The first day off her employer had ever given her. Well at least that's how Thomas put it. She'd have been thrilled—if his brother wasn't around. She was being moved out of the way and she knew it—and didn't like it. But what else could she do? She couldn't hang around and not get caught. If that happened, she was done. What else was there to do but own it?

But never.

That night with Stevens had brought up so much. That sound of an explosion in the dungeon had an origin. Through the walls of the route they'd taken, a rumbling hum sounded. There was something that was going on there, but they just didn't have the time. Surfacing into the orchard, the surrounding area proved business had been happening. But what business?

And what about the address she'd found last night? She figured she'd try and hit two birds with one stone by using her morning to search the place out. The thought had crept into her mind several times that she could be walking into a hornet's nest. But how else was she going to get anywhere? Maybe Stevens could help her.

No.

She wasn't thinking that! She didn't even consider him a friend! Yes, she'd learned to trust him—maybe too much until it was changing into other disturbing feelings. And maybe it was best not to assess them. But she couldn't deny that some tiny spot in her heart was opening for him. She genuinely cared about him. And with God's help, it'll stay that way—meaning she wouldn't pull him into any potentially dangerous situations.

She had no doubt he'd object to that.

...........................................

Chris double-checked the address she'd written on the sleeve of her arm and pulled her loose hair out of her face. This was the place? She gazed up at the colossal building. What did a museum have to do with this whole mess? She walked in through the revolving glass doors, perplexed but insisting to keep herself open-minded. There was absolutely nothing that seemed out of place. It was just a normal day at the museum.

But the fact that she'd found this address in one of Richard's books gave her reasons for suspicion. The book had nothing to do with music! No, this place was tied in somehow. And she had to find out how. Could this place be headquarters? She counted the chances of that out.

But then again ...

Like I regular visitor interested in music, she explored the area and even settled for snack at the café. But unlike a regular visitor, she put every person she saw under a mental scanner. Things seemed okay. She walked out of there not feeling enlightened, but discouraged. She passed the info desk.

"Come visit us again!" said the friendly-faced young brunette.

Chris gave a polite smile. It was unlikely.

"Ooh!" she bubbled, her blue eyes lighting up. She handed her a pamphlet. "You surely wouldn't want to miss out on the concert that would be held here! If you truly love class in your music of course, this would be something to die for."

Chris eyes brushed over the pamphlet, politely. The price to attend would wipe her savings account clean! "I'm sorry," she declined, "It's way past my budget."

The brunette laughed airily, and leaned forward over the desk in the most informal manner. "It is also said," she imparted, near a whisper, "that the royal family and the prime minister will be attending. The price it totally worth it if you ask me." She straightened once more, smile brighter than ever. "Think about it."

Chris shook her head. "You'd make a wonderful saleswoman. People would buy air if they ran into you."

The woman curtseyed behind the desk.

And truthfully, as she left the museum, she had already made up her mind. The date of the concert was for the end of that month. Stevens had given her disturbing news the other night. They had less than a month now to stop whatever Richard was planning. Was it coincidence that this address had been glued to the back of one of his books?

But even then, where did this take her? This could all be a smokescreen. While her attention was on the museum, he was somewhere else getting dirty work done.

Dirty work.

She slapped her forehead in self-deprecation. While she was here, Richard was at the Greenwood estate. She had been conveniently pushed out of the way—without her fully realizing it. Shoot! She had to get back there—fast.

......................................................

It was a day Levi wished meant nothing to him. But it did. It was a constant reminder of who he truly was—and who he was not. True, it haunted him in every silent moment when no distraction was available—but it just wasn't working today. But he'd have to try.

He was determined to find out who else was involved with Greenwood's scheme. His MI5 buddy, William, had informed him about a few gangs who had no interest in petty crimes but larger felonies. That had been a spark in the dark. But from what he had learned by finding a stash of cocaine at his workplace, he would probably be going on a wild goose chase. Expect the worse between the folds of a pristine handkerchief. But then again, expect horrors in a city's drainage system. Besides it would be the most unexpected thing for a city gang to be involved with one of the most respected families. A visit to "Uncle" Hans' had given him the extra nerve to stand where he now stood—in an alleyway waiting for some guy he'd only heard about. Hans' eyes had revealed so much more than his words ever could.

His body tingled with anticipation. Nothing was going to stop him now—not even his ghosts. Getting under the cover of some guy who wanted to do some business was as close as he was getting—but there was no way he would be leaving empty. Either Hans' hint would be approved—or he was going to bust these guys for other things.

