posted on may 26 @ 1:56 pm (eastern standard time)

- - - -

Peter Corinelli's home that night was at a standstill. Televisions were muted; the music was turned down as far as it could go without also being muted. Men lined the hallways, peering their heads out of doors as four heavily armed guards walked by with their prisoner in tow. AK-47's were strapped to their backs and submachine guns rested in their hands. Their faces remained neutral, as if carrying a submachine gun was as normal as walking around a house with a glass of water.

Their boots hit the wood floor in unison, making their arrival well known. The guards' eyes were trained on the door ahead of them, their destination near. The noise that they caused drifted down the hallway and the rare whisper of a man drowned out the sound of Rosalie's cries, her sobs echoing from the back of her throat. She was left in the dark, literally, with a blindfold tied tightly around her head. Her small hands were bound together at her wrists with a metal wire; a wire that had slowly begun to pierce her flesh, rubbing it raw.

She let out a heartbreaking cry as she stumbled through the hall, nearly falling until a hand clasps around her shoulder, to keep her balanced. "Liam, where's Liam?" She let out another cry as a door was thrown open, drowning out her constant pleas for her brother. "I want Liam." No one heard and if someone did, no one would have cared.

The little girl was thrown to the floor the minute they stepped into Peter Corinelli's office. Her forearms broke her fall, but it also jarred the waterworks. Rosie's body ached as she lay on the cold, wooden floor, tears flooding out of her eyes and rolling down her already tear stained cheeks. Her legs, arms, and hands were cut up as she had tried to run from the men earlier that night; she had failed, but what she had succeeded in was hurting herself. Dried blood was smeared across her forehead, along with dirt. Blood that had ran from a collection of small cuts on her arms and legs had also dried.

Her constant sobs were disregarded in a room full of men three times her height and four times her weight. That wasn't the reason why she was scared; Rosie had grown up understanding that her stepfather and brother dealt with men like this all the time. There wasn't a meeting she hadn't crashed that involved large men with even larger guns; but what scared her, what petrified her, was that her source of comfort was not in this room. Liam. The same man whose lap she would sit on, whose arm would wrap around her tiny waist as he spoke with the foreign men across the room, was not there.

Multitudes of men spoke all around her, their accents similar to the people that she loved, but their underlining tone was different; it was evil, something she wasn't used to. Liam's friendly laugh and teasing words were nowhere near her, frightening her even more.

"Good job gentlemen," Peter Corinelli stood from his seat, a suit still hugging his figure even at this late hour. Smoke drifted out his mouth as a cigar rested lazily between his lips. His dress shoes made an eerie, chill-inducing sound as he marched towards the little girl that still sat on the ground, unable to find the strength to push herself back to her feet. She couldn't see him, but the fear that his words caused her was evident.

"Stand up," The man commanded her. Rosie's sobs was the only response she gave him. The little girl struggled to her feet, but when she had, Peter shoved her again, causing the seven year old to fall back to the ground. Heartless laughter erupted from the mouths of the four guards and Peter.

Pain ricocheted through her body at the second blow she received from falling to the ground. Rosalie didn't even attempt to stand back up; instead, she rested her cheek against the floor and cried. Her shoulders shook as her cries were drowned out by the boisterous laughter and talking of the men that stood around the room.

"You are dismissed, gentlemen," Peter nods with a wave and in a matter of seconds, he's alone with Liam Luciano's little sister. Despite her size and her incapability of harming anyone, she was one of the most important pieces to the long winding road that would eventually lead him to Liam. Ripping Luciano's heart from him while he was still alive started with the little girl that was now sobbing on his floor, ruining his expensive wood.

The older man steps away from the girl, eyeing her with curiosity as he paces in his office, his hands linking together behind his back. His door opens exactly five minutes later and beneath the frame, stands his right hand man. Xavier stood in the doorway, his hands shoved so deep into the pockets of his sweatpants that he stretches the elastic. The longer strands of his hair fall over his forehead like a whisper, nearly poking him in the eye on occasions. Lazily, he runs a hand up his forehead, pushing the hair off his face. The move doesn't wake him up anymore. His eyes are still half closed, the peaceful sleep he was in still not having fully left.

"Took you fucking long enough," Peter dabs his cigar against his desk, before shoving it to the side and leaning against it, his arms folded.

Like you initially panic when you can't feel your phone in your pocket, Xavier panics. His hand shoots up to his neck at the thought that he had lost the necklace his ring had been professionally put on. The gold ring still dangles around his neck, causing him to sigh, his shoulders relaxing. Muttering a few curse words, he runs his hands over his face and enters the room, still unaware of the small figure that lays just to his left, her sobs having died down now.

"Sorry, I was in the middle of an erotic dream when you buzzed me," Xavier rounds his bosses desk and drops into the large, plush seat. Four years ago, he never would've made such a bold move; but having worked by Peter's side for a long time, they had grown closer than ever. A yawn escapes the man's lips as he leans back and closes his eyes. He crosses his hands over his chest and grips either bicep, sighing loudly.

A loud sob pierces Xavier's ears, but he doesn't open his eyes until a tiny voice speaks up, yanking him from his dream by his throat. "W-what's an erotic dream?"

His eyes pop open and his gaze immediately falls to the figure on the floor. Blood is smeared across her forehead and dirt splotches line her cheeks. Her cheek is pressed against the cool floor and even if she wanted to, she couldn't have used her hands as a pillow. Her hands were still binded by the coil-like wire they had wrapped around her wrists. Xavier's biceps constrict as he grips the arms of the chair, forcing himself to sit up. If he wasn't awake then, he was now.

"Peter," The urgency in Xavier's voice grew the longer he stared at the child that lay on the ground, helpless and afraid.

"Yes?"

"Peter," the young man pinches the bridge of his nose, dropping his gaze to the various amounts of scratch marks that line the oak wood desk he sits behind. Xavier closes his eyes and lowers his voice, now aware of the tiny eavesdropper that can easily listen in. "We discussed that you would take the stepmother because we were certain she would know more." His long fingers rake themselves through his thick hair in frustration.

"We...we did discuss that, yes," Peter acknowledges that fact as he joins Xavier by his side, silently beginning to stroke his chin. "But an adult wouldn't speak. If she was loyal to Liam, she wouldn't dare speak." He points to the still body on his floor, "A child has no filter."

Xavier groans again, bowing his head. "Where's the mother?"

He raises his head at Peter's growing silence. When his boss doesn't respond, the young man glances to his right and arches an eyebrow.

"She's...taking a swim."

Xavier releases a string of f-bombs beneath his breath.

His anger hadn't risen at that exact moment in time. It hadn't until he allowed his eyes to flutter back over to Rosalie, who had softened her cries once again. The blindfold that had been used was clearly soaking with tears and droplets of blood dripped to the hardwood floor below, her wrists clearly bleeding. Her mouth was twisted in a form of discomfort and pain and her cries, the ones that the others hadn't even acknowledged, floated around Xavier's head. In an instant, he knew her cries weren't just because of fear, but because of pain; a child's cry could speak volumes - but you would only be able to understand if you had a child of your own.

"You son of a bitch!" The man shot up from his seat, nearly toppling it over as he extended his arms and shoved his boss. Peter stumbles backward, a chuckle on his lips as he holds his hand out. "I swear to God, Peter-" His next shove was easily sideswiped. Corinelli takes the opportunity to step up towards the young man, eyeing him with every ounce of evil he could.

