It wasn't like Chris had always dreamed it would be. She'd fantasized it to be filled with happiness.

It wasn't.

Not only did she feel crushed, but also like a loser. For the briefest moment, she'd given in to her emotions. Lord knew she regretted it. She regretted having entered this van. She regretted having run to this man for help this morning. She regretted it all! Tears streamed down her face, her mascara running.

Levi had morphed once again. He was frustrated or angry with her. She could tell. His kiss was rough and forceful, his hands biting into her shoulders.

He pulled away. She shot up to her feet, moving as far as possible from him. She thought he was someone worth her feelings. He wasn't. She thought he was slowly turning away from his callous, hard-hearted self. He wasn't. Sobs racked her body. She thought he cared about her. He didn't. She was nothing but something to be used, in his eyes.

She wanted to hate the despicable monster. "How could you?" she croaked out.

He was defiantly silent.

"What did I ever do to deserve the way you've treated me?" She sank to her knees, trembling. Furious, she scrubbed at her lips—and spat at his feet. She glared at him through her tears. "That's less than you deserve, you son of a—" She swallowed convulsively. "Frog." She expected him to return how she couldn't even curse.

But he stayed silent.

She saw no evidence of remorse for what he'd done, form as smug as possible.

As the minutes rolled, silence between them, her heart in pieces, she willed to hate him.

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

Thomas tried acting nonchalant around his brother as he talked about Kristal. He was trying to discredit her, but Thomas saw nothing discrediting about what he said.

"Thomas, she is as chaste as the Virgin Mary, and maybe has as much stupid guts as John the Baptist who got himself beheaded!"

Thomas shrugged at his brother's use of Biblical people.

"And I swear," Thomas ears pricked up. "If she doesn't show up before three this afternoon, she'll have no idea what hit her."

Thomas almost prayed Kristal's God will have favor on her. He wasn't sure God would listen to someone like him, but he tried anyway. His heart asked for her protection.

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

Chris felt like a zombie. She hardly remembered the cab ride from the flea market to the Greenwood estate. She forgot about all the responsibilities she needed to attend to, locking herself in her room and throwing herself on her bed. She wept into her pillow to muffle the sound. "Father God, it hurts!" She twisted the covers with her fist. "I'm so angry!" The ball in her throat burst, a river of tears flowing. "He's a beast," she crackled out. His name wasn't worth mentioning in prayer. She trembled in rage. "God, I'm tired of all this—including him!"

I am your strength when you are weak. His voice was so quiet—yet so distinct and familiar. He spoke straight to her heart.

Her weeping subsided. "I don't want to go on." She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "Oh, God, I'm broken. I don't want to forgive him. I can't forgive him—even though I know that's what You want me to do."

" 'Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit,' says the LORD."

"Oh, Lord, help me. Please, help me." She had no more words. She dragged herself off her bed and fell to her knees and groaned.

Only He knew what her heart couldn't put into words.

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

Martha felt tears running down her face, her ear inches from Kristal's door. She had come with the intent of informing her that she could now be her personal maid. But she refrained from knocking at her door. The girl was pouring herself out to her God. It was perplexing. It was as though God were in her room. Martha envied her. Who was her God?

She'd met plenty of Christians. Here was one of the genuine few—Kristal Thompson.

She'd inform her of her new position later.

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

William studied his roommate over the rim of his cup of tea. Something was eating at him. William looked idly out the window at the silvery moon graced by a host of stars twinkling in the cloudless night sky. Sounds of the city had died down, the world preparing for the next day to come. He stretched out his long legs and turned his hazel eyes back to the young man with piercings and mohawk busying himself with planning a search for the museum of music.

His icy deep blue eyes slowly rose to his. William was unmoved, his own gaze unflinching. His hazel eyes asked the question. "William, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Your tone is rather hard—insistent," he pressed.

Fiery defense flashed in his features, eye twitching dangerously.

William set his mug on the floor and removed his shirt, revealing a well-toned body. Stevens needed to relieve himself of his stress. "Oh, yes," he taunted with sarcasm, "you are just dandy! Even a woman can't faze you."

Levi rose from his seat stiffly, provoked. "Watch it, Will," he growled.

William laughed airily. "So I was right, ha?" He caught the fist that flew his way. He'd expected it.

