vii | peaceful ruler

a/n: you all deserve an award for patience. school and plato have been kicking my ass and then i got sick. the chapter is about 3k shorter than usual, but I'm okay with that.

p.s. if anybody suggests that Rico is the mysterious, hooded, katana person one more time in my comments – i'm going to mute you. stop this madness goddammit.

sorry for an errors. i'm not perfect.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

How do you mourn when the name of the person you're trying to grieve over won't die with them?

Every time I hear Federico's name, I die a little more inside. Every time I see Dominic shed a tear, my stomach twists in knots. Every time I hear Rosie mutter his name as she absentmindedly twirls her silverware, my chest tightens. Every time I look at Carmen I have to look away. I failed Rico as a friend and the thought has haunted me since the day we heard the news.

Out of all the files in that office, Rico's is the one that was taken. Hearing Liam say his name is like another painful stab to the gut.

All it adds is another question to the towering amount that I already have. Why his file?

I'm frustrated. I'm exhausted. Pressure forces a dull pounding on either of my temples as I sit quietly, alone in the backseat of an unmarked SUV later that day. Austin is driving with Steven in the passenger seat. I blink, my blurry vision clearing for just a second as we whiz by familiar office buildings, coffee shops, and gas stations.

A steady, chilling rain dampens everything under the city as the sun begins to set. It's light quickly fades as storm clouds roll in, hiding it before it can dip below the horizon. People rush through cross-walks, beelining towards their cars as they hold umbrellas high above their heads. Others use newspapers and articles of clothing to keep themselves from getting wet.

I look up just as lightening strikes across the sky.

More rumbling follows.

"You're oddly quiet." To my surprise, Austin is the one that interrupts the peaceful sound of rain pelting the windows. He tilts his head to his right, giving a rarely silent Steven a dubious look. The question came out softly, making me wonder if they were trying to keep the car quiet for my sake, or theirs.

Steven's left leg bounces as my attention darts between the two of them, my lips pursed as I listen. He has a hand on the iPad in his lap, keeping it from slipping out of his seat. I watch him tug on the edge of his tan beanie, briefly adjusting the position of his glasses as he clears his throat. He doesn't look to his left.

"Thinking," Steven turns and stares out the window as we pass over railroad tracks. "That's all," He finishes in a mumble.

"I already regret saying this," Austin shoots Steven a look, one he misses, before focusing back on the road. "but think louder."

Steven takes the invitation to talk as he angles his body towards the driver. He glances over his shoulder just as I look away, not wanting it to appear that I'm blatantly eavesdropping. I listen even more closely as he drops his voice in volume, doing everything he can to keep me from hearing. "You just...you don't think this is weird?"

Austin breathes out through his nose as he taps the steering wheel, stuck at a light. "You're going to have to be more specific than that, kid."

Steven runs a hand down the side of his face as he falls back into the seat with a sigh. Again, he tugs on his beanie, paranoid that it'll slip off. "I went snooping around the house the other day and I found this video."

"A sex tape?" By the way Austin's eyebrows raise, I know he's just trying to get a smile out of a serious looking Steven. He accomplishes his mission as a sly smile crosses Steven's lips.

"No," Steven responds seriously, "It wasn't the one we made."

Austin doesn't smile.

Steven leans forward with a frown. "A, chill. I was kidding." He awkwardly punches Austin in the shoulder, "We'd also have to have had sex to actually have a tape and I don't know about you, but I don't think you'd want to sleep with me. I'm just getting that vibe, but y'know, I mean I could be wrong and honestly, if you tried—"

"Steven."

"—You definitely radiated big dick ener—"

"Steven."

"—as I was saying," Steven clears his throat as he pushes his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, never missing a beat. "I found a video in the house the other day. Michael Luciano made it for Liam."

I can't see Austin frown, but I envision it. "I...fail to see the importance in that."

"Michael filmed it right before he died, right before everything with that Peter Corinelli dude hit the fan." Steven ducks his head underneath the seatbelt strap as it digs into his shoulder the more he turns to face Austin. I look away but continue listening. "He says that Vincenzo came for the kingdom once and that he could come again. He warns Liam that Vince wouldn't send hundreds of soldiers to the house, he wouldn't take those that he's close too. Michael says Vince would uproot everything from the inside and before Liam can cry for help, his empire will crumble." The young man takes his glasses off. "As I speak, Vincenzo De Santis is lying in a bed Liam owns."

Austin lets out a disgruntled breath. "Oh...wow, you're saying—"

"I'm saying, what if Valentin isn't the threat? What if it's been Vincenzo this entire time?"

