xxviii | in confidence and power

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Getting out of bed is getting harder and harder to do.  Finding the strength to roll over and the motivation to get up and start a day you're certain will be traumatic is next to impossible.  It's been two days since the memorial of Jaiyana and my mother.  Two days of rolling over and thinking the exact same thought.  Who is going to die today?

I roll over on my side, hand tucked underneath my pillow, just to find Liam standing before a full-length mirror.  The room is dark, and the cloudy weather outside doesn't help. But I can see Liam clearly, dressed in black from head to toe. 

He loops a black belt around the waistband of his dress pants before working the collar of his black dress shirt.  There's no overly expensive suit jacket today, nor does he wear his favorite tie—one costing more than most people make within a weeks' time.  He loosens a few buttons at the top of his shirt for a more casual look, before securing a silver chain around his neck.  Our eyes meet in the mirror a moment later.

"I made the family aware this morning that the hit I put on the news anchor is suspended."  By the sound of his voice, I know he woke up recently.  "That was anger.  I shouldn't have made that order in anger." Liam finalizes his outfit with a diamond studded watch.  "What he said about the company doesn't matter.  Nothing really matters."

I sit up.  "What do you mean?"

Liam turns to face me.  If I wasn't entirely awake then, I was once the faint smell of his cologne reached my nose.  He looks away from me when he says, "Because I'm shutting it down."

Whoa.  I pause, then fling the comforter away from my legs, roll over to his side of the bed, and effortlessly slide out of bed.  "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." I reach him in a matter of seconds, my hands finding a way to the belt loops on his pants.  I tug him close, a frown forming quickly.  "You look good." His smile is soft, but painful.  "You know I'd support any decision of yours, but I want to make sure you're sure.  Is this something you really want to do, or is this because you're hurting right now?"

"I've been hurting since you met me."  The truth in his words hurt a little more than I expected.  He looks away, lost in thought while I'm lost for words.  I wait patiently, my hands finding his sides, holding him.  "I named this company after my mother to honor her.  I never imagined her coming back into my life, let alone assigning her the CEO position.  I never expected that.  I never expected any of this." Liam's eyes find mine.  "It only feels fair that the company dies with her."

He moves past me, muttering something about me getting dressed and accompanying him.  I reach for his arm, stopping him from stepping out of reach.  "You can't just—"

"You're right, I fucking can't."  His anger catches me off guard, but I don't take it personally.  He doesn't rip his arm from me but accepts the holding of my hand when our palms meet.  "I cannot watch another person get murdered on the steps of that building and I cannot let more innocent people die inside of it.  I can't, Faith."

A sick feeling circulates in my stomach, and I drop his hand.  A tear of frustration finds a way to the corner of Liam's eye, but it doesn't fall.  He still wipes at it, angrily, as he finds a way to the edge of our bed and drops down.  I watch him carefully, before lifting an eyebrow.  "What aren't you telling me?"

Liam lets out a sigh of frustration.  He wrings his hands together, eyes on the floor, while his leg bounces in anticipation.  His eyes dart from mine whenever they find each other, unable to hold contact for more than a brief second.  He lets out an anxious breath.  I was sure he would answer my question, until his phone rang.

Liam answers immediately.  I notice he doesn't greet the individual on the other end of the line.  He gives me a look before tapping the screen, putting the person on speaker.

"Valentin didn't kill your mother. But you're going to wish he had when you find out who did."

Liam puts the phone to his ear and mouths, "Get dressed," before confirming a time to meet the man on the other end of the line.  It made sense.  The suspicion that was making Liam's knee shake in anxiousness revealed itself through a perfectly timed phone call.  I have never in my life, ever, thrown on a pair of jeans as quickly as I did this morning.

I nearly fly out the bedroom door, meeting Liam in stride as he descends the stairwell.  "Who was that on the phone?" I shrug a jacket over my shoulders and work the zipper, waiting for a response.

"An informant."

"Does informant have a name?"

Liam and I reach the first floor.  Two soldiers stationed before us swing the massive front doors open for us.  The sun typically hits the steps in a beautifully, aesthetically pleasing way, but there is no sun to be found this morning.  Liam nods respectfully at the two men as we move closer towards the waiting SUV.

"Informants don't have a name."

"Why not?"

We reach the side of the vehicle, where Commander Giovanni stands, door held open for us.  He hears the end of our conversation, but respectfully doesn't break stance as his attention continually scans the perimeter.  "Informants are glorified snitches, Ms. Crawford.  They're few and far in-between these days.  Their jobs might just be harder than ours.  While we spend our time protecting those of higher power, they spend their day keeping track of every shipment, every delivery. They have eyes and ears everywhere.  They hear of wars and rumors of wars.  They tap into conversations of men like Liam, like Mr. De Santis.  They keep track of everything, and if paid enough, will tell everything."

I nod in understanding.  "Glorified snitches," I repeat softly.

Liam chuckles softly from beside me, motioning for me to enter the vehicle.  "Who don't just get stitches in our world."

We get settled inside as Giovanni knocks on the hood of the car, signaling departure. 

"How do you know you can trust them?" I question, buckling up.

"Michael did."

I only have about a hundred other questions but refrain from prying further.  I rest my head on Liam's shoulder as he scrolls through his phone, mainly watching brief clips of news footage streaming live from the steps of the company.  The camera pans toward the building and as it does so, the memory of Zara's death plays once again, in my mind. 

