Full Summary: Annabeth Chase, an impassive, though quite impressive woman who works underneath the tight-lipped rule of her father in the Athenian Owl Industries, is engaged to Percy Jackson, heir to Poseidon's Trident Industries, and notorious member of the Los Angelos Mafia, high in their ranks. There's no love in their relationship: one's too formal, and the other is too much of a dick. Annabeth perceives him to be a whore, though she secretly finds him quite entertaining and spirited, and Percy thinks her to be quite pretentious, though annoying her has it's benefits, and he's secretly starting to enjoy her presence. These haters can't help but become physically attracted to one another, and before long, they both find themselves unable to stop touching the other. But before long, both Annabeth's and Percy's pasts catch up to them. Mysteries are uncovered, ties are severed, and maybe, just maybe, love can set into the equation. Or maybe lust will dominate.

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RESERVED FOR LAW AGENCIES ONLY
[ unedited ]
[ 7.15.17 ]
[ 6,371 words ]

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

It was a series of consecutive, and very loud noises against the car that finally broke Annabeth out of her virtually dreamless and somewhat disturbing sleep. She drearily wrenched herself from the window she had been hugging (somewhat) while she had been dozing. Her legs felt weak, and so did her arms, and she resisted the urge to massage the kinks in her shoulder, her eyes still mercilessly groggy. Next to her (still some distance away) sat Percy, his body shadowed, his fists just subtly clenched, as was his jaw - and he was holding a gun in his lap. It took a few seconds for this to register, and when it finally did - her head shot up. Out of the corner of her eye, suddenly alert, she realized that the two front seats were empty - and yes, the border between them had been lifted.

The first question she asked was not, "What's going on?" It wasn't, "Where are the two bastards?" and nor was it, "Why do you have a gun?" In fact, she did not ask a question at all. She stated a command, because now she had entered a world where danger lurked in every corner, and she probably could not afford to be hesitant and stupid an surprised. Her father had taught her that much in her youth, and he still was teaching her this now, in his own way.

"Give me a gun." Wordlessly, he reached over into the back pocket of the seat in front of him, and drew out a small, and seemingly light Glock 28. He murmured something along the lines of, "It's reserved for law enforcement agencies only," distractedly (though she had no idea what to do with that information, but silently accuse him of stealing it) before turning away to look out the window, though she noticed that he was angled away from it. She took it, while simultaneously rolling her shoulders around to ease the kinks. The gun felt both heavy and light in her hands - it wasn't too heavy, nor was it too light. She could tell from just holding it that it was loaded, and ready to be used. Getting used to the feeling of the new, bold, black gun in her hands, she looked out the window, careful to leave some distance as she did, just like him. He was somewhat cautious, and if he did it, then it was probably for a good reason. And what she saw was actually both alarming and surprising.

She didn't know why she hadn't realized it before, but it was dark outside. Not completely dark, but there wasn't much light either. It was how it looked when sunset settled, when people went inside their houses, and the fireflies started to light up. It was that sort of dark. They were parked at what seemed like the side of the road, and opposite her, outside the window, was an overgrown, untamed forest. What was alarming was that it had gone dark (when had it gone dark, and why so suddenly? How long had she been sleeping?) and what was surprising was that it had gone dark. It was amusing; two different feelings, for the same reasons. The other alarming thing was that, at least ten yards behind them was a rusty truck.

And bullets were being fired out of the driver's window. Her eyes widened in alarm, before turning to her husband. Her wedding dress was no longer between them; it was wrapped in what seemed to be a plastic package and had been pushed into the open flap of the back of the seat in front of her, and she faintly found herself wondering if there were guns in there as well.

And then she asked the question, but not the expected one. "Do we shoot back?" He shook his head without looking at her, his hair in his eyes, playing around with the gun casually in his lap. "Frederick and Poseidon are still in the building, and we're under strict orders not to fight back." Her eyebrows drew together in confusion, taking in the outline of the destroyed building - it looked more like a warehouse, really - on his side of the window.

"How did they get out then?"

"They got out before the shooters started shooting." His lips twisted into a bitter smile at his words. "Shooters. Shooting. Before the shooters started shooting. Get it?" She looked at him, unimpressed.