"So," The two share a sideways glance, "Are we just going to ignore the fact that Vincenzo is completely bedridden and beaten from when the Russians destroyed everything he owned?"

Steven gives him a look that almost makes me feel stupid. "Do you know who Vincenzo De Santis is?" He doesn't wait for Austin to answer. "This is the same man that practically ran the city of Detroit. Fuck the mayor. He had the captain of the police department in his hip pocket, and rumor has it, he has his own people inside the FBI and CIA. He's been acquitted of more cases than years I've been alive. Vincenzo De Santis is that man, he's literally untouchable.

"So, what?" Steven leans back in his seat, out of breath. "You expect me to believe that a man like that is stupid enough to keep all of his assets readily available for the taking?"

"Thank you for that history lesson on De Santis," Austin's sarcasm is noted, and I chuckle at the sight of Steven offering a lazy, seated bow. "Now, let me inform you about the Russians. Plain and simple, they're another breed. There's a reason why half the world fears them, Steven. I was uneducated like you, once—"

"—no need for the shade."

Laughter fills the front of the SUV for all but a moment. "I used to think that us Italians were brutal, then I saw a glimpse of what they could do. They're different. They're fueled by something we aren't. We...we're loyal to our family, but them? They would murder each other to prove their worth.

"Besides," Austin continues, "Your theory would mean his son, Federico, was in on it and that just doesn't sound like something he would go through with."

"You didn't even know the guy. You have no idea what he would or wouldn't have done."

I do everything I can to keep from coming to Rico's defense.

I bite my cheek as Austin's right shoulder lifts in a shrug. "You're right, I never met him, but you can tell he was highly respected. It just..." We turn into a parking lot, bouncing slightly as we ride over the uneven pavement. "I don't think it's something he would've done...or would do."

Steven puts his glasses back on as Austin kills the engine. "He murdered people. He's capable of anything."

"They knew him. They trusted him. He wouldn't do that."

I can hear the irritation in Steven's voice, a tone I don't think I've ever heard slip past his lips. "You don't know that."

Austin yanks the keys out, un-dos his seatbelt, and turns to Steven, shouting, "He was a friend!"

"And so was the man who murdered my family!" Steven yells back, sending the car in a silence that nearly suffocates me. "I knew him. I trusted him. I loved him. But that didn't stop him from breaking into my home while I was away and murdering my mother, my father, and my—" A glassy haze formulates over the green of Steven's eye and my stomach sinks. His bottom lip quivers before he tucks it between his teeth and upper lip. "—my little sister."

Austin leans back, exhaling like he's been punched in the stomach. The pain is evident on Steven's face, but I'm surprised at the hurt look that crosses Austin's. Towards Steven, I've only seen Austin portray looks of annoyance and anger, nothing close to the expression on his face right now.

His voice is but a breath as he reaches forward, unsure of where to put his hand. "Steven..."

A tear rolls its way down his cheek as he uses a fist to wipe it away. "People like me... we usually join the force. We put on a uniform and dedicate our lives to making sure what happened to us never happens to anybody else, but me? Instead of fighting against people like him, I decided to fight along-side them. I want to get inside their head; to see what motivates people as sick as he was to do what he did."

"Ste—"

Austin sighs as Steven slips out the door, shutting it behind him without a word. There's not much Austin and I can say as we watch him step out into the intensifying rainstorm, unbothered by it. He takes a few steps away before ripping his beanie off and dropping into a squat, his head in his hands. I can see his shoulders shaking.

"You should go give him a hug," I urge Austin from the backseat as I study him carefully. I swear, for just a second, he agrees with me. Then something clicks.

"I—he'll be fine. Come on."

I slide out of the car and shut the door. A chilling breeze prompts me to tuck my hands into the front pocket of Liam's oversized hoodie. It's warm, large, and smells just like him. It feels like home.

"You alright?" I catch the ending of Austin and Steven's conversation as I move around the car, concentrating more on the looming building ahead than the hand Austin has on Steven's shoulders. They share an awkward, seemingly forced hug as we march forward.

The fresh air eases the pain in my stomach as I take in the windows that appear to be missing most of their glass. Moss grows up most of the brick and the front doors look like they'd fall if someone blew on them.

Liam thought getting me out the house was a good idea, and I agreed, but having Austin and Steven take me to one of the lower-end neighborhoods in the area was not what I had in mind. He said it was something important, something I absolutely had to see.

"Why did Liam want me to see this?"