"Why are you getting emotional, Xavier?" Peter tilts his head, sounding as though he was mocking the young man that stood before him. "Hm?" He takes another step towards the man, a smile creeping across his face. "You don't know that little girl!" He points an accusing finger at Rosalie, who shakes with fear.

Xavier never backed down; he never bowed his head or tore his attention away from Peter. He made sure to keep eye contact, proving to his boss that he wasn't backing away or denying anything he did or said.

"That isn't your daughter," Peter finishes, "So take your head out of your emotional ass and help me finish this."

He doesn't give Peter the satisfaction of nodding, so he takes a step back and points to the little girl on the floor. Peter Corinelli nods and with a slight smile, he slips out from past the desk and makes his way over to Rosalie. She flinches as Peter squats beside her and grips her arm, able to wrap his entire hand around her bone. He doesn't warn her or comfort her, he just rips the blindfold off.

Rosalie squints, unable to focus on the man that kneels just before her. Her vision slowly clears after a few blinks. Her chest rises and falls due to her recent sobs, physically unable to catch her breath to calm down. Almost immediately, she attempts to scramble away from Peter.

"I want Liam," Her pleas from earlier are repeated once again as she stares hard at the man before her. Rosie doesn't look away from him for a minute, afraid that if she did, he would reach for her. "I want my brother."

"You can have your brother back," Peter tries to console the little girl, but his attempt at a caring, loving voice makes Xavier cringe. "I just need you to answer a few questions for me, how's that sound?" Rosie gives the man a disapproving look but nods anyways. "Great." Rosalie tenses up as Peter grabs her by the ankles and pulls her closer to him, a creepy smile etching his lips.

Xavier listens silently from behind Peter.

"Rosalie, can I call you Rosie?"

"No," She deadpans, "Only people I like call me that."

Xavier snorts from behind Peter, causing the older man to turn his head and shoot a finger back at the younger man. He mutters, "Stupid bitch," beneath his breath before turning back to the little girl. She had an eyebrow raised, a statement on her lips, but she advises against saying it.

"Do you love your brother a lot?"

Rosie nods.

"Does he love you?"

"He always says he would do anything for me," Her eyes fall to the floor, "When I talk to him before bed, he always tells me that if anyone ever hurt me, he would hurt them." She lifts her gaze to the man before her, "He's going to hurt you."

Peter chuckles, hardly believing a word she just said. "I'm sure he will," his laughter proved to Rosalie that he didn't believe her and she was okay with that. "What about Faith Crawford? Do you like her?"

"She's nice. She makes Liam happy, so she makes me happy."

"Does Liam like her a lot?"

Rosalie nods once more.

Peter presses his palms to his thighs before nodding, "I think that's enough questions for tonight." But just as he begins to push himself into a standing position, Rosalie speaks back up.

"And you're the stupid bitch."

Xavier and Peter's eyebrows nearly lift themselves all the way off their forehead. Both of them clearly taken back by the language used by the little girl that lay helpless on the floor. Peter's jaw twitches as he turns to her, his eyes slowly closing due to his harsh glare.

"Where did you learn to use that type of language?"

Rosalie turns away from the man. "Uncle Rico."

The two men glance at each other as Xavier slowly slides up behind his boss. Peter resumes his squat. "Uncle...Rico? Federico De Santis? What does uncle Rico look like?"

"He's cute. Tall, like you. Black hair and he has marks on his hands."

"Marks?" Peter questions again, softly. Rosie nods again.

"Mm-hm, he hurts himself a lot. He has black marks on his arm too."

"A tattoo," Peter mutters to himself. When his eyes float back over to Rosalie, he raises a threatening hand, clearly finished with the interview. "Don't you ever disrespect me again-" Rosie flinches as the large hand, like a blur, aims for her head.

But it never hits her.

She can't even wipe at the tears that were caused from being frightened and when she looks back up, she can finally view the second man that stood in the room. His hand is wrapped around the older man's wrist, keeping his large hand from striking her. Her sobs come back as the two speak, their lips moved, but their words were muffled to her ears because of her frightened sobs. The room grew hot as she fell back to the ground, her thoughts circulating on the only person she felt as though she thought about. The sound of feet marching out the room was heard and a door slammed shut, causing her to involuntarily jump.

Another figure lowers himself to his knees and bends over her body. His face was kind and his features weren't nearly as scary as the man before. His movements were calculated and slow. He had purposely done that as to not scare the already terrified girl. The man held a soft smile on his lips as he helped the little girl to her feet, unstably. The first thing Rosie noticed was his eyes; they were a light brown shade, similar to her brothers.

"Rosie?" His voice was deep, but soothing to her ears. She's pulled closer as he brushes strands of hair away from her face and uses his thumbs to dry her tears. There was something about the way he said her nickname that caused her to feel safe, comforted. Instead of shooting him down by making him say her full name, she just nods, causing more tears to slip past her eyelids. "My name's Xavier. I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" And for some reason, when he said it, she believed it.

Her stomach drops when he pulls out a knife, quickly flipping the blade so that it was open and pointing towards her; but his constant touch and smile, caused for no type of concern. Xavier cuts through the binding on her wrists with ease, watching it fall to the floor, her hands now free. Her eyes also fall to the wire that had cut her, but when she lifts her gaze, she's staring right back at the kind gentlemen.

"D-did I do something bad?"

His eyebrows crease together as he shakes his head, unsure of what she meant by that. "No, you didn't do anything."

"When I-I mentioned uncle Rico, he-" She hiccups, "He-"

"Shh," The man pulls her close, proving to her that not only did she have a friend in this lonely place, but also a protector. The longer he kneeled there, while she stood, wrapping her arms around his neck, the quieter she got. Her sobs weren't nearly as loud and her shoulders didn't shake as hard. The goosebumps on her arms removed themselves as he allowed his own body heat to warm the little girl.

Xavier didn't have the guts to tell the little girl that she had ratted out her own uncle. By speaking up, by saying that she knew him, she had killed him.

She had killed her uncle Rico without even knowing it.

Peter's words echoed in the back of Xavier's mind as he tightened his grip around the little girl, occasionally whispering in her ear that she would be okay and that she would be able to see her brother again. But despite her frequent questions about her brother, she would occasionally ask for her mother. He bypassed those; because no, she would never see her mother alive again.

Xavier closes his eyes and sighs, repeating Peter's words once again.

"Looks like we have a traitor working for us; traitors don't deserve to live."

- - - -

"Men cannot have a sleepover," Federico De Santis shivers, "That's hella gay."

Quietly, I watched Dominic and Federico set up their temporary sleeping arrangements for the night. Liam's living room was spacious, giving each of the men more than enough room to find a comfortable position. The second Liam and I walked back inside from the grim scene at the pool, he had made an announcement that he felt was necessary. Noticing the drooping eyes of his men and the late hour that the grandfather clock displayed, he suggested that we do not drive all the way back out to his other home, stating we stayed right here.

The announcement was welcomed and fifteen minutes later, it was in full effect. I was leaning against the doorframe of the living room, watching and listening to the most recent debate that was up for arguing between the two. They were both unfolding thick blankets and lying them on the floor. Rico had picked a spot on the floor near one of the two sofas in the room, closest to a coffee table. Dominic rested his stuff on the other side, allowing the table to be their barrier.

Dominic questions, "What about a slumber party?", as he unbuttons his shirt, his eyes locked on Federico. His makeshift bed was now prepared, simply waiting for him to crawl inside the warm blankets.

Rico shakes his head as he peels his shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor. Involuntarily, his muscles flex.

