Sorry for the late chapter, but this year has been hectic with school and a change of job. I knew I wanted this chapter to be written in a way I was proud of, and not just pumped out, so I hope you guys like it. Tell me what you think!

"Turn around. If you try anything, I'll shoot you in your goddamn brain," Keats demanded. Devin could hear her heart racing in her chest as she kept her hands up and slowly turned, resisting the pumping adrenaline in her body that was telling her to run and get as far away from the man as humanly possible. Her eyes locked onto the muzzle of the gun, where a bullet would shoot out of if Keats decided the quivering girl with the knowledge of his name wasn't worth it. Being so close to a gun had tears welling in her eyes. She tried to keep from blinking so the tears wouldn't fall, which turned out to be an easier feat than she thought it would be. With her eyes locked on the gun, she found herself unable to blink even if she wanted to. "Good. Let's start with some easy ones. How the hell did you know we were going to be here?"

"I heard two of your guys talking about it today," she whispered, her voice breaking in the middle of her sentence despite how much she wished it wouldn't. She wanted to be calm and confident, not a shivering little mess that was currently possessing her. She wanted to have an aura that badass women always gave off in the television shows she watched. She wanted to look Keats dead in the eye and dare him to let off a round of bullets. But this wasn't television, and Devin knew that the second he decided to put a bullet in between her eyes, there was no recovering from that. Death was final. And though she'd been raised believing in Heaven, she wasn't sure she would make the cut anymore. Not after wishing her father could be dead. Even without having been to church since she was in the single-digits, she knew wishing death on someone wasn't exactly a one-way ticket to the pearly gates.

"Where?" Keats prompted. Devin opened her mouth to answer his question, preferring blurting out her location than getting a bullet in the brain, but stopped herself. Those two men had seen her with her mother at the deli. She didn't think they'd gotten a good look at either of the Hayward women's faces, but what if there was a sliver of a chance that they had? People were sick. It wouldn't surprise her if they went after her mother instead of her, just to prove a point. And what if they remembered that Devin had been signing to her mother? They could easily put together that her mother was deaf. That would make Alice Hayward an easy target.

Keats, who was once holding the gun a couple of inches away from her face suddenly brought it closer, until the cool metal was touching her forehead. Devin's eyes closed on instinct, and even she couldn't stop the lone tear that rolled down her cheek. "I won't ask again, lady. Where?"

"O-on the corner of forty-ninth and tenth," she managed to stutter out. It wasn't the specific location of the deli, and she hoped enough people passed by the men as they went to the deli that they wouldn't know specifically who Devin was. "Please, I won't tell anyone." She didn't even register the words coming out of her mouth.

"Hand over that recorder. Now." Devin didn't hesitate, gripping the recorder even tighter than she had been before the gun was pressed to the back of her head. She handed it over, her fingers shaking uncertainly as she moved, and she jumped when Keats grabbed at it impatiently. He immediately threw it on the ground, stomping on it with his foot. The motion caused the gun to back away for just a second and Devin took a shaky breath in, gathering as much oxygen as she could in her lungs. She felt it when the gun pressed back against her head. "Does anyone else know?" he asked.

"No," she responded instantly. At least this answer was closer to the truth than her last answer had been. "No, just me."

"So no one will know to come find your body if I shoot you right here and now?"

The words actually coming out of his mouth made the moment that much more real. Devin wished she could go back to her shitty apartment, watching the news and drinking bottom-shelf beer that tasted awful. Because at least in her shitty apartment, she was safe. A small, pesky part of her, froze, ready for the moment the bullet would slice through her skull. Ellison would be down a reporter, she thought to herself. But would he really care, when he had so many others? Her father would have no reason to torment her mother anymore. With Devin gone, Alice would be free of her ex-husband's insane sense of paternal responsibility that had suddenly been acquired. Devin expelled the air from her lungs, eyes slipping shut, saying her last goodbyes in her head. Because, really, if Daredevil hadn't shown up now, when would he?

"Not quite."

