Summary: Through an unfortunate turn of events, Max falls into the hands of a man who is not only evil in every sense of the word but hell bent on burning down the world if it meant keeping her safe. But all Max wants to do is get away from him. But will that change?

Genre: Humor/Romance/Horror rating may change, but I doubt it

Disclaimers: I don't own Maximum Ride and this story in no way reflects my religion and I hope I don't offend anyone – it's just a story!

_The Deal_

Where do you go to meet the devil? What city screamed the devil's name? What place on earth could you go to make a deal with the devil himself?

These were questions Jeb Batchelder never thought he would wonder, but he was a very desperate man. His wife was dying. And Jeb was too damn stubborn to just take that sitting down.

He'd gone to doctors. The best – offering however much money they needed to make her better. But it hadn't mattered. The answer was always the same. "I'm sorry. I suggest you take your wife home and say your goodbyes."

He'd prayed. Prayed for forgiveness for whatever he'd done to deserve this punishment, prayed for a miracle. He'd gone to every single church in his home town every day for weeks – had spoken with countless ministers, reverends, priests – you name it. "God works in mysterious ways," They'd say. But Jeb didn't have time for that.

Valencia was dying back home. The guilt that he'd left his wife on her death bed while he went on an alleged business trip was eaten away by the knowledge that she would be better when he returned.

She had to be. He would make sure of it.

Where did you go to meet the devil? Jeb chuckled to himself, but there was nothing funny about the situation. Why, Sin City, of course.

_X_

Greed. Lust. Envy. Gluttony. Pride. Wrath. Sloth.

It was all laid down to the gambling, the strip clubs. Stealing from others because you wanted what they had, and the all you can eat buffets; the people flaunting material possessions just to show they could, people escaping their problems with extravagant vacations, and the anger at losing all your cash in one place.

That's why they called it Sin City, Jeb mused, blinking away the blinding lights.

Making his way past the casinos, Jeb tried not to look longing. But he could hear the drunken voices slurring in happiness at their latest victory and the clings of automated games inside.

Jeb shook his head. What was wrong with him? He was here for strictly business. His wife was dying. She was already half-dead, and here he wanted to gamble?

"…And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…" Jeb breathed miserably. He never knew what a fucking hypocrite he was until now.

"And here I thought you wanted my help," An arrogant voice sounded from behind Jeb.

Jeb started – then spun rapidly, but no one was there. If a cross between hopelessness and relief had a sound, it escaped out of Jeb's throat in a strangled tone.

He was starting to lose it; that much was clear. What was he doing? Travelling half across the country, abandoning his wife in her time of absolute need, all for some insane belief that the devil could save him? And even if he could, at what price?

"That is to be negotiated." The same voice said, answering Jeb's thoughts.

Jeb turned, coming face to face with…with him. The devil. Satan. Lucifer.

But no, it couldn't be. He certainly didn't look like a red man with horns and a tail, like in the cartoons Jeb had watched as a child. It was just some teenager.

"Young man," Jeb said sternly, "You scared me half to death. Now shouldn't you be on your way home?"

Jeb doubted the boy had any home to speak of. He was probably just some prettyboy high school dropout, who'd run away with his knocked up girlfriend to try and make it big in Vegas. Jeb would have felt bad for him, but he had his own problems.

As if hearing Jeb's thoughts, the boy grinned bending his head to stick a cigarette between his teeth. His the smile looked wrong, somehow, unnatural and.…unholy? No. There was no way this child was who Jeb was looking for. It was impossible.

"You gotta light?" The boy asked the unlit cigarette bobbing as he spoke.

"No. I certainly do not. Not that I would give you it, even if I did. You shouldn't be smoking; it's bad for you and the people around you." Raddling off something he'd heard Valencia say countless times before, Jeb moved to walk around the boy only to pause when the child stopped him.

"So you don't have a lighter…" He echoed, as if that was all he heard and all that mattered. "That's fine. Hey, you wanna see a trick?"

Jeb was getting tired of this. He needed to hurry. "No, I need to –"

But Jeb never got to finish telling the boy what he needed to do. Because the teenager had already done his little trick; flicking his fingers in a snapping motion the tips engulfed in flames.

Jeb froze, blinking rapidly. The boy didn't look alarmed, or even in pain. He waved his fingers, the flames dancing, at Jeb in a mock wave. "Cool, huh?"