The younger man drops to his bed and rests his head on a sofa pillow he had snatched from behind him. "You might as well call it an orgy, because that's the only thing that happens at sleepovers these days."

Dominic lets out a loud laugh, followed by my quiet chuckle. "Should I be concerned that you know this?" Dom questions with a teasing tone to his voice. A closed lip smile crosses Federico's face as his eyes close. He keeps his hand trapped beneath his pillow as he remains silent and still.

I throw my head back in a laugh before taking a step in the room, my arms folded. I address Dominic as my eyes flutter over Rico's still body. He has one leg inside the warm blanket and another out, sleeping on his stomach. His watch glistens beneath the warm, yellow glow that the two lamps in the room give out. His shoulders rise and just like the smile on his face, they fall. With his lips pursed in an almost frown and his breathing even, I have to assume that he had already fallen asleep.

"You know, he just did that so he didn't have to answer your question," a smirk crosses my face as I walk past Dominic and lean against the arm of the sofa closest to him. Dominic just lets out a laugh as he nods and slips his shirt off his shoulders. When he turns around to me, he simply smiles.

"Oh, I know." We both laugh at that. My smile doesn't disappear as I look up to Dom. His smile was wide and contagious, his laughter still floating around the room. It was a smile that reached his eyes, lightening them and making them sparkle in a sense. After a momentary pause, Dom licks his lips and glances around the room, "You should probably go find Liam." I nod, "If anyone needs sleep, it's him."

Luciano had disappeared nearly twenty minutes ago, mumbling something about taking a shower. He had that look, that tone of voice that suggested he didn't want to be bothered so no, I didn't chase after him and demand him to tell me everything that was going on in his mind. He did, however, make a point to tell me to carry around any short of weapon if I left Rico or Dom's side, knowing damn well that Michael was still lurking in the shadows of his home. I took him up on that offer almost immediately, making sure to keep a gun tucked between the waistline of my jeans.

"Don't worry about him," I shoot him another smile before leaning forward and patting his chest. I made a mental note regarding the firmness of it, before pushing myself off the arm of the sofa. I was heading in the direction of the exit, before I turned back around. Dom had already fallen to his knees and crawled under his blankets. "Quick question."

He lies down on his back and shoots a hand over his hand, causing the muscles in his arm to flex. I contemplate on whether I should ask, but go ahead with it despite my hesitation. "Your tattoo-" Dom glances down at his chest as if he has to be reminded about what I'm talking about, "What's it say?" I had come close to him quite a few times, but never did I focus in on the fancy scribble that was etched into his left pec.

"My favorite memory verse," He doesn't hesitate with his answer, "Philippians 4:13; I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

I wasn't sure if he saw me nod or not, but I did anyways. "Goodnight, Dom."

"Goodnight, Ms. Faith," a shuffling sound is heard as he rolls over and lets out a sigh.

My attention floats over to Rico, who still lies in the same position as before. This time, however, I can't help but notice his hand. It was at his side, just outside the blankets. It rested on-top his gun and the frown that his lips seemed to be in, had lifted into a permanent closed lip smile. I laughed to myself, knowing that gun to Rico, was like cuddling to anyone else. It was his comfort and it told him that he was safe, even while he slept. My laughter faded as I turned to leave the room. One day, I did hope that he would be able to sleep without his gun; because someone, out there, would be able to love the man the way he deserved to be loved.

With the babies tucked in bed, I flipped off the remaining lights and angled my body towards the stairs; but a quick stint of deep chuckles broke my train of thought. When I turned back around and turned on the lights, Federico was sitting up, his eyes half closed. A sloppy grin crossed his lips and his hair was a mess. "Faith?" He called out.

"Yes, Federico?"

"Tell Liam not to be silly and to wrap his willy."

A choking sound that came close to laughter echoed from Dominic's side of the room. The other man sat up and skidded a pillow in my direction. He winks before falling back to his bed and leaving me with the weapon. I picked up the pillow and with a type of accuracy that would make Hawkeye proud, I nailed Federico right in the forehead.

Laughter rippled out the room long after I had turned off the lights and headed upstairs. My initial instinct told me to check Rosie's room, but when the sound of running water coming from the direction of the master bedroom, I went against my gut. Although the master bedroom had always been the room where Melanie and Michael stayed in, I went against the fear that was building in the forefront of my mind. The gun that was pressing against my hipbone was suddenly scolding hot. I pulled it out within seconds and held it just the way Liam had taught me to.

Just in case.

Shoot to kill, not to injure, my lips move as the phrase Liam ordered in my face just hours before over, over, and over again. No sound escapes my mouth as I tiptoe into the master bedroom, refusing to stop till I reach the double doors leading into the bathroom. The room was much larger than Liam's; the bed was unmade and mens' clothes were sprawled out on the carpeted floor. I saw a hint of a walk-in closets, getting a glimpse of a multitude of suits.

The only thing my knock on the bathroom door did, was push it open. It hadn't been properly shut or locked. My gun lowers as I spot Liam's clothes in a puddle on the floor, relaxing and taking a deep breath, I step inside and close the door behind me. The room wasn't hot or filled with fog, like I figured it would be. The sound of steady water falling and hitting the floor in the shower had a droning rhythm to it.

Liam's head was visible through the shower glass; his shoulders, chest, and everything down south was hidden from view. He had his head bowed, eyes closed, and for a few quiet moments, I watched the water run down the base of his neck. It drenched his hair and trickled past his ears, down his cheeks, and off his chin. It cleaned his eyebrows and stuck to his eyelashes. Water dripped from the bridge of his nose and for just a second, I could've sworn I thought he was sleeping while standing. But the small motion of him pulling his lips into his mouth was enough to throw that assumption out the window.

"Liam," his name came out of my mouth much quieter than I had expected, but nevertheless, he looked in my direction. An emotion I couldn't quite figure out was swirling around his brown eyes as we stared at each other, long and hard. I wasn't able to see if tears were really falling out the corner of his eyes, mixing in with the water that drenched his face. His facial expression was a mixture of agony, pain, and sadness. I push myself away from the counter I had been leaning on and tap on the glass, "Liam if you don't come out, I'm going to have to come in."

I wasn't sure if that was a threat or just a warning, but Liam didn't take it as anything too frightening. He peeled his eyes away from me slowly, before returning to his position in the shower.

I took that as my answer and in a matter of minutes, I was undressed and stepping in the shower. I was used to the small cubicles that my own home had; but this... it was easily six times the size of a normal stand-up shower. The tiles beneath my feet were nearly freezing as I took a careful step towards Liam, who stood directly beneath the shower head, his chest moving up and down rapidly. I made the first move my stepping into the shower just moments before, but Liam was the first to speak.

"I feel numb."

I took his hands in mine, allowing myself to take another step towards him. Water was also cascading down my back as I glanced down, turning his large hands over in mine. The tips of his fingers had a wrinkling look to it, proving to me that he had been in the shower far too long.

"We'll get her back, I told you this," I repeated my earlier promise to him. He pulls his hands from mine. I watch in silence as he throws his head back and closes his eyes. The water was by no means warm and soothing, but cold and awakening. My previous, sleep-like state was long gone.

I watch beads of water travel down his neck, arching over his nipples and rolling down his chest. He was breathing heavily, his chest shook and his abs seemed to define themselves even more than usual under the cold water. Liam presses a palm to his chest, rubbing his shoulder in the process. I was not ashamed of staring at the veins that seemed to press themselves against the skin in Liam's arm; they were so prominent and vivid.