The voice was tinged with something familiar, like a distant memory in which Devin had heard it before, but the sound of it was so shocking that her eyes flew open. There, standing a few feet away from the two of them, was Daredevil. His new costume wasn't nearly as attractive as the all-black combo Devin had seen splashed across the newspapers, but she really didn't care what he was wearing if he was saving her. He was staring at the two of them, head tilted as if listening for something. "How about you let her go? The police are on their way. You really want to add a homicide charge to a robbery charge?"

Devin's breath left her lungs when Keats suddenly wrapped his arm around her throat, cutting off most of her oxygen. "Get the fuck out of my way," Keats demanded. Devin felt the gun press against her temple, and her breath hitched as much as it could crushed underneath his arm. "Or she'll get a bullet in her head."

"Put the gun down. Last chance before I start getting violent." Devin wondered if Keats heard the way Daredevil's voice lowered dangerously towards the end of his sentence. Probably not, considering she had barely heard it over the sound of her racing heart, amplified by the fact Keats was cutting off her air flow.

Keats simply clicked the safety trigger off, and Devin closed her eyes again. She never prayed, but in that moment she begged whatever god was out there to keep her mother safe. Her mother would be heartbroken, but at least she would be alive.

The gun let out a bullet with a bang that made Devin jump. She had expected it to hit her temple and knock her dead, but it didn't sound loud enough to be aimed at her head. That, and the fact she wasn't dead yet, was a giveaway that Keats hadn't aimed for her. Her eyes flew open just in time to see Daredevil dodge the surprise bullet Keats sent his way, maneuvering around it with ease as if it was nothing more than a minor annoyance. While Keats's attention was on Daredevil, Devin brought her leg back with enough force to send Keats releasing his grip on her throat with an impressive string of colorful vocabulary. Her adrenaline spiked as she started booking it in the other direction, figuring Daredevil could probably handle himself better than she could. Before she got far enough away, another bang shot through the street, this time making its mark.

When she turned around, Daredevil was holding his bleeding shoulder. And Keats looked ready to deliver another shot, seemingly having forgotten about Devin running away.

Run, run, run, run, her mind screamed at her. The guy was a freaking superhero. He probably got shot all the time. She should run, shouldn't she? But...what if that had been her, shot with a bullet? Wouldn't she want someone to help her?

Knowing she was severely going to regret it, she blindly reached for something she could use. Her hand grasped onto the lid of a trashcan, and though it wasn't perfect, she gripped it tightly and used all her force to swing it wildly until it hit the back of Keats's head.

He fell to the ground, swearing loudly at her, but it was enough time for Daredevil to get back on his feet and deliver a kick to Keats's hand, efficiently kicking the gun a few feet away and probably breaking the bones in the process. "Make sure he can't grab that gun!" Daredevil barked at her. Devin jumped at the order, but raced towards the gun and picked it up, clicking the safety back on so she wouldn't accidentally shoot herself. Keats was faster than Devin gave him credit for, since he was directly behind her when she turned to give the gun to Daredevil— because fuck if she was keeping that gun in her hand for longer than it needed to be. She yelped and managed to dodge out of the way of his unbroken fist, ducking just barely. While she was down, Daredevil delivered another kick to Keats's body, this time landing in the rib area. She watched Keats fall on the ground and quickly straightened her body back up. Then, remembering she still had the lid of the trash can in her hand, brought it down on his head, effectively knocking him unconscious.

"How many more men in the building?" Daredevil demanded. Devin wished he had waited a little to bark orders at her, considering she was still a little dazed from her near-death experience. "Hey! How many more men?" he snapped when Devin didn't answer in time.

"Yeah, hold the fuck up for one second while I recover from having a gun pressed against my head." She tried to calm her breathing. "Th...three more. The po...police will be here any min...minute."

He didn't acknowledge her statement. He moved towards the car, where the three men would be as soon as they booked it out of the bank. "Stay there. I'll take the tree of them out easily enough."

"I'm not really s...sure you're in a pos...position to be barking orders at m...me. I did help you with K...Keats." Devin really didn't know why she was arguing. Staying where she was meant she didn't have to deal with the other three men, and that was something she definitely wanted to avoid. But, ever her father's daughter, she'd inherited the annoying little trait of never being able to let something go. And with the way the Daredevil was speaking to her was something that he wasn't going to get away with. "Acknowledgement would be nice!"