"Before we meet with that informant, I have to speak at the company." He locks his phone and tosses it to the seat beside him with a sigh.  Liam shifts in his seat, forcing me to readjust the position my head has on his shoulder.  "I feel overwhelmed.  There are so many conversations I need to have.  I haven't talked to the family since—"

I rest a palm on his chest, stopping him.  "You know what I told you.  The family can wait. You just lost your—"

I can hear the tension in Liam's voice, but the appreciation for my concern is still there.  "I understand. I understand, but I didn't get the crown because I'm a good crier."

The breath I let out could've been confused as an irritated laugh.  I lean away from him to sit up, but he plants his arm across my shoulder, keeping me trapped to his side.  A moment of silence passes.  "If it's any consolation," I murmur, "I've never seen anyone look as good as you when they cry."

His chest moves gently in a silent laugh.  "I have to talk to Rosie," Liam continues, softer this time.  "I have to talk to Vince..."  He pauses.  "Everyone's been so supportive.  Veleno came to me last night, to check up on me, and we hardly talk.  Dominic pulled me aside the other day, and you know us...things have been a little different since..." Liam doesn't dwell on that, but I know his strained relationship with Dom is one of many stressors.  "Even Savaughna apologized. Carmen and Crixus came with her.  The kid didn't say much, but I appreciated it.  Actually, the only person who hasn't said anything to me is..."

The process of elimination has dwindled down to one individual.  I frown.  "Rico hasn't come to you?"

Liam shakes his head.  "I only mention it because it's you," He starts softly.  "I don't want people to think I'm begging for sympathy, and I certainly don't want to call him out, I just...we walked by each other the other day and he couldn't even look me in the eye."

If there was anybody that I thought would come to Liam first, I thought it would be Rico.  The fact that he hasn't confuses me, but it equally concerns me.  I hook a couple fingers inside the collar of Liam's buttoned-down black dress shirt.  "I'm sure he'll talk to you soon.  He might be going through something."

The look on Liam's face suggests thank you, but a glimpse of disbelief is there.

Everything else after our conversation happens quickly.  The cloudy day fades into the background as our transport enters the company grounds via a private, underground entrance.  Our car is parked as two other SUVs arrive behind us, all carrying a fleet of soldiers.  As if practiced thoroughly, Liam and I are escorted out the vehicle and into a secured back door leading inside the monstrous building. 

One group of soldiers remain behind, while the second follow us up the private stairwell, leading to the foyer.  One we reach it, the second group of soldiers fall back, leaving Giovanni and Tatum to take us to the rotating front doors. 

The mob of spectators and cameras outside become more and more clear as we approach.  Not even a week ago did we make this same walk, but instead of Giovanni and Tatum escorting us, we were unknowingly spending our last moments with the queen herself.  Unaware of the danger that would raise its ugly head as soon as we stepped outside on that beautiful day. 

I suddenly can't breathe, and I stop, dead in my tracks.

Liam, Tatum, and Giovanni do the same a second later. 

"You don't have to come with me," Liam is the first to speak, his voice gentle and reassuring.  But I know the flashbacks are just as vivid to him right now, as they are to me.  His chest has to be tighter than mine right now, it just has to be.  "I'm only going to talk for a second, explain myself, and I'll never have to do it again."

"But why there?" I motion towards the place Jaiyana last smiled. "You could've picked anywhere, and you picked—"

Liam doesn't hesitate.  "Because I'm not scared."

It's the way he says it.  It's always the way he says it.  Even on the darkest nights and the scariest of days.  Even in the face of adversity and the unlikeness of victory.  Even after holding his dying father and cradling his dead mother.  Even after watching Michael leave him and feeling Jaiyana go.  It's always the way he says it.  In confidence and power.

Giovanni eases a comforting hand on my back.  And while Tatum watches me carefully, quietly, with a hand tucked inside the collar of his bullet-proof vest, the Commander leans toward me.  They're both dressed in military grade attire—from the boots on their feet to the guns secured in their holsters.  One slung over their back while a weapon of every sort rests gingerly in the holsters strapped to their hips, thighs, and ankles. 

"I know you're nervous and if you want, you can stay inside," He sends a smooth over my shoulder, where the other soldiers wait patiently for us to return.  "They'll keep their eyes on you.  But if you want to come, come.  We have snipers of our own on every building that you can see from those steps.  Undercover soldiers in the crowd.  It's safe."

Safe is a word that no longer registers.

"I'll go." Liam takes my extended hand.  "Not because it's safe, but because if I die, I'd rather die by him."

The corner of Tatum's lip curls.  "Marry her."

"I will," Liam promises. 

The cameras are as bright as the sun was on that fateful day.  The shouts of the congregation as loud as the gun that took another loved one.  Liam approaches the podium, not an ounce of insecurity in his stride.  Gio stays by me, while Tatum moves closer to Liam—still managing to keep a safe distance, out of the news cameras way.  A few important looking people from the company, who have clearly already heard the news, stand on the opposite side of us.

Liam reaches the podium and freezes.  I believed him when he said he wasn't scared, and I still do.  Tatum takes a step forward.  He uses a hand to cover the microphone and says something to Liam.  I try to read his lips.  He's speaking in Italian, and Liam responds in the same manner.  Whatever he says is enough for Tatum, and the soldier returns to his post.

Liam takes a breath, "Many of you will call me selfish, because most of you cried for me to close this company down when it was shot to hell about a month ago.  I didn't.  If I had, my mother wouldn't have died here.  I'm not here to ask for forgiveness, I'm just here to make sure nobody else dies on the property of this building again.  Effective immediately, I'm shutting this company down."

There's a rise of reactions from the crowd, yet I can't make out if it's positive or negative. 