"What – what are you? Some kind of street performer? Very impressive. But I need to leave, now if I give you twenty dollars will you please -"

This annoying little brat wasn't even listening. He was just chuckling to himself, looking bored. He made a show of raising his hand and bringing his burning fingers together creating one solid flame, then lighting his cigarette, using his unlit hand to protect the flame from the wind, as if it were nothing but a regular lighter.

Jeb was getting fed up with this boy and his little game. But he had to know. "How are you doing that -?"

The boy with the black hair in front of him reached out, faster than Jeb could react, and placed his scorching palm onto Jeb's chest, right above his heart, and refused to let go.

Jeb shouted in pain, reaching out to grab the strangers forearm and push his hand away. But as he grabbed it the fire grew to the boy's shoulder. The boy didn't look like he was in any pain. But Jeb was; he winced, as he saw his own blistering fingers and felt murderously angry that he could do nothing to stop this little shit.

The pain. God in heaven, the pain. Did he deserve this? For doubting God and his power and going so far as to betray him and coming here? Because he wanted help from the devil? Now he was going to die – this psychopath was going to kill him, he was sure of it - and Valencia would soon die after because of his bad judgment.

But as soon as that thought entered his mind, the pain was gone. No. It was still there. But the torched hand was gone and the pain – though unbearable – was less.

Falling to his knees, Jeb examined the damage. The imprint of a black hand remained on his chest where the fabric of his white button down had burned.

This inhuman boy standing before Jeb – who was previously grinning in obviously schadenfreude*, now looked absolutely insane.

Jeb winced. "Who are you?"

"My name is Fang."

"What are you?"

"I think you know."

And Jeb did know. It was the reason he'd came. To make a deal with the devil – he'd give this…thing whatever it wanted if it made Valencia better. He knew that, even as he followed the devil into an abandoned hotel. DuMort the old and broken sign up front labeled it. He knew what he was getting into. And he didn't care. He had to do this.

The two walked into an old empty ballroom with termite eaten floors and cobwebs gathered on the curtains of the stage a distance away. The devil whistled a surprisingly pleasant tune that Jeb didn't know as he led him to the bar.

Surprisingly, it was lit. And a man – at least it looked like a man – was dressed as an old bartender, standing behind the counter and watching them expectantly.

"Whiskey," Fang ordered. And Jeb paused –Fang certainly didn't look the legal age for drinking. But he had to be thousands of years old.

"Did you want a drink?" Fang squinting at Jeb sideways, as if daring him to say yes.

Jeb sat on the bar stool. "I'm fine. Can we skip the pleasantries?"

Fang had already drunk half his glass. "If you insist. Now, as I understand it, your wife – who you love with all your heart - is dying."

"Yes."

"You want me to fix it."

"Yes."

"Because you've tried everything you could think of. Money. Doctors…Praying."

"Correct."

"I wonder why I'm always everyone's last choice." Fang mused.

Because you're evil.

As if Fang could hear Jeb's thoughts, which he probably could, he agreed. "Yes. I am. And you know that I won't give you what you want for nothing."

"If it's my soul you're asking for – "

"What makes you think you're so special that I want your soul?"

It's what always happens, was Jeb's only answer, in the movies, and TV shows and cartoons – cartoons that his unborn child would never get to watch if Fang didn't help him.

Fang's eyes suddenly snapped up to Jeb with an actual interest he hadn't yet shown. Fang had so far acted as if he didn't care whether Jeb stayed or went, died or lived. But now he was prying through Jeb's head curiously.

"Your wife is pregnant."

"I – yes."

"You didn't mention that."

"It didn't realize it was important."

Fang's eyes narrowed. If Valencia died, the baby would die. Jeb had to know that. The baby wasn't far along enough to be saved through emergency C-section. "You didn't think that your only child's death was important?"

Jeb said nothing. Why did he care if his wife was pregnant? That wasn't important – Valencia's life was on the line. That was what mattered. He knew Fang was prying through his thoughts once more, but didn't try to stop him.

"You don't care that your child would die, because you never wanted it in the first place." Jeb made no move to contradict Fang. "But Valencia wanted a child, and you love her and would do anything for her, so you agreed. And now you found out Valencia is dying. And what's worse is you actually believe, in the back of your mind, that it's the baby that's killing her. Don't you?"

Jeb said nothing for such a time that Fang thought their conversation was over. But then, "Yes. Yes, I do."