We reach the front doors, which Steven pulls open with ease. The inside is no better looking. Broken glass and debris litter the concrete floor as we step inside, the door closing behind us. An eerie feeling settles in the pit of my gut as I spin around, taking in the vast – but abandoned – looking main floor. Old, moldy, and worn-out pieces of furniture are shoved against one wall, emitting a foul, stale odor.

"Liam's been working on this place as a little side project for over a year now," Austin begins to explain. Steven nods out the corner of my eye, but he's more focused on his tablet than his surroundings.

"It shows."

I smile softly when I'm sure that they've noted my sarcasm.

"They started last September, right around the time your fight with the Corinelli's ended," Steven pipes up, his eyes still scanning the tablet's screen.

"I sort of picked up the majority of the work when I joined earlier this year," Austin takes over again as I move deeper into the room. His voice echoes about the incredibly large room. "Construction wasn't supposed to finish until this December, but with the Rostov's looming as one of the biggest threats this family has potentially ever faced, we thought we should speed it up."

Steven appears beside me, holding out his iPad. "The new doors we've ordered should arrive by the end of the week, so we'll be needing your fingerprint to make sure you can enter."

I extend my thumb, pressing it to the screen and tilting it whenever the screen instructs me to.

"What about windows?" I lean my head back, counting about five windows that look in desperate need of help.

"We still need this place to look as abandoned as possible."

I pull my finger off the screen, watching as Steven taps a few things. He holds the device back out to me and I frown. "Bosses orders; I need two fingerprints."

"Why the hell would you need two fingerprints?"

"Incase one finger gets chopped off." He adjusts his glasses and lowers his gaze. "I recommend the middle finger. It's the less likely to get...to go missing."

I not-so-subtly flip him off as I do what I'm told.

Once I finish, our journey continues as Austin opens a newer looking door. With him in front of me and Steven behind, we descend the dark, creepy stairwell. The smell of mold fades the further we travel.

"Jesus," I complain as we continue walking, "Is this what the walk to hell feels like?"

Steven's gentle laughter breaks the sound of shoes squeaking and heavy breathing. "Ask Austin, he does it more frequently than me."

Austin's reply is a dry one. "You're hilarious."

Just when I didn't think I could walk any further, lights flicker on. I hop off the last step and dodge the door at the bottom as my mouth parts in surprise and shock. I slowly spin, taking in surroundings that differ far from what I saw upstairs.

The room is just as large as the one above us, but decorated beautifully. A kitchenette is situated on the left, with a large, dining room table. There're a few sofas, chairs, and a television. I can spot a numerous amount of cots for people to lay on to sleep. Large dresser-like pieces of furniture are lined up side-by-side, pressed up against the wall. I've seen enough of them to know that they're loaded with every type of weapon you can dream of.

I breathe out a barely audible, "Wow," as I admire the place.

"This is your safehouse. It's tucked away in a neighborhood that many won't be looking in, shoved underneath a building that looks like it'll crumble any day now." Austin motions toward the room. "This room can hold about a hundred and fifty men, comfortably. Whether it can feed that much?" He snorts, "I doubt it, but it was mostly made for you, for Rosalie, for Zara, and Liam if your house was to one day be compromised."

"Well," I scan the room, in awe of the work that everyone must've put into this. "Thank you? This is—"

The lights shut off, sending the room spiraling into darkness.

I can't even see the hand in front my face as my eyes attempt to adjust.

"Steven!" Austin cries out.

"Austin," He huffs, "I specialize in computers, not electricity. I thought we discussed this alre—ooff—"

A body hits the ground.

I can see the outline of furniture. I can see Austin's figure as he releases the safety on his weapon, spinning as he takes in as much of the room as he can. I can see Steven, who lies on the ground, a hand on his head. I bend down.

"Steven?"

He doesn't respond.

"Austin? I think—"

"Shut up. Someone's here."

I slowly stand, my eyes locking with the dressers filled with weapons. I lower my voice to match his. "I need a weapon."

"Stay behind me."

I fight the urge to rush over to one of those dressers and grab a gun. I manage to stay pressed up against his back as he quietly moves through the room, eyes peeled.

He stops, as does my breathing when I make out the short, distinct figure dressed in black.

Oh my Go—

The same modulated voice that not only echoed throughout the parking garage that night, but spoke once they infiltrated our home, speaks again. "I just want to talk to the girl." Their black attire helps them blend into the dark room. I can't see them too well, but I can hear them. They're close. Too close.

Austin makes a sound. "Over my dead—"

He crumbles at my feet.

