"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds" - Laurell K. Hamilton

~Recap~

"You're fucking joking! You're such a fucking hypocrite! You can't just come back here and change everything and expect us to act as if everything's okay!" Rocco shouts, standing up in anger.

At this, Alessandro storms up, his chair getting pushed back in the process. "I AM NOT FUCKING JOKING! Let me make myself clear to you all now. Now that I'm back, things are going to be different. And if not, then you're going to be in a lot of shit. Do I make myself clear?" He said in the most scary voice I had ever heard.

Chills ran down my spine.

No matter how skilled I am in fighting, my size is like comparing an ant to an elephant when standing next to him.

If he were to fight me, I would be done for.

He would never hurt me though. He would never hurt any of us.

But that doesn't make him any less scary.

Before Alessandro can say anything else, Rocco storms out of the kitchen.

Why can't we just have one dinner in peace?

~Now~

My phone rings, breaking me out of my work trance.

I've been stuck at home for a few more days until I can figure out another way of leaving this shit hole.

"Hale speaking." I answered.

Only one person rings this phone.

Viktor. My underground employer.

I call it my mission phone. You see, I have many different phones for many different people so that I remain untraceable.

This one is my underground phone and only one person knows the number. Viktor. He calls me with information regarding cases, fights and races through this, and I've been itching to do something dangerous again.

"Ah my favourite client. How are we today?" He replies joyfully.

"Shit." My blank voice answers.

"Ah always the same with you. Anyways, I have three formidable opponents lined up for you tonight if you're up for it?" He asks.

"Of course. I'm always up for a fight. Send me the details." I answer curtly.

"Of course. Bye, my dear." He replies.

"Bye, Viktor." I answer.

He's not a creep or a pedo I promise you. He's more of an affectionate uncle figure if you will.

Now onto more pressing issues, figuring out a way to sneak out of this hell hole.

This is going to be harder than I though.

~10 hours later~

I managed to sneak out but only because everyone was busy doing work.

I tried the windows but they all had unhackable security cameras lining the outside.

I guess they learnt their lessons from last time I snuck out...

Instead, I tried the back doors, tried to jump off the roof, and a bunch more ideas, until I realised that everyone was busy tonight and I could just sneak out the front door.

...not that that's even sneaking.

It's late at night and I locked my door from the outside so I'm hoping I'll be in the clear.

I creep down the stairs, avoiding the creaky steps.

Then, I get to the front door and crack it open, slipping through the narrow opening.

The moon is shining, illuminating my pathway with its shimmering glow.

As I walk to my fight, itching with anticipation of being able to take out my anger once again, I think back to the fucked up week I've had.

And then to the fucked up life I've had.

Before I can think too much, I arrive to the warehouse.

The smell of sweat and blood fill my nostrils as I pass the guard and enter the arena. Already dressed in black, I make my way to the ring to warm myself up.

The warehouse is filled with people, everywhere you look is a crowded mass of people shoving past each other, all trying to get a closer look at the fight about to take place.

What can I say, I guess I'm kind of a big deal in the underground world.

I stretch my muscles, feeling the judgemental stares of people not knowing my title and underestimating my abilities due to my small size.

"And now, the fight we've all been waiting for, Shadow versus... Le Diable!" The announcer calls. (Translation: The Devil)

I jump up into the ring just as a man double my size steps in opposite me. We begin slowly circling each other, marking weaknesses and strengths.

It's a game of cat and mouse, you see.

It's all about who will strike first...

...and where.

It's about finding your opponents weaknesses and how to use them. Pushing yourself to your limit in order to overcome them. Attacking at the right spots to defeat them.

And the game has begun.

I take note of his weaknesses: right foot seems to be favoured, left one is presumably weaker or injured. Right arm looks to be stiffer: possibly injury or disabled? Aim for the right side of the body, especially the leg.

As I finish surveying, I spot my opponent has become impatient. Cocky as well.