A huge man around thirty years of age with a clean-shaved head, covered in tats from the neck down, stepped into the alley from a backdoor. Levi nodded in acknowledgment as the obsidian eyes landed on him. He went up to him with confidence—even though he was aware a step too close would be his undoing.

Blaze narrowed his eyes at him, his huge arms crossing his chest, his tank top revealing the most hideous beasts tattooed to his chest. "Joey Grey," the deep, raspy voice mused. "So you ditched Hide?"

Levi ran his fingers through his hair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hide's dead. I can't work for someone who's not vertical."

Evil glistened behind those eyes. "It's interesting how you're running to the rival of his gang."

"Nobody owns me," Levi said, tone level, but not lacking in firmness. Not once did his gaze flinch from Blaze's.

Blaze closed the safe distance between them, Levi unmoved by the dark gaze meant to intimidate. "Hawks!"

Levi watched as several members of the gang flowed out of the hideout. It was only around seven in the morning! Were they going to beat him up out here? Anticipation burned on his fingertips as he sized up each one as they encircled him—a motley crew. His eyes met each and every one, some nervous—most energized and eager. They were going to regret that.

Blaze gave the first blow—but Levi batted it down. The monster in those dark eyes was aroused.

As Levi fought, he let it all loose. The emotions he'd been burying—rage, grief, guilt, frustration. He let them go with a bellow from the depth of his soul—his beast awake and alive—starving.

.................................................

Michael steepled his fingers, leaning back on the chair. It seemed Stevens had turned on his ear-stud interceptors. By the sounds of it, he was in a fight, but Michael couldn't care less. He'd gotten himself into it. It only made sense for him to get himself out of it.

Smith was noticeably void of emotion as usual—but her green eyes seemed more lifeless than usual. Michael knew she favored Stevens more than the rest of the Trapezoid, so it only made sense that she'd be more concerned.

"He'd better not get himself killed," she mentioned nonchalantly between a sip of coffee as though she were talking of the weather. And when did she ever take coffee?

About fifteen minutes passed before things on that side had seemed to have cooled down.

.....................................................

Levi heaved ragged breathes, his rage unable to be pacified. His heart hammered in his chest, his blood humming as it surged through his veins. Somehow it felt good—but it was now all over. He'd fulfilled his promise. Every single face that had showed anticipation had surely regretted it. Four guys stood around him, more nervous—and filled with fear—of him.

Blaze had the dignity to face him, even though forcibly humbled. "Boss will see you now."

Levi openly looked over the damage he'd done. Blood ran down the side of the man's face, his lip split on both sides, and jaw swollen—before he stepped into the poorly lit room, cigarette smoke weighing the air down. It looked like some backroom of an establishment.

He forgot who he stood before. His blood had not cooled, his heart rate only accelerating. "What do you want?" he spat through his clenched teeth. The scum was such a disgrace. He was full of stupid arrogance. He wouldn't have thought he would one day prefer Hide to this guy. Hide had dignity. This guy had more than two girls hanging on him—girls who had no business looking at him in such ways. With the way he felt, he'd probably kill the one who'd try to near him.

"Straightforward, aren't you?" the baby-face remarked. How the heck did he become the leader of this gang?

At that moment, Levi didn't care about his cover. Maybe death would put an end to all that haunted him. He now felt disgusted with himself—unclean. This was how he was spending this day? Killing one guy, beating up the rest, and getting orders from this—this—germ? "Get to it!" he thundered, sending the room into stunned silence.

"Boss" cleared his throat, the tremor almost a melody to Levi's ears. "Send this." He slid an envelope across the desk, probably afraid to touch him.

Levi clawed it from the desk. Every fiber of his being wanted to rip it to pieces. "So I'm your messenger boy?" The blue depths of his eyes burned through the man seated before him, turning him pale.

"He didn't think you'd make it alive through the beating," one of the girls spoke up.

Levi bored his eyes through her, and then slowly turned to the blonde coward before him. He stepped forward and flattened his palms on the desk. "But I did," then he walked out of there, head held high, hardly paying heed to the guys who poured back in with murmurs that he was probably a madman.

Back into the alley as he tucked the letter into his jacket pocket, a blow to the back of his head threw him off.

Blaze.

Too bad for him, Levi's fire was still roaring. He spun around with a crane-kick to the side of the man's head. Levi pushed his finger into the gap of the man's sternum, making him sink to his knees—but it wasn't enough. He kicked his head back, breaking his nose. "Now, get lost and out of my sight!" he hissed.

He scrambled away.

Levi rose to his feet, sensing someone behind him, he spun around and saw nothing but red.

.......................................................

