Ryder's POV

One, two, twelve. Twelve wraps of gauze tape around the knuckles. Because thirteen was too much, even when the white was now speckled with blood.

"Boss." Someone appeared in the doorway but I didn't bother looking over to find out which one of my father's lackeys it was this time. There had always been too many of my father's men--always a reminder of the man himself.

I curled in the fingers my right hand, took a second to make sure the tape was snug, before heaving in a deep breath and throwing my fist straight into one of the standing wooden boards.

"What?" I asked, tossing the broken wooden pieces away.

"The last assignment was compromised, sir. James and I were about to zero in on Santiago's last whereabouts, but we were...stopped."

I paused and glanced at the only mirror that was installed in this already too fucking compact room. It was cracked in the middle, though. Rafael had said I wasn't allowed to place any more mirrors in here. I still didn't understand why I hadn't gotten rid of him yet.

Maybe because somewhere in that sick brain of yours, you still want someone to micromanage your life at all times, a voice spoke in my head. Just like how it was with your father.

But that wasn't true. Because this was my fucking house and I liked my peace and quiet.

A sharp throb went up my fingers and my arm, almost like a dull reminder of the past. I'd maybe gone overboard with the way the whole room looked now. Every single one of the wooden slabs that I'd asked to be installed here was broken now. I frowned, tipped my head up to the ceiling, and realized I was breathing heavily.

"Stopped," I repeated his choice of word, didn't think I liked it, before bunching my fists and smacking one right into that goddamn mirror. "Why the fuck were you stopped?"

There was a slight clearing of a throat behind me. The only evidence of nerves and tension building up in the air. "Sir, we received another assignment from your father. He said it was to be the top priority. Need to deal with and put down a drug lord."

I blinked. A voice in the furthest part of my head told me to calm down--compose myself--but I was clearly far too gone, and my father had always been a tipping point for me, hadn't he?

I turned and stared down at him. Bulky and overly muscled like all of my father's men. I wondered if he would be as sloppy as the rest of them if I were to hit him. He wouldn't fucking fight back though. My father's men never really did.

"You think a drug chase is more important than finding out where Santiago is?" I asked him.

He met my gaze steadily. Reminded me so much of one of my older brothers. Fuckers liked to look you in the eye before telling you you weren't worth shit.

"We were only following orders, sir."

"Orders," I growled out, stalking towards him until I'd fisted my hand into the front of his shirt. "You think I don't know he wants to prolong this thing as much as he can? There is no drug lord, you fucking idiot. He only wants you, me, every single one of us to keep chasing loose ends around like we are nothing but his fucking puppets."

I watched him swallow--I watched his composure starting to break as I damn near strangled him right then and there.

"Sir," he spoke, "we've been told that Dacio--Mr. McQuillan's orders are always to be kept above yours."

I gritted my teeth, tried to count till fucking five at least, but my arm was starting to throb even more now and it was reminding me of things I didn't want to think about. Aches and pains and my fucking father.

I let him go and punched him in the face. A sharp, satisfying crack of his nose beneath my knuckles didn't lessen the fury inside me. Not even a little bit.

"Octavio!" Rafael barged in from the other door out of nowhere. I didn't spare him a second of mine.

Grabbing the fool by the neck who had the nerve to mention my father in front of me, who still stood before me, clutching his broken nose with a pained grunt like he hadn't ever been punched in the face before, I sneered at him. "You take my orders here, you hear me? And if you ever make the same mistake again, if you ever even think of putting my father's fucking name above mine, I will shoot a bullet through that head of yours without a second thought."

"Okay! Okay!" Rafael pushed himself between us, palms raised placatingly as he faced me with wide, what-the-fuck eyes. "I think you've made your point clear to all of us so calm the fuck down." He pushed the gasping man towards the door, patting his shoulder, and speaking to him in a hurry, "fuera, fuera, fuera! Y será mejor para ti si no le mencionas esto a nadie, ¿de acuerdo?"

I gritted my teeth and moved back towards the tall mirror.

"Don't even think about it, Octavio," Rafael warned me.

"Or what?" I snapped my head towards him, glaring. "You want me to finish what I started with that fucking imbecile? Want me to take it all out on you? Because I will, Rafael, without feeling any remorse."