The two men wrestled on the floor, both leaving bruises on their opponent, their strengths equal. A mixture of martial arts and other fighting techniques were exploited. Arms locked, bodies were flipped over, and blows were given. Both went on, time forgotten. Muscles ached, but none were willing to cave.

William's phone rang.

He pounced off the floor, sweat streaming down his body, his lip busted and blood running down his jaw—but smug expression expertly on as he answered the call. He winked.

Levi seethed, dragged in breaths through his clenched teeth. Battle drumbeats were what his heart mimicked. He angrily took a cold shower to cool himself—then at the memory of his shameful deed that day, he turned the water to its highest heat. A cloud of steam illuminated around him as he stepped out of the bathroom. He still felt filthy.

Her face danced before his closed eyes as he lay in bed. He opened his eyes, yet he was haunted still. He groaned as he remembered her lovely emerald eyes shadowed with grief and anger—rightful anger. Her sobs echoed in his mind, her tears streaming down her face. He was to blame for it all. He cursed himself over and over, guilt eating him alive. Of all the people on the planet, he'd hurt her—Chris Hopper. What had possessed him?

Realizing it was pointless trying to sleep, he agitatedly pealed himself out of bed. He wandered into the kitchen and seated himself in the stool, he realized, he'd sat in that morning. Chris had sat opposite him, smiling brilliantly.

He folded his arms on the counter, dropped his head in them—and wept.

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

D. Smith showed zero emotion as the results of the search of the museum came in. The place had been scanned for gas cylinders or foreign pipes that weren't part of the electricity of the building or the plumbing, or air conditioning.

But nothing had been found.

She doubted Hopper was juvenile enough to get people on a wild goose chase. But whatever had gone wrong, one thing was sure; nothing was on the premises.

But for the downside, there was an upside. She'd installed Lisa into a post only she and M. Donald knew about. It would stay that way until the perfect timing came.

She faintly felt bad about keeping secrets between the Trapezoid, considering that none of the sides were even adjoining very well already.

But then again, she only felt faintly bad about that.

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

Thomas drove the sedan in silence, his aunt having a rather lively conversation with her new maid. He didn't care a dust mite about clothes' shopping. What the heck was wrong—or suddenly right with Aunt Martha? Since when did she stop treating Kristal like dirt?

"Oh, Kristal girl, the first design for your dress was nothing less than dreadful!" she said, her mature but elegant features pulled in a frown.

Kristal nodded in nonchalant agreement.

"But there there, girl." she patted her hand in a motherly way. "I'm taking you to my own dressmaker. She'll make you a dress, and not some piece of cloth meant to be worn by a whore."

Kristal noticeably turned crimson at his aunt's blatant use of words. She smiled anyway. "I sincerely thank you, Madam Greenwood."

Discomforted by the sentiment, Aunt Martha lifted her chin and re-straightened her shoulders. "How much further, Thomas?"

"Five minutes and thirty seconds."

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

After tedious measuring and choices and suggestions, Chris sank, without an ounce of grace, on the velvety red loveseat. Inspecting the design of the dress-to-be, she couldn't deny it would be gorgeous. But oh, why did it have to be made because she was going on an outing with a fiend?

She shook her head, attempting to shake out such a disgusting description of Richard Greenwood. She tried replacing it with something gentler—like bad guy. Then she came to the conclusion it was too gentle. Other people were more worthy of the title of bad guy.

Levi.

Her thoughts stilled on his name. She hadn't seen him since a couple of days ago—the day he'd unleashed his passion on her. She tried to figure out if she still held anger toward him—and realized it had vanished somewhere.

And unlike other times, it didn't take an apology from the perpetrator to make it go. Levi hadn't looked in the least disturbed or sorry. But it was gone. All her anger was gone.

But whether things would be the same between them—was uncertain.

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

Madam Greenwood had insisted on a stroll in the park before the drive back to the estate. Matching her graceful strides was a task Chris knew to be impossible. But somehow she managed to notice the colorful butterflies flutter by or gracefully visit a blossoming flower. The shade of a large oak was irresistible. A wooden bench sat underneath it.

Her employer paused in mid-step. "Kristal girl, why don't you sit here for a while?" She gave Thomas a sharp look. "I'd like to have a chat with my nephew out of the earshot of other employees." She smiled warmly back at Chris, suddenly altered. "We'll meet back at the car in fifteen minutes."