"How about you acknowledge the fact that I'm trying to save your life?" The three men were hurtling out of the bank now, and Daredevil wasted no time in snapping another order for Devin to stay there before he was off and after them. From her position, she could see how easy it was for him to take them down. It was obvious Keats was the brains behind this operation. A couple of swift punches, some impressive dodging of a knife, and all Daredevil walked away with was a probably bruised torso from a kick that had been well-aimed. Devin's adrenaline was still racing when Daredevil tied them all up with rope from the back of their car and made his way over to her once more. "You need to stay here and tell the police what you saw. They'll want that recorder, too."

"How did you... no, I don't want to know. Shit," she said suddenly, spotting the blood coming from his hand. He looked down at the cut, as if noticing it for the first time. "Um, are you okay? It looks like it might need stitches."

"Talk to the police. I'd really appreciate it if you didn't mention anything about me."

"Um, that's kind of impossible? They aren't going to believe I did that," she said, gesturing to the three men tied up. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll take all the credit for knocking this piece of shit unconscious," she kicked Keats's body for extra emphasis, "but they won't believe the rest."

A muscle in his jaw clenched. "Fine. Then I'd appreciate if you didn't tell them anything you know about me."

Devin threw her hands up in exasperation. "I don't know anything about you! All I know is that I... I was about to be... oh Jesus Christ, I can't breathe." The reality of what had happened hit her like a train. She could have been killed. Not even a peaceful death either. Her mother would literally see pictures of her brains scattered across the street. Devin felt her breaths coming out in short pants, never drawing enough to actually provide her lungs with oxygen. "Oh God." She sank down, leaning against the nearest wall for support. "Shit." The tears came to her eyes involuntarily. The gun. His fucking voice. His grip on her neck.

"You need to breathe," Daredevil demanded. She wanted to quip something about him being Sherlock and having no shit, but she couldn't make the words come out of her mouth. "Breathe. In. Out. Inhale once, count to five, exhale. Calm your heart rate." He stopped moving, almost as if he was hesitating, before his hands were on her shoulders. There would be blood on the hoodie she was wearing, but she couldn't bring herself to care about that right now. He held her, anchoring her to not just the wall behind her, but to the Earth. Like she was floating somewhere around outer space and he was keeping her down where she belonged. "I know it's a lot. But breathe."

She drew in a shuddering breath, not quite enough to give her a normal amount of oxygen but enough to get her to stop freaking out, at least. She didn't care if it was unprofessional or even if he cared, but she brought her hands up to his wrists and held on, clutching like he was her only hope. And, well, he kind of was. "One," she said softly, taking his advice to start counting. She could hear the sirens, getting closer and closer by the minute.

"Two," he encouraged. "Three."

"Four."

By the time the broken 'five' left her lips, he was gone.

The police veered around the corner, lights flashing and sirens blaring so loudly that Devin had to cover her ears. Her hand was covered in Daredevil's blood, so she quickly wiped it on her hoodie. She wanted it off her skin, wanted the reminder of this night gone. "Hands up!" she heard the officers say, and she immediately raised her hands above her head. The officer who ran up to her was a familiar face, at least. She recognized him as the officer that had recommended going to Nelson and Murdock for the restraining order. "Ms. Hayward?" he asked stupidly, blinking as if he couldn't believe it was her in front of him.

"Hey Officer Mahoney," she said weakly, letting out a chuckle. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Want to tell me what the hell happened?"

So she told them. She told them about hearing the guys in the coffee shop (and accepted the dark look he gave her when he realized she had known about the robbery and hadn't called it into the station). She told him about following their trail, ready to get a story and cocky in her assumption Daredevil would show up earlier. She told them about hitting Keats over the head. But when it got to the part about why the other three goons were tied up, she felt her throat dry up.

"That courtesy of you, too?" he asked, gesturing to the three guys who were slowly being lowered into police cars. They had already dragged Keats's unconscious body to the car, and she was strangely thankful she didn't have to look at him.