Liam powers through his speech.  "Every employee will receive a severance check, no matter the length of their employment.  And because of my sudden decision to close the company down, each employee will continue to receive their bi-weekly paycheck for six months from today to support their families while they look for another job.  Thank you."

Questions are thrown at Liam in every direction as Tatum steps forward, trying to ease his boss away from the crowd.  "You think I want money?" You hear a deep voice yell from the front of the massive crowd, "I lost my wife here!"

"What's going to happen to your buildings?"

Liam responds to the female reporter.  "Our buildings across the globe have already attracted a multitude of buyers.  Nothing has been signed, but I expect to have them sold as early as next week."

She nods, retracting the recording device in her hand.

The angry male voice speaks again, managing to rise over the shouts of many others.  "And what's going to happen to this building?  Are you going to make money from this one too?"

I didn't expect Liam to entertain the angry gentleman in the front row.  He hesitates at the question, many probably assuming he's preparing to ignore him.  Liam tilts his head, eyes scanning the row until he spots the man.  I see him too, dressed like he's seen better days.  Tears in his eyes.

Liam's voice is comforting to the angry tone the gentleman speaks with. "I'm tearing this building down—"

Shouts erupt as the gentleman breaks through the thin line of security assigned by the police department.  Giovanni leaves my side, but Tatum reaches the man first.  He shoves an arm out, separating the angry spectator from the man he's vowed his life for to protect.  Liam is the only one who doesn't move.

"All you do is give money!" The man shouts, tears threatening to spill.  "You gave money when our loved ones died and you're giving money now.  Money isn't what we want."

"Speak for yourself," Someone states sarcastically from behind him.  A chuckle vibrates through the crowd.

The man wipes at the corner of his eye.  "Money isn't what I want.  I want my wife back."

Tatum holds his position, prepared to take the gentleman down if required to.  But even from here, he doesn't look like much of a threat.  Tatum's bicep is as wide as this guy's thigh and the solider is aware of that.  I wouldn't be surprised if he backed away and let Liam take the man down for target practice. 

"I can't give you your wife."

The man's voice cracks.  "I hate you.   I hate you because you took her."  He lowers his voice, "I saw that man on the news the other day, saying you're involved in something, and I believe it.  I believe it.  And I hope whatever you're involved in kills you."

I know it's a random stranger, but even then, I know it hurts Liam.  He manages to keep a straight face and backs away.  "Give your name and number to my friend there," Liam motions toward Tatum.  "I can't make everyone happy, but maybe one day I can give you what you want."

"And what's that?"

"Front-row tickets to my funeral."

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

I've never met an informant before.  I've heard Liam speak of them in passing, but it was rare that he ever went to one.  It was understood that he only acquired their information when he needed it the most, and knowing who ordered the hit on his mom, Jaiyana Zara, was crucial.

The house we pull up to reminds me of many.  Each house connected to another, barely separated by a patch of grass.  Our blacked-out SUVs stand out like a sore thumb.  Tatum offers Liam a wire and we stand patiently on the curb, waiting for him to secure it properly to his ear.  It wasn't until Gio offered Liam a weapon that I realized the two weren't coming with us.

Liam declines the gun.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?"  His grasp on my hand is tight as he leads us up the narrow staircase.  Liam knocks on the door.  "Declining the weapon, I mean, who knows—"

"He's not a threat."

"But are you—"

The door parts slightly.  The homeowner is tucked perfectly away from the natural light that most of his face is hidden in the shadows of his dark home.  His arm doesn't manage to hide as efficiently as his face does, and it reveals a tattoo that I'm certain starts from his shoulder and ends at his wrist.  The skin on his arm and the faint grey hairs that accompany his tattoo partially give away his age, but it's the cane that solidifies it.

He doesn't necessarily invite us in, rather he steps away from the door and dares us to enter.

"Who is this?"  His voice is recognizably unrecognizable.  I wish I could explain that.  I feel like I've heard him speak before, but the moment he takes an uncertain step into the light, I know I've never been in the same room as him.  Yet, something about him is familiar.

He's an older gentleman.  Italian, no doubt.  The left side of his face is burned to hell, leaving that eye only able to open but a slither—just enough to expose a beautiful shade of green. I try not to stare, but the burns travel down the same side of his neck and tuck inside his shirt.  My attention falls to his left hand, confirming my belief.  The left side of his body is covered in skin that looks charred.

"Faith." Liam pulls me close in introduction.

He gives me a look, one I can't decipher.  "Wife?"  As anticipated, the right side of his face lifts higher in joyful expression than the left.

Liam smiles.  "No, but yes at the same time."

"You're the informant?" I question. 

"Informant." His voice drops to an octave I don't think I've ever heard before, then he chuckles.  "It is who I am now, but it's not who I was."  He turns slowly, traveling deeper inside the old home.  "Come. Sit down."

Liam sends me a mischievous grin and urges me forward.  Black out curtains line the small living room, the only light coming from a dim lamp in the corner.  The upholstery of the sofa gives away its age, but it's in relatively good condition.  The whole house appears to be.  The gentleman eases himself into a rocking chair, allowing Liam and I to take the small sofa.

He leans his cane on the arm of his chair and settles down comfortably on the plush seating.  He leans to his right.  "How long has it been?  Five years?"

Liam still has my hand in his.  "Something like that.  You know I don't like calling on you unless it's important."

"I understand."

I clear my throat.  "Can I ask, what happened?" I motion towards him, curious.

His eyes drift from mine and meet Liam's.  "She doesn't know?"

Liam shrugs, "I figured you might want to tell her."