He widened his eyes even more than before and I wanted to tell him that he looked pathetic. "What the fuck's wrong with you? You were just fine in the morning. Did something happen? You haven't gotten laid in a few days, is that it?" I watched him as he placed his hands on his hips. "Or weeks. Now that I think about it, you haven't gotten laid ever since--"

I tuned him out and tried to roll off the tension from my shoulders, gritting out a wince when a dull ache went down my back.

"I think I've got it," he said and went over to examine the broken mirror, tsking at it before looking back at me. "You said something stupid to Alice and now you're sulking like a puppy. Except that I don't think you know how sulking is done, apparently."

"I didn't." I gritted out. I haven't seen her in days, I almost added foolishly, forgetting for a second there that sharing always made Rafael leech onto me more.

"That's exactly what you'd say if you did just that," he said. "I know you too well."

I breathed in deeply and started taking off the tape from my hands. "Get out of here, Rafael, before I ruin your face with my hands."

"You would never! You love my face."

I didn't bother satisfying him with a response. Everything was always a fucking joke to him.

"Your hands are bleeding." He stated. I watched as he went ahead and picked up one of the broken wooden boards, staring oddly at the cracked edge. "I hope you have many splinters now and I hope they are a bitch to get out, just like it will be for the cleaners to sort out this mess you call a storeroom."

I threw the tapes in the trash can and walked out of the room, blinking for a moment at the vast hallway ahead. Rafael followed behind me, not taking the big fucking hint I always threw at him that he wasn't needed, as I went into one of the spare rooms.

"I wish you would tell me why you like to punch mirrors every once in a week." He spoke.

"Get the fuck out of here, Rafael."

"You weren't such a rude bastard back when we were kids."

We aren't kids anymore, I wanted to yell at him because didn't he understand? "I'll tell you how much of a rude bastard I can really be if you don't shut up. Now." I snarled at him, pulling my shirt over my head and looking for spare clothes I was sure I'd stored in here somewhere. I needed a few minutes of silence and Rafael wasn't shutting up.

I heard him sigh. "You shouldn't have hit him, Ryder. If he snitches, your father won't be happy."

I didn't say anything. I didn't want to talk about my father.

"You're not supposed to beat your father's men into bloody pulps. I thought you were trying to keep him off your back, not provoke him." He continued. "Why would you..."

He suddenly fell silent and made a frustrated noise before choosing not to say anything more. Fucking finally, I thought and relished the little bit of quiet I got right then.

I pulled out clothes from my spares and headed for the bathroom, wanting peace and quiet for once in this goddamn awful day, only to find him still standing right there. He even had this sad, pathetic look on his face.

"Rafael." I gritted out, not wanting to deal with whatever the fuck he wanted to chat about now. "I need a shower and you need to get lost."

I watched him try to stare at something behind me. "Your back," he said--that one question so openly obvious on his face.

I clenched my jaw and willed myself not to react. My composure was already hanging on its last loose threads and he was a fool because he didn't know. I tried to remind myself that he didn't.

He was waiting for an answer like the stupid fool he was, but I didn't give him anything as I walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me.

•••••

When I came out of the bathroom, toweling my hair dry, and not feeling so much like bashing someone's head on the nearest door--it lasted for about a minute maybe. It didn't last long, never really did these days, when I heard Rafael's voice coming from near the kitchens.

"...since when do you have Octavio's personal phone number?"

I walked in on him and stopped, not even the slightest bit bewildered to see him sitting on one of the kitchen counters, looking so ill at ease as he talked to someone on my fucking phone.

He grinned. "Of course, he did. It's just that I know he does not like giving it to many people."

For fuck's sake, why was some peace and quiet too much to ask for?

"Chiquita? You still there?" Rafael asked suddenly. "Have I scared you off? Oh, he's going to be so fucking pissed at me. Alice?"

I tossed the towel aside on one of the couches and strode towards him, pissed now. He hadn't even asked me once before supposedly deciding to handle my phone calls.

"Okay." He said slowly, paused, then added, "¿Estás bien? You sound scared. Are you in trouble? What's that noise behind you anyway?"

Stiffening in alarm, I didn't notice when he looked up and saw me, but he must've seen the pure raw anger on my face since he cursed out loud and dropped my phone which I barely caught after I'd roughly shoved him off my counter.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I glared at him as he fell down.

He curled up in his position on the floor, being dramatic for no reason other than to annoy the fuck out of me. "Be nice to me for once, Octavio!"

Ignoring him, I turned away and placed my phone over my ear. Instantly what I heard first were the faint noises and echoes of music on the other end. An enclosed space. Muffled laughter.