"Um... no. Daredevil ended up making an appearance after all."

Officer Mahoney looked at her like he didn't believe her for a moment, but then sighed. "Yeah, that sounds like him. Any of that yours?" he gestured to the blood. "We've got an ambulance ready to go."

"It's not necessary. The blood isn't mind. It's Keats's. I just wanna go home."

He sighed. "It's protocol the paramedics at least check you out." She opened her mouth to complain, but he shot her a sharp look. "I'm not nailing your ass to a wall for not calling in the robbery, so you won't make a fuss about being checked out by the paramedics, yeah?"

Shame flowed through her like a fucking river. "Right. Right, yeah, that's fair." He nodded and gently grabbed her shoulder, leading her to where the paramedics seemed to be waiting for her arrival. The entire inspection was over within minutes. They checked to make sure there was no blood that was actually hers, checked to make sure the bruises quickly forming on her throat weren't going to cause her any problems, and deemed that the entire event had left her more shaken mentally and emotionally rather than physically. Once the paramedics released her to Officer Mahoney again, she shrugged off the mandatory shock blanket they'd given her.

"Let's get you home," he said. For a horrifying second, she thought he was going to make her get into the backseat of his police car, but he rolled his eyes at her shocked expression and opened up the passenger side door. She lowered herself into the car and almost immediately locked the door. She could see Keats and his goons being put into police cars, Keats's head lolling to the side because he was still unconscious. "You ever talk to those lawyers I suggested?"

"Hmm?" Devin hummed out, not processing Officer Mahoney's question. She was still staring at the police car that Keats was being dragged away in.

"The lawyers? Nelson and Murdock?" he questioned. When Devin didn't answer again, he sighed. "Miss Hayward, he's not going to get to you. We're taking him in for a long round of questioning and he'll be charged with not only holding you at gunpoint, but the robbery as well. He's not getting out anytime soon."

"Wilson Fisk was arrested more than once. He escaped," she whispered.

Officer Mahoney's face hardened. "That was because Wilson Fisk had moles in the police department that have since been taken care of. I promise you, Keats is going away for what he did, and he isn't getting out for a while."

Devin didn't let herself believe him. She was scared to get her hopes up. "He... he saved me."

Sensing that they weren't talking about Keats anymore, Officer Mahoney nodded. "Yeah, he's been known to do that." He must have seen something on her face that he didn't like (appreciation maybe?) because he sighed. "Look, I'm not saying it wasn't a good thing he did for you tonight. But he's not a hero, alright? He's a stupid vigilante that isn't letting the police department do their jobs. And you shouldn't go looking for him again, especially just so you can write an article."

"But —"

"I'm friends with your mother. She's always been a really nice lady. I'd really like to not have to tell her that her daughter was murdered."

It was with that sentence that Devin's actions became real. They finally clicked into place in her head. She could have died. She was seconds away from death. If Daredevil hadn't come swinging in on his metaphorical rope, her mother would have woken up to news that her daughter had been blasted through the head. And then what was the point of it all? What was the point of trying to keep her mother safe from her father when she was lying in front of Hell's Kitchen's bank, half her brains scattered across the street? There was no point. And Devin felt like the biggest fool in all of New York.

Officer Mahoney let out a small sigh when he saw the first lone tear travel down Devin's cheek. She hastily moved to wipe it away, not wanting to show weakness, but another one followed shortly. "It'll be okay, Miss Hayward," he said kindly. He pulled up to her apartment complex and tried to give her a small smile. "Look, what about you try and take tomorrow for sleep only? I'm sure your boss will understand if you take tomorrow off. I could talk to him if you'd like."

Devin shook her head immediately. "No, no, it's fine. I need something numbingly normal tomorrow to keep me from freaking out." She gave him a small smile of thanks before he unlocked the doors and she grabbed the handle to hers. "Oh, I did talk to those Nelson and Murdock lawyers. Interesting guys."

He let out a short laugh. "I've known Foggy Nelson for a while. They able to help you out?"

