Honestly, thank you guys so much for all the love and support you give me after every chapter! I may not respond to every comment, but trust me, I see them.

Please do not leave spoilers on my wall.  I'll be forced to delete them and I really don't want to delete your messages.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

"Let me get this straight—"

"Don't."

"You ordered a security detail for everyone in this home, except your woman?"

I sit on the edge of the couch, wincing as the family doctor shines another light in my eye.  He whispers a few words between us, but I'm not listening.  I tilt my head to the right, giving him a good glimpse of my forming bruises.  A low whistle slips past his lips and I hear him mutter something along the lines of, "What a beauty," as his fingers brush along my cheek.

I'm more focused on Liam and Austin, who stand just a few feet away, arguing.  With his arms folded and his eyebrows connected, Liam's gaze falls on me and the fresh bruises that decorate my face.  I glance away, but not after noticing the guilt that causes his cheeks to redden.

"I forgot," is all he mumbles.

Austin snorts loud enough for all the men lingering around the corners of the room to hear.  His eyes narrow as he uses his hand to motion towards his boss. "How on earth do you forget to assign a security detail to your girl—"

"—Austin!" Liam shouts, causing the entire room to flinch.  Conversations lull as the doctor leans on his heels, glancing over his shoulder, now interested in the altercation.  I lean to my left, silent, as Luciano whirls on the young man.  The veins in his neck become clear as he strains his voice. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I have a lot going on right now!  So, yes!" Liam points to me, "Yes, I forgot my own fucking girlfriend!"

Romano takes a cautious step back.

"—But do not blame me for this." Liam continues, "I made these men respect you, I put your ass in a position of power because I trust you to have my back!  Why the hell do you think Dominic Santiago and I worked so well together?" He makes another advance; this time Austin stands his ground.

"I've made mistakes," Liam rests a hand on his chest, patting himself, "I've forgotten things, but Dominic always made sure to have my back, and I always had his.  If you had noticed that I forgot Faith, then you should've used the power I gave you and covered up my mistake.  Either way, you messed up just as badly as I did." The two bump chests and the room holds its breath.  "Dominic would've never—"

Austin rests a hand on Liam's chest, stopping him from stepping any closer.  Liam glances at the man that dares to touch him.  Clearing his throat, Austin speaks up.

"I am not Dominic Santiago—"

"I know." Luciano grabs the man's wrist and twists, causing a cry to escape Austin's mouth as he crumbles.  "Every time I fucking look at you, I'm reminded of that.  I'm reminded of how much I had to downgrade."

The pain Austin is going through is obvious as his jaw clenches and the rate of his breathing increases.  He's fallen to his knees, his free hand doing everything it can to release Liam's grip.  The entire room winces as Liam twists even more, causing Austin to make another sound of distress.

"Boss," a wary voice comes from behind me.  "Maybe you should...ease up."  Luciano looks up, locking eyes with the person over my shoulder.  "I...mean that with all the respect in the world, by the way."

Looking back towards Austin, Liam leans down.  "Don't ever touch me again unless I give you permission.  Do you understand me?"

Austin nods and relief washes over his face and Liam lets go just as a gentle knock draws everyone's attention to the archway.  Steven, the computer dude, stands there, an iPad clutched to his chest.  He awkwardly waves and steps in, his eyes darting between all of his fellow house-mates.  Stepping away from Austin, Liam greets the smart, young man with a handshake as Austin scrambles to his feet, disappearing out the room before anyone can stop him.

"Hi, Ms. Crawford—"

I offer up a welcoming, anxiety-reducing smile.  "Faith is fine, Steven."

"Liam—" He nods towards Luciano as if I don't already know his name, "—um, asked me to come by—"

Liam cuts him off as they near the sofa I'm sitting on.  "I requested Steven to come by because not only is he amazing with computers, but he's an amazing artist as well." He folds his arms across his chest as I look up at him, "If you can, I'd appreciate if you could describe to him who rescued you."

I frown momentarily, "Why?" It's safe to say that I'm more curious about Liam's motives moving forward.  "I don't care who they are—"

"Well I do," Liam emphasizes.

"They saved my life," I continue, my eyes narrowing. "Unless you plan on sending them flowers—" Liam rolls his eyes and casually turns away from me, muttering in an annoyed manner.  I stand up quickly, causing the room to spin for a second.  I rest a hand against my temple and repeat myself, "Unless you plan on sending them a bouquet of flowers, I want to know why you want to find them so bad."

The doctor eases me back into a seated position, my eyes never leaving Liam's once he faces me again.  His lips slightly part and whether he has an answer for me or not, I'll never know.  He doesn't speak, he just stares.  My stomach feels like a bottomless pit as Steven kneels before me, gearing up his device to draw.  I shake my head, my words coming out as a mere whisper.

"Why won't you answer me...? What did I do...? Why are you treating me like a stranger...?"

Liam doesn't hear me.  His attention snaps to something – to someone – over my shoulder.  I don't hear what they say, nor do I care.  He gives me one last fleeting glance before exiting the room, accompanying whoever managed to take his attention away from me.

"Faith?" Steven rests a hand on my knee, reeling me back from the depths of my depressive thoughts.  His voice is soft and oddly comforting.  "I know you don't want to do this, certainly not after the night you've had but..." He gives me an easy smile, "Liam wants to do this because he doesn't like the idea of not knowing who this...apparent...ninja-person-wannabe-thing is that's prancing around a city he feels as though he controls."

I manage to stop myself from rolling my eyes.  "Why couldn't he just say that when I asked him then."

Steven swipes a few times across the sensitive screen before shooting me another smile.  A strand of dark hair falls across his forehead as he readjusts his glasses.  "He's had something stuck up his ass the last few weeks." I laugh softly as he concludes with, "When we manage to get it out, I'll let you know."

My smile is genuine this time.  "Thank you, Steven.  I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably a lot," he retorts, "I'm kind of irrelevant."

My smile remains as I watch him tap his iPad a few times.  I manage to pick the worst moment to speak, interrupting him as he decides to change topics.