"Alice," I said, growing alarmed when she remained silent. A second passed by, two--I tried telling myself I was just playing it in my head but, "Querida, why the hell aren't you replying to me?"

There was a soft sound, a noise that sounded like a flinch. "Ryder?" She asked, a noticeable slur in her voice.

Tensing up, I left the kitchen and went to grab my keys. "Yes," I said, my mind clouding with anger and alarm. She was drunk. "Where are you?"

"I've...got a favor to ask from you." She spoke, her voice soft and familiar, yet so...odd. There was something wrong with it. "It's... Well, you said you can do it."

I stopped just a few steps away from the front doors. "Do what?"

More noise and godawful music from her end. It made me want to storm back to that compact fucking storeroom and take out my anger on those walls and wooden boards and that mirror all over again. Alice was at a bar, for fuck's sake. And drunk on top of it all. Had she forgotten what had happened the last time?

"You told me that day that you can look for my father?" She asked, her voice hesitant for just the smallest of moments before she added, "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to. It won't bother me. I'll probably think it's stupid tomorrow anyway."

I stared off into the silence that followed, repeating her words in my head again and again, and wondered where all of this was coming from. She wanted me to look for her father?

Instead of asking her why--which I would do later once I saw her safe with my own eyes, I decided--I responded with a, "I will try."

Another unfamiliar voice spoke somewhere behind her, the words too muffled for me to make any sense of, and I gritted my jaw. "Are you with someone you know or are you alone?" I asked--demanded.

Was she with someone she wanted to be with? What the hell did that even mean? Why was she drunk? To do what? Let random fucking strangers choose her for their own liking?

"I'm fine." She answered, although I couldn't figure out if she was confused or smiling. It grated on my nerves either way. "I've been...here before."

"That's not what I asked." My voice hardened. I flexed my fingers and reveled at the ache--the only thing that grounded me at this moment.

There was a soft shuffle, a beat where the music got too fucking loud, before the same deep, unfamiliar voice spoke behind her, "Next one's on me, babe. Stay right here."

I closed my eyes, took two deep breaths, and told myself not to lose it right then and there. Need to know she's safe first, I reminded myself, and then repeated it in my head again because sometimes fury was all I could see and breathe, and it was impossible to pull back from it until I'd managed to ruin everything around me. I was teetering on the fucking edge of causing a big disaster. My knuckles throbbed at the reminder.

"Who was that?" I asked, voice stilted with anger and disbelief and maybe even a bit of confusion. Because I was confused. I didn't understand. Why was she doing this?

There was that wince again; a small intake of breath. "No one."

I tipped my head up to stare at the ceiling because I'd heard what she hadn't said and I didn't know what to do around lies, never knew how to cope with them, how to remain calm when I knew she was the one lying to me this time.

"It's no one." She said it again, voice slurring even more, and then she sniffled--laughed. I tensed. "Ryder, can you do it? I know I may be asking too much but. But I just wanted to see my dad."

The one who doesn't remember you anymore? I wanted to ask her, remind her. Why did she keep looking for people who were just cruel to her--who didn't deserve her the slightest bit? And why was she at a bar of all places?

"I said I will." I sighed and rolled my shoulders, dragging my free hand through my hair. "Tell me where you are so I can get you out of there."

I didn't ask her if she wanted to. I didn't much care at that moment. All I needed to do, needed to see was for her to be safe near me and not in a measly old bar that I pictured her to be in right now, surrounded by people, men that I would fucking kill in an instant if they so much as even--

The voices around her grew distant as if she was walking away, somewhere secluded, somewhere unsafe? Fuck.

"Alice--"

"I-I don't really want to drink anymore. Fuck." She mumbled, voice stumbling over words. "I wasn't here for that. I just...just thought it'd be nice to be around people. But I'm...it's scaring me so much." She laughed, a strained sound that I didn't ever want to hear from her again.

There was a muffled sound, a shout, and then she hurriedly said, "I'm fine. I'm fine! Jesus."

I shoved past the front doors and headed for the stairs, not having the patience for an elevator when I could already feel the prickling unease within me, an urge to move and fight and look for the cause of alarm. Except that I didn't even know where to start looking for her. It would take me ages to find her if I started looking through every single bar and nightclub in this godforsaken town.

"Tell me where you are, Alice."

"I don't want you to come here." She blurted out, sounding alarmed of all things. What the fuck was going on? I didn't like when I didn't know what the fuck was going on. "I don't. Everything is fine."