"Yeah, except Matthew Murdock got a little too ahead of himself and kinda pissed me off. Is it wrong to want to hit a blind guy?" Office Mahoney let out a deeper laugh at that, shaking his head as if to ask what Murdock had done. "He wanted me to file a temporary restraining order as well, but I told him no dice. I just want their focus to be on my mom."

Officer Mahoney shrugged. "I say maybe consider it. It doesn't sound like a bad idea to me."

She didn't bother replying, just opened up the passenger door and stepped out into the cool New York air. "Thanks, Officer Mahoney. I appreciate it."

"No problem. Do me a favor and next time you hear about a crime, report it."

"I can definitely do that." She waved him off and dug her keys out of the pocket of her jacket. Her heart started to thump erratically as she made her way up the stairs and into her apartment, sounding dull and ringing in her ears. She swore it was going to jump out of her chest. She remembered the feel of the gun against her temple and the feel of Keats's hands around her throat.

Devin decided to push down the anxiety she felt with what she did best. Drinking.

There were three more beers in the fridge and Devin decided she was going to drink them all. Grabbing them in her arms, she moved to sit in front of the couch, leaning her back against the bottom of the piece of furniture and glued her eyes to the television she'd purposely left on. And then, with the skill of a twenty-one year old on her birthday, Devin downed the first bottle of beer. And then the second. And then the third.

The couch was a fine place to sleep tonight. So Devin curled up and managed to fall asleep to the sounds of the news, not even bothering to pick up the beer bottles. Everything, she decided, could wait until tomorrow. Everything.

"Any reason you're here today? Any reason at all?" Ellison questioned when she walked through the door the next day. She looked a little worse for wear, but there was a scarf wrapped around her neck to hide the bruises and the cuts she'd sustained were easily covered with makeup. Devin ignored him, rolling her eyes at his dramatic speech as she took her seat at her desk. "Devin, go home. No offense, but I don't want you here."

"Jeez, glad I'm not taking offense to that," she retorted dryly, unloading the things from her bag onto her desk. Regrettably, her hands were shaking. She clenched them into fists to try and stop their movement. "How'd you find out?"

"A very interesting call from a Brett Mahoney. He says that you were held at gunpoint last night. Only, that can't be, because someone held at gunpoint wouldn't come into work the next day." Devin ignored him, pulling up the article on potted plants she was supposed to be writing for the next edition of the paper. Ellison grunted something insulting under his breath before he slammed his hand on her monitor, obscuring her view from the screen. "Devin, go home," he tried again. She shook her head.

"You don't get it, Ellison. I can't go home. Every time I go home I just sit in silence and my thoughts go back to it. At least here I can keep my brain focused on something else." She had tried sleeping last night, but to no avail. Thoughts of not only Keats and his goonies but of Daredevil kept coming back to her. She had that stupid meeting with Nelson and Murdock the next day, but hopefully by then she'd be recovered enough to not make a complete fool of herself in front of her mother's lawyers.

Ellison flung his hands up aggressively, scoffing as if Devin had something wrong with her. "Fine, stay here, but don't be angry with me if you start having a post traumatic stress disorder episode."

"Don't be an insensitive dick," she said, knowing he liked her enough to not be too offended at the statement.

"Tell you what, stop typing like a madwoman," he said, placing his hands on hers. She hadn't realized they were still shaking. "Go get coffee for us. I'll buy."

"You want me to be your coffee girl? Should I be insulted?" Devin raised an eyebrow.

"I'm insulted that you're still sitting here. Please leave. I'll text you my order." He handed her a crisp twenty dollar bill and moved away from her, walking towards the door.

"I'm keeping the change!" she called back in an annoyed tone, crossing her arms over her chest like a petulant child.

"I expect nothing less!"

Devin angrily huffed as he moved out of view, angrily slamming the backspace button on her keyboard. Then, deciding she probably shouldn't be rough with a literal thousand dollar piece of equipment, she sighed and grabbed her purse that she hadn't even fully gotten the chance to set down before Ellison was already up her ass about being in today. Stupid Mahoney, she cursed him underneath her breath as she stood and situated her scarf more firmly around her neck. Stupid Mahoney and his kindness. Couldn't he have just dropped me off at home and not given a shit about what happened to me after that?