"Don't tell me shit like that just because you think it'll make me feel better." He runs his hands down and up his face, before raking his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick up and out the way of his face. The water stuck to his lips as he leaned forward and tilted my jaw upwards. Our foreheads press together as he whispers once more, "I've been in this life too long, Faith. I know you're trying to comfort me, but most of the times, the things you want to hear, aren't what happen."

"But we will," I heard my voice crack as my hands find their way around his wrists. "We will find her and you two will be reunited and you'll be the cutest little fucked up family there ever was." A chuckle made its way up from Liam's throat, but he never followed through with the smile.

"What if he uses you as a negotiation piece?" Liam mumbles, "What if the only way to get Rosie back, is to give you up?"

His eyes search mine, in need of any answer that would give him comfort. But I didn't have that for him; I had the realistic answer, the answer that we both knew was coming, but neither of us wanted to accept. I swallowed hard.

"Then you give me up."

- - - -

I was on night watch. My job was simple; I was remain awake, armed, and to alert Liam if I heard any odd noise or saw any weird movement. He wasn't sure if Corinelli or his men would come back, so staying on the lookout was an important job. Liam had offered to stay up, but I shot down his suggestion fairly quickly. Like Dominic had said, if anyone needed sleep, it was Liam.

So at 6:30, I stifled a yawn and leaned back on the granite island in the kitchen, overlooking the living room that the boys slept in. Liam had crashed on the sofa, face up. He had an arm slung over his face and his left leg hung over the edge of the sofa. During his sleep, his blanket had been thrown to the floor near Dominic's head. And unconsciously, the curly haired man had grabbed it and used it as an extra pillow. Dom had also managed to kick off most of his covers, sometime in the night he must've grown increasingly warm. Then there was Rico. Federico made the most movement out of all of them; his shoulders shook occasionally and often times I could've sworn I heard a few whimpers come from his direction. I investigated the sounds about an hour before and approached him slowly, only watching as his eyebrows seemed to crease together and a look of fear cross his face.

I assumed it was a nightmare and returned to my post atop a stool.

At seven o'clock, I saw my first sign of movement. It didn't come from the sleeping bunch before me, but from my peripheral vision. The refrigerator door opened and I heard a lot of clanking coming from behind me, but I knew it was Michael, and didn't give him a second of my undivided attention. A few clanks, splashes, and the sound of ice grinding together later, Michael Luciano dropped to the nearest stool beside me and overlooked the living room. The grip I had on the gun only grew tighter as I turned to him, watching as he slid a glass full of clear liquid towards me. Small ice chips floated on the top and I eyed him curiously, watching as he kept his back to the island and put his own glass to his lips.

I let the glass of water sit as I continued to face the still living room. "I figured you would still be sleep," engaging in conversation with the enemy probably was definitely not advised, but after going nearly four hours without talking to someone else, I was dying.

Ice chips slip past his lips and he bites down, crunching the ice into even finger pieces before responding. "Demons don't sleep."

The gun nearly slipped out of my hands as I whirled towards him. I was certain that I looked insane and Michael proved it by the look that crossed his face when he turned to me after another sip of his drink. A crooked smile crossed his face as he clarified, "Humor, Faith. Humor." I keep a lingering eye on him even as he turns away from me, his drink pressed against his lips again.

My eyes float back over the view before me; the still bodies, the slight sound of shuffling, and the unconscious clearing of their throats. The looks on their faces screamed innocence, but a look could be so deceiving. I stop when I come to Liam; he looks so much younger when his hair is draped over his forehead. The parting of his lips and the slack jaw was aw-worthy. I felt my stomach do a little flip at the thought of him.

"Do you love him?" The words were already spoken before I could even contemplate on whether that was a good question or not. In a sense, it was definitely a rhetorical question because anybody that has the balls to do what Michael has done to Liam, could never love them. I wasn't surprised by Michael's answer.

"He's my son." It wasn't an answer that confirmed, without a doubt, whether he loved Liam or not. "The real question, however, is do you love him?"

"Romantically or not romantically?"

"Don't bullshit me."

Sheesh, fine.

"Love is..." I bite my lip, thinking deeply, "Love is an overused word, in my opinion. People throw it around these days without truly using it the way it should be used." I can feel Michael glancing at me out the corner of his eye, "Do I care very deeply about Liam? Yes. Do I love him?" My eyes scan over his sleeping body once again, before I finally turn to face his father, "No. But could I love him? Yes, in time, if we keep going like this. I do believe I will love him."

Michael stared at me so long and so hard I thought I had grown another head. His expression was unreadable, but his features went slack and he pushed himself to his feet, his glass now empty. He cleared his throat and pointed to the glass that sat behind me, the ice now fully melted. "It's just water. Drink it or throw it out, I don't care." He shoots a look over his shoulder, "If you don't mind, I might need some help out at the pool."

He nods, but doesn't wait for my answer. Backpedaling for just a second, he turns around and begins to head towards the double glass doors. I call out behind him, not worried that the loudness of my voice would wake any of the sleeping men; they were out cold.

"I'll help," His feet stall at my words, "But," I make my way off my seat and raise the gun, shaking it in my hand, "If you make any moves, I'll shoot you." I saunter past Michael and as we brush shoulders, he speaks up.

"Right in the leg?"

I stop and turn, pressing the barrel against his chest, "Right in the heart, bitch." I push away using my arm and head towards the pool, all while Michael's deep laughter fills my ears.

Michael had a retort of his own, ending our conversation with a simple wink. "Good luck finding it."

I wasn't sure how long we had been out there, but you could already tell that the day was going to sweltering hot and humid. Michael had the grueling task of having to fish Melanie out the pool. By now, there was no sign of the welcoming crystal blue waters that used to shine and shimmer beneath the back porch lights. I cringed and my stomach did odd flips as he rested her near the edge of the pool and climbed out; crimson colored water dripped down his hairy legs.

Melanie was almost unrecognizable. After spending an entire night in the pool, her skin had turned a ghostly shade of white and her fingers were wrinkled and even paler. It chilled me to the core, watching as whenever she was moved, her head would roll to a side; there was no support, no nothing. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open. The clothes she had been wearing clung to her lifeless body. I noticed multiple gunshot wounds; one in her leg, multiple in her abdomen and chest, but I have to believe what killed her, was the gunshot wound that was the prominent - the one to her temple.

Michael and I had shared brief stints of conversation as we worked outside. I had handed him whatever he needed and complied with his commands for the first and last time in my life. I wiped my brow and glanced away from Michael as he leaned over her body. For the first time since we had exited outside, he was silent. I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to feel some type of pity for this man. Had he truly love her?

"I'll be inside in a second," Michael looks up at me and I take that as my obvious cue to leave. Seconds later, I allow the glass doors to slide closed before me, allowing me to cast one last look over Melanie's body and Michael, who was still hovering over her. His lips were moving but the doors acted as a sound barrier.

I let out a sigh, but as quickly as I had relaxed, I was torn into another conversation that was beginning to pan out behind me.

"Can I have orange juice, babe?"

I whirled around on my heels quickly, a laugh erupting from my throat at the sight of Dominic and Rico. Federico sat at the island, just where I had been a few hours earlier, a bowl of cereal rested before him. His mouth was full when he spoke. I was expecting a smartass remark from Dom but the man just smiled and shot a longing look over his shoulder.

"Anything for you, sweetheart."

Swiftly, Dom pours both of them a glass of juice before rounding the table and dropping to his seat beside Rico. He slides the brimming glass of orange juice to Rico and bows his head, bringing a spoonful of honey covered Cheerios to his full lips.