"Why?" I demanded rather aggressively but I was beyond caring at that point.

"I-I don't want to bother you." She paused for a moment before asking in a hushed, laughing whisper, "How's Gem? Have you taken her for a w-a-l-k? The other day I said it in front of her and she got so excited, she started scratching me! So," she hiccupped, "strange that she likes walks in the first place."

"Alice," I growled out frustratedly. "Do you expect me to act just fine when I know you're drunk out there somewhere, doing something stupid?"

"Hey! Not," she gulped down something, "stupid! You told me I'm not stupid. Also, I said I don't wanna bother you."

"I am fucking asking you to bother me, don't you understand?" I headed for my motorcycle once I'd reached the parking garage. Putting on my helmet, I repeated, "Five seconds, Alice. Tell me where you are or I swear on my own fucking life--"

She told me where she was. I didn't wait for another second before starting my motorcycle and driving into the night, towards one destination in particular.

•••••

It was a mangy old bar, just like I'd pictured in my head. I didn't need to walk up near the darkened alleys to know where the drugs were being sold and where teenage fucking losers were letting mere chases ruin their lives.

I despised places like these because they reminded me of the place I'd grown up near. And I hated the fact that Alice of all people frequently visited such places because she what, found comfort in them? No, I told myself. No, because I'd heard the thinly veiled sadness behind the drunken slur in her voice.

I got off my motorcycle and took off my helmet, breathing in the cool air deeply before crossing the streets. Not again, I told myself. I was not going to let her go into one of these places again. She could fight me all she wanted, I would let her--but what I won't let her do was visit these rangy old bars just to soften the blow of her drunken desires.

Drunk out of her mind, scared, and still going off with a stranger into his fucking bed? Won't happen again.

How many of them had thought of taking advantage of her state? I thought and fumed as I stalked towards the entrance of the flashy old club, shoving drunk people aside if they didn't step out of my way first, and would've lost my calm and punched one of them in the face if I hadn't spotted her. Standing at the corner of the packed dancefloor near the bar, alone and cradling her elbows in her palms as if that alone could ward off every single wrong thing about this place and situation.

I pushed past the people and cursed under my breath when my eyes raked down her pale dungarees and a tee shirt--at my stupidity for not grabbing a jacket myself before coming here. I should know by now that when her care was left to her, Alice never did shit.

"Alice," I spoke as I neared her, watched her startle and almost lose the grip on the tall glass of what looked like beer in her hand.

"H-Hey," she said, glancing somewhere to her right over her shoulder before looking back at me when I made a move to step closer. "Ryder."

"Where the fuck is your jacket?" I growled out my frustration at this whole situation.

She grinned before lifting the glass to her lips and taking a long sip. "I don't need one." Then she grimaced. "This is...awful."

I went ahead and took it from her hand, depositing the glass on the bar counter behind her with a slam. Alice let out a sound of protest. "Hey!" She stumbled towards me and I grabbed her by the waist, felt her stammer and stiffen before prodding a finger into my chest. "That wasn't very nice of you."

"Querida," I muttered under my breath helplessly. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." She laughed and lifted her head to look at me, brown eyes glittering under the fluorescent lights. "Wanna dance with me? I'm scared to ask anyone else for a dance."

I refrained a sigh and maneuvered her back towards the counter, feeling her watch me press her back against it.

"Ryder." She murmured but I was too busy looking for a quiet corner, somewhere to take her away. I felt her tremble against me. "I just keep seeing him. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

I grabbed her by the arm and started pulling her away from the crowd, making way and glaring at those who refused to fucking move out of my way. Only when we'd reached the back door that was propped open against the back of an empty alley, that I relaxed a little and pulled Alice close.

"I keep seeing him." She whispered and did that thing again--looked behind her back into the bar, around us, as if looking for something or someone.

I held her face in my hands, nudging her to look up at me. "Alice."

Something dark and heavy and undecipherable shuttered over her eyes. "I don't know why you're here. I didn't... Did you find my dad?"

All of a sudden I was angry. Again. I frowned and pulled my hands away. "You got drunk again, knowing what happened the last time you were at a bar."

She shook her head, strands of her hair sticking to the pale skin of her cheeks. "I...I was being careful."

"You call this being careful, Alice?" I gritted out, eyes narrowing. "Tell me, does anyone in there really know you? Is anyone in there someone you can trust to not take advantage of you when you're clearly too drunk to even think straight?"