Chris saw a shadow pull over Thomas' chocolate eyes. Curiosity demanded that she find out what was so private that she shouldn't hear it. She was an agent after all! It was her job to find stuff out—especially of this family who had hands in dirty places. But better judgment batted curiosity with the fact that it was impossible. She just had to chill—for now. Things never remained in the darkness for too long after all. "Yes, ma'am." She nodded. "Fifteen minutes at the car it is."

A sigh escaped her lips as she settled on the piece of outdoor furniture. The leaves rustled above her, whispering some melody in perfect harmony. Birds added their voices from somewhere in the tree. At that moment, eyes closed, all was forgotten. All she was at that moment was a carefree woman soaking up a fragment of God's Creation.

But that didn't mean she lost her other senses to the world around her. Apart from the scent of earth and plants, a different scent was present. Her eyes flew open. She pushed herself to sit straighter at the sight of him before her. His demeanor gave nothing away. Her heart rate picked up, badly surprised by his presence.

"What are you doing?" he said, tone on the border of accusing.

"Well, sir, I'm doing what I look like I'm doing," she said sassily.

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

Her tone was like the bite of salt on a fresh wound. Levi wished to see any emotion—and not that void of green. Maybe if he could see her rage burning in there, he wouldn't feel so—vulnerable.

Levi had wished to find her. And here she was, by sheer chance. Why he stopped to watch her peaceful form when his guilt weighed so heavily was terribly fatal. There was nothing he could find to say.

"Would you like to sit?" She had such a crisp British accent, he was conscious of his own American one.

The bench creaked slightly as he settled down hesitantly. The ice was almost tangible. There beside him on the bench lay her fisted hand. His eyes met hers. His heart was near bursting at the seams. There was so much he wanted to say—to remove what he'd put between them. He'd hurt her because of his lack of self-control and wretched self.

"How have you been?" she asked idly. He watched the way her eyes darted away from him.

It pierced him the way she distrusted him. It grew in his chest. He turned his gaze to her hand. How could he be sitting here next to her? Aggravated, he shot up. Tormented, he swore.

"That was disgusting," she spat out.

Like an arrow, he sucked in a sharp breath. She was right—in more ways than just his words. She stood. Afraid she would leave, he captured her arm. She fought to pull away—and it hurt. His chest constricted with grief. He took in her features.

He couldn't hold it any longer. "Forgive me."

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

Maybe Chris was imagining it all. Her heart was aflutter, the vulnerability in that beautiful blue something she had never seen—or expected. Levi's warm hand slid off her arm. But his gaze did not alter.

Her vision blurred after his eyes filled up and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Right there, he sank to his knees. "Forgive me, Chris," he said, voice husky with emotion.

Heart touched in an unexplainable way, she went on her knees before him. Chris placed her hand on his shoulder. "Of course, I forgive you."

He shook his head adamantly, his eyes shut. His voice lowered to a whisper. "I knew I was hurting you when I kissed you."

Her face flamed up and her hand left him. So this was what he was trying to apologize for? He actually was apologizing? To her? If she had wings, she would be soaring. "I have forgiven you."

His eyes opened, pain etched in them. "You don't understand," he said harshly. Unexpected color poured into his face as he cooled. "You weren't on my mind—when I—I. . ." He ran his hand through his strip of hair. "You are nothing like Fiona."

Jealousy at the name of another sprang up. She prayed God would help keep her heart from hardening.

Warmth seeped into his eyes, his hands cupping her face. "You are like no other woman I've ever met." His eyes darkened and filled with tears. "I had memories of her as I—" He swallowed convulsively. "What I did was just as good as me cheating on—" His face contorted with anger. "I wanted to hurt you to somehow get back at her, but—"

A knife to the heart couldn't have hurt more. So it was someone else—and not her. Tears spilled off her face. She shut her eyes to try and shut him out. His hands left her face.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know it! With all my being, I do," he said huskily. "I am so sorry."

Chris kept her eyes shut. She didn't open them as she sensed him rise to his feet.

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

He felt he had lost, shattered heart grounded to powder. He couldn't expect her to forgive him. Some things that were broken were beyond repair. But what he would do to somehow gain at least her trust again! He didn't even deserve that—although he wanted more.