Fang scoffed in what was almost disgust. Humans were so cruel. "So get your wife an abortion. You don't need to come to me for that. "

"Valencia would never forgive me."

Fang considered this. "So you want me to make it all better. Fine. It's as good as done. But in exchange…you will give me the child."

Jeb started. "What – what could you possibly want with a baby?"

"That's none of your concern. You don't want it, and now I'm taking it off your hands. You should thank me. This is what you wanted. Deal?"

On its own accord, Jeb's hand shot out and gripped Fang's. They shook firmly and Jeb knew he was sunk.

This was what Jeb had wanted. No child to take after for the rest of his days; just him and Valencia for always. But…Valencia would be heartbroken. And how would he explain? What would he say?

Listening to Jeb's thoughts once more, Fang smiled wickedly. "Oh yes. What will you say to your wife, who wants that child more than she wants to live; say when she finds out you gave it away to the devil? I'm no mom but, if I were, I'd be angry."

Jeb would deal with that. He would fix it somehow. Valencia would never know. "When will you collect the baby?"

Fang considered this, then pretending to take pity on Jeb, "It occurs to me that hell isn't exactly a good place to raise an infant. Maybe you could watch after the child for me…at least for sixteen years or so."

"What? But – "That wasn't the deal. Fang had made it sound as if he was going to take the baby the second it was born. He had been tricked.

"I'm helping you," Fang snapped. "Don't be an ingrate. Valencia gets to keep her child, at least for a while, and she's happy. And then I'll take the baby off your hands, just as he or she starts to get into that angsty teenager stage, and you're happy."

"What will I say to Valencia when her sixteen year old child just vanishes one day?" Jeb demanded outraged.

"That's not my problem."

Jeb could think of nothing to say and between one blink of his eyes and the next, Fang was gone.

And Jeb was alone in an abandoned hotel. The bartender was gone; as if he was never there in the first place – cobwebs and dead bugs littered the counter and Fang's whiskey glass had vanished.

"Don't get attached." A voice hissed into Jeb's ear. But Jeb didn't turn to see behind him as he had earlier. He already knew no one was there.

_X_

When Valencia had made a miraculous recovery, the doctors declared it had been a miracle. Everyone had thought Val would die. But she hadn't – and her recovery had even made the cover of several local magazines. It was a miracle, the doctors said. An act of God.

But Jeb knew better.

When eight months later Valencia gave birth, all the paparazzi and reporters had followed them to the hospital.

Everyone wanted to get a look at the miracle baby. Everyone wanted to know – boy or girl? Girl. What's the baby's name? Maximum. Everyone wanted to get it on tape when Valencia said, "She's my little angel girl," Because that's what Val thought the baby was.

Everyone wanted to know about the baby…but no one was curious as to why, when Jeb found an anonymous black card with red lettering reading "Congratulations" why Jeb had gotten sick with panic. Or why he hadn't wanted to hold the baby. No one even batted an eye.

Don't get attached.

Jeb refused to. He wouldn't get attached. He refused to. It didn't matter that Maximum had Val's eyes and Jeb's fingers. He would not love this baby. It was mostly because he didn't want to love the child, when he knew he couldn't keep her. He didn't want to feel regret.

But it was also, in the back of his mind, Jeb believing that Maximum wasn't entirely human. Maybe Fang had changed her – because he wanted a baby suitable to live in hell. He was always watching his daughter out of the corner of his eyes, looking for something unnatural in her.

But as his only daughter grew, her eyes were always wide and brown and innocent. She was healthy and normal – better than normal. She was brave and smart for her age. She had quite the mouth on her, sarcastic and stubborn. Max saw things in black and white, without any in between. But she was beautiful. Like her mother.

And though he would never allow himself to love this child, he had come to care for her. He doubted he ever had a choice in the matter.

Which is why, when Max turned sixteen he was petrified. He knew their time with her was up and he knew he could do nothing to stop it. He'd made a deal. And if Jeb went back on that, there was no telling what Fang would do. He might kill him. He might kill Valencia.

He still valued his wife over his daughter. No matter what. It was horrible, but it was true.

So, on her sixteenth birthday – after his daughter's friends with the strange names had gone home – he was not surprised to find a note addressed to him on his nightstand.