"Where were you earlier?" I question.

"Earlier?" He responds with a question of his own.  "Like, earlier as in when you were getting your ass handed to you? Or earlier as in, when Liam made Austin look like a fool?"  Steven lowers his gaze in attempt to hide his smile, "I'm assuming you're speaking of the latter and in that case, I was outside laughing my ass off."

Austin and Steven's interaction during the meeting earlier this morning flashes through my head.  I nod.  "You and Austin don't get along?"

He playfully winces, one eye closing more than the other as he flashes his pearly whites.  "No, we don't."

"Why not?"

Steven pauses to look up at me.  "Do two alphas ever?"

My eyes widen.  I lift a hand to my mouth as I snort, chuckles following.  "You?"

You can tell he's offended.  He lifts a hand, stopping me.  "Hey," he emphasizes, "don't let these under-developed shoulders and geeky-persona fool you."

I raise my hand, palms out to declare innocence.  Our laughs mold together as he scoots closer to me, changing the subject with ease.

"So, I'm going to ask you a series of questions about the person who saved you tonight.  They should be relatively easy, but if you don't know, just say so." Steven angles his screen towards me. "All you need to do is help me portray this person with the best of my ability.  The more accurate the drawing and the facts, the easier it'll be for us to I.D. this person if we see them again." I nod, as does he.

"Before you start," Austin comes into view, unaware that he's interrupting Steven from speaking.  The man kneeling before me rolls his eyes at the familiar voice.  "Is there any way that the person that saved you, was Diavolo?"

Steven turns, giving Austin the once over.  "I see you managed to pick your balls up off the floor after Liam ripped them—"

Austin lowers his gaze, forcing Steven to turn back around and mumble to himself.

I ignore them both.

Diavolo is one of the world's most notorious assassins, alongside Fantasma.  He mostly operates in his home country of Russia and only on rare occasions does he drift to any surrounding countries.  There has yet to be a Diavolo sighting in the United States and Liam – along with the rest of the Italian Mafia – want it to stay that way.

Just like Fantasma, rumors around him spread like wildfire.  I hear that he's deaf, that he doesn't speak.  They say that the bodies of his victims are so disfigured that the only way to identify them is by dental records.  The most popular rumor of them all claims that there are only few that know what he truly looks like, few that have laid eyes on the face beneath the sheer, black material that he uses to intricately wrap around his head, so that only his eyes are visible to those in close proximity.  Those that have seen him when they shouldn't have, never lived to identify him.

They call him Diavolo because of its translation:  Devil, but many know him as the Son of the Russians because his loyalty doesn't just reside with the family he was born into, but it resides with them all.  Those who seek to harm a Russian mafioso must answer to him.  They consider him their Hybrid, because although he is human, the training, the torture, the pain they must've put him through transformed him into something else.  Something lacking mercy, lacking empathy.

He's the Russians guardian angel; except this angel didn't descend from heaven, he clawed his way up from hell.

"Diavolo is 6'4, over two hundred pounds." I lock eyes with Austin, stating facts that Liam passed down to me.  "It wasn't him."

"How tall were they?" Steven takes over, dropping his first question.

I bop my head back and forth, thinking.  "5'4, maybe 5'5."

Liam rejoins our group.  He stands beside Austin, who visibly tenses.  "5'4? 5'5? We're either looking for a midget, a female, or an incredibly short guy."

Steven jots down a few notes and glances up.  "Did you see their lips?"

"No."

"Ears?"

"No."

"Eyes?"

My pause prompts him.

"What color?"

I'm teleported back to the parking garage as the figure steps in front of me once again, looking up to meet my gaze.  Their eyes are beautiful, and as weird as it sounds, pinpointing a specific color is nearly impossible.  "I saw...I saw gold."

"Contacts?" Austin frowns.

"Hazel," Liam confirms. "Rico's eyes sometimes looked like that if light hit them at a certain angle."

Steven hesitates as he glances up at his boss.  "Liam, you don't think...?"

Luciano's jaw tightens.  "Rico was 6'3.  Rico also never used katanas.  This wasn't him, Steven."

"Look, Steven," I turn to him, "The only thing I saw was their eyes.  They were wearing a black hoodie.  A ski-mask covered everything but the eyes which were partially hidden underneath the hood.  Their hands were covered in black, leather gloves and they wore black combat boots.  Everything was black."

Liam speaks up next.  "Did they appear trained?"

"Highly." I respond without much explanation.  They all take my word for it.

"Is there anything else you can think of?" Austin presses.

"They used a voice—" I wave at my throat, the technical term escaping me for the moment.

Steven frowns.  "A modulator? A voice scrambler?"

Austin snaps, drawing our attention.  "We might be looking for a woman then.  With a higher-pitched voice, it would only make sense that they...she...wants to be taken more seriously on the streets."

"This doesn't narrow anything down," Liam shakes his head, dismissing Austin.  "It could be a woman, yes, but it still could be a young man."

He frowns. "I'm a young man—"

"Then let me clarify." an irritated tone still graces Liam's words as he finishes, "It could be a woman, yes, or it could be a boy."

Steven jumps in.  "So, you think they haven't hit puberty yet?"

"I don't..." Luciano lets out a frustrated sigh as he drags his hands down his face.  "I don't know, okay? I'm just throwing out assumptions.  I just... I want to know why they saved Faith."

I frown, my right eye twitching.  I lay way too much sarcasm on this one.  "You sound disappointed."

He matches my sarcastic level with ease.  "Keep talking to me like that and I might be."

Steven lets out a low whistle and stands.  I'm too busy eyeing Liam down to focus on the awkward smile he shoots in both of our directions.  I can feel my face heating up as all the blood in my body rushes upwards.  My fists clench as Liam steps forward in a form of intimidation.

"Liam Elijah Luciano!"

Zara ties her robe tight around her waist as he enters the room amidst the whispers of other men.  She heads straight to her son, forcing Austin and Steven to back away.  With one hand, she reaches for her son's partially unbuttoned dress shirt.  With his shirt in her hand, she balls it into a fist and spins him away from me.

