A/N: And so the cliffie will be answered. Read on, my sweets.

May The Devil Come

His head swiveled to the door as well. They heard another crash and glass shattering. She backed up towards him, sweaty hands tightly gripping the iron bars of her bed frame, knuckles ghostly white.

"My dad is not supposed to be home until much later. He's visiting my mother."

He could tell by the tremble in her voice that she was scared. He was overwhelmed by a surge of protection and placed his hand onto hers. She looked down at him in surprise, mouth parted slightly and a million questions in her eyes.

"Don't worry."

He slid off the bed and stood across from her, gripping both of her hands in his. He pulled her hands up to his face and gave her knuckles a quick kiss. He smiled down at her through long lashes.

"Don't worry. You just stay here."

And she felt safer, because he was here with her.

He started to pull his hands out of hers, but suddenly she couldn't bear the thought of him leaving her and she increased her grasp. She looked into his eyes like it was the last thing she would ever do. He responded to her fear by slowly disentangling one hand to run it down her cheek. He softly brushed away a runaway piece of hair and tucked it behind her ear.

"What happened to my little spitfire?"

She gulped and looked back at the door. They heard a gruff voice, then another, and she looked up at him with wild eyes.

"I'm not worried about me."

Just a day ago they didn't know each other and she was blown away by how painful the thought of him getting hurt was – and worse, getting caught and being taken away from her.

"I'll be careful."

And he slipped out the door.


He crept down the steps, careful to make as little noise as possible. He crouched down so he could watch the scene unfold below him through the slats of the banister.

Two guys were covered in all black and were raiding the living room – suffice to say, Tate could tell they were petty burglars. They were in the process of disconnecting the TV from the wall.

He weighed his options. He could wait it out and not make a scene, but then the place would be crawling with police later when Violet's father would come home and discover the robbery. He could confront them and make them return the stolen goods, hopefully keeping the police out of it, but he would be risking them either recognizing them right off or remembering him enough that they could identify him later. Or he could always kill them, but that would invite even more questions and he knew he didn't want Violet to know of his capacity to murder so easily. She would be afraid of him and she was just now starting to trust him ever so slightly. He couldn't risk that.

"Come on, let's go upstairs to see if there's anything worth stealing."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"When did you turn into such a pussy?"

His spine stiffened. Shit, they were coming upstairs. They would find Violet and God knows what they would do to her – beat her up, take her hostage. No, he couldn't and wouldn't let that happen.

He stood up, making sure that the stair he was on creaked a hearty groan.

"What was that?"

"I don't know, man, this house is fucking creepy."

"What happened to your balls? Let's go."

They were ascending now. He could hear them getting closer.

He smiled.

Time to play.


She had locked her door. She had her phone out with 911 already punched in the call screen. But she couldn't make the call. She couldn't, because she knew that if she made that call, the police would find him and –

She couldn't think about it.

Suddenly she heard loud yelling, then grunting as if there was a struggle downstairs.

What if –

A gunshot.

Before she knew it, she was bursting out of her room and down the hall.

"TATE!"


"Hello, gentlemen."

He walked down the stairs one at a time, making sure to pause just enough to rattle their nerves a little more every time.

"What a pleasant surprise meeting you."

He could tell that these guys were unnerved by him, but they were still trying to hide their fear and look tough. Too bad for them that he could smell fear like a bloodhound.

"I just wasn't expecting company at this hour."

"What do you want, freak?!"

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise and shrugged his shoulders.

"Just a chat."

"Stop fucking around with us."

His demeanor changed in a heartbeat. He went cold, dead, on autopilot. All the blood drained from the burglars' faces because they knew something had changed and it was not in their favor.

"I don't fuck around."

"W-well, we have a gun." One of the guys pulled out a pistol and pointed it at him, but he laughed at his shaking fingers.

"It won't make a difference."


He moved so quickly that he had already kneed the other man in the stomach and dislocated his shoulder before the shot went off.

It went wide, shattering the lamp across from the sofa and he grinned. This guy has no aim.