Jeb had hoped, naïvely perhaps, that maybe Fang had forgotten Max. Hoped maybe the devil would take pity on Jeb and let him keep her. But there was no point in hoping, was there, when you had betrayed everything you believed in for one chance?

We made a deal. Take her to DuMort, was all the note said.

What would Valencia say?

_X_

Jeb wasn't a great dad, but he was a dad.

Some people didn't have a dad at all. Or parents or friends. And Max had all three, so she didn't really mind that Jeb sucked as a fatherly figure. She wasn't going to mope around, crying about how daddy didn't love her only to have trust issues when she hit her midlife crisis. Nope. So not happening.

But when Jeb had decided to take his minor daughter to Vegas, a place full of gambling and drinking and strippers, the phrase "Jeb wasn't a great dad" turned into a massive understatement.

What was he thinking? Max was too young to do all the crazy stupid stuff you're supposed to do when you come to Vegas. And she'd probably end up sitting in the hotel room, bored, and wishing she was home.

But when Max had tried pointing this out to mom, she'd sighed. "He's trying to connect to you. Give him a chance, sweetie, and at least try to have fun."

Well fine. Max would go. But she wouldn't have fun. So there.

Apart from what Max had seen in the Hangover trilogy and CSI, she didn't know what Las Vegas really looked like.

And, to be frank, it looked like a shit ton of lights. It had taken her eyes several minutes to get used to it. But what did she expect when it was almost midnight on a Friday? The whole place was bound to be lit up like a Christmas tree. But past the blindness, it was kind of amazing.

But the cabbie had acted weird. Jeb had given him the address of the hotel they were staying at and he had looked baffled. "That place has been abandoned for twenty some years now,"

But Jeb insisted, and shortly after we'd pulled up to a clearly not abandoned four star hotel. Their driver was so shocked he didn't even notice when Jeb "forgot" to tip him.

Pushing past the revolving door, Jeb paused scanning the lobby.

"Who're you looking for?"

"What?" Jeb blinked down at her. "Oh. No one, sweetie."

Tracing her eyes back to where Jeb had been looking, Max frowned. She could have sworn someone had just ducked into the other room when he saw them. "You sure?"

"Hey, Max, why don't I go check in while you explore?" Jeb fished in his pockets for some cash and handed her a twenty.

"Okaay…when does the father-daughter bonding start?" Max questioned, but Jeb was already half way across the lobby towards the check-in line.

Max scoffed. Jeb wasn't a great dad. He wasn't even a good one. "Whatever."

Miss Maximum Batchelder's exploring consisted of discovering that hotel DuMort had three restaurants, all of which had a bar and two that had an all you can eat buffet. Good to know. It also had two swimming parks, three lounging areas, seven shops, four ballrooms, three elevators, one massive casino, one arcade-like-casino for minors like herself, and a total of 678 suites.

And there was a list of activities set up by management for kids like her. How thoughtful. There was a party tonight in the D'or Ballroom for kids fourteen and up. Max decided she might check it out later. It beat watching game-show reruns.

Four lounging areas, Max corrected herself, stumbling past a man-made water fall built into yet another one.

"Are you lost?" A voice whispered in her ear.

Max gasped, spinning. But it was just some guy. A cute guy, her inner-Nudge told her. And it was true – he had messy black hair that stopped just past his ears and dark mysterious eyes. He was taller than Max was - which was saying something - and had flawless tan skin. He looked like a super model.

He also looked like the type of person her mother would have told her to stay away from.

Max blinked at him, stepping back... "No. I was just…exploring."

The boy in front of her smiled, strangely enough. "Exploring huh? Have you seen everything yet?"

"Um, yeah."

"You sure?" he asked, making to sit in one of the leather chairs next to the indoor pond. Max followed, sitting across next to him.

"Yes." Max insisted.

"I bet I know somewhere you'd never find on your own."

Max flicked her eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

"It's an invitation. Do you want to see it with me?"

Caught off guard, Max muttered an, "I don't know…Are you gonna tell me what it is first?"

He leaned in close. Very close. Too damn close. "Nope. It's a surprise."

Without another word, Max shot to her feet and out the lounge. Who the hell was this kid? What a creep.

From nowhere, a hand shot out and grabbed Max's wrists, spinning her around for her to come face to face with the guy from before.

"Let go." Max hissed, trying to wrench away her hand. She was trying not to cause a scene, but pair of old ladies exiting a gift shop were already watching them, seeing if there was any trouble.