"I did not raise you to disrespect women!"

Liam stumbles at the force his mother hit him with, but he doesn't fall.  The surprise falls from his face quickly but anger soon replaces it, especially after hearing a few men chuckling.  He raises his hand, gently trying to ease Zara of.

"Mom..." I've never heard three letters said in such a threatening manner.

"I don't know what the hell is wrong with you!" She continues, her voice rising, "But I will not stand here anymore and listen, and watch you disrespect Faith who has done nothing but love you! She supports you! She...she..."

"Mom..." There's those three words again.

"I did not raise you like—"

Liam rips Zara's hand off, as his own encircles her wrist, just like it did with Austin.  He doesn't apply pressure, he doesn't twist, but he has her in his grasp.

"You did not raise me at all, Zara."

He releases her and turns to walk away, but Zara isn't finished.  She latches her hand around his wrist, daring Liam to drag her with him or to turn around.  With an irritated sigh, he rolls his eyes as he performs the latter.  He's working his jaw in annoyance as he glances down at his mother's hand.

"Get off of me," is all he says.

"I don't care how old you are, but as long as I am speaking, don't you dare turn your back on me—"

Liam tugs against Zara's grasp, but to no avail.  She holds on tight.  "Get off of me."

"Change your tone before I change it for—"

The room collectively holds their breath as Liam pries his mother away.  The tears forming in Zara's eyes indicate just how much pressure Liam is beginning to put on her wrist.  The muscle in his jaw begins to tick as Zara lets out a silent cry of pain.  A few of Liam's soldiers step forward, wanting to intervene but not sure of the consequences if they do.  Even Austin looks a little unsure.

I stand, the room gently swaying.  There is no way I'm going to continue to sit here and watch Liam bring his own mother to tears; especially not when she spoke up on my behalf.  Stepping forward, I speak up.

"Drop her." My command sounds much like one you would utter to a disobeying dog.

I can honestly say that I don't fear Liam, but as I approach, I realize I fear this one.  I don't recognize the man I fell in love with as I rest a hand on his bicep, hoping to ease him off his own mother.  The look in his eyes could freeze hell, it could send even the scariest of demons to their knees.  My attention drifts to a few men in the background, silently instructing them to do what they know they must.

Three men take cautious steps forward as they unholster their weapons, taking aim at their own boss.  They use their non-dominant hand to steady their weapon as they stare down their potential target.  Shooting Liam isn't my goal, but I've seen the trance he can fall in to when he's incredibly upset.  I've seen firsthand what his anger can do.  It kills, brutally – and it's only when he snaps out of it does he realize the destruction he has caused.

"Why are you hurting mom?"

I, including half the room, didn't notice the short figure march in and take position behind her brother.  Rosalie folds her arms across her chest as her white and pink bunny pajama outfit sweeps the floor, one size too big.

Her sweet, innocent voice is enough to drain Liam's anger.

With a wave of my hand, the three men holster their guns and stand down.  Zara stumbles into Dominic, who also managed to sneak in during the excitement.  He catches her, protectively wrapping his arms around her as he continues to stare at his friend.  Not a word is uttered as Rosie's question awkwardly hangs in the air, awaiting a response.

Carmen rushes in, her pajamas matching Rosie's.  She looks frazzled.  "I'm so sorry!" She runs toward the little girl as Liam turns around, glaring down at his little sister.  Carmen skids to a stop behind Rosie and gently places her hands on the little girl's shoulders.  "I was putting her to bed and I had to pee and when I came back—"

Liam doesn't wait for Carmen to finish her sentence.  He leaves, quickly moving out the room before anyone dares to stop him.  I share concerned looks with Carmen, Rosie, Dominic, and lastly Zara.  She absentmindedly rubs at her wrist as her tears begin to dry on her cheeks.  The rest of the men stare at the exit Liam took, shocked.

The question Zara poises next is one the entire room wants answered.

"What the hell is wrong with my son?"

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

I spend the next forty minutes looking for Liam.  After making sure Zara had ice for her wrist and ordering Austin and the rest of the men to return home, I went searching.  A part of me doesn't want to find him, but the other half is telling me that we need to talk and we need to talk now.  From our steadily declining relationship to his anger that he's having a hard time controlling – we aren't exactly short on topics.

I'm pleasantly surprised when I turn the corner and enter our bedroom, only to find Liam sitting on the bed, his back towards me.  The bedroom was the only place I hadn't looked after figuring that Liam would be anywhere but here.  I approach cautiously and survey the room.

Liam pulls his arms out the sleeves of his dress shirt, allowing it to fall to the mattress.  He rolls his shoulders, drawing my attention to his first – and only – tattoo.  Etched on the back of his left shoulder are roman numerals, stating the date his father died.  The placement of the tattoo couldn't have been any more perfect; right on the blade of his shoulder, right where his muscles ripple whenever he moves.

His shoulders grow rigid as he tenses, sensing my presence.  He turns his head to the left and although he doesn't look directly at me, I can see his profile.  I stop walking.

"I didn't mean to hurt her."

"She'll be okay," I whisper in response as I backtrack to close our bedroom doors.  "Nothing an apology and a little ice won't fix."

He makes a sound out of his nose and resumes his position, looking forward.

Liam leans forward, dropping his face in his hands.  I take the opportunity to venture deeper into the room and take a seat at his side.  When he sits up, most of the blood has rushed to his face, causing his cheeks to flush red.  Liam rests his hands on either side of his head, massaging his pulsing temples.

There are so many questions that I want to ask him.  Where is he when he doesn't come home?  Why is he always traveling? Why does it feel as though he doesn't love me anymore? Did I do something wrong? What did I do to cause him to treat me like this?  Is there someone else?  Does he not love me anymore? Is he not in love with me anymore?

I swallow the emotion that's beginning to rise up my throat and I ask the only question I can formulate.  "Are you okay?"

Liam gives me a look of unbelief as he lets his hands fall to his side. "I should be the one asking you that."  He lifts his hand, gingerly reaching out and letting his fingers brush along the bruise on my face. I wince at his touch, but I don't recoil.  "Why are you like this?" He whispers.