From his right, Rico puckers his lips. "Give me some su-"

With a palm extended, Dominic pushes Rico in the face, causing the man to tumble to the floor, laughter erupting from both of their lips, including mine.

I make my grand entrance, a laugh still on my lips as Dominic's gaze falls to me. He shovels another spoon of cheerios into his mouth before his lips split in a grin. "Morning, Faith." I shoot him a wave as I slide in to the last stool, nearest to Dominic. We both chuckle as Federico groans from his position on the floor.

Another pair of footsteps drown out Rico's groans and Dom and I both lean in the opposite direction of each other, our eyes falling on Liam. He had a stern look on his face as he stood over Rico's body, eyeing him with disapproval.

Federico smiles.

"One of you bitches make me a sandwich," Liam grumbles. His eyes open a little more when they fall on me, causing him to add something to his previous statement, "Not you," He lets out a soft laugh as he comes up behind me and presses his bare chest to my back for a quick hug. "Faith isn't a bitch, but everyone else in here is." He presses a kiss to the top of my head before he leaves my side.

Rico pulls himself to his feet and glares at Liam, "Hah. Hah." Federico then takes the opportunity to tell Dominic that he hurt his elbow during his fall and he needed plenty rest and recuperation but somehow, they end up arguing about which cereal was better: Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Cookie Crisp.

"You sleepy?" Liam rounds the table I sit behind and leans forward, his hands clasped together. I wanted to tell him no and that I was definitely the best at night watch, but my yawn gives me away. He drops his head during his laugh before raising it, his eyes bright and vibrant - rare, that was what that was. He casts a look over at Dom and Rico, before turning back to me. My eyes never leave him; they never stop tracing the broadness of his shoulders or his biceps. I swore, sometimes he walked around shirtless just to mess with my mind.

"I am," I don't lie, answering with a slight smile. Liam smiles and nods towards the sofa where had been sleeping.

He winks, "It's still warm."

I roll my eyes and turn around, but before my feet can hit the ground, Liam scoops me up in his arms. I throw my head back in a laugh as we disappear out the kitchen, but just before we do so, I catch Dom and Rico stop talking mid-conversation and stare at us, their mouths open and not moving. Dominic's eyebrow is arched and Rico has a playful smirk on his face; that was the last I saw of them.

I was put down gently, but Liam didn't stand back up before pressing a kiss to my forehead. He mumbled something about sleeping tight before shaking out a blanket and tossing it over me. I didn't realize just how sleepy I was until I had lied there, in silence, for the longest ten minutes of my life. As sleep came, my thoughts ran through my parents, my home back in Maryland, I thought about Liam, Rico, Dominic, Rosalie, and William. I shifted comfortably in the sofa, facing the back of it. I pulled a blanket over my head and cuddled the pillow, forcing my eyes closed and hoping my never ending stream of thoughts would finally stop.

I'm not sure how long I lay there, attempting to force sleep to come. Footsteps entered the room and the familiar voice floated around my head in a hushed tone; it was Liam. Within the first few minutes, I could tell he was on the phone.

"Mr. Rodriguez?" Liam's laughter was light, "I assume your daughter, Camilla, got the message across?" There was a pause as the man on the other end of the line spoke. Liam speaks up, "She said that? Well, you know I do like taking very good care of those that visit my home, yes. Tell her I thank her for the compliment." I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly got stuck.

"A drop?" Luciano continues as the floor creaks under his weight, "Sure. What time do you want to meet up?" Another pause. "Nine p.m?" Liam sounds baffled, "I'm sorry, but no. I don't send anyone out that late at night." Mr. Rodriguez states whatever he has to say to keep the flow of the conversation going, "Fine," Liam gives in, "No later than 8:30. Where do you want them to meet you?"

I shoot a quick glance over my shoulder before rolling over and sighing. Liam's gaze falls to me, where he quickly shoots me an apologetic look that reaches his eyes. He drops to his knees and rests a hand on my thigh, mouthing the words, "I'm sorry."

"-sounds great," Liam nods, "See you then." He hangs up the phone and pulls himself back to his feet, already calling Dominic and Rico in the room.

He fills them in briefly about the drop that Liam seemed to have set up for later tonight. The two nod, neither of them looking too excited about it. Luciano then explains that they'll have to pick up the money that they would be planning to swap with at Liam's other home. The two nod at that, just as Liam shoos them out the room, adding, "Considering the way you two move, I would get started now. I'll text you the address."

Both Dom and Liam share a hug, but the only thing Luciano gets from Rico is a glare. "You mean I have to sit in a car with him?" He plucks a thumb in Dom's direction, "For like," Then shoots a look at the clock, "Forever?"

Dominic rolls his eyes, "I'm not excited about it either."

The two mumble as they stand beside each other. Liam smirks the whole while. I let out a laugh, but sadly, none hear.

My instinct told me to get up, to throw the covers to the side and to say my own goodbyes, just like Liam did. It told me to give them a hug, to tell them to be safe, and to emphasize to Dominic that if Rico drove, he should probably repent all his sins before entering the car. It told me to tell Rico that if Dominic drove, to duct-tape his lips shut because distracted driving is one of the main causes of car accidents.

But I didn't.

I suppressed my instinct and allowed my eyelids to flutter closed without a care in the world.

- - - -

"Dear God, I'm not quite sure if you're up there and I'm really not sure if you'd listen to little ole me, but please, if you're listening, will you please, please please break the radio so I don't have to fucking listen to Taylor Swift sing country?" Federico De Santis sat in the passenger seat of the blacked out Mercedes. He had his hands folded and his eyes squeezed shut so hard he was beginning to see a whole new galaxy, filled with marvelous colors and stars. "Thank you in advance for hearing my prayer, deuces."

Dominic Santiago uses a hand to yank the volume knob all the way to the left, leaving the two of them in utter silence. He shoots his passenger a glare, "If you didn't want to listen to Taylor, you could've just told me."

Rico folds his hand into a fist and pats his chest, before raising his arm, pointing a finger to the sunroof of the car. "You the man, God, thank you."

Dom lets out an irritated and slightly over exaggerated groan. The two had been driving now nearly the entire day, only stopping three times; once for gas, the second time to pick up the money, and the most recent stop was due to Rico's bladder. Most of the car ride was filled with pointless chatter, I-Spy games, and Would-You-Rather but having played most of those popular car games earlier in the day, they were left with nothing to entertain themselves. The radio had been their last hope, but after scrolling station after station, Dom had vowed that the next station he landed on, they would listen to and unfortunately for Rico, that had been the station that was seemingly having a Taylor Swift music marathon. By the fifth song, Rico had nearly lost his mind, which explained his desperate plea to God.

Silence engulfed the two men for a period of time and neither complained. Dom focused on the road, his hands loosely gripping the steering wheel. His eyes fell on his wedding ring that seemed to glisten whenever he rotated his hand at a certain angle. Rose, his late wife, drowned his thoughts; from her first and last 'I love you' to the longing hugs they shared.

Federico was quiet also, but his thoughts were much harder to decipher. His lips remained pursed as he slid down in his seat and rested his head against the door. He closed his eyes, willing himself to ask Dom a question that had been bothering him since the moment the man beside him had admitted that he, too, had grown up in an orphanage.

"Did you like the orphanage?" Rico slowly reopens his eyes, making sure he didn't miss any non-verbal signs Dominic let off.