I rapidly blink, eventually shutting my eyes at their sensitivity to sudden light. My vision clears, and all I see their bodies. Steven lies a few feet away, still. Austin is laying at my feet, softly groaning. I lift my gaze, hardly surprised to see my hooded figure friend standing opposite of me.

They look different today, something's off but I can't quite put my finger on it. Maybe it's the eyes; the only part of themselves that they leave exposed. They don't shine as brightly, I noticed. Or maybe it's the outfit. They're still dressed in black from head to toe, but they're missing one – or, should I say two – very important pieces of equipment.

Their katanas.

"I didn't mean to hurt them," Although the voice is mechanically altered, I swear I hear a hint of sadness, maybe even regret in their words.

"You didn't have to. We could've talked—"

"—like we talked last night at your house?"

"No. No," I step forward, leaning down a bit to shove a finger in their face. "You came into our home, into my home and threatened to—"

"Threatened to what?" They don't back down, despite being shorter than me. "If I wanted to hurt you or anybody you claim to care about, I would've. I could've."

"You held one of those goddamn swords—"

"It's a katana, bitch."

"I don't give a fuck what they are! You held it against Rosalie's throat and—"

"—and I told her I wouldn't hurt her."

They tilt their head, waiting for me to stop stuttering in response.

I clench my jaw. "That doesn't make you any less of a coward. You put a little girl in harm's way because you're afraid of confrontation. You shut off lights and work in the dark because you know you would lose if you didn't. I don't know who you think you are, but whoever it is, you're not them." I step back with a huff.

Their lips twitch underneath the mask. "You're quite bold today. Is it the fact that I don't have my girls with me?"

Their girls. Their katanas.

My irritated mood and sarcasm speak for me. "You name them too?"

They nod to their left, "Lindsay." They nod to their right. "Lindsey." Their eyes lighten. "I have two white girls riding me at all times."

"Thank you for confirming your gender."

"I'm a lesbian," they respond with ease.

I roll my eyes. "Smartass."

"It's one of my finer qualities."

Their eyes meet mine as they swing their backpack to the ground, situating themselves into a squatted position. Their hood rests perfectly atop their head, leaving no hints as to who they are. They zip open the bag and pull out a manila folder. Rico's folder. I tense as they rise to their full height. They hold it out for me to grab but tighten their grasp as I try to take it.

"You can have it," They keep their head lowered, their eyes hidden. "As long as you answer my question."

"And I'll answer your question as long as you promise to stay the hell away from me and this family."

They don't verbally respond to my request, but I can see it register their eyes meet mine. They tap a gloved finger on the folder, drawing my attention to it.

"Where is Federico De Santis?"

I make a face. "Depends, who's asking?"

"Don't make this difficult."

"Who is asking?" I question again, pressing the matter.

"The president of his fan club." Their response is drenched in sarcasm, but they don't seem amused. Their eyelids have lowered, forming a glare. They hit the folder and shove it in my face in annoyance. "Where is he?"

I fold my arms across my chest. He isn't the only one gifted with sarcasm. "Sounds like something the president of his fan club would know."

A muffled breath hits their mask as they let out a chuckle. "Cute."

"I know I am."

The knives appear out of nowhere, like they slid down their sleeves and landed perfectly in the palm of their hands. They glance up, their eyes barely coming into view from beneath the tip of their hood. I didn't think the modulated voice could get any deeper. "You're pissing me off."

I take a couple steps back as Steven and Austin quietly stir. "And you're going to be even more upset when I tell you where he is."

"Try me, unless you're ready to see just how good my aim is." They twirl the daggers in either hand with practiced and perfected ease.

"He's dead."

Their knives hit the floor.

Their eyes tell me everything I need to know.

They're shocked.

"No. There's no—no he's not. No, he's not!"

"That's what I told my boyfriend when he got the phone call."

Their breathing intensifies and from here, I can see their chest rise and fall. Their eyes dart from me to Austin and Steven, who're beginning to rise to their feet. They begin backing up, their head moving from left to right in utter denial.

"Why the hell does it matter to you, anyways?"

I expect a real response, but all I get is more vaguely sarcastic answers.

"He was my celebrity crush."

"Covering hurt up with sarcasm and humor? You sound like somebody that I used to know."

They wipe at their face underneath the hood before gathering their belongings and heading for the steps.

"You have a good life, Gotye."

I don't get the joke until they're long gone.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Two hours.

That's how long I was able to sit in my room by myself, with no other voices except the one in my head.