"Because," He lowers his hand and I scoot closer, resting my head on his bare shoulder.  "I love you." I press a kiss to his shoulder.  His eyes are on me, on the top of my head as I rest my forehead against his arm.  He's warm and just by being in his presence, I feel safe.  "Even at your worst," I finish with a mumble, "I love you.  I'll always love you."

Liam looks away, unable to respond after my proclamation of love.  I can see him hesitating, not sure how to respond to my initial question.

"You're stressed," I answer my own question, diagnosing him with ease.  "and it's beginning to affect your performance and—"

"I forgot to assign a security detail for my girlfriend." He cuts me off.  Anger drives his words out of him and I lean away, watching as his fists curl into a ball. "I could've gotten you killed because I forgot something so...so..." Liam stands, taking a few steps further into the room.  "My friend," He spins around, his necklace glimmering underneath the dim bedroom lighting. "My friend is dead and I have hundreds of men looking at me to lead them and I'm trying to put on a brave face, Faith, I'm trying but it took Vincenzo twenty years to get the De Santis family as powerful as they were and it took less than an hour for the Russians to demolish—"

"—hey!" I stand, hoping my interruption will give Liam a second to inhale.  He was speaking fast, his sentences merging into others without a pause. I take a step toward him, my arms extended for comfort.  "hey," I speak softly, hoping to calm him.

"—if the Russians can dismantle De Santis then they can surely do the same to us if they want too.  And I'm trying to stay positive, I'm trying to be the leader Michael always thought I could be but..." Liam lets out a shaky breath as I reach him.  I want to throw my arms around him and pull him close.  I want to comfort him, but the stiffness he stands in front of me with forces me to rethink everything.  "I can't lead these men. I can't think. I can't mourn."

"Who said you couldn't mourn the loss of your friend?"

"I'm supposed to inspire hope, to give you all faith."  Liam shakes his head, "If I mourn, if I cry, you all won't get the chance to."

Despite every warning in my head, I toss my arms around his neck.  The stubble on his chin caresses the palms of my hand as I gaze up at him.  He doesn't move away like I expect him to, but he closes his eyes, enjoying my touch.  "Look at me." I order, and he does what I say.

Unfallen tears cause his eyes to glisten as I cast him a smile.  "As long as you are with me, as long as we're alone in the confines of this bedroom, I will never judge you for crying, for mourning.  You don't have to be a king or a leader around me, Liam.  All I ask is that you be the man I fell in love with."

I give his face a gentle pat as he pulls away, his lips curling in a slight smile.  There's no kiss, no hug.  I even feel a little let down as Liam steps back, silently thanking me as he turns away.  No more words are said as he steps off to the side to finish undressing.  I turn my back to him and do the same, stripping of my pants and shirt in search of my nightwear.

Liam doesn't speak again until he's finished changing.  I pull a comfortable shirt over my braless top as Liam crawls onto the bed.  He lies down in nothing but a pair of lounge shorts.  "I probably should've mentioned this earlier, but the doctor said you have a mild concussion." He shifts, moving over to his side of the bed as I climb in.  "You can sleep, but I want to be here while you do.  I'll wake up every so often to check up on you."

I prop my pillow and rest my head down, facing Liam.  "I appreciate it."

His lip twitches upwards as he prepares to flip himself over, to turn his back to me as he sleeps.  Just one of the many things that has changed over the months.  Liam and I sleeping in the same bed had become a rare occurrence, but when he was here, there was no cuddling, no spooning.  He slept on the edge of the bed, while I slept on mine with an incredibly large space between us.

I lean up, using my forearm to brace my upper body as I stare at Liam.  "Can I ask you something?"

"I'm really tired, Fa—"

"What did I do?"

He looks down, then out at the room, glancing at everything that isn't me.  I follow his gaze and when I do so, I can feel his eyes shift to me. He doesn't want to make eye contact.

"What did I do to cause you to treat me like this? You do everything you can to not touch me.  You haven't kissed me, hugged me..." I clench my jaw, worried that the emotion that's been building for months will cause me to sound weak.  "You don't even tell me that you love me anymore, Liam—"

"Faith..." He says my name in a dismissive manner, causing me to frown.

"No, no," I state, stopping him.  "I wanted to believe that you've been acting like this because of Rico's death, but this has been going on for months!  You started traveling a lot more; traveling so much to a point where I wouldn't see you for days, sometimes even up to a week—"

"—and we talked about this, Faith." he retorts, giving me a bored look – as if we've already had this conversation.  "I had three consecutive meetings on the east coast and even you agreed that it would make more sense to stay out there, than to fly back home every night."

"Is there somebody else? Are you seeing another woman?"

Liam's eyebrows connect as he lets out a loud, breathless, "What?!"

"It would only make sense," my questions, my words they spill out faster than I can make the conscious thought of actually saying them. "You treat me like the fucking plague.  I can't remember the last hug you gave me or the last time we just hung out and I don't want to sound like an annoying, clingy girlfriend, but I just want fifteen minutes with you.  And when you're here, you're never truly here.  You're here physically, but mentally you're still at work.

"I can't remember the last time we just," I motion towards the bed, "slept together.  When was the last time we watched television? Or watched a movie? Or went to dinner? Or talked? I'm taking these stupid birth control pills and for what fucking reason? We haven't had sex in..." I begin silently counting, using my fingers to keep track.  I'm at three months when Liam stops me.

"Faith..."

"I can't even remember the last time you kissed me!" We're both sitting up now, facing each other.  Tears freely flow out the corner of my eyes as I wipe away at them, my frustration, anger, sadness, uncertainty – all of it, showing.  And in a voice that makes me feel small, insignificant, and at the mercy of the man that sits before me, I mutter, "...do you even love me?"

He kisses me.

It's gentle but rough, passionate, breathtaking.  The feeling of his lips against mine is foreign, but it's a feeling that I've missed.  His apology for his behavior doesn't come on a sheet of white paper, typed in MLA format, double-spaced, Times New Roman font – size twelve; it just comes in the form of a kiss.  I appreciate this apology so much more.