In an instant, a smile crossed the other man's face. His fingers didn't tightly grip the steering wheel and his expression didn't harden like Federico's did when such things were mentioned. The feeling that was growing in Rico's stomach was deep, but it radiated jealously. The orphanage was hell for him, hell on earth in every aspect.

"I freaking loved that place," Dom let out a relaxing chuckle before growing serious. "The food was bomb, the people were sweet, my caregiver was this really sweet lady who always seemed to look after me." He relaxes his grip on the wheel, before tightening it again, "The orphanage taught me a lot of stuff. But I think the most important thing I learned, was the essence of family. That was when I first learned that blood didn't define family; eye color, hair color, hair texture, skin color, the shape of your eyes... none of that matters when it comes to family. Even language barriers can't define family. That place, all of us, we were one gigantic family and I wouldn't change that experience for the world."

A thin smile crossed Rico's lips as he watched Dominic, as he listened, envisioning this type of life for himself. He wished the kids had been kind to him, that they would've been like some type of family; but his experience was far from that.

"And you never met your real parents either?" Rico sat up a bit, his curiosity peaking. Dom shook his head without a second thought.

"Nope," He shifts in the driver's seat.

"Do you want to meet them?"

"Of course I do," Dom scoffs, "I want them to see what they missed out on in raising. I want them to see that I'm successful, but I also want to tell them that I don't blame them for leaving me." He glances at Federico, watching as the other man tore his gaze from his own, glancing out the window. It was a swift glance down Rico's jawline, the shape of his nose, and the form of his lips that sealed the deal for Dominic, telling him what he and the DNA test he had already figured out.

Dominic clears his throat and turns away from the younger man, "What about you?" He asks, "Do you want to meet your parents?"

A smile crossed Rico's face as he lay his head down, attempting to shake his head. He sits up eventually and pulls his aviators that rest harmlessly beside the passenger seat. Sliding them on quickly, he leans his seat back and sighs, only continuing to speak after Dom questions, "Why not?"

"When I meet my parents, I want to have done something with myself. I don't have a college degree to shove in their face, I don't have a family to bring to them." Even though his eyes are covered by expensive sunglasses, Dom can still feel Rico's gaze on him. "I'm not like you."

"Rico-"

"I'm serious," He strains, "I do the dirty work that you and people like Liam don't have the balls to do." Rico takes a deep breath, "What would I tell my mother? Oh, hey Ma, yeah, remember when your next door neighbor fell down the stairs and died? Yeah, my bad. Oh, hey Dad... remember that guy you used to watch sports with on Sundays? Remember how his television fell on top of him and it looked like an accident? Well, it wasn't; oopsies."

Dominic suppressed a laugh just as Federico turned his attention to the window and the passing scenery. Rico yawns as he stretches his hand behind his back and lets out a peaceful sigh.

"You might not be me," Dom nods towards Rico, "But you're definitely stronger than I ever could be. So don't cut yourself short. Your parents would love you for you, whether they approve of your occupation or not."

Dominic had his eyes on the road when he said it, so the slight smile that crossed and fell from Rico's face within a matter of seconds was missed.

"Dominic?"

"Yes, Rico?"

Briefly, Federico pulls the sunglasses from his eyes, rolling his head in the direction of Dom. "Are you afraid to die?"

Silence; it hung in the air like fog. Dominic just shook his head, "No," at the raising of Rico's eyebrow, he continues, "I'm not afraid to die because I've already lived."

Either his most recent statement went way over Rico's head, or the man just didn't know how to respond.

"When I mean live," Dom elaborates, "I don't mean waking up and breathing. You don't have to walk on this earth for ninety years to finally feel satisfied with your life. I've lived; I was raised by great people and ever greater people became my parents. I had a childhood full late evening bike rides and chocolate chip cookies waiting for me after school. I met the love of my life; I experienced falling in love and being in love and I ended up marrying her. Even though we had a limited amount of time because of her health, I showed her how much I loved her every single day." The two men lock eyes, "I've lived Rico, and although everyone wants a long and successful life, I would die if that meant someone else could experience what living truly is."

Dominic's palms began to sweat, forcing him to let go of the wheel for a brief second, using that opportunity to wipe his hands on his pants. He grips the wheel again, tilting his left hand upwards so that he can see his ring. "Besides," He concludes, "All you see right now is just a shell of my former self. I died when she did."

Federico makes a sound through closed lips, but his attention never wavered from the man driving. "Hm, love sounds scary."

"It definitely is, in a way."

"Define it."

Dom blinks, "Do what?"

"Define it. Define love for me."

"You don't know what love is?" Dominic stutters, "Uh... why don't you sleep and I'll give you a definition as soon as I can."

Federico seemed content with that.

"Wake me up when we get there," He announces.

"Don't worry, I will babe," Dom gives Federico a gentle push, a teasing tone in his voice making Rico laugh.

The man's chest rises and falls as a deep chuckle rises up from his throat. A crisp, white smile crosses Rico's lips and it stays there. "I hate you, I hope you know that."

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual."

Nearly an hour and a half later, the sun had just about set below the skyline. Dominic Santiago pulls the car into park, just outside a large, abandoned warehouse, and steps outside. It was a large, looming building covered with bricks, their color having faded due to time. The sun was setting behind him, allowing his shadow to lay out on the concrete before him. In the distance, although the sky was already darkening, a set of pitch black clouds rumbled with thunder, alerting everyone in the area of their impending doom.

"Let's get this over with," A deep voice spoke from behind Dominic, followed by the sound of a car door being slammed. Federico stood and stretched, a bag with hundreds of thousands of dollars was being held on to by his fingers tips. He let out another yawn before passing his friend, heading in the direction of the only entrance that could be seen.

The building was much taller than it looked once the two marched towards it. The parking lot clearly hadn't been used in years considering the white lines had faded and the number of weeds that had sprouted up between cracks in the worn pavement. A droplet of rain fell to the ground just before Dominic took his next step, causing him to look up and curse.

"What?" Rico had dropped the bag of money to the floor, using both of his hands to pry the rusted door open. "Pretty boy doesn't like when his hair gets messed up?" Dom ignores his quip and steps inside, the heel of his dress short making a clicking type of noise against the ground. Federico picks up the money and steps inside, just as lightening lights up the sky and the rain is set loose. He turns around to face Dom, "Are you one of those people that wear those caps in the shower? Because I can totally-"

A light, steady clapping came from a corner of the huge room that they stood in. The ceiling seemed to go on forever and due to the lack of walls, the clapping seemed to echo off the glass windows that lined the upper portion of the walls of the warehouse. Dominic and Rico both turned in circles, eyebrows furrowing as they tried to find where the steady clapping came from.

It came directly from Boo-Boo-Kitty herself, at least as Rico knew her as. Cookie from Empire was his inspiration.

Camilla Rodriguez pushed herself away from a pillar she stood behind and continued clapping. The noise her heels made as she strutted across the ginormous room chilled Dominic to his core. He took a step back, already shaking his head. She had a sick grin on her face, one that reminded Rico of the same kind of grin that had scared him shitless when he was about six years old. He had watched The Grinch, the cute, and family-friendly animated version one Christmas eve and the Grinch's grin had kept him awake for nearly two days straight.

"We should get out of here," Dom warns, "I don't-"

But before Rico could even process what the man behind him said, Camilla was on him; not literally, but standing before him, snapping her peppermint smelling gum. She had her hair pulled back into a slick ponytail, her makeup done to perfection. She let loose a wide grin as she took a step back and eyed Federico, her eyes traveling from his feet upwards. They lingered on his crotch area and she couldn't help but notice the imprint of the male anatomy pressing firmly against his pants.