The gentleman smiles.  "I served under Michael Luciano for just a little over a year before it truly ended in flames."

"You were a soldier?"

"No, ma'am.  I was Michael's right hand."

I glance over at Liam, "But I thought Michael never had a—" Something registers. I motion towards his burns.  "Did he do that?"

The gentleman laughs.  "I don't blame Michael for this, I blame myself.  I challenged him for the throne because I was older and thought I was wiser, but at least back in the day—age and wisdom didn't matter.  You just had to be a crazy son-of-a-bitch, and Davidé checked that box." He motions toward his left eye.  "I put a knife to his throat.  The last thing I remember clearly seeing out my left eye was a lighter."

I lean back into the sofa, intrigued.

"Legally, I'm dead," the gentleman continues. He reaches across his body to grab a couple folders on the nearest end table.  "I don't exist.  Michael might have partially ruined my life, but he saved it as well.  If people knew that someone with as much information on the Luciano empire, at the time, was walking the streets without protection, I wouldn't have seen as many birthdays as I have." 

There's a mysterious aura about the older gentleman.  He speaks just enough to ease my curiosity, but knows he isn't telling the full story.  He might look older and portray himself as weak, but there's no doubt in my mind that he could take out anyone who walks through his doorway, uninvited. 

He smiles as he straightens the folders in his hands.  "So, technically, no—Michael never had a right hand. That is why I say my name will never be in the history books."

"But you're Liam's informant?  You still help the family that harmed you?"

"I don't see it like that," He responds quickly.  "I still help the family that I took an oath to." The man glances over at Liam, who listens intently, but quietly.  "Liam has only reached out to me, maybe three times since he took the throne.  I still have a lot of connections and no matter how Michael and I's friendship ended, I still respected him, but most importantly, this family."

I nod, convinced.  "I respect that."

He scoots forward in his seat the best he can, extending the first folder out the small stack.  Liam reaches for it first and as he opens it, leans over to me so that I can get a look too.

"Valentin didn't kill Jaiyana," The informant begins.  The first page of the folder is littered with black and white photographs of individuals.  It's easy to spot the ugliest one.  Valentin.  Locations and time stamps are provided.  "The day before your mother was murdered, Valentin and most of his soldiers located in this area were boarding a plane.  They landed in New Mexico the day your mother was murdered."

"That doesn't mean he didn't order the hit," I suggest, scanning over the photographs.

Liam's question comes out of nowhere.  "What was he doing in New Mexico?"  The room falls silent, causing Liam to lift his gaze from the folder.  "What's in New Mexico?"

The man leans forward, intent on holding our undivided attention.  "I say Valentin Rostov had absolutely no influence on Jaiyana Zara's death because prior, during, and post to her passing away—he, Diavolo, and his soldiers were busy overthrowing the OA."

Two letters have never hit me as hard as these did.  OA.  "The Organization of Assassins?" I look between the informant, who nods solemnly, to Liam, who is still trying to process this information.  "Isn't that where Crixus—isn't that where—"

The gentleman cuts through my pathetic stuttering, eyes locked in on Liam.  "You don't look like you understand."

Liam's expression is locked in a confused and concerning frown.  "I have a lot going on.  Remind me."

The informant whisks out another folder, forcing Liam to hand the old one to me and focus on the new.  The first page is covered in pictures of Crixus Josiah Santiago.  I feel something in my chest pull at the rare photographs of the young assassin as a toddler, his hair always having held that slight curl.  In as little as five photo's, we watch the kid grow up into a slightly bigger kid.

The first; an innocent toddler with a head of fluffy hair and a smile on his face, laughing at whoever is holding him.  The second; no older than six, with a knife in his hand.  His smile is gone.  The third; no older than eleven.  His face is covered in dirt, his clothes torn.  A gun is in his hand, and he stands in what resembles a cell, aiming the deadly weapon at a young girl who kneels before him.  You can see the feet of other individuals on the perimeter of the room, watching.  I can't see the tears in his eyes, but the expression on his face tells me everything I need to know.  He didn't want to be in that position.  The fourth; Crixus seated in a chair, wrists and ankles bounded. His face is bruised.  The fifth; the most recent picture of them all.  Crixus standing over the body of his latest victim.

"The Organization used to be incredibly powerful back in the day, but over the years, its power and glory has faded, drastically." The informant talks as Liam flips another page.  The photograph is black and white, taken many, many years ago.  I never met the couple in the photo, but I know their sons.  Federico taking after the woman.  Dominic looking like his father's twin.  And Crixus, a perfect blend of both.  "They have more assassins captured and trained now than they ever have, but if those same individuals knew their power, they could have overthrown the OA a long time ago."

There's a pause, before Liam asks, "How many people died?"

The informant releases a breath.  "The Rostov family captured over two hundred assassins. The rest are either dead or in the wind." He lets that one sink in.  "The OA no longer exists."

I glance over at the photograph of the young Santiago parents.  "Do you think they're dead?"

Liam scoffs, "Knowing Valentin? No."  There's an uncomfortable hesitation that follows his statement.  We come to a silent agreement that there was no way Valentin orchestrated the hit on Zara.  The silence draws on because of what that implies.  But instead of speaking on it, Liam inserts his most recent thought.  "You mean to tell me that Crixus and Federico have been attached at the hip since they met, and I'm supposed to believe that Crixus and his loud mouth never once told Rico about their parents?"

"Why?" I look up at him, "You think Rico would've come to you?"

"He always did before."  Liam's frown deepens.  "I need to talk to him."

