Beau dragged me out of the building. My legs buckled with every step, but he didn’t make any effort to help me. Just dragged me out by my hair while the Georgians stared, and kicked the door shut behind us.

The moment we were alone, he let go of my hair and caught me before I slid onto the gravel. He held me close, pulling me up into his arms and pressing me against his strong chest. My eyes were on his face, staring blankly at the scars that made him so unique and so fucking frightening at the same time.

“It’s okay,” he told me softly. “It’s all okay now, Lucy, you’re going to be fine. I fucking promise. I’m so sorry, babydoll. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I couldn’t say a word, just let him hold me in his arms and pretend it was going to be alright, even when my mind was screaming at me to run the hell away from him. But I couldn’t. I craved his closeness, craved for Beau to make it all better for me.

“I’m so sorry,” he kept saying over and over again. “Stand up for me, Lucy. Please. Let me see you stand up.”

I tried to pick myself up, tried to stand on the too-high heels I was wearing, but stumbled. Beau caught me before I made contact with the ground and held me up.

“You’re okay,” he told me gently. “It’s all okay. We’re going to get you home. We’ll make sure you’re alright.”

He walked me away from the building, and once we were on the street again, I found some strength inside my body, and I pushed him away with everything I had. Beau stumbled away as adrenaline surged through my veins and I pummeled him with my fists. I was so angry. So angry he’d let that happen to me. I could’ve killed him on the spot, and he was letting me, too. He didn’t even try to stop me from hitting him.

“You almost killed me!” I shouted at him. “I could have died! I could be gone right now!”

“Lucy!” he shouted back at me, finally trying to grab hold of me, but I wouldn’t let him. I hit him like a madwoman. I wanted to draw blood. I wanted to see him fucking hurting for what he’d put me through. “Lucy! Calm the fuck down and listen to me. Please, baby, listen to me, just fucking listen…”

But I wouldn’t. I hit him over and over again until he finally took hold of my wrists with one hand, and slapped me with the other one, hard.

He slapped me so fiercely I stumbled back, but before I could fall down, he caught me in his arms again.

“Shut the fuck up!” he barked at me. “Look here, babydoll, look in my palm, look what’s inside it.”

My body was shaking with pent-up anger, so much frustration inside me I could barely hold it all in. But I still did him that last favor, and looked at his outstretched hand where a single bullet lay on his palm.

“W-what?” I asked him, my body shaking again, but this time in confusion. “What’s that?”

“The bullet, Lucy,” he groaned. “I never put it in. I had to make them think I did, make you think I did, so we wouldn’t get fucking busted. I would never do that, Lucy. Never play a game with you, do you understand? I’d never fucking hurt you like that, babydoll. Never.”

His words felt soothing and I let myself burst out in tears. He held my shaking, crying mess of a body until my tears dried up and my cries turned into laughter.

I laughed like a lunatic, loud, boisterous laughter. I threw my head back, pushing my tits against Beau and making him look down. And then he started laughing too.

“You little crazy bitch,” he said, reaching between my tits, down into my corset. “Crazy fucking girl.”

He brought out several cards I’d stuffed down my tits in order to get him better ones. They fluttered from his fingers, hitting the ground in a flurry of spades and aces.

“I wanted you to win,” I muttered, and he kissed the top of my head fiercely.

“Thank you, babydoll,” he said, his voice heavy. “You didn’t have to do that. You know you could have gotten hurt if those men caught you?”

I grinned wide. “I was careful.”

“Well,” Beau went on. “I’m glad to say our little fieldtrip seems to have been worth it. We got Grigori’s digits.”

He flashed me a piece of paper with a number scribbled on it, and explained Sandro had slipped it inside his palm just before we left, telling Beau the Georgian could get him into bigger and better games to play for even more money. I had no doubt there was more to it, and they were trying to take advantage of my man, but I knew he was too smart for them.

“Thank you for–” I started, but my words were cut off by a shrill scream coming from the wooden building.

And then there were gunshots, and even more screaming.

So. Much. Fucking. Screaming.

Beau tackled me to the ground when the building behind us erupted into flames. An explosion went off and I screamed. My heart pounded in my chest as Beau dragged me to my feet again, with burning wood and glass shards flying everywhere. One of them hit my arm and I hissed when the jagged edge cut into my skin.

“We have to go,” Beau barked, and half-walked, half-dragged me towards the side alley. I heard police sirens in the distance.