He had to move on. He turned to leave. Distractions were in plenty. Greenwood needed to be—

A gentle hands closed around his wrist, almost startling him. His eyes lowered to glowing emerald ones. He felt his heart beat again at the warmth flowing through them.

Tears still coursed down Chris' face. "I forgive you," she whispered.

His heart leapt. He'd heard wrong.

With amazing strength, she brought his head lower. "With all my heart, Levi Stevens," she whispered against his ear. She gazed into his eyes with her beautiful clear green eyes. She didn't need to say it. His thumb brushed her chin—she buried her face in his chest stubbornly, her arms wrapping around his middle in an embrace. "The same way God freely gives to me, I give to you," she said in his chest. "He loves you, Levi." She whispered his name. "He loves you more than even I,"

He could not dare breathe. Tears sprung in his eyes as his arms locked around her. He'd received what he did not deserve! He hadn't earned it—her forgiveness. He cupped the back of her head, his wish to never let her go. She didn't hate him!

Because of her God.

A reverent fear built in his chest. He knew he should be dead long ago. He wasn't. He knew he shouldn't be feeling so—free. He was. There was only one Benefactor of it all. Levi could only deny His existence for so long. But was he ready?

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

His solid heartbeat the music against her ear, Chris sent up the greatest prayer of her own heart. There was no question about what she felt for this man now. It hurt knowing she was separated from him—the wall of separation so high, a change of heart the only way for it to crumble to the ground.

Father God, You know what I want. Her hand moved up to the source of the steady rhythm. I know Levi needs You. God, have mercy and change his heart! Lord, I know I love him—love him enough to care for his soul. Please, God. . .

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

Maybe it was a private moment. But Sally was curious. There was something about the two that raised the most annoying side of her personality. She knew she was out of their view—but they weren't out of hers. She hadn't heard a word though. She was too far away.

Her heart skipped a beat and she gasped, startled as weight settling on the bench made it creak. Her head swung to the side to the person beside her. How had anyone been able to sneak up on her?

Maybe this guy was a ghost of some ancient Greek god she'd heard about in one of her teacher's boring history lessons. His blonde hair was perfectly groomed and swayed slightly in the breeze. He had the most perfect chiseled features. His clear blue yet strangely icy eyes landed down on her. The corner of his lips turned up. "Are you okay?" He had the accent of the snobs.

"Yeah," she replied curtly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He chuckled. "You looked a bit pale then reddish in color."

Sally couldn't have this stranger thinking he made her blush. Besides, he looked to be around his twenties—too old for her. "Well, mister, my color can be accounted for the scenery."

"Oh?" He mocked surprise. "I had no idea we were looking at the same one. Romantic, isn't it?"

Sally kept silent. Instinct told her he wanted something from her. Yet for some strange reason, she didn't want to leave. A minute or two passed without a word between her and the guy who smelled expensive too.

"I'm a very curious person too."

Sally shrugged. "So wha' does tha' have to do wi' me?"

He winked at her. "I know the blondie. But who's the guy holding her?"

"Maybe he's her boyfriend, dah."

His eyes frosted slightly, his gaze unflinching. "I can plainly see that you know them." His voice lowered. "And let's just say that woman is giving off two faces."

Sally felt excitement brewing in her. "So she's cheatin' on you?"

The handsome stranger turned void of expression—though his eyes steeled harder on her. "I'll pay you to keep tabs on both of them—without getting caught."

Her interest perked up at the sound of cash—although her conscious disapproved. There was something dark and sinister about this guy. But the offer sounded too good. Besides, since when did she owe loyalty to people who treated her as though she was invisible? No one was going to get hurt, after all.

"Maybe I can make time for tha'."

He handed her a wad of cash. "This is so you meet me at the ice-cream parlor at the corner at four p.m. sharp."

The teen's hands trembled at the sight of so much money. Things to do with it flooded her imagination.

Wait, who was this guy anyway? "Who are you?"

He rose to his feet with liquid motion. "A nice guy. And you're a nice girl." He walked off, head held high.

Sally's insides churned a warning of foreboding. But she ignored it. She was Shadow after all.

Author's note:

It wasn't edited well. *cringes*