We arrived back at the broken-down house that we'd called home for two months.

It looked just the way we left it, as much as I could see in early morning. We had ditched the car about a mile away and walked the rest of the distance. I was beat.

My legs were like blocks of lead as we walked around to the side of the house where the window well was located. Devin scaled down the wall first and dropped the duffel bag we had carried from Tino's on the ground. I followed tentatively, my weary eyes making it a little harder to focus.

"Get behind me," he commanded, pulling out the gun he took from the park guy from his waist. I didn't understand why.

He slid down into the basement easily. The window had been broken. I crouched down to look in. It was completely black. I reached into the bag and snatched a flashlight.

"Devin!" I whispered not so softly. He spun around quickly and pointed the gun at me. He was very on edge.

"Uh...flashlight?" He exhaled loudly and lowered the weapon.

He grabbed it from me and I knew he wasn't pleased. It lit up the room just enough for Devin to see a few feet in front of him.

He scanned the room with the light and it was clear that someone had been there. The mattresses were flipped over; everything was knocked off the table and scattered onto the ground.

The drawers were all pulled out and their contents scattered on the floor. I had my suspicions as to what they were looking for. And more importantly who was looking for it.

"Whoever was here, they're long gone by now," Devin surmised.

"Be careful of the glass," he advised as I hopped in through the broken window.

"Do you think it was the police when they were looking for us?" I asked, flipping over the thin lumpy mattress I slept uncomfortably on for many nights.

"Maybe, I don't know," he said turning over an old office chair we'd found last week and sitting on it. He put the gun in his lap and rubbed at his temple. He must have been more exhausted than I ever was, with all the fighting he's been doing.

"Is it me? Or does this seem personal?" I asked still wandering around the room, trying to put things back to normal. Whatever our version of normal was, I needed it.

"It does. And I know we've pissed off quite a lot of people; cops, gang members, drug dealers, ex-boyfriends; and that's just Dahlia," he responded rubbing his eyes. I chuckled to myself. Not because it was funny but I think the lack of sleep was making me delirious.

"Why did we come back here?" I asked while I put back the drawers in their rightful spot.

He sighed heavily. He pondered his words as if he was carefully selecting them.

"I, we need to come up with a plan and figure out who did this." I'm not sure that he was telling me the whole truth but I didn't press him.

"Well we know it's not Gills, and Tino doesn't know anything, which is a shock to me because Tino's supposed to knows everything," I stated as I finally took a seat on my mattress.

The mere fact that even he was in the dark about what's going on scares me.

"Tino." Devin scuffed as if the name of his former friend was bitter on his tongue.

"You know you never told me about what happened between the two of you. You guys were thick as thieves, literally. And then after we left, you know who, things changed. Why?"

"It's none of your business." He deadpanned.

"Yes, it is! How can you say that?" I got up feeling a surge of energy; fueled by my curiosity and impatience with my brother. "We were always in this together; you, me and Dahlia, the Vicker kids," I protested.

"Yeah well, not this time. Dahlia isn't here and instead of questioning me about that piece of shit Tino, we have our sister to focus on," he said getting up from the chair and knocking over the books I had just put on the table.

"You know sometimes you're a real asshole," I shook my head at him, I was at my wit's end. He turned away with his hands on his head. As if I was giving him a major headache.

"Look. When our parents...." He began, sighing heavily. I held my breath, anticipating what he was about to say. It took me by surprise that he would mention them now. Devin rarely spoke about our parents.  He must really be tired or just as delirious as me.

"Our father, he used to say you need to protect your brother and sister. Dahlia was older, sure, but she was too busy having a life and boyfriends, and you were too young. So it rested on me. He said that he wouldn't always be around and that I needed to be ready for the world we live in. So he taught me how to fight, shoot, defend myself; always keep watch over you and Dahlia. And I was just doing it because he said so. I didn't know that, they were gonna..." he stopped and took a deep breath. The memory of our parents probably overcame him.

His back was turned so I couldn't see his face, but I could imagine the pain it wore.

"Devin, you're my brother. And I've always looked up to you. If it wasn't for you, we would not have survived for this long out here. I know that. Dahlia knows that and our father; I think he'd be proud."

When he didn't speak, I continued.

"Us three, we have come a long way together, because we trusted each other. But I'm getting older, and I know when you aren't telling me something. Remember how you felt after Dahlia didn't tell you about Marcus for weeks?"

"Yea, I do," he said turning to face me.

"So you know how it-" I continued before he cut me off.

"Marcus," He interjected.

"Yea Marcus," I said confused.

"Marcus, he was the one that told me about the final deal that day. And then Dahlia showed up there out of nowhere, saying Marcus was supposed to be there, then she was taken," he explained.

"Then the phone you got when you made the exchange in the gully that night, that's the phone that whoever took Dahlia sent us a message on," I added, catching on to what he was saying.

"So Marcus, he's involved?" The thought baffled me. What motivation would he have to kidnap our sister? And why were we just picking up on this now? 

"Could be but it makes no sense because when I went to get his help that night, he was confident that it wasn't Gills, then said I should give him some time and that we'd get her back but thinking about it now it's like-"

"Like he knew what was really going on," I said plopping down on lumpy the bed.

"So what now?" Our realization meant nothing without action.

"Now I go find the son of a bitch and kick his ass," Devin said stomping off to the shattered window. The shards crunched under his feet.

"Wait!" I said rushing to block his path. "Not yet."

"Not yet? He knows where Dahlia is and every minute we sit here, is another minute that she could be dead!" His chest heaved with anger and impatience. But I wouldn't let him do something stupid again.

"I know but just listen to me. If you go beat up Marcus, he would know that we know. And if he knows, he will tell whoever he's working with."

"Yea," He agreed, as he caught on to my logic.

"But if we keep it to ourselves and just follow him to see what he does then, we could find Dahlia like that," I continued, realizing that he's actually listening to my suggestion.

"Right but the longer we wait Dahlia could die," which was my main concern as well, but it would be foolish to show our hand at this point in the game.

"The man, I don't think he is ready to kill Dahlia yet. He did say he'd have more for us to do and the only way we would do them is if we believe Dahlia is alive," I reminded him.

"So the next time he calls, I'm going to ask for proof," Devin said coming to a resolution. I nodded in agreement. 

"And you should get some sleep," he directed. I'm not sure I'd want to sleep here, knowing someone ransacked our home.

"I think we need to shower first. You stink of murky water, sweat and whatever else."

"Fine." He said walking over to the tiny bathroom in the corner of the room. He shined the light and the small doorway barely lit up. He stepped inside and shined it around the small room.

"Darius?" he called out.

"Yea." 

"I think we have our next mission."

He was looking at the wall over the bathtub area. I got up to find out what he was staring at.

When I joined him in the cramped space, I couldn't believe what was spray-painted in blood red on our bathroom wall.

We both looked at each other realizing the gravity of the next "mission". In blood-red and capital letters, someone had written "KILL JUNO."