"You certainly do."  The man offers another folder, this one smaller than the rest.  "You didn't ask me for this, but I came across it when doing some research on the Rostov family."  Liam takes the folder hesitantly, the sound of his informant's tone causing anxiety.  "I thought it was concerning."

Liam opens the folder and the first thing we see is a picture of Diavolo and Federico talking.  It didn't catch me by surprise as badly as it caught Liam, considering I already knew about their first meeting.  The grip Liam has on the folder tightens and I can feel the shift in his energy as he flips the page, revealing three more photographs.  The time stamps suggest that the last three nights, Federico and Diavolo have met up.

Liam's stating of the obvious illudes to his anger.  "Federico and Diavolo are friends?"

Each picture is more damning than the last.  The first; one could argue that we could not confirm that it was Federico in the photo because of how tight he has the hood pulled over his head, but we know our friend.  The other two pictures are as evident as could be.  Federico's face is captured perfectly in the shot.  He shows concern for the assassin standing across from him in the second photo, as he hands him something.  The third and final picture; both of their hoods are down.  Federico is smiling, but what catches me off guard is the grin on Gabriel's face.

"It looks like that to me," the man adds. 

Liam scoots forward, shutting the folder quickly.  But I know he's just shelving the thought of Federico and Diavolo casually working together for later.  There's no doubt in my mind that he's going to take these pictures straight to Federico's door and demand answers.  "You've given me a lot to think about," Liam mumbles.

"I wish that was all," the older man adds.  Reluctantly, he pulls out the final packet of information.  "I told you Valentin didn't kill your mother.  I don't mean to scare you when I say this, but I genuinely wish he had."  As Liam takes the last bit of information, the informant adds, "I wish he had."

This is the one folder that Liam doesn't open immediately.  I shoot him a look, confirming why.  Tears have blurred his vision.  He hesitates twice, then looks up at the former right-hand of the Luciano empire all those years ago.  "Who ordered the hit?"

"The Yakuza."

I blink.  "Japanese mafia?"

Liam's grip bends the corner of the folder.  He repeats his question, the anger in his voice is hard to miss. "Who ordered the hit?"

"I don't have a name."

Liam stands abruptly, almost in a challenging manner and the gentleman across from us rises just as quickly, prepared to take the challenge if necessary.  Liam clenches his jaw.  "Give me a name, or I'll find somebody else to."

"I don't have a name." The man re-states.  "All we know is the order came from a woman who is backed by the Yakuza."

Liam nods.  "Thank you," and prepares to exit the stage right.

The older man stops us.  "I've been watching the Luciano family since I left it.  Your fight with Peter Corinelli was cute.  And this flirtatious back and forth with Valentin Rostov is almost adorable.  But you cannot start a war with—"

Liam lifts a hand.  "I've heard this one before, so respectfully, shut the fuck up.  I just got my mom back.  Every nightmare I ever had could never compare to the one I'm living right now.  I never imagined that I would have to lose her twice.  I don't give a fuck what organization ordered the hit.  I'm going after them."

The gentleman backs down.  "Just know your limits."

"I wouldn't care if the Government of the United States took specific orders from the fucking President to kill my mother.  I would still go after them all."

I smile softly, joining Liam at his side.  The man just laughs.  "You would go after the U.S. Government?"

"No hesitation." 

The older man readjusts the grip he has on his cane, setting it down on the floor with a faint thud.  "Your father would be proud."

Liam takes my head and nods in respect, but before letting us out the door, he stops and turns.  "Thank you for everything, and just for clarification, the Yakuza put a bullet in my mother and made me catch her before she could hit the ground.  I'm not starting a damn thing."

"I understand."

I smile softly, speaking up for the first time in a while.  "If you come across the name of the individual who ordered the hit on Jai. Let us know."

"What if I can't find a name?"

"You can find it," Liam assures.

"But—"

"And if you can't, that's fine." I smile.

Liam finishes my thought.  "We've always wanted to visit Japan."

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

I'm uncharacteristically early to the last-minute meeting Liam called earlier this afternoon.  He said it was nothing formal, which is why I came dressed in a pair of his sweats.  These meetings typically involved sensitive material, but from my understanding, Liam just wanted to gather the most important members together to assure that he was okay.

The seats around the large, oak table fill quickly.   Tatum and Giovanni are one of the first to arrive, chatting amongst themselves about a television show one of them had caught last night.  Despite their casual wear, you could tell the two were of high importance simply by the way they carry themselves.  They might not have a semi-automatic strapped to their backs, but you could still tell they were still two people that shouldn't be messed with. 

They greet me with a smile.  I return it.

Austin and Steven arrive next, followed by a wave of other soldiers.  The second-in-command takes the seat directly across from me, the same seat Dominic once claimed.  The conversation between he and Steven fade as the young man pats his friend on the back and goes to take another seat.  Austin smiles at me.  I return it.  Slightly.

I don't hate Austin.  In any other position I would respect him highly, but I don't believe he deserves to be seated across from me, to be seated in the same chair Dominic James once sat.  But I will admit, whenever I look at Austin, I'm reminded of Dominic.

And I'm reminded of how far we have fallen since the beginning.

Crixus and Carmen enter through the doorway next, hand in hand.  You would be blind to miss the wicked, yet somehow playful, grin pulling his lips apart.  Federico is right behind them, looking more disinterested and annoyed with his little brother's shit than ever before.

I catch the quick look Carmen sends me as they all find the seats set up around the perimeter of the room for them. I fight a smile. 

