Worick waited until he could no longer hear footsteps before he motioned Nic to follow him out from underneath the bed and explained all of it.

She can't stay with him. He began. He hits her.

Nic frowned.

You can't save them all, Worick. Nic signed back. She isn't some street stray like Alex. You can't steal her away. That's Daniel's right-hand man's wife. Corsica's daughter. Georgiana's adopted daughter.

"Do we just let her get the shit beat out of her then?! Until she's stuck dying in a bed?!" Worick yelled out.

She isn't Veronica. Nic noted plainly. Don't get them confused.

Worick paced around and took a deep breath before returning to the conversation.

I'm not. But don't you care? I know you didn't have to hear it, but I was shaking with anger. It was almost like having to hear Nina get hurt. You know she didn't deserve it.

She was cheating on her husband. Nic pointed out. With two sexy men.

That wasn't the reason. He said it was "his reputation". Worick said out aloud shaking his head. "As if the actual act didn't even matter."

So what do you want me to do? I am at your disposal. Nic signed back.

The first chance I get, with as little consequence as possible, help me so that I can kill Miles Mayer. I order you that.

And what will you do with YN after that? Nic asked. He was more than happy to help kill Miles. After all, you had already requested it.

Whatever she asks me to. Worick winked and shared a small chuckle with Nic as they both left to collect Alex.

Meanwhile, you were nursing your cheek on the quiet ride home. You had intended to spend some time with the girls that you missed dearly and your mother; but instead, you pouted in the limousine that was taking you back to your jail of a mansion.

I hate him. I hate Miles so much. You thought to yourself. I didn't care either way about him before. But he's just as bad as Uranos. I hate him.

"Wont wook wike wat." Miles spoke as you both arrived home. You looked up at him. "Fix your face. It's ugly. You learned your lesson."

Consciously, you put a neutral face on. But you weren't going to speak to him; not unless you had to. And Miles didn't particularly want to talk to you, either. With a pounding headache, he was tired of all the talking and honestly didn't want to hear your grating voice on his ears.

And so the stalemate began. The constant silence was welcomed by both parties as you walked into the house and sat down at the breakfast table. Immediately, a spread was brought out that would have rivaled even Daniel Monroe's house. That was some kind of consolation in your mind; your energy was certainly drained from the activities the night before.

You had to stop yourself from blushing at the thought. When would it happen again? You dreamed that it would be that night, but the reality of it would probably not be for months, if not for another entire year.