When Liam pulls away, he takes my breath with him.

"Don't ever doubt my love for you."

His thumb gently caresses my cheek, while his eyes are focused on my bruise.  His words come out slow as he carefully thinks about them.

"Never question my loyalty..." He mumbles, referring to my question about him being unfaithful.  "My mood depends on my emotions, which change constantly.  But my loyalty to you, that will never falter."

He presses his forehead against my own when I don't respond, and in confirmation, he asks, "Yes?"

I nod.  "Yes, my king."

Liam eases me back on the bed, settling between my legs as he uses his forearms to keep from crushing me.  "I won't lie to you," he admits softly.  "Recently, women have been taking on higher positions within their family.  So, yes, I have had meetings over dinner with a woman here, a woman there, but Faith..." His lips brush against mine, releasing a flurry of butterflies in the pit of my stomach.  "How could I crawl in bed with another woman when I have one waiting for me to come home?"

I'm too captivated by the definition of his shoulders, by the way his muscles ripple at the slightest movement to respond.  "You've just..."  I reach out to touch him, my fingers dancing along his skin until I'm able to cup his face in my hands.  "You've been so distant and the lack of affection...I just, I didn't know what to think and even now... you apologized, but you didn't explain why you've been acting like this."

Liam closes his eyes.  "It's because I'm..."  He licks his lips and leans back on his heels.  I prop myself up on my eyebrows, a frown forming.  "I'm scared."

"Of?"

He doesn't hesitate.  "Losing you."

I can't believe what I'm hearing.  "Liam." I try to move, only to realize that he has my lower body pinned to the mattress.  With a breath, I fall back on the bed, our eyes never leaving each other.  "That makes no sense—"

"—it makes all the sense in the world, Fi."

"No, it doesn't!  You're afraid of losing me? Yet, you're the one that's been pushing me away!"

"Because!"

I lean up, "Because what?"

Liam lets his head roll backwards as he eyes the ceiling.  "Because..." He looks at me again.  "I'd rather let you go than let the Russians use you against me."

"Then I have bad news for you... I'm not going anywhere."

He looks clearly annoyed. "Faith—"

"No, Liam."

"You don't understand," He begins again.

"—You don't understand."

"Just like Peter Corinelli, the Russians will use you against me!" I flinch at his tone, at the determination he speaks with.  What hurts the most is that he believes everything he's saying.  "And I wish I could, but I cannot keep you safe!" A tear spills out the corner of his eye, one he wipes away hastily.  "If the Russians want you, they can get you and there are not enough men I could assign to your security detail that would make me feeling any better."

I want to argue with him, but I can tell just by the look on his face that he's been struggling with this for a while – silently struggling.  I rest a hand on his cheek, hoping to calm him.  "Hey," I whisper, "you've been thinking about this a lot?"

He inhales, exhales, then replies.  "I will always have someone gunning for me.  You will always be a potential target as long as you are associated with me and just like tonight, I can't always protect you."  Liam leans into my touch, his eyes closing.  "I love you so much, I'd rather lose you by ending this because if you died on my behalf, I don't know what I'd do."

I snake my arm around Liam's neck, pulling him down with me.  He nestles his head in the crook of my shoulders as my fingers massage the base of his neck.  "You aren't going to lose me," I reassure him.

"I almost did."

I purse my lips, remembering exactly how I was treated when Corinelli took me over a year ago.  I run my hand through his hand.  "You saved me then." I remind him.

"I had Dominic," His warm breath hits my ear, causing chills to roll up and down my spine.  "I had Rico.  Dominic, I don't know what it is, but he isn't the same and Rico...Rico is—"

"—I know where Rico is," I snap, not wanting to hear Liam finish that sentence.

He just lets out a breath.  "I could've sent an entire army to rescue you from Corinelli, but I didn't trust them with your life and honestly, I'm not even sure if I trust myself with it anymore."

"I am safer by your side, whether you believe it or not."

Liam tries to get up, but I don't allow it. 

"Know this," I continue, "I would rather live ten years by your side, than a lifetime without you."  He doesn't look at me, forcing me to grab either side of his face and angle him towards me.  Our eyes meet and I add, "Yes? Do you understand?"

Liam nods as he draws his face closer to mine.  A smile spreads across my lips as he leans down, preparing to kiss me.  I let out a chuckle as Liam mutters, "Yes, my queen."  Our kiss is interrupted once again as I smile.  Liam pulls back, giving me a sheepish smile.  "I don't deserve you."

"You're right," I smile back at him.  "You deserve the world."

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

These men are murderers.  They're cold-hearted killers.  They abuse the power that is given to them.  They wipe out entire families with the snap of their finger, and men bow in their presence.  They are the leaders of entire armies.  Most importantly, they're some of the most feared men in all the world.  But when they sleep, they're just as innocent as you and me.

Liam fell asleep first.  With his lips slightly parted, his hand loosely grips my thigh as he uses my stomach as his pillow.  I gently run my fingers along his hairline and through his soft, brown hair, hoping to soon follow him into a peaceful sleep.  Sleep for me, however, refuses to come – even an hour later.

Easing Liam's head down on a real pillow, I slide out from under him.  I make my way out the bedroom and into the still hallway in hopes that a short walk would tire me out.  The first two bedrooms I pass are the guest rooms, assigned to Dominic and Carmen while they stay here.  His door is closed, while hers is left ajar, the faint glow of the television and gentle waves of laughter flow out into the hallway.

I make my first pitstop as my curiousness overtakes me.  I move to my left, pushing the door in as I peer inside.  Dominic and Carmen are sitting on the floor, using the bed as their backrest.  The glow from the T.V. casts light onto their faces as they stare back at it.  A bottle of wine is nestled between Dom's legs while Carmen cuddles a bowl of popcorn to her chest.  She absentmindedly pops a handful into her mouth while Dom takes a swig from the bottle.

"What was it like being Rico's best friend?" Dominic asks quietly as he turns the bottle to his head once more.