I expected to see Federico smile when Crixus allowed Carmen to sit in the middle, between the two of them.  But the older assassin's grin never appears.  Carmen leans over and quietly asks him a question, one I can only assume is, are you okay?  He shrugs in response.

"Five in the morning?"  Dominic's voice rises above the low chatter that echoes around the large room.  He and Veleno enter, already engaged heavily in conversation.  The assassin beside him just smiles. 

"You have to be consistent," Veleno responds as they scan the room, trying to find two available seats.  "The gym Liam has at his house is nice, don't get me wrong, but the one here at the facility is even better.  I usually get here around five. You should join me tomorrow morning."

"Do I even want to know what time you wake up?"

Veleno laughs.  "The grind never stops, Dom."

Dominic's attention scans the room. A few soldiers greet him with the nod of their head.  As his eyes fall on me, I offer him a slight wave, but I doubt he sees it.  Hie gaze falls on Austin.  You can hear the distance in his voice as he responds to Veleno.  He forces a smile, "Can the grind start at noon?"

Veleno drops into a chair beside Federico.  "The grind starts before everyone else is awake."  Dom lowers himself to the seat beside Veleno, still unable to tear his eyes away from that chair.  Veleno notices.  "If you want that bad enough, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Veggie?" Crixus's harsh whisper is hard to miss.

The two lean just far enough out of their seat to catch a glimpse of each other.

Crixus forms a heart with two hands.

The two lean back into their seats, Veleno's smile probably wider than the kid's.

Conversations die and heads turn as Liam strides through the doorway.  One look at Liam and I form a glare.  He's wearing the same thing he wore this morning to the press conference at the company.  I swing toward him, pointing at him, "You said don't get too dressed up faith, it's casual."

Liam's smile is contagious.  "I don't talk like that."

Someone from the back shouts, "Yes you do!"

Liam's eyes never leave mine as he questions, "Was that Crixus?"

There's a long pause.  "No."

It was Crixus.

Liam's smile widens as he nods toward me and pulls out his chair.  "I said casual, and this is casual," He explains quickly.

"No," I drag slowly.  "That is rich-casual.  This is broke casual."  The concept doesn't appear to register on his handsome face, and I give up.  "You're completely disassociated from the real world.  You've been rich for too long."

The meeting starts off with laughter and it ends that way.  Liam speaks about the death of his mother and for a second the room fell eerily quiet as he started to reflect.  He had the chance to tell them what we learned earlier, that Valentin hadn't ordered the hit, but Liam doesn't.  He assured the family and all of those inside the meeting room today that retaliation against Valentin was in the cards, then he looked over at Austin and made one more change.

"I appreciate everything you've done by my side.  You took over for Dominic when I needed you.  I don't mean this with any disrespect, but effective immediately, you are no longer second in command."

Austin looked around the silent room, asking the most important question of them all.  "Then who is?"

"Vincenzo De Santis."  Liam meets Austin's stare.  "This is our fight."

There was a level of comforting chatter that arose from the room once the meeting adjourned.  Tatum and Giovanni were the first to Austin's side, reaching him before Steven had the chance to.  They clap a hand over his shoulder and offer words of advice, maybe even comfort, as they left. 

Liam catches Gio's wrist before he can take another step.  He lowers his voice.  "I need to talk to you and T. My office at nine."

Giovanni nods and relays the message to his friend as they exit.

Soldiers pile out the door, many leaving with a farewell word of comfort in Liam's direction.  Dominic is escorted out by another soldier, who is engaged in a topic he seems passionate about.  Veleno and Crixus next, the boy walking backwards out the room while his assassin friend follows.  "Can we watch a movie or something tonight?"

"Why?" Veleno inquires.  Crixus doesn't respond, forcing him to add, "Is it those nightmares you were talking about?"  Crixus still doesn't confirm.  Veleno nods.  "Yeah, we can watch as many movies as it takes for you to fall asleep."

The two leave the room.

"What's going on with you?"  Carmen stands over Rico. Her back is to us, but the concern in her voice matches her expression as she reaches forward, offering her hands to his.  "Rico?"

He looks up quickly.  "I'm go—" A thought settles in his mind once his eyes meet hers.  "—Long day," He corrects.  Rico accepts her hands as invitation.  His smile fails to shine through, but you can see it trying as the woman uses all her energy to pull him to his feet.

"Damn," She breathes once she pulls him to his feet.  "You could've helped."

Liam leans back in his seat as they approach, unaware of his stare.  He stops them before they can leave the room.  "Federico."  Liam nods toward one of the many empty chairs in the room, then offers a warm smile in Carmen's direction.  "He'll be out soon."

She takes the hint.

Federico doesn't take long to pick a seat at the table and wait.  The room falls quiet with the three of us remaining.  Liam stares down his friend from the head of the table, hand still fiddling with the manila folder on the table, sliding it from left to right.  Federico keeps his head down, refusing to speak up, despite the long minute that passes in silence. 

When Rico lifts his head again, his eyes are slightly red. 

Liam stops messing with the folder.  "I'm supposed to be the emotional one.  What's going on?"

Federico shrugs.  "She shouldn't have died.  I don't know what she did in her life to deserve that, but I know you didn't." Rico meets Liam's attention from across the table.  "I had already accepted that I was going to be miserable forever, but I always wanted you to be happy because you're one of the best people I know.  You help everybody.  You help people you don't even know.  And watching your m—" His leg starts to bounce underneath the table.  "You don't deserve this."

Liam stands and rounds the table.  He pulls out a chair, leaving one empty between them, and sits down.  "And you didn't deserve anything that happened to you, but we can't think like that."