"There are people trying to shoot us, and you're trying to make a joke?"

"Well, it's not exactly a joke, but - "

"Won't the bullets make dents on the car?" His expression turned serious, which she was grateful for.

"No. This car was borrowed from the FBI - " Borrowed. Sure. Her eyes narrowed, but she did not interrupt. " - and they have a whole array of cars that bullets can't harm. From what our sources told us, the cars were imported from Italy, so we searched for a possible seller, and it turned out that our sources were half-right, half-wrong." He smiled amusedly. "The woman that sold them had a Russian mother and an Italian father - " She raised her eyebrow. That was quite different, but not unheard of." - We initiated her into the gang as soon as we could, and she and a team of people have been working on making hundreds of these cars." Her focus was diverted momentarily.

"Does she do it on her own terms? And what is the car made of, if it can deflect bullets? Material that can successfully deflect bullets is virtually unheard of." She asked curiously, finding this piece of information quite crazy, yet very peculiar and interesting. You didn't see many cases like this in the world. He, on the other hand, looked bored.

"I quote, from another team of scientists that have been investigating it and are on our side, 'The material is shaped out of Carbon nanotechnology yarn, which can deflect projectiles without a trace of damage.' And projectiles include guns. Therefore, this nano-thingy ensures that the car does not get wrecked." Her eyebrow raised a inch higher. "Heard it from a team of scientists we have." He muttered again, looking away from her.

"Doesn't the woman know what her own work is made out of? Couldn't she tell you? Why did you have a team of scientists find out for you instead? And again, I repeat: does she do it on her own terms? Did she do it on her own terms?" His hand flew slowly towards his neck, scratching slowly and awkwardly, without vigor, and he stayed silent for a few moments.

"Chase, you'll have to understand." He ran a hand through his hair. "In the Mafia, everything matters. Everything is beyond serious. It's a life-and-death matter whenever you step outside, and inside - " He smiled grimly. " - things are no better. And things have upped many notches because of past events, therefore this thing - " He gestured between the two of them, silently pointing out their, er, relation towards eachother. " - had to happen. And if things were already bad, you won't imagine how bad things have gotten." He said, mulling over his words, and determinedly avoiding her gaze. Annabeth heard and didn't hear all that. But one message was plain and clear.

"This woman. You guys forced her in, didn't you?" A shadow slipped over his face.

"It isn't a matter of me forcing her in, or taking her in willingly - " And suddenly, a few pieces of the smaller puzzles came together. It wasn't a matter of me forcing her in, or taking her in willingly. Me.

"I was told," She said slowly, dread overtaking her insides. "I was told that you had a high position in the - the - one of the Mafias, Los Angelos or New York or whatever. And you just - you said so. You forced her to, didn't you? You needed it, and so you forced her to, her decision be damned."

"Look," he said loudly, his eyes getting darker and darker with a new type in intensity, one she hadn't seen before. He was putting up his defenses. "This matter was put down years ago. It was settled years ago. The girl forgave us for whatever was done to her, and she did her part. She left, but she still makes them for us to this day, willingly. She got over it. If she was able to get over it, I suggest you stick your nosy ass out of business that isn't yours, and - "

"Don't you freaking dare tell me what to do, you - "

"You what? What are you going to call me, huh, Chase? A bastard? A murderer? A psychopath? Another word in your long list of meaningless retorts?" He taunted her, his face getting darker and darker. "Because they will all bounce off me. I don't care." He spat, his green eyes gleaming with something monstrous, and this sudden shift in behavior took her aback more than she could admit. "I am a bastard. I am a murderer. I am a psychopath. I am everything bad. I am unbelievably bad. You'll start to understand that soon." He sneered at her, the crease making a dent in his voice, making him look very different.

"Yes," She nodded at him stiffly, her jaw clenched not-at-all subtly, her grey eyes blazing just as much as his, with just as much intensity. "Yes, I can see that. I think I've known that for a long time." The way I act with you isn't the same way I act with everyone else.

She had suspected this. She remembered meeting that cold, arrogant man that first day in Olive Garden, how she had been able to strip him bare mentally, and how she had found someone entirely different in his eyes. How she had realized that he was many different things.