Everyone except Dominic and Vincenzo were seated around the table by the time Austin and Steven had dropped me back home. The meal Zara had apparently made looked delicious; their plates stacked with steak, potatoes, and vegetables; but once the smell hit my nose, a wave of nausea washed over me and I waved their invitations to join away.

I went upstairs, changed into a pair of dedicated lounging clothes, and curled up in bed, uninterested in anything that was going on downstairs.

I want to relax, but all I can think about is the conversation I had with that...person, earlier. The file lays beside me, while the television remote rests in my hand. I flip channels, searching for nothing in particular. I skip over weather stations, people talking politics, and food channels. I immediately move from Nickelodeon, but my hesitation hits as soon as I reach Disney.

I turn away as soon as the Disney logo starts to blur.

"Rosie can't watch it either." Liam's voice startles me as I lean back, doing my best to glance at him over my shoulder. He shuts our bedroom door and moves closer, a faint smile on his face as he greets me. I notice the paper plate in his hand, and a glass of water in the other.

"Yeah," I clear my throat and look back, my finger still spamming the 'up' button. I'm somewhere around the national weather channel now.

Liam sets the glass and plate down on the bedside table before easing himself onto the edge of the bed. The mattress dips underneath his weight. The room is quiet as I continue scrolling, passing channels I didn't even know we had. Liam just watches, as I brace for whatever he's preparing to say.

He looks away from the T.V, his eyes roaming over the large, black t-shirt I had found inside our shared walk-in closet. He notices the baggy, lounge shorts and smiles. "Don't you have your own clothes?"

"Yours are comfier."

His smile is contagious.

"I, uh..." His eyes drift to the television, before sending me a pleading look. I turn it off and flip over, burying my face in his pillow with a soft smile. His eyebrow lifts in question. "Are you sleeping on...my pillow?"

"Yours is—"

I barely have the chance to scream as Liam shoves my pillow in my face, muffling the rest of my cry. He pulls the pillow away, a smile gracing his lips – but nothing is wider than the smile that crosses his face as soon as he sees mine. He points at me as he tosses his head back, a laugh so genuine erupting from the back of his throat. "You should see your—"

I rip the pillow from his grasp and hit him with it.

As gentle as it may have seemed, it's just enough to disturb the balance he has on the edge of the bed. Liam topples over and hits the floor, disappearing from sight.

A weak voice breaks the impenetrable silence. "I'm hurt."

"Oh, suck it up."

Liam rises to his knees and rests his chin on the edge of the bed. His lips are curled in a frown, his eyes resembling that of a begging puppy. I take in the burger king crown that sits atop his head, tilted slightly and I laugh. I fall back on the bed and I laugh, hard.

He adjusts his crown as he joins me in bed. With a smile on my face, I watch him as he sidles up beside me and lies down, using his arms to pull me closer to him.

He's warm. He's safe. He's home.

"I'm going to need you to stop smiling so I can kiss you," Liam chuckles as his breath hits my lip, his words vibrating against my skin. I do as he says, briefly exhaling through my nose as for just a moment, everything else fades away. He kisses the tip of my nose as I press against him with a sigh.

"I wanted to check up on you, see how you're doing..." Liam's voice is low, and I take note at how carefully he's choosing his words.

I look up and offer a smile. "I'm fine."

A look passes over his face and I swear he does everything in his power not to wince. "Don't lie to me."

"Liam, I'm not—" I try to lean back, to lean away, but his hand presses into my back, keeping me right where he wants me. I bite my lip and stare down at the mattress, unable to look him in the eye any longer.

"Don't lie to me, Faith." His voice is deep and his tone is drenched in disapproval. He uses his hand to turn my face towards his. "You don't think I haven't noticed? You aren't eating."

"I've been eating."

"You haven't ate today."

"I'm not hungry."

"You aren't sleeping," He counters.

"Yeah, well, Dominic needed me last night—"

"I'm not just talking about last night. Ever since—" Liam waves his hand in the air as words fail him. "—you toss and turn and get up and pee everything thirty seconds, then you walk downstairs, or you're texting...someone."

His eyes float to my phone and although it's hard to spot, I can hear the way his voice lightens in doubt.

"It's my mom," I confirm before his thoughts can drag him any deeper. "I'm always texting my mom. It's not like I can have any friends."

A wave of guilt washes over his face as he purses his lips.

I wrestle out of Liam's loosening grasp, hovering over him as he watches me carefully, silently. My headache comes back full force as I close my eyes. I don't realize I'm crying until I open my eyes again.