"No," Rico is adamant.  "I've deserved everything that's happened to me." He looks up.  "But you didn't keep me behind because you wanted to have a therapy session, so what do you want?"

A gentle knock on the door pulls Liam's attention away from his friend to glance over his shoulder.  Vincenzo moves slowly into the room, mumbling something about putting Rosie down for a nap. 

Rico casts a lazy look over his shoulder.  He lets out a laugh as Vincenzo walks toward him.  "What is this? An intervention?"

"Something like that." Vincenzo lowers himself into the seat on Federico's right side and leans back, allowing Liam to lead the conversation.

"When were you going to tell me your parents were alive?" 

Rico doesn't hesitate.  "I wasn't."  Liam frowns, Vincenzo frowns, and I frown, leaving the assassin no other option but to elaborate.  "Because I know you, and I know you would've dropped everything to help me save them."

Liam's eyes narrow.  "And that's a problem?"

"Yes," Rico strains.  "You put others first too, all the time, even if you don't see it.  How could I come to you with a problem so small in comparison to the Russians?"

"Those are your parents, Rico.  That is not small."

Federico's shoulders are tense as he sits between his father and Liam, trying to defend his mindset.  He lets a beat of silence pass.  It's been a while since Federico has spoken in a way that doesn't sound much like him.  Vulnerable.  Borderline weak.  "How could I ask you to help me save my parents when I couldn't do anything to help you save yours?"

The silence that follows is longer than any other.

What Rico says next shatters it.  "I was going to go by myself."

Vincenzo mutters something that sounds like, "Oh my God..."

"Into the OA?" Liam questions the obvious.

I speak the blatant truth.  "That's a suicide mission."     

Rico's smile, in the moment, isn't a contagious one.  "I've been on one before."

"Valentin moved on the OA around the time my mom was killed," Liam says.  This is a conversation he already had with Vincenzo, who doesn't appear as shocked as his son.  You can see Federico's heart drop from his chest to the darkest pit of his stomach.  "I haven't told anybody this, not yet, but the OA is done.  Hundreds of assassins either in the wind, or dead—minus those he probably took into his custody."

Federico's statement comes out breathless.  "You think our parents are with him?"

"I know they are."  Liam shifts in his seat, making sure his friend looks him in the eye as he finishes his thought, "Dad always told me that our stories are already written, which is why we know when it's almost over.  No matter how many times I replay their deaths in my head, I know that there is no alternate universe where I could save them.  And that is not a pain that I could ever explain.  I might not have been able to save my parents, but I'm going to do everything I can to save yours.  I don't care what you believe.  You'll always deserve it."

It's a rare moment in time to watch the blubbering, can-never-shut-up, always dropping a joke at the most inappropriate of times assassin sit there, silent.  I've never heard a more genuine, "Thank you," ever leave Federico's lips.

"Watching you hug your mom will be thank you enough."

Rico stands, but as I'm already aware, Liam isn't done.  He pulls another folder tucked under the table, on his lap, and places it in front the chair Federico stands over.  The assassin stops. 

"Quick question," Liam continues.  He uses the tip of his finger to flip over the lid, revealing the photographs of Rico and Diavolo.  Liam doesn't look up.  "Would you ever lie to me?"

Federico has been interrogated under more threatening conditions than this one, that is for sure.  He's been tied up and beaten, the scars still visible whenever he removes his shirt.  I've heard the stories.  Times where his head was shoved under water until he begged them to let him breathe, them repeating the torturous action until he told them what they wanted to hear.  Times where he was hung from the ceiling and tased, repeatedly.  He always laughed when he told these stories too, the joke he landed on his integrators as he escaped still managing to crack him up.  But Rico wasn't laughing today.

The assassin never looks at the pictures.  "To save you? Yes."

"I don't need saving."  Liam kicks the chair out from under the table, causing Rico to side-step, moving closer to his father.  Vincenzo rests a palm on his back and shoves him into the seat before drawing it back towards the table.  Vince doesn't necessarily look elated either and a quick glance in his direction suggests Rico notices it too.  "So, answer me honestly," Liam continues, "What the hell is this?"

Rico looks at the photos.

"Are you in trouble?" Liam questions after it's evident that Rico has no intent on speaking.  "Is something happening that I don't know about?"

Rico clears his throat.  "He's my friend."

Vince makes a noise out the back of his throat and draws the pictures closer to him, scanning through the few that our informant had provided.  "Your friend?" He asks, glancing up just long enough to get a good look at his son.  Rico doesn't return it.  Vincenzo lowers his attention back to the photographs.  "What are you handing him?"

Rico's shrug is nonchalant.  "Nothing important."

Liam runs a hand down the side of his face.  He was doing so well, too, keeping his voice even and calm, trying his best to come to his friend in a respectful manner.  I catch the look in his eye and brace myself. 

His palm finds the table, causing the slightest of jumps in Federico.  "What the fuck are you handing him?"

The smile that crawls across Rico's expression is a scary one.  "Get out of my face."

"Answer his question," Vincenzo demands.

He doesn't, and sticks to his short, emotionless responses.  "I just want to save him."

Liam's laugh sounds, dare I say, soulless.  He lowers his voice in a disbelieving tone.  "You think you can save Diavolo? The bitch speaks dog and your delusional ass thinks—"

Federico's laugh is ill timed and does nothing but fester Liam's anger. 

"He's trying to kill me and everybody that I love—"

Rico frowns, glancing over at Liam.  "He doesn't try to kill me."