She wondered, just for a moment, who it was she had been seeing the past few days. Arguing with her, kissing her hand when she bought the cars, vulnerability alight in those emerald green eyes. Now, he was everything the opposite. He had not been lying. She was seeing someone entirely different now.

The way I act with you isn't the same way I act with everyone else.

"Did you now?" He was still sneering at her. She did not answer. "I realized it before meeting you. But apparently, actually meeting up with you fucked up my brain, because you were everything I did not expect, but I should have known better." The words were out of her mouth before she could control them, and to add to that, her head was steaming, and she was feeling quite abnormally warm. She ignored how her words sounded particularly naive and vulnerable.

"Boo-hoo for you, Chase," he said in a ugly voice, before a particularly strong THUMP! vibrated inside the car, interrupting their pleasant conversation. Annabeth's shoulders immediately tensed, and she noticed how his hands tightened considerably on his gun.

"Should that have worried us?" Annabeth asked, her voice rigid, noting how the beginnings of a worried expression started to overtake his angry face. He forced himself to lay back, but his actions were strained, his eyes focused on the area the bullet had ricocheted off.

"They shouldn't be taking this long," he murmured under his breath, and, looking anxious, looked up at the top of the car. Annabeth took a curious moment to appreciate and wonder about how different his character had become, and yet, how similar he still was to her. He was serious, and he was closed off. He wasn't joking anymore, and he was uneasy - he had transformed into someone entirely different from the man he had been just yesterday.

He was also monstrous.

This was the man who led the Los Angelos Mafia. This was a little bit of how he was used to acting, he how did act - and she both admired it and hated it.

"What are they doing inside?" Percy shot her a sideways glance.

"They're trying to find out if they can get you initiated right now," he said absentmindedly, squirming fitfully in his seat. "They've been gone for at least an hour," he added, his voice stiff, as if remembering she had just got on his nerves and he could, in no terms, be civilized with her.

"I thought your father said that they are very busy - and wouldn't be able to initiate me until later?" She chose not to mention how they had gone into a wrecked warehouse to find out further information on her initiation.

"Well, it seems they skimmed over the fact that you were a Mafia gangleader's wife. And they want to get your training started as soon as possible. You've been taught in your childhood, so your skills should be rusty at the most - " Annabeth pursed her lips at the sound of "a Mafia gangleader's wife," and decided not to mention how she had almost no memories of being taught self defense, as well as different techniques of fighting when she was young. Yes, there were a few, and she knew she used to do karate, and she could throw a decent punch (her high school years proved that) but - actual fighting? She only distantly remembered something like that...

But then again, there were many empty spaces in her memories of her childhood. Many empty spaces indeed.

"And here they are," Percy said, relief overtaking in his voice, and Annabeth looked out into the direction he was looking at, moving closer in order to do so, and they brushed shoulders a few times. Neither of them seemed to notice. Annabeth's eyes crinkled together. "They're calling us, I think," and Percy looked just as confused as she did.

It was hard to tell through the shady window, and the darkness gathering outside, but the faint outline of two men registered just underneath the teetering roof of the wrecked warehouse was visible to the eye, and the red hair could not be mistaken. Poseidon seemed to be - oh. He was beckoning them into the warehouse.

"I wonder why," Percy said distantly under his breath, before moving so suddenly, his shoulders had direct contact with Annabeth's. Their eyes met for a moment, barely five inches between them.

"I don't hear the sound of them shooting anymore," he breathed, and Annabeth, feeling her insides start to warm, and her heartbeat start to race (it had nothing to do with their close proximity, thank you very much) moved back a few, careful inches. She turned to look out her window.

The rusty truck was nowhere in sight.

"They're gone," she said, but something seemed incredibly off to her. Why would they leave, just like that? "I don't think we're out of the danger zone yet," she murmured.

"We're going to have to make a run for it. There's no other available option,"

"Why would they stop shooting just like that?" Annabeth found this incredibly suspicious, and her mind started to race ahead, examining all the possibilities.

"They haven't left, that's for sure," he stated grimly. "We're going to make a run for it." He said firmly, his voice holding no space for argument. She wasn't going to argue anyway. There was no other alternative, and there was nothing to argue about anyway. He turned towards her, his mouth stretched into a grim smile, his green eyes somehow both unsettling, bitter, and mischievous. "Ready, wifey?"