She froze, eyes on me but not...really on me.

"Alice," I said and gently grabbed her arm, felt the cool goosebumps on her skin, and watched, fucking noticed when she flinched.

I let her go, alarmed. It was instant how all the anger and fury instantly tamped down inside me. Vanished, and the only thing left was alarm. Something was wrong.

I watched her swallow as she stared at me, contemplate, and then shake her head. "Sorry," she said and laughed, soft and confused, and looked back inside the bar again. I watched her absently fidget and take a step back against the wall. Away from me. She was...scared? The thought was absurdly alarming. Why was she suddenly scared of me?

As if she saw me warring with my own thoughts and questions, she stepped close and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. It's just...too many people and alcohol and it's...it's freaking me out a little."

I tensed at her words and felt the moment she grabbed my shirt with this desperate glint in her eyes. "Ryder," she said, swaying up on her toes to see me, to look me in the eye at the same level as if she thought I didn't already have my whole undivided attention on her. "It's...I...I'm sorry. I didn't." I watched her swallow and lifted my hands to her waist--to push her away or to pull her closer, I didn't understand. Something was so so wrong and it was killing me to not know what it was. Her eyes flickered, lashes caressing against the exhausted, pale skin beneath her eyes, and they landed on my lips. She tugged on my shirt, leaning closer. "Please."

I furrowed my brows and pulled my head back. Alice made a small distressed sound at the back of her throat.

"No," I said.

"But you've kissed me before."

I cupped her face in my hands, because I couldn't not when she looked at me like that, and tipped her head up, caressing the underside of her jaw with my thumbs. "No, querida. Not when you're drunk."

The raw desperation in her eyes only seemed to increase tenfold. Her grasp on my shirt tightened. "You don't want to kiss me anymore." Her voice came out strained. "It's like that with everyone, did you know that? I'm fucking tired of it. Of being used again and again and then...and then I'm the one being dumped in the trash can."

I scowled and pushed her back against the nearest wall, reveling in the way her eyes widened and then darkened. "I'm not doing this here when you're drunk and sad and looking for random fucks. I'm not going to be satisfied with just a few kisses. And I'm not going to be someone you leave behind when you wake up the next morning. I'm not going to be someone who leaves you behind. You hear me?"

She stared up at me, warm brown eyes wide and glistening and so goddamn beautiful.

"Kiss me then." She brought up both of her hands to tug me closer, because she wasn't sober enough to understand me--not sober enough to see that I meant it, all of it, and I didn't just want a tiny piece of her. I needed all of her. Couldn't she see that?

I grabbed her wrists and trapped them on the wall on either side of her head, holding firm. "Not," I gritted out frustratedly, leaning close, "when you're drunk."

Something changed then. Something so fast and instant--a change in the air--a change in the way she looked at me. A change in the way she wasn't looking at me. Not really. Her eyes widened a little and then it was like...she was away.

I frowned, my eyes darting across her face, and watched her stiffen and then go slack against my hold. It struck me like a blow--one so sharp that it struck all my guards down. I watched her squeeze her eyes close. I watched the way she shuddered.

There was that niggling feeling in the back of my head again, telling me that something was wrong, really really wrong. And maybe I should've paid attention to that more instead of letting my anger and rage take the front seat.

"Alice, hey," I said sharply, only realizing my mistake when a full-body shiver ran through her. She didn't open her eyes. She only squeezed them more and I knew what she was doing.

Hurting.

I let go of her instantly, watched as her arms fell to her sides, watched as she trembled and finally opened her eyes and looked at me as if she was surprised to find me there. Still there.

I stared at her. She stared back, eyes wide and filled with so much...fear.

"You're...You are scared of me?" I asked, taking a step back. I didn't understand.

A beat of silence and then she blinked. I stiffened when I saw her eyes, the warm brown clouding with a glassy sheen

"I-I'm not scared of you." She whispered, face so pale.

"You're lying." My voice came out flat when I noticed that she trembled when I stared at her hands, her wrists for too long. I fisted my hands and took a careful step back. Distance, there was plenty of distance between us now. "I would prefer if you don't lie to me, querida."

Look at her, a voice so full of hatred screamed inside my head, look at how terrified she is of you. But I didn't understand why. She was scared of me? Me, when I'd been worried and angry and ready to murder the first person I'd see with her?