"Like I said," Liam grinds out, "He's trying to kill me and everybody that I—"

"I have to try and save him." Federico's voice overpowers Liam.  For a second, neither speak.  "I know that everybody can't be saved, and I understand that, and I respect that.  I understand why you hate him, I understand why you hate him," Rico motions towards me when he says that.  "But I owe it to him to try."

Vincenzo throws up a hand.  "Why?"

"Because he's your son."  Federico doesn't give either three of us a chance to react.  He casts a worried look at Vincenzo and reaches out, pushing the photographs closer to him.  "Diavolo is your son." Federico looks away and down at the table.  Diavolo is your son.

And now Federico's adamancy of us being unable to kill Diavolo makes sense.  The Russian assassin who suddenly isn't so Russian anymore, sparing the life of the assassin that sits across from me, isn't so farfetched.  I believe Rico, despite the empty feeling that currently sits in my stomach, and one look at Liam suggests he does to.  He lets out a breath as the weight of Federico's statement sets in.

Vincenzo's response is different, arguably concerning.  He's in the middle of an unbelieving laugh, his pearly whites on display for the room to see, but his eyes are red, stained with unfallen tears.  "Why would you do that?" The pain in the fallen king's voice hurts.  Vincenzo shuts the folder and shoves it away.  "I never joked about your issues.  I never joked about you being suicidal.  I never joked about your drug habit.  You know what losing my son did to me. Don't you ever joke about something you'll never be."

Vince stands abruptly, missing the way his ending statement hits Federico.

"Something I'll never be?" Rico repeats, breathless.  "Something I'll never be?" He stands and turns around, moving closer to Vincenzo.  "You think I'm fucking joking?" The laugh he lets out forces Liam to his feet in preparation for what's to come.  "I'm not your son?  So is this where you finally admit that I was nothing but a fucking placeholder?  Diavolo is everything you wanted me to be.  Maybe now you can finally have that fucked up family you always wanted, minus the beautiful wife, considering every woman who crawls in bed with you eats a bullet."

Vincenzo stops on a dime.  The demon on one shoulder and the demon on his other argue, explaining Vincenzo's brief hesitation.  I'm not sure which demon is crazier, but I knew Liam and I were about to find out once Vince flung his lion-head cane to the floor and turned around. 

I hardly understand him when he speaks again.  "Say it again."

The curl of Rico's lips does nothing to calm the situation.  He points to the ground. "You don't want your cane—"

Vince is on him in seconds.  "Say it again."

"In which language?"

Vincenzo slams Federico to the table, making sure the entire room hears, "I'm not particular.  I understand them all."  He tightens the hold he has on Rico's neck, loosening it just long enough to slam his head against the table.  "Don't you ever, ever—"

Rico kicks his foot out, connecting somewhere below Vincenzo's knee.  The older De Santis hits the ground once his leg buckles and as quickly as he was once over Rico, Rico is now over him.  You can tell exactly where Vincenzo fucked up, because once again, Federico repeats it.

"I'm not your son?  You took everything from me.  I never wanted to be this.  I hate this."  Federico's voice loses most of its anger.  It replaces itself with a stronger emotion.  "I hate myself.  I hate everything you made me you.  You made me miserable.  You took Carmen away from me, you took the only thing that made me happy, and you ruined me.  You fucking ruined me and I fucking hate you, all because I wasn't the son you wanted—"

Vincenzo props himself to one knee and looks up.  "Don't stand over me."

"You're worried about me standing over you? I should fucking kill you."

"Rico—" Liam reaches for his friend's arm, tugging him back to de-escalate the situation. 

It doesn't.  Taking his eyes off Vincenzo was his crucial mistake.  It gives Vince just enough time to pull himself to his feet and swing.  The punch is brutal.  More-so because Federico never saw it coming.  He hits the table again and isn't even given time to recover.  Vincenzo grabs the back of his neck and flings him to the ground.  Rico is about to retaliate, until another vicious punch is landed on him.

Rico's breathing is labored as he pulls himself to his knees. His shoulders start to shake in laugher, his lips pulling apart just wide enough to reveal his blood-stained teeth.  "You know, I'd kill Rosie if I didn't love her.  I'd kill her to save her the misery of a life she'll have being related to you.  Or maybe I would just be wasting my time, right?" He looks up, no doubt meeting Vincenzo's glare.  "Everything you love is always brutally murdered—"

Federico deserves the next punch, I won't lie about that.  But he doesn't deserve the second, or the third.  Liam didn't appreciate Federico's comment, albeit said from anger, about Rosalie—which explains why he lets Rico get hit again.  He steps in as Vincenzo prepares to hit him for the fifth time.

A simple hand on his arm draws Vincenzo out of his rage.  Federico lowers his face to the wood floor, a cool contrast to the heat that's rushing to his face.  He sobs quietly as Vincenzo backs away slowly.  It doesn't take long for him to leave the room.

I round the table as Liam lowers himself into a squat beside him friend.  "I was on your side until you mentioned Rosie."  Rico doesn't respond.  "You alright?"

Rico winces against the cool floor.  We'll take that as a no. 

Liam sighs.  "This might not be the time, but I want a meeting."

There's a pause.  "Repeat that.  I just got my shit rocked and my head is ringing."

Rico doesn't see the smile Liam tries to hide.  "I want a meeting," He repeats as instructed.

"With who?"

"Cinderella."

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

a/n: srry i got pissed off.  rico is b3 confirmed.

had 2 good mental health days and wrote this in 48 hours. idek if anything makes sense anymore. this is just me winging tf out of this.

manifesting lealta 2023.

also y'all foul asf potere got more tik toks on it than votes im weak