He whipped around, grabbed the guy's shooting arm, and rammed it against the wall, resulting in a satisfying crack and a subsequent howl of pain. The gun clattered to the floor, but he was too busy smashing the guy's face against the end of the fireplace to notice that the other guy's hand curling around the barrel of the gun.

He let the guy drop to the ground with a thud, smirking smugly at his handiwork.

"TATE!"

Never had his heart stopped so fast.

"VIOLET! GET OUT – "

Another shot rang out and she screamed.


Rage.

Blinding rage.

That was the only way to describe the emotion bubbling up in his chest.

He stalked over to the guy clutching the gun and started kicking him in the chest and stomach, pummeling him over and over until his screams just became a dull moan. He kicked the gun out of the man's reach and picked it up.

"You know, I was going to spare you. For her sake."

He twirled the gun once in his fingers.

"But you tried to hurt her."

He fired a warning shot just above the man's head, causing him to whimper and look up at Tate with those eyes that know that he has met his end.

"And no one hurts what's mine."

And then he fired two clean shots through both of their skulls.


Execution-style.

That was the only way to describe it.

Clean. Efficient. Calculated.

She stared at the scene below her in both wonder and horror until he turned around to look at her with eyes that were both crazy and lost.

"Violet!"

She was already running up the stairs.


He had forgotten that she was still there. And now she had witnessed truly how much of a monster he is. He just killed two men without a shred of remorse.

"Violet!"

He let the gun fall to the floor and raced after her, taking the stairs two at a time.

He burst through her door because she had a chance to lock it.

"Violet – "

"Get away from me!"

"Please –"

"NO!"

She backed herself away from him until she bumped into the wall, lips quivering and tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

He approached her slowly, one hand out in front of him, like he was trying to calm a wounded wild animal.

"Violet, it's okay."

"Are you fucking kidding me!? Tate, you just killed them!"

"Listen – "

"NO! Go away!"

"Violet, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me, but when I heard the gunshot and you scream, I thought that they shot you. And I got so, so mad, I couldn't control it. I couldn't stand the thought of them hurting you. Violet, please understand!"

"You're a monster."

"I know."

That reply jolted her out of her hysteria and she looked at him. She knew that he was insane, but to be confronted by it in such a way…There was a huge difference between knowing that someone is batshit crazy and seeing it flashed before you like some horrible nightmare.

But he killed for her. He killed to protect her.

How could she process that? How did she even feel about it?

"Violet, I never wanted you to see that side of me. I didn't want you to be scared of me."

He crept closer to her and she allowed him to crouch down next her and take her hand.

"I couldn't lose you."

"You just met me."

"That doesn't matter."

They sat in silence for a minute or so, but to her it felt like forever.

"What are we going to do?"

"The police are going to be crawling all over this place soon. Someone must have heard the gunshots. I'm going to need to make myself scarce so they can't trace this crime to me."

"So where will you go?"

"I have my hideouts. I will lie low in a couple of them until this dies down."

"What should I do?"

"Tell them exactly as it happened. You heard people breaking into your house and stayed upstairs in fear. Then you heard shots fired and when you finally went downstairs to check it out, you saw the two of them dead. Suggest it was due to a disagreement about the earnings of the heist or something."

"What about your fingerprints on the gun?"

"They won't find mine."

"How?"

"I covered my firing hand with my sleeve before shooting them, so none of my fingerprints would show up. And the residue would end up on my shirt rather than my hand, which I can easily burn once I get away."

"So this means you're leaving?"

He smiled down at her.

"Yes. I don't want to get you any more involved in this."

She whimpered and gripped his hand.

"Thanks, for saving me."

"Hey, look at me." How could someone who could kill so effortlessly talk to her so tenderly?

She did.

"You saved me first."

He got up and went to the window, hiking up and throwing one leg over the sill. Before he descended out of her view, he gave her another smirk.

"Oh, and Violet?"

"What?"

"I'll be back."

She shook her head.

"I'm counting on it."

And he was gone.

For now.


A/N: OH BOY. Reviews make me smile.