"Hey buddy," Camilla leans to her left, plastering one of the fakest smiles across her face as she wiggles her fingers at Dom. "How's the wife doing?"

Dom tears his eyes away from Rico, allowing them to rake down the legs of the women standing before him. "If you keep talking shit like that, you'll be able to ask her that question yourself, bi-"

"Mr. Santiago." Another deep, masculine voice bellowed out to the three people that stood, nearly smack in the middle of the warehouse. The words were drowned in a thick, authentic Hispanic accent. Camilla's father, Mr. Rodriguez, waltzes through a side door, a stern look masking his face. Two heavily armed guards accompanied him. The three whipped their heads in his direction, "I dare you to finish that sentence." As he approaches his daughter's side, he stops, pulling his pride and joy in for a brief hug. He turns to Dominic, "Nobody disrespects my daughter."

Dominic nods, "I apologize, Sir. I just figured she already knew what she was and had come to terms with it."

Mr. Rodriguez smiles, a laughter - but one not filled with hilarity - slipped past his lips. "I like you, you're an ass."

"Then you'd love me," Federico breaks out into a wide smile and steps forward, extending a hand, "The name's Rico." The two shake, "I always wanted to meet the worthless piece of shit that gave birth to that thing." He nods towards Camilla, whose smile quickly downgrades into a frown. Federico's smile didn't falter, even after Mr. Rodriguez gripped his hand harder, before dropping it and wiping his palm against his dress pants.

"I definitely know who you are, son," His smile is forced, an angry undertone followed his words, "My baby already told me what you did to her, what you said to her, how you embarrassed her."

"She's already an embarrassment."

Dominic winced at that, along with Camilla and her father. The eldest man took a step forward, evading every personal space boundary that Federico had; but the younger man didn't seem concerned. He glanced down at the miniscule amount of space that separated their shoes together and dared Mr. Rodriguez by taking even the slightest step towards him, non-verbally proving to him that he wasn't afraid.

"You think you're so cute don't you?" The man tilts his head, eyeing Rico curiously. The man before him was tall and well-built, easily in the best shape he could be at his age. His muscles weren't overbearing nor did they suggest that the only thing he did in life was lift weights, but they were cut and defined, which only reminded Camilla's father of the shape he used to be in when he was that age.

"Kind-of," Rico's grin was not only teasing, but it was annoying. It showed that he felt as though he knew more than anyone else in the room, and that especially ticked off Mr. Rodriguez. "People sometimes call me Rico Sua-fuck!" Federico's hand was grabbed and his body turned at an unnatural angle, causing his arm to twist in a painful manner behind his back. He fell to his knees in pain.

Camilla's father wrapped a hand around the man's neck, pulling him against his thighs. He gripped Rico's wrist tightly, not allowing him to go free, despite the struggling fight he was putting up. Dom took a warning step towards the two, but stopped at the sight of Rico still smiling, his teeth grinding together.

"I swear to God, I will slit your throat right here, right now!" The older man spat in the face of Rico, shaking his arm even more, causing pain to shoot up and down Federico's arm. "Nobody, I repeat, nobody threatens my daughter, my only daughter. Nobody threatens my family and expects to get away with it, you son of a bitch!"

A chant broke out as another door opened and slammed. "Fight, fight, fight, fight." Peter Corinelli stood at the entrance of the doorway, his hair, his suit, his shoes, drenched to their core. His fists moved up and down in short bursts as he marched towards the impending fight. By the time Mr. Rodriguez pushes Rico to the floor and stands up, Peter is by his side. "Too soon?"

He had an army with him, Peter did. It wasn't just a group of four guards and their guns, but more like sixteen. They were all heavily armed with weapons that out powered Federico and Dominic's by miles. The two felt a sinking feeling in the pit of their stomachs, but both for different reasons. At the first glimpse of the army that stood before them, Dominic had begun to backpedal, but it was too late. Without seeing or hearing them, a few had already blocked his only exit. As for Rico, the feeling in his stomach was due to pain. Mr. Rodriguez managed to stand back to his feet, only to give Federico a good kick in the stomach before feeling satisfied with himself.

Peter had a smug grin on his face before he turned and embraced the man standing beside him. "How have you been Manuel?" The two shared a quick conversation, stating to each other the state of their homes, their loves lives, and their families. Peter ended the conversation after a short few minutes, before handing Manuel a wad of cash, thanking him for setting all this up, and in the process, he invited him out for a game of golf one of these days.

Rico had finally crawled to his feet, still grasping at his abdomen and struggling for air. Dominic had helped him up and the two had shared a stint in words. Neither of them noticed Manuel or his daughter had left until Peter interrupted their conversation with a clearing of his throat.

Dominic spoke first, "Where the hell is Rosalie?"

"I would definitely be more concerned for your friend here," Corinelli acknowledges Rico with a nod and a point. When he takes a step towards Rico, the young man takes one away, clearly not trusting his ability while recovering from the kick to the stomach. "Humor me, Federico," Peter pinches the bridge of his nose, "Define loyalty for me."

Rico just winces.

"Xavier," Peter snaps behind his head, just as another young, well dressed man steps up to the plate. "Define loyalty for our friend here."

"Loyalty," Xavier squints at his phone, speaking in a bored tone, "A strong feeling of support or allegiance."

A gentle laugh erupts from Federico's mouth, causing Peter's grin to slowly turn upside down. "You forgot to site your source."

That was the end of the line for Peter Corinelli. Although, in many experiences in his life, he had also betrayed many people and had lied straight to their face, he despised whenever it was done to him. Dominic saw the punch coming before Rico did, but there was nothing he could do to reach the man's side in time. It was a sick sounding crack that resounded through the room as Rico fell backwards and met the concrete ground below. Dom went to aid, but was yanked back by the men that had stationed themselves behind him; his hands were now tied at his back and he was utterly helpless.

Rico's head spun. He sat on his knees, his arms supporting his upper half. He saw two of everything; for every one pair of shoes, he saw an extra and when Peter used his heel to push him back over on his stomach, he saw two Peters.

"For someone that was raised into this lifestyle, you would think you would be loyal."

"I am loyal," blood trickled out the corner of Rico's mouth, dripping to the floor harmlessly. Federico made a point to look as though he was struggling for a breath. Using his index finger, he tells Peter to lean down. The old man falls for it, allowing Rico to grab him by the collar and to yank him down on top of him. Wrapping his legs around Peter's waist, Federico flips the two over, gaining the tactical advantage he wanted.

The punches Rico delivered were worthy of an award. His mind wasn't on anyone else in the room, or of the fact that he had a multitude of weapons aimed at him; but nobody shot. Everyone was too concerned that there was a possibility of hitting their boss. Their hesitation gave Federico another moment of life.

For just a second, Rico paused, his fist raised high. Blood dripped off his knuckles as he prepared to deliver the finishing blow, hoping to send Peter spiraling so far down into darkness he'd reach hell. But the blow that was received wasn't taken by Peter, but by Rico himself. Dominic had tried to warn him, still struggling against the hold the guards' had on him, but it was no use. With a hand now clamped over his mouth, Dom watched helplessly as Xavier whipped the butt of his gun across Federico's temple, sending the man off Peter and to the floor, still.