The boy blinked at her ferocity, but his fingers slipped from around her wrist. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

That wasn't an apology. Max scoffed. "You didn't scare me."

"You sure? Is that why you ran away like a bat out of hell?"

"Shut up," Max snapped, and when he grinned at her vehemence Max wanted to smack him.

"If you want to prove you're not scared of me, come with me to this place I found."

Max didn't have to prove anything to this guy. She wasn't scared – but still, Max frowned, he was taller than she was and faster than she was, and no doubt stronger. She wouldn't want to be alone with him.

As if guessing her thoughts he said, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I don't even know you. I don't even know your name."

"My name is Fang." What poor kid gets stuck with a name like that? Yikes. "And yours is Max."

Max tensed. "How'd you know that?"

Fang pointed. "It's on your necklace."

Max clutched her engraved necklace protectively. "Well, Fang, why are you being so…" Friendly.

"Maybe you're just the type of person people want to get friendly with."

This was too weird. "To be honest, this seems like a major stranger danger moment."

He leaned in close again, but this time Max refused to run away even as he whispered into her ear, "Are you scared?"

"I said no," Max snapped. "And besides, I couldn't go to your little secret hideout, even if I wanted to."

"Why not?" He demanded through a surprisingly clenched, "Got a hot date tonight?"

Max was livid. "No."

He smirked. "Do you want one?"

Max snorted in a very unlady like way. "I hope you don't mean yourself."

"But of course. What do you say?"

"I can't. I have dinner with my dad. Not that it's any of your business."

Tossing this back and forth through his head, Fang considered this. He had to get her alone. "There's a party tonight. In one of the ballrooms."

"So?"

"So…you should come. It's the least you could do since you rejected me twice already."

"…I don't know."

"C'mon…" Fang teased, leaning close and said in a sing-song voice, "There's gonna be booze." Max stared. "…but if that's not your thing there will also be music. And dancing. Free food."

Okay…so maybe it did sound a little tempting.

"Fine."

"Fine what?"

"Fine, I'll come. But only for a half hour. That's it. Then I'm leaving."

"Great. See you there."

Max sighed – why has she agreed to that? Max called after his retreating figure Max "I better not regret this!"

"You won't!" Fang didn't even turn to look at her.

"And no funny stuff!"

"Scouts honor." Fang whispered darkly, even though no none could hear him.

_X_

When Max turned up at the hotel room, it looked as if Jeb forgot he even had a daughter.

"Max," He'd sputtered. "You're still here."

He had been so sure Fang would have snatched her up while she was wandering through the hotel. No doubt he knew they were here. But his daughter had come back, and was staring at him furiously.

"Yeah. And really upset that you forgot about dinner. I was waiting at the restaurant for a half hour!"

Jeb looked panicked. "I – I'm so sorry, sweetie. I completely forgot."

"Obviously."

"I grabbed something to eat from the buffet and…I'm sorry, Max. I could order you room service if you'd like…"

"Forget it," Max sighed. "I was invited to this party thing by some guy with black hair. I'll just grab something to eat there,"

Black hair. It had to be him, Jeb knew, it had to be. This was the last time Jeb would see her.

Jeb nodded, and before his daughter could slam the door in his face he grabbed her arm and hugged her. Max was too startled to do anything. When was the last time he had hugged her? Max didn't know.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," Jeb said in her ear. "About everything."

Stepping away slowly, Max paused. "…It's okay, dad. It's really okay."

"Goodbye, Max."

"Yeah. Bye, dad."

What the fuck? Was Jeb having an apoplectic fit? Max punched in an elevator button and stepped inside. There were forty-six floors, but forty-seven buttons. To humor herself, Max pressed the bottom button, the only one without a number, but nothing happened. It didn't even light up.

Stepping out into the lobby, Max recounted the way to the D'or ballroom. Even if she hadn't remembered, the blaring music coming from two ceiling tall doors would have been a clue. The doors were shaking, rattled with vibrations from the music. Pealing open the door, Max started.

Fang hadn't mentioned this was going to be a rave, but that's obviously what it was. Rainbow strobe lights and exploding balls of silver were flitting across the once grand ballroom, the entire place smelled like cheap beer and something that probably wasn't legal. It sounded like dubstep and stomping feet. It looked like hell.