She had half a mind to snarl at him, but her heart started to race even faster in anticipation. This was the beginning. Everything was starting. This was her first move.

"Shut it, Jackson," she said without much conviction. "We're going together?"

"Together."

It sounded so much like a promise. Annabeth did not have good experiences with promises. She didn't like how it sounded like a promise.

Percy signaled to his father, we're getting out, by gesturing towards them, and then making a sign showing that they were going to get out. His father bowed his head - no, he didn't nod, but he bowed.

After this, Poseidon waited for a few moments, just standing there silently, Frederick next to him.

"He's going to raise his head," Percy said quietly. "That means one. He's going to lower, then raise, that's two, and then lower, until the third time he raises his head. Then," he said, with some sort of excited fervor entering his voice, his green eyes glowing in the darkness with a strange type of happiness, "We make a run for it." Her heart started to beat faster and faster, drumming like a drum, whizzing like a frisbee, as Poseidon raised his head.

Then lowered it.

Raised his head again.

"When we run," he whispered urgently, "Take your gun. When we run, try and get a good look at them, and see if you can shoot them. Got it?" He asked. She nodded, her attention elsewhere, but faintly registering his words anyway.

Poseidon lowered it.

"Get ready, darling," he purred sensually (and who knew why he was trying to be sexy before running for his life?), and they both slid together in the same seat, guns in hand, waiting anxiously, and Annabeth, anticipating the moment they would run, did not bother to go off on him for his use of nickname, or his tone of voice. Her mind raced, her heart raced, her body raced. She was itching for some action. This was going to be hella different.

Poseidon raised his head, at the same time he pressed a button on something, and a loud click of a car being unlocked was heard. In a flash, Percy had her wrist gripped tightly, and he was pushing the door open - and she let him take the lead, because she was new to this and her head and her heart and she herself were all thundering dangerously, and then they were running, running, running, they were both running at the fastest Annabeth had ever run, and she could feel it, the wind both spiking and calming her anxiety, and her anticipation, and she felt good, she felt great, no, she felt amazing, but her heart was heaving, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe, she was going to slip, she wasn't going to make it -

It was the sound of shots ringing that finally made her make the effort, made her duck, made her push herself to run, to keep on going, and why was she making this so damned dramatic - ? She couldn't exactly turn around and look to where the shots were coming from, because they were coming from everywhere, and she very well could not turn around, that would slow her down and could very well cost her her life. So she pressed her gun hand to her back, and shot, once, twice, thrice, and they rang thunderously. At her side, Percy was smiling maniacally, his hair ruffling wildly in the breeze, and on further inspection, his green eyes sparkling and alight. Shots rang past them, and Percy turned for a moment, and shot a few shots of his own, one, two, three, and Annabeth felt a slight prick at her side, but moved to the right so quickly she didn't even realize it. She and her husband were still connected by the hands, for their hands were still intertwined and then - and then - they made it.

They made it.

They freaking made it.

She panted as she reached the two men, but Percy wrenched her firmly and pushed her into the side, taking himself along as well, and the two men, looking perfectly composed, quickly pushed themselves to the side as a few dozen gun shots rang out in the warehouse, and whizzed past them.

"That was surreal," Annabeth said, her voice cracking, hands on her thighs.

"That was amazing," Percy grinned, his smile free and open and wide. "I haven't felt that good in weeks." Both Annabeth and Percy suddenly felt a sting in the inside of their elbows. "Compose yourselves, we're going to go meet a fellow delegate in ten minutes," Poseidon growled, and they both immediately straightened out. Annabeth dusted off her tee and dark jeans, and ran a hand through her blonde hair. Percy watched her warily for a few seconds, his excitement melting, his eyes lingering on her hair, on her face, before turning away to inspect himself when Annabeth caught him looking.

She brushed it off, instead turning her attention to Poseidon.

"What do you mean by 'we're meeting a delegate?' And what have you been doing all this time?" She asked, her grey eyes narrowing, turning towards the two older men. They exchanged a look, before Poseidon looked at her long and hard. Instead of answering her, he said something else.