"I can't help but worry about everyone. I worry about you, about Zara and Rosie, Dominic and Veleno, and Vince. I'm worried about what I know is coming. You're trying to downplay it, to not mention it, but I've heard things...I've seen what the Russian's can do and they're coming." I use both hands to wipe down the sides of my face. "I'm worried about us." Liam is all but a blur as I blink away tears. I can't see his expression, and I don't think I want to. "I...I just...sometimes, I don't think we're gonna make it—

"And I want to be there for Dominic because I cannot fathom how he feels right now. I want to hug Carmen until everything's okay again. I want to tell Rosie that it'll all be alright, and I want to give Vincenzo a million hugs, and I want to assure Veleno that he can help us, that he can do something. I want to help everybody—"

The next time I hear Liam, his voice is in my ear. "You can't help everybody, Fi."

"I know—I just...I feel like I've been trying to keep up with everybody and make sure everyone is okay but nobody checks up on me—

I can feel the bed shift and move as Liam joins me. His arms form around me as I press my face against his chest, a sob escaping me as I do so. I can feel his hands on my back, rubbing gently, before moving to the base of my neck, then my head. He pulls me even closer than before. I can feel his lips on my head as he kisses me softly and mumbles words of comfort.

His comforting words never rise above a whisper, but between those and his touch, my breathing slowly returns to normal. I take in a deep breath and let it out in a shaky sigh.

"I am so sorry." Liam's hands gently rest on either side of my face. "You should never feel like that, like you don't matter. I promise it'll never happen again."

I nod and reach up to wipe at the last few remaining tears. Liam smiles softly, using his thumb to do the job.

"I can't take you seriously with that stupid thing on your head," I nod at his makeshift crown as I laugh through a few tears.

"My crown?" He chuckles. His smile says one thing, but the weary look in his eyes say another. "It's heavy."

I go to smile, only to fail as more tears spill. "I would wear it for you if I could."

"One day you just might."

I tilt my head a bit, curious.

"You do know, if something happens to me, all of this...it's yours, right?"

My head shakes dismissively from left to right. Liam is just an attractive blur as I wipe at my eyes. "No-I don't want to talk about this, I really—"

"You need to know this, though," He grabs at my elbow, shaking me to a stop. "I've been meaning to tell you, to inform you, but I—" Liam's eyes close. He's composing himself. "Typically, the heir to the throne would be my child. Obviously, I don't have one, but I still need to appoint somebody...just incase I don't...incase I..."

"You die?"

Liam tucks his bottom lip between his teeth and nods.

I feel my stomach drop.

"I appointed you, Faith." I can feel him studying me, watching me, weighting my reaction. It's sheer confusion. "Technically, yes, it probably should be Austin, maybe even Zara," Liam answers my question before I even have a chance to ask. "But I don't trust them like I trust you."

"Dominic?" I let out, breathlessly.

"His head isn't in the right place. You know that."

"But he has experience and he lost his brother—"

"And he's lost weight. He has issues focusing. He isn't eating. I know for a fact he isn't sleeping. He's fidgeting. He's—"

I raise my hand, "I get it."

"Then do you understand why I made this decision?"

"Yes, I do, but I don't think I'd be a good...king."

He lets out a sigh. "You're perfect, and you'd make a decent king too."

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and lower my gaze, remaining silent. Liam struggles to say something, to fill the gap after his announcement. The heat from my cheeks leave, along with his gaze as it lands on the Rico's file, which rests near my knee. Liam's eyes jerk to me quickly as he scoops it up, inspecting the inside.

"Austin and Steven told me what happened today. I cussed them out since they failed to do the only job I required of them, which was to protect you—"

"It wasn't their fault. This person... they would've gotten to me no matter who was around."

"Are you okay, though?"

I nod.

Liam scans the rest of the folder, seemingly pleased. Nothing's missing.

"It was the same person that broke into our home?"

"Yes, but I don't...they won't be an issue anymore. They promised. Can we...not talk about this?"

"What do you want to talk about then?" Liam dismisses the conversation, but I know the events of earlier today will be brought back up again. He tosses the file onto the nightstand and turns back to me, an eyebrow raised.

"I want to sleep."

Liam opens his arms out wide, his serious expression morphing into a playful one. "Come to da—"

I lean forward, punching his chest before he can finish. He makes a pained noise and falls backward, bringing me with him. His laugh fades as I cuddle against his side, eyes closing. This is refreshing; rare, but beautiful. I missed him; playful him. I missed Liam, but I don't miss the king. I don't miss the serious, stern side of him. I miss the side of him I hardly get to see, the side I fell in love with. His teasing winks, sarcastic responses, his smiles, his laughter, even his jokes.