We found our car in one piece, which was a fucking miracle given the neighborhood we were in. Beau stashed me inside and my whole body shook as he started the engine and drove out of there like a madman.

“What the hell?” I screeched. “What happened back there? What happened, Beau?”

He looked in the rearview mirror and kept driving, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles whitened and his jaw set in a chiseled line.

“Someone was targeting them,” he said simply. “Someone went in there and blew shit up. It’s a good thing we got out when we did. We could both be dead right now. Is your seatbelt on?”

I stared in front of me, through the windshield, without feeling a single thing.

“Lucy!” Beau barked at me. “Is your fucking seatbelt on?”

“Yes,” I sniped back. “It’s on, okay! What are you, my fucking father?”

The horrible edge of my words hung between us like a knife poised to slice. I burst into tears the next second, hot, confused tears that ran down my cheeks, fucking up my makeup. I hated myself for being so vulnerable and for letting Beau and the situation get to me. I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve handled all of it better, but instead I was just a hot mess.

“I’ll never be like your father, Lucy,” Beau replied stiffly, his eyes focused on the road as he drove us towards our destination. Hopefully home, because I couldn’t handle any more fucking drama that day.

“I know,” I whispered, giving him a fearful look. “I know you could never be like that, Beau.”

“You better remember it,” he added, and I nodded, more to myself than anyone else. “We’re going home now. Don’t mention this to anyone, you got that?”

“I won’t,” I replied softly, and we spent the rest of the drive in absolute silence. We were almost at our destination when Beau spoke up again.

“You acted like a kid today,” he said roughly. “How old are you, Lucy?”

“Eighteen,” I replied. “I just turned eighteen. A few days before I came to your place.”

He gripped the steering wheel even more tightly.

“Do you know how old I am?” he asked me roughly, and I shrugged, glancing at him.

“Maybe thirty?” I asked, and he groaned out loud.

“I’m thirty-four, Lucy. Practically twice your age. I could be your fucking father.”

“Well, you’re fucking not,” I said, getting annoyed with the conversation.

He didn’t say another word as he pulled into the garage underneath his building. He turned the engine off and we sat in the darkness for what felt like ages, with me sneaking glances at Beau who was running his hands through his dark mop of hair.

“This isn’t right,” he finally said. “You… you’re too young for me, Lucy.”

“I’m only a couple of years younger than my sister!” I argued, and he turned to look at me with an expression so heated it made me scared.

“You’re a fucking kid,” he said roughly. “You’re a kid, Lucy! Don’t even try to fucking deny it.”

“I’m not even…” My words hung in the air, leaving me unsure how to finish my sentence. Finally, I let out a frustrated sigh and opened the car door with all the rage I could muster after the evening we’d had. “You know what? Fucking forget it, Beau. I don’t have to explain anything to you!”

I stormed out of the car, slamming the door so hard the sound echoed in the empty garage. I tried to storm off, but before I could make it more than a few steps, a hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me closer, his mouth inches away from mine, his breath hot on my lips. Beau wasn’t happy, and he looked like he was about to bite me he was so angry.

“You don’t know anything,” he barked at me. “You don’t know shit, little Lucy. Little liar. Little fucking whore.”

His insults felt cutting, and I glared at him as he pulled me into his arms. But I didn’t resist. I could never resist him.

“You’re a fucking child,” he went on. “And I hate myself for doing this.”

And then he crashed his mouth against mine, and my body melted as he claimed it, his tongue fucking me like it was all there was left to do in the world. He licked me, bit my lip, sucked it and made it better. He made me whimper into his mouth until I was nothing but a helpless heap of trembling muscles and nerves. He had that effect on me, and he sure as hell knew when and how to use it.

He let go of me and my mouth let out a sound so desperate I blushed when he grabbed me by my hair and pulled my head back.

“Come on, we’re going upstairs,” he told me roughly, and I meekly followed him towards the elevator that would take us to his penthouse apartment.

“Beau?” I asked softly once we were in there, his arm possessively wrapped around my waist, and my own holding my hurt arm.

“Yes?” he asked. I could tell he was distracted. What had happened back there had been awful, there was no way of getting around it. I couldn’t believe we’d gotten out of that damn building in one piece. “What is it, babydoll?”

“I want to know,” I said softly, and his eyes turned to mine. I looked down, blushing deeply as I admitted what I wanted to know, the image of his scars so fresh in my mind.

“I want to know what happened to you.”