The street was suspiciously empty as she crossed it, heels clicking on the cement. She didn't know where she wanted to go (definitely not the same coffee house she'd heard Keats and his group of assholes in the previous day), so she settled on the first coffee house she saw. Luckily, living in New York, coffee places were easy to find. She stepped inside, letting her body adjust to the warm air as she stepped up to the counter. Pulling out her phone, she saw Ellison's order of black coffee with three sugars and raised her eyes to scan the menu for herself. When it was her turn to order, she stepped up to the counter. "Large black coffee with three sugars and a vanilla iced coffee please."

"Practical order, Miss Hayward," a voice came from her left. She barely contained a screech as she jumped and turned to face none other than Matthew Murdock, the annoying lawyer she'd been planning to avoid until Wednesday. He smirked, as if he heard her jump. "Sorry."

"You're fine. And it's Devin," she said, reaching in her purse to grab the twenty Ellison had given to her. Before she could, Murdock was placing a twenty on the counter and speaking his own order to the barista, paying for the three drinks before Devin could process what was happening. She frowned, walking away from the line so she wouldn't hold it up. She saw him move his cane around, taking in the walkway to make sure it was clear before he took a step towards her. "You didn't need to pay for it," she said bitterly. She didn't want him thinking she was some kind of charity case.

"It was my pleasure. My own apology for earlier this week."

She raised her eyebrows even though he couldn't see it. "Last I checked, Nelson and Murdock were taking payments in the form of apple pies and doughnuts. I doubt you've got money to spend."

He laughed instead of being offended, like she somewhat wished he had been. "Something tells me I can afford fifteen dollars worth of coffee." They called Devin's name then, and she grabbed his coffee, figuring that even if he annoyed her, she wouldn't make him feel around until he could find it. "Thanks," he said in a surprised tone, like he wasn't expecting her to help him. She shrugged, forgetting he wouldn't get the motion as she grabbed her two drinks. "You working today?" he asked, his tone indescribable. She felt like she was being questioned by the police when he spoke to her. It made her uncomfortable enough to put a decent gap between them as they maneuvered around the people in the coffee house.

"Always do," she said, reaching forward to push the door. Before she could, his hand shot forward and pushed it open for her, like she was incapable of doing the simple task. She whirled around to demand he stop being so chivalrous (it was pissing her off because he annoyed her) when her eyes zeroed in on his hand that was holding the door open. There were a series of shitty stitches there, like he had tried to do them himself. Her eyes narrowed on the injury. "Rough night?" she asked suddenly, walking out of the door he offered. He raised his brows in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Your hand. Looks pretty banged up."

A muscle in his jaw tensed, like he wasn't expecting the observation and he wasn't used to people pointing it out. "Incident in the office yesterday. Turns out working with office equipment isn't the best course of action for a blind guy." The joke did nothing to soften the slightly tense look on his face.

"Right," she said briefly, unconcerned with his explanation. Her eyes strayed to the injury once more. It looked suspicious, like something he couldn't have gotten from office equipment. The gash was too deep for any kind of office supply, unless he had been trying to cut with scissors. She doubted a stapler would cause the damage his hand was sporting. "Office equipment. Not the best course of action for a blind guy," she echoed.

His jaw was still clenched, and jut out defiantly, as if daring her to say something. She didn't bother, simply taking a sip of her coffee and smirking a little.

"I suppose I'll see you Wednesday, Mr. Murdock."

"You will. Consider that second restraining order."

"Still unnecessary," Devin retorted, foregoing a goodbye to walk away with a small bit of her pride and a large amount of dramatic flair. As she walked along the streets of Hell's Kitchen and back to her office, she decided she had a lot of research to do on Matthew Murdock.

And maybe while she was at it, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

"I'm glad you're seeking legal help. No offense, but your dad is kind of a dick."