There were so many people it was hard to walk without being bumped or shoved or pushed to the floor. Max doubted that Fang guy was even here. He'd probably forgotten, like Jeb. And even if he was here, there is no way Max would find him. It was probably for the best.

People came at Max like a fluorescent tidal wave coming at her from all sides. She had no idea where she was being pushed, and instead of finding the exit Max found herself at a bar.

Seeing a startled and wide eyed girl, the bar tender took pity on her, shoving a glass of God-knows what at her. "On the house,"

"Thank you…" Max sipped the drink nervously, her hands shaking and nearly dropped the cup when one of the disco looking balls overhead exploded and shed drops of metallic all over Max and surrounding people. They cheered. Max did not.

God, she was covered in this stuff. It was all over her new jacket, and when Max bent her head she felt drops of it fall from her hair and down her face like silver tears, pooling at the corners of her mouth.

"What is this stuff?" Max shouted to the bartender, but over the roar of the crowd she still sounded faint to his ears.

He chuckled, seeing her doused appearance. He winked at her. "Magic."

Was that some kind of secret code? Was it slang for something? Max had no idea. She licked her dry lips, tasting something she wasn't familiar with. Sour but sweet. Wiping it away with her sleeve, she scanned the crowd looking for an escape – but something was very wrong with her vision.

Her eyes moved too fast, or not fast enough, Max wasn't sure. But either way, the crowd and surroundings blurred together like the stroke of a paintbrush and the details of them all were lost to her. The colors of the people smeared to create new ones. The annoying random beats blaring from the amps slowed, becoming clearer and softer. Max couldn't feel the ground anymore, but instead of feeling panicked she felt calm and liberated.

She moved toward the crowd, ignoring the faint voice in her head that was telling her no. She wanted to join them. They looked happy. Max wanted to be happy too.

She spun, faster and faster until when she opened her eyes she could see nothing but streaks of colors surrounding her. But in the center of her vision, there was a spot without any color. Instead it was all darkness.

Max stopped spinning, squinting her eyes to focus on the dark spot. Inking through the crowd, like a shadow come to life, was...that boy. From earlier. He was striding through the crowd toward her looking dark and determined.

"Fang!" Max said, finally remembering his name.

He didn't stop to say hello. "I need show you something."

No. she wanted to say at first. I'm here, isn't that enough? But these thoughts were tugged from her mind as he took her hand and lead her through the crowd with impossible steadiness.

Max was aware of Fang pulling her through the tall doorway. She felt his hand on her waist, steadying her when she tripped as the elevator door slid shut. Fang pressed the button without the number, which Max vaguely remembered thinking was odd, before the thing plunged downwards.

She saw her own reflection in the mirror ceiling. She looked wild, disorientead. Max giggled hysterically at a thought she had - Jeb was gonna be so mad.

Fang was so close. She was practically his already. Her laughter caused him to look up from his feet, up at her. She was staring at herself in the mirrored ceiling, wiping away the silvery liquid.

Fang almost smiled. "I guess you know this stuff isn't just glitter,"

"What is it?"

He reached out, wiping away a drop of painted metal that had stuck to her cheek. His thumb came away silver. "It has certain properties than can mimic the effects of being..."

The alleged angel girl blinked at him. "...high?" Fang nodded. She was starting to get worried, he knew. "Where're we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"The same surprise you wanted to show me earlier?"

"Yes."

Max gripped the support railing suddenly. She wasn't supposed to be doing this, was she? Was there something wrong with this, with him? There was something seriously wrong with all this.

"I...I don't think I'm supposed to be doing this."

"You don't really have a choice."

What? What did he say? "Why are you taking me there?"

Fang looked at her hard. He didn't look friendly and flirtatious anymore. "Because I had to collect a debt that someone owes me."

That was a terrible surprise. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Everything, little angel girl." Fang told her and though Max's head was reeling she was conscious enough to know the elevator door had opened. "You're mine now."

_X_

Wow. I will most likely not be writing that much for a single chapter again – but I had to get the expedition out there from Jeb's POV and I hope you don't' hate me for that! And I wanted to portray Fang as a darker, sketchier guy but he was just too cute when he was being all flirty, am I right?

He might not be like that next chapter! But I will focus more on Max & Fang together!

*Schadenfreude is a German word that doesn't translate into English. It means to take pleasure from someone else's pain or misfortune.

Also, personally I think that the title of this fic is lame but I couldn't think of anything better so sorry!

REVIEW PLEASE.