A smile crosses Carmen's face.  "I felt invincible."

Dom angles his body towards her, ignoring the television screen.  His back is towards me, but his stare draws Carmen's full and undivided attention.

She begins to elaborate more.  "Sometimes it was hard, just because Rico doesn't open up a lot—"

"Even to you?"

"If you think Rico spilled his innermost, deepest feelings to me, then you have an inaccurate perception of him." A sigh escapes her lips as she shifts to look forward, running a hand through her hair.  "I'm not sure when, or why, but he established a rule about not talking about his work."

Dominic releases a breath, still studying the women next to him in silence.  A moment passes, one that changes the entire feel of the room.  A shadow passes over Carmen's face as her reflective tone vanishes.  Even from here, I can see her bottom lip quiver.

"Dominic?"

"Yeah?"

"Rico always says that I saved his life.  He always gives me the credit.  He always tells people that I'm the reason he's still here."  She wipes at her face and looks to Rico's older brother.  "And now he'll never know that he saved mine.  He saved me."

A sob fills the room as Dominic leans over, ditching his drink.  He pulls the woman to her feet and without a word, wraps his arms around her, pulling her close.  Carmen rests her face against his chest, her sobs growing louder.  I can't hear Dom soothing her, but it's clear that he is as they sway together; comforting each other.

"I'll never forgive myself," Carmen mutters.

Dominic leans away, his hands firmly placed on her shoulders.  He bends down, looking the young woman in the eye.  "Why not?" He wonders out loud.

She steps back, forcing Dominic's arms to drop at his side.

"He saved me, and when he needed saving, I wasn't there."

Yep, that's enough for tonight.

I gently close the door, their conversation fading at the sound of the door clicking shut. I inhale sharply and turn, only to find myself jumping backwards in surprise.  My hand flies to my mouth as I muffle part of my scream.  Rosie stands right beside me.  She has firm hold around Mr. Stuffykins neck and if the teddy bear were real, it would be dead.

Out of everyone in this house, she's taken Federico's death the hardest.  A part of me wanted Liam to hold out on telling her when we, ourselves, heard the news, but he insisted that she deserved to know. She hasn't been the same since.  Her bubbly personality has been drowned out by her grief.  She's hardly eating, barely sleeping, and you're lucky if you can get more than three words out of her at a time.

Her nose is red, and her cheeks are stained with tears.  Her eyes are puffy from the constant crying and when she opens her mouth to say something, the only thing that escapes is a sob.  My heart would've broke if it wasn't already broken.

"Come on," with a hand clamped down on her shoulder, I spin her around and lead her back towards her bedroom.  Her feet drag down the long hallway, forcing me to push her along.  Her shoulders begin to shake the closer we get to her bedroom, and her sobs begin to echo down the hall.  I shut the door behind us with a sigh.

"Rosie..." I don't exactly know how I should comfort her.  I don't know what I should say.

I drop to my knees as she turns around.  She sniffles as she glances down at me, and I feel her tense once I rest my hands on either side of her hips, steadying her.  She rubs her eyes multiple times, but that doesn't stop the tears from racing each other down her cheeks.  They drip off her chin and to the floor.

Her breathing steadies just long enough for her to get out a shaky, "Y—you...you can't tell Liam—"

That's never a good thing.

I release a breath, nod, and pretend to zip my lips shut.

"Last year for Christmas," she begins, "Uncle Rico bought me a phone."  Rosalie retreats, despite the confused, concerned look that's beginning to transform my features.  She flings herself over the edge of her bed, digging underneath one her many, incredibly fluffy pillows.  Retrieving the device, she stalks back over to me, dropping the flip phone in my hand.

I rotate the small, outdated phone in my hand, listening.

"H—he...he said that if Liam knew about it, he may take it from me, so... I didn't tell him. You can't tell him."

"Rosie—" I shake my head and lift the screen, searching the phone.  I manage to navigate to her contacts and my heart, my stomach, everything just drops.

There's only one contact.

His.

"He said I could call him whenever I wanted to talk, and I did, Ms. Faith, all the time." She smiles softly, reflecting on happy memories. "I talked about school and homework.  I told him if someone was mean to me and I told him about all my friends and my teachers.  I told him what we did on the weekends and what I ate that day." Rosie shifts in her stance.  "He always answered, but he never talked.  The phone would click, and I might not have heard his voice, but I knew he was there, listening to me..."

I close the phone, my vision blurring for what felt like the hundredth time in a week.  Blinking back the oncoming tears, I lift my eyes to hers.

"Ms. Faith..." Rosalie breathes out, "He doesn't answer anymore."

I pull her against me, hugging her tight as her tiny figure shook.  I hum in her ear, hoping to calm her down.  We're there for the longest time until an idea strikes me.  I lean back on my heels and force a smile.

"How about we call him?"

She shoots me a confused look.

"How about we call Uncle Rico and leave a message."

"Like..." Rosie pulls back, "Like...we talk to him, but not actually talk to him?"

I nod.

She reaches for her phone, then for my hand, and together, we walk over and sit down on the edge of her bed.  Rosie pulls her legs up and crisscrosses them as her fingers fly over the small buttons.  The phone was even too large for me, but it fits perfectly in her tiny hands.  She hits the only contact that's saved and puts the phone to her ear without hesitation.  I watch her closely, noticing as she perks up just the slightest at the sound of the beep.

"Hey Uncle Rico, it's me...Rosie," Her introduction rushes even more tears to my eyes. "I miss you a lot, but I have a question for you..."  She pauses as if she's hesitating.  "Once when we talked, you told me that we were abandonment-buddies because everyone has left us.  Your mom, your dad, and your friend once left you.  My mom and my dad left me.  You said everything would be okay because we had each other, but Uncle Rico..." The little girl's voice breaks.  "...you weren't supposed to abandon me too."

I have nothing to say.

"...tell my mom I said hi," Rosie concludes.  "I love you, abandonment-buddy.  I love you, Uncle Rico."