Xavier extended a hand towards his boss, helping him up; but his gaze never left the body of Federico who was struggling to pull himself to his knees. The best time to strike was now, Xavier knew; the man was weak, blood streaming out of a few cuts that had been inflicted on his face during his fight. With Peter still recovering from the multiple blows to his head, Xavier yanked an unsteady Rico to his feet. He jams a gun against the side of Federico's head, but the idea of actually pulling the trigger doesn't come to his mind.

Dom had already lowered his head, shaking it all the while. The look on Federico's face said it all; he'd given up. Maybe he had finally come to terms that there was no way he could fight his way out of this one. With Dom sidelined and useless, it would've been Rico against nearly eighteen men - in other words, an impossible and highly unfair fight. Federico's eyes drooped and he was clearly unstable on his feet, Xavier mainly supporting Rico with his own body weight. Blood streamed down Rico's temple and trickled below a cut that had been inflicted on his cheek.

Peter wiped at his nose, pulling his sleeve back, eyeing the stream of blood that now stained his clothes. Hatred raged through his eyes as he glanced back up, locking eyes with the traitor. He took a few steps towards Rico and with a wicked grin, he punched him. Xavier dropped him, causing the man to fall back to the floor in pain; and with one last kick to the stomach, Peter looked up.

"Take him downstairs. He needs to be dealt with accordingly."

"Downstairs?"

"Yes!" Peter clenches his fist, "I said-" While the two argued, neither of them saw Federico slide the knife out his pocket. No one watched him flip the blade open and nobody saw him use the remainder of his strength to bury the knife deep into Peter Corinelli's thigh. "Fuck!" Corinelli dropped to the ground, clutching his thigh as a string of profanities poured out his mouth. A group of men ran to his side to him, all while Peter screamed, "Kill him! Kill him!"

Xavier couldn't find a word to say. A group of men swooped in and gathered Federico by his shoulders, dragging him to the entrance that led to the basement of the warehouse. Dominic was dragged along too, yelling in Xavier's ear, pleading him to tell him what was down those steps. Xavier didn't have an answer for the curly haired man, but Dominic received his answer not even a minute later.

The steps descended into another floor made of concrete. The room was much smaller, but large enough to fit every man comfortably. A thin layer of water covered the floor as Dominic hopped off the steps, his hands still being tightly held behind his back. It was painful, but nothing that could ever compare to the way Federico could be feeling. He lifted his gaze for the first time and a feeling of nausea nearly rode itself all the way up his throat.

Two chains hug in the middle of the room, cuffs on the end of either of them. The three men that were physically trying to push Rico towards the chains were struggling. He was fighting back with everything he had left, shaking his head. "No, no, no." He let out a cry of pain as a few other men had to join in an attempt to assist.

They ripped his shirt clean from his body and proceeded in disarming him of every weapon he could've possibly had. Rico was still trying to shake free of the hands that held and pushed him, forcing him to hold his hands high over his head. Although he hadn't taken many blows to the head, the ones that he had received had severely confused and weakened him. He could hear Dominic arguing about something, but the words were slurred and he was incapable of understanding them. His world was disoriented and when his vision finally came into focus, he was hanging from two chains, his feet just barely touching the ground.

Peter approached, hobbling. The wound in his leg was tightly wrapped with a temporary bandage; a blood stain marked Rico's good work. Despite the pain he had to be in, Peter smiled. "Traitors don't deserve to live and now that my anger has subsided," He glances down at his thigh, "I'm not going to kill you Federico, I'll do you one worse; I'll have you so badly beaten you'll never forget it." He pats Rico on the chest, making sure to point to a man that stands in the corner of the room, holding a phone up high, recording the entire thing, "And I'll send it to you; so once we leave, you'll have this forever. How's that sound? I bet you'll never betray anyone ever again."

"You should go ahead and kill me," Rico spits out a wad of blood, breathing heavily, "Because once I get down from here..."

Peter takes his threat with a grain of salt. "Xavier," He waves a hand behind him and at the feeling of his right hand man's shoulder brushing against his own, Peter tosses a heavy arm over him. "This is how you deal with traitors." Corinelli waves a man that had crept up behind Rico and picked up the whip. He could feel Xavier tense up after his words, but his emotions were well hidden.

Dominic shuddered at the sound of the first contact the whip made against Federico's back. It made him physically and emotionally sick. The room grew ten times hotter and his knees felt like jelly. But there was no scream or yelp of pain. Dom glances up, only in time to see Rico release a smirk and nod towards Peter.

"Your mother smacked my ass harder than that."

He let out a laugh, but it quickly faded as Rico's comment only angered Peter more. Corinelli muttered, "Again", and it was clear the man striking Rico was only gaining momentum and not losing it. The sounds of the chains rattling as Federico's back arched filled the room, then there was laughter, that came only from the men filming the entire thing. By the fifth whip, Xavier had already slipped out from under his bosses arm and ducked past Dominic, filing up the stairs without another word or glance behind him.

Dominic was escorted out the room not a moment later. He didn't hear Rico's cries of pain as the weapon used struck his back repeatedly, breaking his skin and drawing blood. His bottom lip shook as he pulled it into his mouth, his back arched and he threw his head back as he let out a yell that could've chilled even the coldest psychopath to the bone.

It was almost never-ending, the torture that Federico had to endure; and although his training and experiences had helped with his tolerance for pain, one could only handle so much - Peter knew that. So when Rico's breathing became shallow and the grip he had on the chains above his head loosened, his arms slacking, unable to support his weight anymore, Corinelli knew it was over. With his hands folded across his chest, eyeing the scene before him in a satisfied manner, he took a step forward and pulled out his phone.

It took all of Rico's willpower to lift his head up, eyeing the camera of the expensive phone that was practically being shoved in his face. Peter released a fake smile, before snapping a photo of the man. He let out a chuckle before opening his messaging thread and selecting a fellow acquaintance. "Did you know your father, Vincenzo, and I were friends?" Corinelli holds up his phone, "It's true. But, he fucked with me a while back and we kind of faded." He shrugs, playfully, "Oh well, though. You win some and you lose some, right kid?" Blood drips from Rico's jaw, making Peter laugh again. "I do wonder what he would say if he saw that picture though."

He glances up for a quick second, hoping to anger Rico enough to get a sarcastic remark; but he failed, hearing nothing but Federico struggling to breathe. A single tear found its way out of Federico's eye, slowly running down his cheek. Peter took notice, only causing his smile to grow wider as he angled his body directly in front of Rico's, tilting his head in a teasing type of way. He takes another step closer, confident that the man hanging before him couldn't lay a finger on him. Peter pats Rico on the cheek before looking him dead in the eye. "Give Liam this message for me, okay?" Federico doesn't nod; either he doesn't want to, or he doesn't have the strength to. Corinelli continues anyways, "Come at me, bitch."

With laughter on his lips, Peter turns and heads back up the stairs, his job here done. But he didn't leave the room until he signaled to the man behind Federico, requesting for one last striking of the man's back. On instinct, Rico let his head fall back and an expression of utmost pain crossed his features. His back arched and a muffled cry slipped out of his chapped lips - it was a cry of not only pain, but a plead to whoever was listening, to end the torture.

Federico welcomed unconsciousness, because at this point, it was the only peace he could have.

- - - -

a/n: a therapy group has been--- jkjk, but seriously. I'm sorry I had to put you all through that, but I felt like that scene was necessary. Here's a tissue and...maybe a hug?

comments on the chapter?

Xavier; good guy, bad guy?

Who do you think will come to Federico's rescue?

Dominic and Rico's relationship?

Peter deserves to die, but how and by the hands of who? (Horrible graphic comments are welcome, I do not judge.)