"None taken," Devin replied, balancing her phone between her ear and shoulder as she poured the beef packet into the instant ramen she had so obviously slaved over. If her mother could see her eating the kind of shit Devin was shoveling into her mouth, Devin was sure Alice would scream at her. Well, speak as loudly as she could since her voice was almost always at a decibel lower than everyone else's. She managed to grab the bowl of ramen in her hands as she walked to her couch, where she had set up camp with a glass of wine and her laptop. Her Google search showed a crappy little picture of the outside building of Nelson and Murdock, but she hadn't gotten to her in-depth research before Jasmine called.

"And your mom is okay through all of this?" Jasmine asked. Devin plopped down on the couch and threw her feet up on her coffee table, turning down the volume of her television, which was spewing some more shit about the Avengers that Devin didn't care about. "I mean, I know it's gotta be hard on her."

"She wants me to get a restraining order too," Devin said, taking a bite of her ramen and cursing when it burned her mouth. Jasmine, who had been her roommate in college and knew what the burning of one's mouth by way of Top Ramen sounded like, ignored the squeak of pain.

"And you damn well should. Your dad is a creep, Dev. A certified creep."

"I'm not giving Murdock the satisfaction," Devin muttered to herself as she took a swig of her wine to try and soothe the burning of her tongue.

"Who the hell is Murdock? Is that the creepy pizza delivery guy that keeps trying to get your number?"

"No, I don't order from that pizza place anymore." She tested the ramen again, deciding it was still too hot. "Murdock is the annoying and smug lawyer that officer recommended for Mom."

"I thought the said the lawyer was nice?"

"His partner Nelson is nice. Murdock is an asshole. He... smirks too much."

"Let me get this straight. You're refusing a restraining order against your awful father because you don't want to go through a lawyer who... smirks too much?"

"It sounded like a better reason in my head." She heard Jasmine let out a choking kind of laugh on the other side of the line, like Jasmine couldn't believe Devin was being so stupid. "Look, I've got to go figure out how the hell I'm going to pay for said smug lawyer, so I'll call you later, okay?"

"Fine. Promise you'll think about the restraining order. Not for the annoying, smug asshole lawyer, but for me, your amazing best friend. And your mom."

"I promise," Devin replied, clicking off the phone call and tossing it to the end of the couch, so she wouldn't be distracted by the small device. She was on a mission to prove something. What the hell she was trying to prove, she didn't know. But she was going to prove it.

The first (and most Google searched) thing she found when she typed in his name was the article on his dad. Devin didn't remember the specifics of Jack Murdock's death, but she remembered her father prattling on about the death of Battlin' Jack Murdock and his death that shortly followed. As she read about the young Matthew Murdock that lost his father, she begun to wonder if looking him up was a good idea. When her Google search took her to the article about him losing his sight as a young boy, she definitely felt like the lowest of lows of scum. But she was a reporter, and reporters were innately curious. And then there was the cut on his hand, nearly in the same place Daredevil's cut had been. She should know, she had seen it close up on both men.

He helped you escape Keats and his gang, and you're looking him up, her inner conscious argued with her. Devin knew she was contradicting the phrase "never look a gift horse in the mouth" (the gift being that she wasn't dead and the mouth being that maybe, maybe Matthew Murdock was the one that saved her), but she couldn't just let it go.

The rest of the stuff about him was general. Law degree from Columbia, worked at Landman and Zack, opened up Nelson and Murdock with one Franklin Nelson. There were gaps, though. Where had he gone when his father died? She couldn't find any record of him in any orphanage or anything. He hadn't just disappeared in those years.

Deciding searching Matthew Murdock was useless, she decided to instead search Daredevil. This search proved more fruitful, with more articles popping up than she knew what to do with. There was that stupid new red costume (which Devin thought was gaudy and obnoxious but if it helped him fight, who was she to judge), but she was in search of before Daredevil took off, when he still fought with a literal black blindfold over his eyes. Pulling up a crappy photo the Bulletin had gotten, showcasing only the left profile of his face, she pulled up a picture of Matthew Murdock. It seemed there were only about three to exist of him as an adult, and even one seemed outdated because it was a graduation picture from Columbia in which he was smiling and had an arm around a bohemian looking Nelson.

But there was that same annoyed tick of his jaw in both pictures. And it was then that Devin knew.