I rest a palm on his chest and let it travel upwards, stopping right above his heart.

His breathing is the only sound in the room I can hear. My eyelids grow heavier by the second as he curls his arm around my shoulder, tugging me closer. I'm almost sleep when he speaks again. His voice is low, hardly above a whisper.

"The crime rate in Detroit has skyrocketed since the fall."

The fall...

The fall of De Santis.

The fall of his son.

"That doesn't make sense," I mutter against his side. "Shouldn't crime be going down?"

Liam's hand gently runs his fingers through my hair. "You don't understand. Vincenzo kept every drug dealer, ever gangbanger, ever wannabe murderer in line. You didn't make a move unless it was authorized by him and most were too afraid to do anything without his permission."

"But they weren't afraid of Vince," Liam softly continues. "Vince was just the head, he was just the name. He wasn't the one who punished those who didn't listen."

I let out a breath. "Rico?"

"Rico." Liam confirms in a breath. "Detroit's peaceful ruler."

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

I can't tell you how long I've been crying, how long tears have been skating out my eyes, immediately hitting the pillow I rest on. I can't tell you how long I've been lying on my back, staring up at our blurred ceiling as I bite my lip, trying to muffle the sobs as they come. I don't want to wake Liam up.

Talking with him earlier helped, but his hug, kiss, and words of assurance didn't solve anything.

I'm still as worried and overwhelmed as I was before our talk.

I can't sleep, and I know I'm not going to, that's why I leave the house without telling a soul. A horrible decision, really, but I don't think much of it as I stand in front of Nathaniel's apartment door, waiting for an answer from the other side. I glance at my phone as the digital clock hits 11:00pm.

There hasn't been a time when we didn't talk did Nathaniel not mention the fact that I could call, or even text him whenever I needed someone. So, forty-five minutes ago, that's exactly what I did. I want to talk to someone that I don't see every day of my life. Someone that can momentarily distract me from the hell that's constantly raging at home.

I wish I could've seen the look of surprise on my face when the door opens, and instead of my classmate greeting me, it's his younger and uglier brother, Gabe.

I snicker at Nathaniel's greeting for his brother, despite strongly disagreeing with it. Gabe certainly looked younger than his brother. I'm not sure if it's because of his lack of facial hair, or his short haircut that contributes to the illusion of youth. But uglier? My eyes flicker from Gabe's feet to the top of his head, which misses the doorframe by only a couple inches. He's tall and not ugly.

"Hi," I smile and add in an awkward half wave towards the figure in the door.

Gabe stuffs a spoonful of cheerios into his mouth as a response. Back at our party, Gabe had hardly lifted his eyes off the floor the entire night, but I was expecting something. I wait, unsure if I should continue speaking as he swallows and moves to take another bite of his late-night snack. He has absolutely no interest in engaging in conversation with me, that is clear.

"Wait—" I lift a hand, causing him to pause, spoon still in mid-air. "—is...Nate here? I texted—or, called and said that I was coming over. He said he would be here..."

Gabe's brown eyes meet mine for the first time.

I take a step back.

"Went to get pizza." His voice is refreshingly...light. It isn't deep, intimidating, scary, even. Like most of the men I'm around, he doesn't lower it to impress me or those around him. His words, however, mingle together like one, making it hard to understand. I'm sure it's the fact that his full lips hardly part as he speaks.

"He'll be back soon, right?"

Gabe nods, barely.

"Can I?" I motion past him, towards the interior of their home.

His eyebrows press together as he grabs his spoon, fills it, and extends it towards me as if that's what I was asking.

I laugh in unbelief. "No, I...can I come inside?"

"Oh." Embarrassed, he quickly pulls his hand back. Avoiding eye contact again, he uses his spoon to point inside. "Yes."

I smile in thanks and brush by him, entering their humble abode. The door closes behind me as I admire the place. It's small, cute, and definitely lived in by men. Clothes are strewn along furniture, the kitchenette – even from here – looks atrocious. Plates, dishes, and bowls of unfinished food lie around their small kitchen table. The television is on, set on a local news channel.

"Um." I turn at the sound of his voice. Gabe sits at the kitchen island, just a few feet away from their living area. He hunches over as he sits on the stool, keeping his arm draped around the bowl of cereal as if someone's coming to take it. Milk drips from his lips as he sits up a little straighter. "Water?"

I shake my head initially, before changing my mind. "Sure, I'd like some."

I shake my light jacket off my shoulders, dumping it on top of the sofa like the other articles of clothing. It blends in perfectly.