I run my hands across my cheeks, erasing any sign of tears as Rosie bids her final goodbye.

"I love you, best friend."

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Putting nine-year-old Rosie to bed was easier than putting her grown, twenty-nine-year-old brother to sleep.  She crawled in bed on her own and asked for a glass of water.  I happily retrieved one for her, but by the time I made it back to her bedroom, the girl was out.

An hour has passed, yet I still don't find myself any closer to sleep.  I close Rosie's bedroom door softly.  Zara's bedroom is the next one on the right.  Her door is also closed, but I can't mistake the faint sound of crying for anything else.  I keep moving.  I walk past the door to Vincenzo's temporary room and stop to backtrack, glancing through the crack in the door.  I should've continued walking, but the hundreds of questions that have piled up in my head needed answering and he's the only one in the house that can give me them.

I quietly step into the room and use my foot to return the door to its previous position.  A lamp casts a soft glow around the room, similar to one of a nightlight.  I stop walking, my heart picking up in speed at the sight of someone slouched in a seat that's been pulled up to Vince's bed.  They push the hoodie off their face and turn to me.  I couldn't mistake – nor could I forget – the beautiful blue eye that stares back at me.

Veleno.

"Ms. Crawford," He uses the armrests to push himself up.  Scooting the chair back, he approaches me in greeting.  My eyes fall to his hand, the one he extends as it suspends between us, waiting for me to take it.

"Uh..."

Retracting it immediately, he begins to apologize, "Sorry, did I—?"

"No! No," I keep my voice down and make a face, annoyed at my own stupidity.  "Just...after Rico's death, I..." My eyes scan over the bed, noting the innocent expression that Vincenzo sleeps with.  I lift my gaze back to Veleno, doing my best to look him in his good eye, rather than stare at the one that's been blinded.  I smile.  "I guess I have a new appreciation for life and just how short it is, so..." I extend my arms, waving them a little to hint at a hug.  "I'm giving everyone a hug now."

I met Veleno once or twice over a year ago, but I've heard his name a countless amount of times in meetings with Liam.  From what I'm told, he was initially brought in to the De Santis family to challenge Federico's skill, but instead of fighting each other, they became friends and partnered up.  They were like lightning and thunder; one never struck without the other.  There's no doubt in my mind that once their careers were over, they would've gone down as not only two of the world's most deadliest assassins – but as the most lethal duo in history.

We step back as I nod towards him.  "I didn't hear you come in."

"I told Liam I was here." he replies, his voice low.  "I came in when there was a bunch of commotion going on downstairs and I just snuck in to..." Veleno angles his body back towards his boss. "...to sit by his side."

I clear my throat. "I heard—"

"—that I wasn't there when shit hit the fan?" Veleno shoves his hands deep inside his pockets as he nods, confirming it.  "I wasn't there, and I know it seems suspicious—"

"—very."

"—but my parents and I have never been close, and that's where I was, visiting them.  My trip to see them was scheduled for months in advance," he continues to explain, "and I regret it.  I regret not being there.  I regret not being there to die with my friends."

I sigh, an apologetic look on my face as I step forward.  "Veleno..."

"Ms. Crawford," He cuts me off, "That place was home to me.  Those people were brothers and sisters to me and the fact that I wasn't there when I'm always there..." Veleno frowns, fighting through an internal struggle.  "I...There's no... I don't believe in luck. I don't believe in coincidences.  My life was spared for a reason and I cannot wait to find out what that reason is."  We make eye contact for a second, causing him to change subjects. "I'm going to go to bed. Liam already showed me to a room, so..." He walks past me, headed towards the door.

I spin and quietly call out to him, watching as he stops and looks back.  Everyone seems to be wearing the same exhausted look on their faces.  My mouth parts and I go to ask him one thing, only to change my mind.

"I...how is he?" I hook a thumb over my shoulder, pointing to Vincenzo.

Veleno's gaze travels from my own, to the man in the bed, to the floor.  He shakes his head.  "Not the same."

Then there were two.

I cross the bedroom floor and ease myself into the bedside seat.  Vince is facing me, one of his injured legs is propped up on a stack of pillows.  His lips are slightly parted, his eyelids are closed, his eyebrows relaxed.  The Vincenzo we once knew was intimidating even in his sleep.  Zara says he rarely makes eye contact with her and how his words are often soft-spoken.  He's in pain, he's vulnerable and I think that's what's throwing me off.  I never thought I would witness Vincenzo De Santis vulnerable, especially not in this lifetime.

I lean back in my seat and using the armrest, I rest my elbow down and use my hand to assist in propping my head up.  I stare at Vincent for a lengthy thirty-seconds before shaking my head.  Everything I've ever known is being questioned.

"What the hell did they do to you?"

His eyes open, causing me to flinch in my seat.

Vince's voice is hoarse as he speaks. "They grabbed me by either arm and they dragged me down to my own basement." His eyes search mine as he talks. "They restrained me by tying me to the same chains that I've used to torture hundreds of men.  You can't move your arms and your feet, they...barely graze the cold, concrete floor...and..."

"And?"  He doesn't respond.  His eyes close as if he's been taken back to that fateful moment of – what sounds like – torture, helplessness.  Vince, for the first time in a long time, wasn't in control.  Out of anticipation for what he will say next, I lean forward and repeat, "And?"

Vincenzo explodes.  His palm slaps against the nightstand, forcing the glasses of water to shake.  I should be frightened, terrified even at just how deep his voice gets.  The look in his eye that once scared me is back – just for a fleeting moment – and I find it more promising than petrifying.  His eyebrows connect as his expression quickly transforms to one of anger.  His speaks through his teeth, his muscles tensing as a jolt of adrenaline rushes through him.

"They strung me up and they beat my demons out of me!"  The words echo around the room as our eyes find each other's.  He clenches his jaw, a familiar fire lit in his eyes.  "I—I have no fight left—"

I stand in objection.  "Yes, you do." I point to him as he watches me carefully.  "Yes, you do, Vince." I sit back down and lower my voice.  "You're angry and you have every single right to be, but you need to channel it—"

He scoffs and falls back on the bed, flexing his stinging hand.  "Since when did you become a motivator?"