"Holy shit," she said, her fingers stilling on her keyboard. "Holy shit." Did she just figure out Daredevil's identity? Her mind raced with a million possibilities. Daredevil was like the literal God of Hell's Kitchen journalism. Anyone who had any information on him besides the way he easily beat his foes would be rich. Filthy rich. This would launch her career past where even she wanted to go. She would have enough money to hire the fucking attorney general of the United States to represent her mother's restraining order.

Okay, maybe not that much money, but still.

She downed the rest of her wine and ramen, staring at the two pictures with beaded eyes. Then, she grabbed her phone from the other side of the couch and dialed the number already pulled up on her screen.

"Law office of Nelson and Murdock. I'm afraid we're closed right now," the bright and sunny voice of who Devin knew to now be Karen Page answered.

"Hi, yeah, I know it's late, but I've got an appointment tomorrow and I really need to talk to Murdock." Devin rubbed the bridge of her nose, pinching to help protect her head from the migraine that was sure to be coming from speaking to Murdock.

Karen was silent on the other end of the line, but she sighed. "He's here, but if he doesn't want to talk right now, then you'll have to wait until tomorrow, okay?"

"Fine. Tell him it's urgent."

Karen humphed on the other side of the line, apparently not liking being told what to do. However, Devin heard the sounds of swishing, which led her to believe Karen was getting Murdock from his office. Her thoughts were confirmed when she heard the phone being picked back up from whatever Karen had set it on. "Nelson and Murdock. I'm correct to assume this is Miss Hayward?"

"Devin," she replied automatically.

"Right. What can I do for you? I do remind you that we're technically closed, so I can hang up if what you have to say isn't urgent."

Devin felt her blood boil. "It's pretty fucking urgent, you absolute dickwad."

"That end call button is looking more and more appealing, Miss Hayward."

"Am I on speaker?" Devin asked, not bothering to correct him on the use of her name this time. If he wanted to be a dick, so be it. It was making her decision about revealing who he was look pretty damn appealing. He muttered a "no" that Devin took as a sign to continue. "Do they know? Page and Nelson. Do they know?"

"You'll have to be a little more specific, Miss Hayward."

"Do they know you're the fucking Devil of Hell's Kitchen?" she hissed.

It was silent on the other end of the line. The silence was long enough for Devin to question if this was the right thing to do. This was a guy who had proven multiple times that he wasn't above hurting anyone to get what he wanted. And if he decided what he wanted was to hurt Devin, there would be no stopping him. But the reasoning part of her brain couldn't stop herself from arguing that he had saved her from Keats.

"I don't have time for this nonsense, Miss Hayward." But his voice was icier than it had been previously, tenser. Devin knew she had hit the nail on the head.

"Sure you don't. Then explain the cut on your hand," she argued back.

"Office accident. I thought we'd discussed this?"

"I was almost killed last night, you absolute piece of shit. I can't even look behind me without wondering if I'm gonna have a gun pressed to my head. I just want answers. Don't lie to me. I'm just asking you to be honest. Because if you aren't, I have half a mind to write an article about how a blind lawyer-turned-vigilante saved me last night." It was silent again, and Devin wondered if he was debating all the ways in which he could murder her without anyone finding her body.

A soft chuckle met her ears, but it was one of those wry ones that let Devin know he didn't find anything about this situation funny. "You sure do have a habit of butting in where you don't belong, don't you?"

"It's a hobby of mine," she replied back in an annoyed, sarcastic tone. "After the appointment with my mother tomorrow, where you will be the dictionary definition of kind and polite so you don't get on my very last nerve, we are gonna talk."

"This isn't exactly a conversation we can have out in the open."

"See, I don't really give a shit. You'll accompany me to the diner on 42nd. They have a Braille menu." And with those parting words, she angrily pressed the end call button. Then threw it back on the couch for good measure. And then, to prove that she wasn't bullshitting around, she pulled up a new document on her laptop and slammed down the title on the keyboard.

THE DEVIL OF LAW.

"Damn it," she angrily muttered when she reached for her glass of wine and remembered it was empty.