have a million concerned parents blowing up our phones."

No shit, Sherlock! Took them long enough to figure it out.

"It's probably just kids."

"We thought so, too. But apparently, they're organized now. They have a leader." Jeffords shook his head. "The world is going to hell, I tell ya."

Davyn nodded and opened the door, trying to hide the tension in his posture. He had a bad feeling about this, so he walked a lot slower than he usually would have, keeping an ear out for information. And as he strode across the bullpen, it presented itself.

"...this is tragic..."

"Snitch Gravel? What kind of name is that?"

"Dorlami and his gang are terrified by him."

"...there can't be drugs in Saint Agnes."

"...Harkin. We should bring him in for questioning."

"You can't. Do you have any idea who his father is?"

By the time he reached the door, all thoughts of his father had exited Davyn's head. He had other pressing matters. Like prepping his second-in-command for the interview of a lifetime. 

♣️♣️♣️

Well, shit got real. There is happiness, but the crime business is also affected, and Davyn needs to step up. I'm sure this won't make things harder. At least he got a month of happiness.

I know this chapter might feel like filler, but it actually contains a lot of tiny hints and build-up for what's to come. That's all that will he happening until shit finally hits the fan. I know you're all very excited for that to happen.

I hope the chapter worked and you're still enjoying the story. All thoughts and votes are truly appreciated.