He fakes a punch at my left before throwing a real one right at my head, leaving the right side of his body open.

Using this, I duck down, narrowly missing his hook, before roundhouse kicking his torso, winding him in the process.

Whilst he attempts to catch his breath, I sweep his right leg from out under him and land a punch straight in his solar plexus, hearing the crunch of a few ribs.

He coughs, wheezing and coughing blood. I give him a few seconds to jump back up and finish.

I could've just knocked him out but I mean, where's the fun in that, right?

He begins slowly circling me again, limping slightly with the pressure on his ribs. He tries a swing at my head again, but I grab his arm, blocking him.

Then, he swings his other arm out at me in a frantic attempt to get free, allowing me to grab his other arm.

With that, I kneed him between his legs and then head butted his face, hearing the satisfying sound of the crack of his nose breaking.

With that, he's knocked unconscious.

One down, two to go.

~Two hours later~

"Well done! That last one looked like he almost had you but you got him. I knew you would." Viktor exclaims from next to me.

All my fights are over now and the arena is beginning to clear.

My emotions have finally been forced under control through the release of my anger onto my opponents.

Can't say they look too pretty now though.

However I probably don't look much better.

Whilst I was able to take down the first guy easily, the next two were more challenging. Nothing I couldn't handle, but harder than expected.

And as a result, I've been left with a nasty gash on my forehead, a split lip, bruises all over my body and a nasty fracture in my right wrist.

Feeling the ache of my muscles, I decide to call it a night.

"See you soon, Viktor." I say, walking out of the warehouse and back home.

After 20 minutes of walking back, I sneak through the large black gates that surround our property and make my way to the front door.

I fished my key from my duffel bag and slowly pushed open the heavy front doors, slipping through and out of the chilly night.

Groaning at the sight of the stairs, I decide to grab some supplies to patch myself up.

I limp my way to the kitchen slowly, trying to make as least noise as possible.

Passing through the doorway, I make a beeline to the sink, grabbing a glass from the side and filling up the tall glass with water.

After gulping down half the glass, I quietly set it on the side, the counter almost invisible in the dark room.

Then, I turn back to the sink, reaching up for the draw above with the medical supplies.

Fuck-

It's way too high up for me to even reach it on tiptoes.

I attempt to pull myself up with my arms, but as doing so, my right wrist gives way, causing me to almost collapse on the cold, hard floor.

"Shit", I whisper.

As soon as I say that, the lights go on.

I squint towards the switch, hand reaching behind me to pull out my gun.

"What're you doing?" A gruff voice calls out.

I sigh in relief.

Rocco. It's just Rocco.

I clamber off the floor, making sure to not apply pressure on my wrist.

"Nothing." I say quickly.

And then I realise how shit I probably look.

He gives me a knowing look, clearly seeing through my lies.

But I don't back down.

I stare at him, until eventually he sighs and walks towards me.

My eyes grow wide. "What the hell are you doing?" I say.

"Jump onto the counter." He says in response.

I see him reach up and open the medical cabinet easily, grabbing supplies out.

I try to push myself up, but due to the counters high height and my fractured wrist, all I can do is jump up and fall back down again.

He sighs once more and places the supplies down, before quickly hooking his arms under my underarms and picking me up, plonking me on the counter.

What's the deal with everyone and picking me up?

I mean sure it's helpful but I could've managed myself.

I huff in annoyance. "I had it myself."

He scoffs in response, "Sure you did, short stack."

"Hey!" I shout in annoyance.

My legs dangle down from the counter top, not even close to reaching the floor.

He grabs the green bag of supplies and the gauze, making his way close to me. I only stare in confusion. Opening the antiseptic towel packet with his teeth, he pulls it out and begins wiping off my face.

"I've got it myself." I say, trying to shake him away, but he only shushes me in response and gently pushes away my flailing hands.

"Of course you do. Just like you didn't need help getting on the counter." He teases.