Chris needed a shortcut to the café. She was running low in both energy and enthusiasm. Here she was, stuck in the city. Why wasn't she getting a cab that was willing to take her back into the countryside? She scolded herself for not taking the risk to stick around the estate. But she had better face it. Richard had succeeded in getting her out of the way.

But maybe there was still hope—after coffee.

She felt foreboding as she neared the alleyway. But she ignored the churning of her stomach. Druggies couldn't hurt her, right? After all, she had some martial arts under her belt. She made it halfway—and then stopped.

Someone with the spitting image of Stevens had been knocked from behind with a fist. His countenance burned with something she'd never seen in any human beings eyes. Before she could collect what had happened, his attacker was on his knees. His back was to her as she heard a snap combined with a thud.

A voice she didn't recognize chased the man away.

What was wrong with him? Was this what Stevens truly was like? The rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing stopped midway—and he turned—fire behind the ocean of his eyes.

At that moment, Chris learned what fear felt like. His hand closed around her neck, the air immediately cut off. She stared in horrified wonder into the eyes she no longer recognized—the eyes of a beast. Oh, God, was all her mind could put together.

He ran her back up against the wall, pain shooting up her spine, her feet barely on the ground. Her lungs screamed for air as she closed her smaller hands around his wrists in attempt to break his hold, shutting her eyes tightly.

No, this isn't happening!

Her eyes locked on his eyes for the last time before her vision blurred, consciousness barely holding on. "Stevens, please," she pled, though her mouth was only moving.

........................................................

The red haze slowly ebbed away as he stared into the horror-stricken green eyes. Emerald eyes.

Emerald.

Who was this? His eyes moved lower to take in what her lips formed. Stevens.

Hopper.

His breathing stopped, his heart ceasing to beat for but a moment. What was he doing? His eyes widened in disbelief as he retrieved his hand from her throat. What had he done?

Hopper slummed onto the ground, ravenously gulping in air. His heart crumbled as he sank to his knees before her. Was he about to throttle her to death? She fell into a spell of coughing, his heart of rock cracking. He'd hurt her. He'd nearly intended to kill her! She wasn't his favorite person, but oh, he cared about her—maybe he only realized it now, but he did.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely—brokenly. Her eyes darted away from his, she having recovered a little. His fingertips brushed a tendril of her hair out of her face. She drew in a sharp breath, flinching away, her eyes indicating that her guard was up. But he wasn't some guy she needed to fear! It hadn't been his intention to hurt her. He was one of the good guys who fought for what was right—who did what was right.

Oh, yeah. Right! That's why you carry this load of ghosts wherever you go. Levi groaned internally as the dark voice echoed in his head. It was true. He was fighting and had been fighting for the title of good, but maybe it wasn't working.

Here the proof was before him. He shut his eyes, fatal explosions reverberating in his memory.

.....................................................

He was a horrific sight. Drying blood left a crimson streak down his chin from his lip while another streak ran down the length of the side of his face from his brow, his jaw bruised.

But what had replaced the madness of blue dimmed out every other thing. Hurt, regret—something else. "I'm so sorry." She knew he meant it. But how did that change anything? His fingers brushed against her skin. She flinched away. This time she was alert for anything he might do. He was unpredictable. How could she trust him?

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, brows furrowing under his shut eyes. He opened them moments later, his dark blue eyes clouding over with unshed tears.

Compassion washed over her—compassion for him for whatever truly battered his soul. His eyes revealed a tumultuous storm . . .

Her head snapped away from him as from each end of the alley closed in a squad of armed men dressed head-to-toe in black. Before she could collect what was going on, two yanked Stevens from behind up to his feet. Her defense rose after they knocked him out cold. Who were they? What did they want?

A gasp escaped her lips as a vice grip closed around her upper arm, volts of shock coursing through her. She elbowed whoever had her—but it was obvious he had expected it. He straightened her arm behind her back. She dug up from her memory what CIA had taught her. Evidently, this guy was as knowledgeable as her sensei. She watched helplessly as Stevens was dragged away.

"He'll be okay," he said in a crisp British accent.

Chris looked up at the man behind her skeptically as she also took in features that would help her out of this mess later. "And what about me?"

The man in chestnut hair flashed a brief smile, his hazel eyes nearly giving off humor. "D. Smith sends her regards."

Author's note:

Here it is! I'm sorry about making it nearly 3,000 words but I just had to fit everything in. I'm so sorry my action scene wasn't so gripping, but it was intentional. I'm saving the best for last (hopefully).

(Don't you love it when you have to rewrite the whole chapter because inspiration for something else hit you as you lay in bed at night?)