"Since I decided that I was willing to do anything to avenge my friend's death."

Vincenzo lets out a defeated sigh as he lies on his back.  "I can't fight the Russians."

"Then let us," I respond, "let Liam."

"I..." Vince exhales and remains silent, trying to form his thoughts into words.  His stare resides on the ceiling, as if it's telling him everything he needs to say.  In frustration, in exhaustion, he runs his hands down his face.  "I can't let you or Liam do that."

I groan, "And why not?

"By declaring war on the Russians, by taking the fight to them, Liam will be putting innocent people in harm's way." Vincenzo rolls over as much as he can, wincing at the pain.  "You," he begins, "Rosalie, Zara..."

"We're already in harm's way, Vince!"

"That's not what I—" He exhales deeply, "—meant."

My frown grows and in as soft a voice as I can, one devoid of anything that sounds like accusation, I mumble, "What are you not telling me?"  Vincenzo gives me a look and I know I'm on to something.  "Because it really feels like your hiding something from me."  His silence urges me to continue.  "Besides, the Vincenzo I knew—"

The same intense anger that was on display just a few moments ago, is back.  Vincenzo leans up, shouting.  "Stop!" He jabs a finger in my direction, "Stop! Stop saying that! The Vincenzo you knew died along with his son!" His voice gets louder, his tone deeper.  "All, all I'm trying to do!" He suddenly stops as he lifts his hands to his temple. He closes his eyes and when he speaks again, he's much quieter. "All I'm trying to do is stop you..."

"And all I'm asking, is why?  Why are you trying to stop us from avenging your own son's death?"

Defeated, Vincenzo falls back on the mattress.  "Because, the Rico you knew, the Rico you think you're avenging, isn't the Rico I sent to Russia."

I cross my leg over the other and fold my arms across my chest.  "Explain."  I adjust in my seat, knowing this was going to be good.

"He was so happy." Vince begins to recall, "The months after meeting you, learning Dominic was his brother, becoming friends with Rosalie, working with Liam, and reconnecting with the only person he thought could understand him, Carmen, he was so happy." He looks to me.  "I can't say that his depression, anxiety, and whatever he was going through went away completely, but I can say that those following months, he was sleeping through the night.  He was eating, he was laughing – truly laughing, it was like the entire morale of the estate lifted.

"He came into my room one night," Vincenzo continues, "and I didn't think anything of it.  Then he kneeled at my feet, placed that gun of his in my hand, and he told me to kill him.  He kept saying that he couldn't kill himself, that he didn't have the balls, so he told me to do it."

I let out a breathless, "Why?"

"It takes a monster to kill one."

My head begins to shake.  "Vince, he wasn't a..."

"He believed he was," Vincenzo cuts me off as he faces me.  "Rico wholeheartedly believed that he was some kind of sick, twisted human-being that deserved to be put down and Faith? I didn't believe it either until I saw him lose the best pieces of himself."

"His depression and anxiety came back, and this time they came back to take his life." Vince looks away.  "He stopped eating, he stopped smiling, he stopped laughing, he stopped sleeping.  He became more aggressive, angry and all I could do, all we could do was watch him because he wouldn't accept our help." We share a look.  "I lost my son long before I sent him to Russia."

"The Rico I sent to Russia tortured an innocent woman and held a gun up to a child's head.  He murdered innocent people on his operations and he called it collateral damage." Vincenzo shakes his head, "He murdered those people because he wanted to, not because he had to. I didn't want to tell Liam, or you, or Carmen, or Rosie because I didn't want your last memory or vision of Rico to be a bad one, but Faith," Vincenzo sighs, "I can't let Liam risk his entire empire, or his mother, or his sister, or his girl for a man that never planned on coming home in the first place."

I space out, his last sentence repeating in my head like a nightmare.  He never planned on coming home in the first place.  I place a hand on my head as I fall back against the chair.  We never got around to telling Vincenzo about the USB that held the audio of what appears to be Federico's final moments.  He never heard Rico say, "—who said I ever believed I would return home?" So how did he know Rico never planned on returning?

"How did you know he didn't plan on coming back home?"

Vincenzo responds accordingly.  "When we said goodbye, he told me he loved me."

I stand abruptly, feeling like I'm about to cry.  It's a mix of emotion and lack of sleep. I walk away from Vince, making a beeline for the door.  His voice stops me.

"You want to know something funny?"

I look back.

"Not even twenty-four hours after Federico was pronounced dead, my empire crumbled.

"All of those people, Faith.  They referred to me as their King.  They bowed before me.  They obeyed my every command.  They would stop speaking whenever I entered a room.  They were loyal to me, yet I never relaxed with them or laughed with them.  I didn't eat with them and most importantly, I didn't fight beside them." Vincenzo swallows hard.  "I'm starting to realize that I was never king."

I finish his thought.  "He was."

"I always gave Rico a bunch of slack, but he was the only heir I ever considered.  From the moment I met him, I knew his story would be a legendary one." Vincenzo reflects.  "I try to tell myself that this isn't how his story was supposed to end.  He was supposed to go from an orphan boy who had no idea who his parents were to a world-renowned assassin by his early twenties, only for it to end once he took my throne; once he became king and now I'm realizing, he made it.  Rico was king."

I smile a bit, unashamed at the fact that I'm crying, again.

"If you could pick the title for his story, what would you choose?"

Vince's smile is almost comforting.

"Tragedy to Majesty."

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

a/n: skrrt hey. I literally stress-wrote this chapter bc if I didn't update now then you wouldn't have seen me till the end of May and ya'll deserve better tbH honestly I think I blacked out halfway through this chapter so I'm about to go read it LMAO

for teasers, laughs, memes, update info, Wattpad tips, and just me being a damn fool, be sure to follow my twitter -- @tkxo_official -- p.s. we're almost at 800 followers and yeah that would be a dream come true

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comments? Thoughts?

Will Liam & Faith be okay, or is this just the beginning of the end?