I sighed exasperatedly and dragged my hands up my face. Because there was something in her eyes. Something that raised all my alarms.

"I'm...I'm sorry." Alice swallowed and wrapped her arms around herself--scared, looking for the only warmth and safety around her. She leaned against the wall and slowly slid down on the ground, gaze directed below and avoiding mine. "It's fine. I'm just a little...dazed. I thought...I saw him--Santiago--in there."

The sudden change in the topic, and the sudden inclusion of another topic didn't go unnoticed by me. I gritted my jaw and turned around, trying to erase the image of her going stock still with pure fear beneath my touch, trying to burn it away into ashes.

But nothing helped. Because I could see it, see it, still see it.

Something had happened. Something she didn't want to say. Something that--

I turned back around towards her, watched her staring up at me with a wide-eyed broken look as if expecting me to walk away right now even though I'd told her the opposite just now. Why wouldn't she believe me?

I slowly, carefully joined beside her, mindful of not spooking her any further (which was the cruelest of tortures to even think about), and sat down on the cold ground.

There was a sliver of distance between us, because apparently I couldn't accept that she wanted even more distance between us right then, and felt her relax, glancing at me, and giving me the saddest smile I'd ever seen on anyone.

What had caused my querida to break this way?

It was pure raw anger churning inside me--a wild fucking need to know. I curled my battered bruised hands into fists and looked away.

"You saw Santiago," I said, because I decided I would let her change the topic if that was what she wanted.

She isn't ready to tell me about that, so I'll wait. I would. Doesn't mean I won't fucking stew over it.

Alice cleared her throat and nodded. "Yes, I...I think it was nothing. I thought it was him within the crowd on the dancefloor but...I was way past four martinis by then. And he couldn't have just crossed the whole of the bar and to the exit so quickly. I was...I'm not really in a great mindset tonight."

I thumped the back of my head against the concrete and hummed.

She waited for a beat of silence, and I knew before she spoke that right now silence was the last thing she needed.

"I got a call from Mom." She whispered, head hung low as she cradled her elbows with her palms. "She was reminding me about...my cousin's funeral. And she told me that my dad, my real dad visited again. Mom gets in a bad mood every time that happens or when he's mentioned...and she usually takes it out on me." She laughed, strained and humorless. "I think...I think she sometimes thinks it was my fault Dad left her. I don't remember though. I was so young."

I watched her stare off into the distance, at nothing and everything at the same time. I watched and I clenched my jaw because I couldn't do anything. Nothing to fix this. I could fucking destroy everyone who'd ever made her feel this way, without a second thought, but I didn't think she'd want that.

She wouldn't.

Alice shifted a little towards me, breaking the godawful distance between us, and I lifted my arm because I needed her closer.

She paused, swallowed, and don't know how I knew, I don't know how I saw it, it was just a realization--a need to reassure her. Because maybe that's what she needed.

"Come here," I said to her--waited--and sighed when she did, resting my head back against the wall and gathering her close against me.

Not scared of me, I noted in my head. She hadn't been scared of me back there. It had been something else. Something dark and ugly--like the dreadful anger clouding over my own heart.

"I'd like to see him." She whispered, and it took me a long moment to stray away from thoughts of murder and vengeance in my head to realize she meant her father. "Ask him why he really left. Mum gets angry at me if I ask her."

I glared up at the night sky, at the darkness I was so used to, but the same one that seemed to be enveloping her. I wouldn't fucking let it.

"Maybe then he can give it back to me." She wasn't even speaking to me at that point, dazed and soft as she mumbled to herself, head resting against my shoulder. "My violin."

I watched her as she lifted her left hand, stared at the pad of her first two fingers and it was too dark to see, but I thought I saw faint, hidden scars. I blinked but she'd already pulled her hand away. "I could play it again. Mom's gonna stop talking to me anyway pretty soon."

I scowled. "Why."

Alice fell silent. I cursed myself.

"You'll keep me safe." She whispered, almost as if she hadn't heard me, almost as an afterthought she didn't entirely believe in.

"I will," I murmured into her hair, hands itching to pull her even closer and reassure her. Because I would. I would do everything, fucking die if that meant I could keep her safe. It was a deep, monstrous thing--a possessive feeling because she was mine to protect. I had promised her. I would keep that promise.

As long as you don't hide from me, I thought. But I didn't say it. Because I was the last person who should.

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gahdamn this chapter is pretty fucking sad knowing what im about to make them go through :')