I huff in response, but let him gently clean my face, the stinging of the open cuts hurting a bit, but I don't flinch.

He cleans the gash off my forehead and my split lip, before sighing, saying "What happened to you?"

I'm quiet for a few minutes, thinking of what to say as he bandages my forehead.

He then picks up my injured hand, and I hiss in pain.

"Jesus, Lila. What have you done to this?" He says, concerned. He begins wrapping it tightly, causing me to hiss a few more times.

"Nothing. Just... hurt it a little." I reply.

"No shit Sherlock- stop hissing at me! It's your fault your wrist is like this!" He answers.

I'm quiet for a while, thinking about everything and anything that comes to my mind.

I can barely feel the pain anymore.

It's just a fraction of the pain that I deserve.

I could have protected her.

I could have protected Elena.

I deserve everything I will get to me...

...and more.

And I'm so tired.

So fucking tired.

I can't do this anymore.

How much more fighting will I have to endure.

Fighting with Grey, fighting with my so called "family", fighting with my therapist...

...fighting to live...

And I'm so tired.

So fucking tired.

Exhaustion heaves my body, the adrenaline from before wearing off.

I only notice now that Rocco has finished patching me up, placed all the medical supplies away, and is now standing in front of me, watching me with a worried expression.

I'm so confused.

I never see him display any emotion other than anger.

My eyes are slowly becoming fuzzy, exhaustion hitting me further and further.

"What happened?" He whispers gently.

And that's when my guard crumbles, not a lot but enough.

The exhaustion has made me more vulnerable, my emotions surfacing more.

And I'm so fucking tired.

I rest my head on his chest, my legs still hanging off the sides, not even reaching his knees.

He tenses, surprised, before slowly wrapping his arms around me, his huge arms engulfing me all the way around.

My eyes fill with tears at the gesture, but I don't let a single one of them fall.

"I miss her, Rock. I miss her so much." I sniffle, my arms hugging him back, not even reaching around him due to his large, muscular frame. (Btw Rock is her old nickname for him)

He stills before shushing me, stroking my hair gently. "Shhhh. I know, sweetheart, I know. It's okay." He whispers.

"But it's not- it's not okay." My voice cracks in the middle, tears almost slipping down my cheeks, but I catch myself before they can spill out of my eyes.

I sniffle again, almost falling asleep against his chest, hearing the calming beat of his heart and his warmth from his body covering me. I rub my eyes slightly to wake myself up.

"You can cry, you know. You won't be any less strong if you cry." He says softly.

Even then, not a single tear drops.

I rub my eyes again, but they are quickly wrapped by Rocco's hand, stopping me from rubbing them. "Stop that." He chastises. "You'll damage your eyes"

I don't reply, my eyes dropping shut more and more.

He notices and moved to pick me up, but I move back and widen my eyes as a response.

"Okay okay! It's okay! I was just going to pick you up and take you to bed. You look like your falling asleep right here on this counter." He says.

"I can do it myself." I say, then jump down from the high counter and slowly limp out the kitchen.

As I get to the doorway, I turn back around and whisper, "Thank you."

And with that, I slowly walk upstairs.

My vision, clouded with sleep and fatigue, slowly blurs more as I strain my body to get up the stairs, but eventually I make it up

My vision clouds more.

I don't think this is normal-

I don't think-

- this is-

-right-

I stumble to my bedroom, shoving open the door and locking it behind me.

And with that, my vision clouds more.

I can't see...

...anything.

My thoughts...

...what?

...happening?

And with that, I collapse on the bed...

...and the world turns black.

Little did I know, with my clouded vision and heightened emotions, fatigue plaguing me, I had missed Alessandro watching me stumble up the stairs.

I mean, I guess the saying "Sandro knows all" was true after all.

Sandro really does know all...

Sorry for the late chapter!

It's been a hectic couple of weeks!

I'm going to try and update once a week on the weekend but idrk sorry.

Hope you enjoy this one!