Joining Gabe, I slide on the stool right beside him, before reconsidering and moving over one. He seems like someone who likes their personal space.

He sets a cold bottle of water down in front of me before taking his seat.

"Thank you." I break the seal and tilt the drink towards my lips. I set the bottle down after a satisfying gulp and use the corner of my eyes to look at him. He's more focused on his cereal than me. "We met at the party, but I don't know if you..." I extend my hand, which he just looks at.

"Faith." Gabe whispers my name with recognition, but he doesn't look my way. "I remember you."

My hand falls to my lap. I toss one leg over the other and angle my body towards his. He tenses at that simple movement. His grip on the spoon tightens, along with the muscles in his back.

"Well that's interesting, because I never introduced myself to you." And I hadn't. Nathaniel is the only one who did any type of introducing, and that was him telling Liam and I his brother's name.

Gabe leans back, rolling his shoulders as he does so. He doesn't even look at me as he speaks quietly. "He called your name while we walked over to you." He rests a hand on his thigh. "You're trying to get me to talk."

"No," I say slowly, "I'm just trying to break the ice."

"You're trying to break ice?"

"No, I'm trying to break the ice." Gabe's expression morphs into one of confusion. I elaborate. "It's an expression. Like, I'm trying to get to know you? To get you to open up? To break down the wall of awkward conversation?"

I swear, for the first time since I've seen him, the corner of his lip twitches.

Realization dawns on me as I let out a breath. "You did that on purpose." Gabe neither confirms nor denies as he takes another bite of cereal. "I just figured since we're sitting here we might as well get to know each other while we wait for your brother." I fold my arms across my chest and flick a hand in his direction. "Tell me something about yourself."

"I'm shallow."

I groan and turn away from him, tired of trying. I listen to the news reporter for just a bit as I twirl my water bottle around, hoping it kept me sane until Nate arrives. My water is nearly done by the time Gabe speaks again.

"Why are you sad?"

I spin around in my seat, letting the volume of the television fade. I narrow my eyes at him. "How do you know I'm sad?"

"I'm sad."

"So, you're saying sad people can recognize other sad people?" I tease with a smile.

Gabe's enthusiastic nods makes me laugh.

"I...yeah, no, I'm..." I go to dismiss it, like I have been, but I change my mind. I let out a sigh. "I lost a friend, whose name I don't feel like mentioning because I swear to God I hear it every day and I'm just...tired..." I look up at him. "Have you ever lost anyone?"

Gabe doesn't answer.

"That's why I came here, kind of..." I keep going, not allowing another awkward moment of silence separate us. "Your brother's been a friend to me, and I guess I just need another person to rant to."

He pokes out his bottom lip and tilts his head back and forth in understanding. He never once turns to look at me, to even glance at me. His hands are constantly working; whether they're trailing the edge of his bowl or the rips in his jeans. He's constantly fidgeting, always moving. Clearly a nervous habit.

"I heard what Nathaniel said to you at the party...about being anti-social?"

Gabe suddenly blurts out. "People make me nervous." I watch his hands work as he accidently rips a larger hole in his jeans. His hands are shaking, just slightly, but I can tell it annoys him. He slaps a palm on the table and keeps it there. "Nate likes people. Doesn't understand."

"Maybe that's why he sounded so harsh?" I question with care. "I doubt he's trying to hurt you or your feelings when he says stuff like that, but I could tell it bothered you so I just wanted to ask..."

"What he says doesn't bother me."

"It's okay to admit that it does." I lean forward to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder. "If you talk to him about it, maybe..." He leans away, just far enough to leave my hand hanging inches from contact. I let it slowly fall, embarrassed.

"I'll think about it."

"Okay."

Gabe inhales deeply before twisting in his seat. His eyes stay on mine for longer than three seconds; a new record. Nervousness radiates from him as he musters up the courage to lift his hand, letting it drift between us. I frown for a second before my smile returns. I let his hand take mine in a firm, yet gentle shake.

"It's..." He struggles but manages to talk. It almost appears like he's been working up the courage to do this since the party. "Nice to meet you, Faith."

"Nice to meet you too, Gabe."

I swear on my life the color of his eyes darken, as does the tone of his voice.

"Please, call me Gabriel."

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

a/n: pretty uneventful chapter considering i'm holding back because it's only chapter 7. I have chapter 8 planned out.

shit's gonna start going down at approximately chapter 9/10? rough estimate. either way...

be ready.

btw. i'm less than 10 followers away from 900 on twitter so i need approximately 6 of you to do your girl a favor and follow XD

@tkxo_official.