"You're someone important." He said, his green eyes swirling with curiosity, so much similar to his son's. "They've sent people after you. They want you. Do you know why, Annabeth Chase?" His use of her full name, of his serious tone, confused her.

"I'm sorry?" His eyes narrowed.

"You're her daughter, yes, but of what use will you be?" He looked at her beseechingly, curiously, as if she might know the answer, but she didn't even know what he was talking about, much less the answer to his nonsensical questions. Percy stepped up in front of her, almost defensively.

"Of course she's someone important." He growled. "We're all important. Why did you marry me to her, then, if she wasn't?" Annabeth was sure she was missing something here. She pushed Percy to her side. She didn't need him to defend her. He'd done enough today.

"No, I know that, she's important in our standards - " He waved his hand around, and Annabeth didn't miss her father's warning look. "But what do they need her for? They were shooting more for her, than they were for..." He trailed off, assessing her critically.

'Father," Percy said warningly. "You said something about a delegate." Annabeth was sure he was trying to change the topic. Her interest piqued in the subject.

"Make things a little foggier, why don't you?" She said sarcastically. "I have no idea what you're all talking about." Poseidon was still eyeing her suspiciously, but when he next spoke, he let go of the subject.

"We're getting you initiated today, Annabeth."

"I thought - I thought you said we'd have to wait a few weeks into our honeymoon..?" She asked, her mind muddled, confusion overtaking her insides.

"Well, it seems as if things are much more dire than we expected - "

"I'd like to know what the fuck is going on." She said angrily, interrupting her. She ignored her father's astounded look at her use of language, and Poseidon's raised eyebrows. "I am tired of being kept in the dark. What happened, what was up with the shooting, who are we meeting, and what the hell is happening?"

Next to her, Percy exasperatedly ruffled his hair. She rounded on him. "Oh, I'm sorry, are my questions bothering you?" She snarled. "Wouldn't you just love it if a group of three men were with you and they know everything about fucking everything, and you know absolutely nothing, and you're being kept in the fucking - "

"Annabeth," Percy said, his eyes widening with realization, as he brought his hands up in front of him. "It's nothing like that. You're getting the wrong impression."

"Am I now?" She seethed.

"I swear to you, it has nothing to do with that." Evidently, he had understood what Annabeth was getting at, while the two older men had not; she found it quite insulting that she was the only girl in the group, and therefore was not being told anything for (supposedly) because of her being a girl - but no, that had absolutely nothing to do with anything.

"Annabeth," Poseidon said, not unkindly. "I'm sure it's not what you think it is. You're new to this, and you'll have to understand that," he said firmly. He checked his wrist. "We've got a minute left. Let's go."

ANNABETH WAS ACTUALLY quite sure that wrecked warehouses did not lead to underground meeting places. If the area they were in could actually be considered a 'meeting place.' It was an endless expanse with metal walls, and the air smelled suspiciously alot like smoke, and the moment they stepped into the room, abandoning the creaking, wooden stairs behind them, a silent buzz went throughout the room.

At the same moment they stepped in, another portly, Russian man stepped in. He wore a small black and white suit, with a thorny red rose pinned to the breast pocket - and Annabeth thought that the red color the rose was was a little - darker. There was something different about the color of the rose, something abnormal, and her mind raced ahead of her and - she was sure the rose was the color of blood. Actual blood.

Next to her, something about Percy's stature changed. She could feel it without turning to look at him, and something about the man's gaze made her sure that it would go horribly wrong for her if she did. Every move she made was to be calculated precisely, never to be giving off the wrong vibe - and everything she had almost forgotten the past week because of her husband's different nature came back to her.

Stand tall and proud. Clear your mind, clear your eyes, clear your face. Give the man nothing but cold. Do not give the man anything but the cold. Do not, under any circumstances, show any sort of emotion.

The man bowed his head, but not at her or the two older men. He was particular to bow to Percy, and Annabeth became aware that the two older man had taken their places behind both Annabeth and Percy. She sensed a similar change in their stances as well.

"Don." The man murmured. Boss. "Eto bylo davno, master." It has been long time, master. Annabeth recognized the language. She had studied this Russian dialect as well as others, French, and Latin for over two years.

"Afansei." Percy acknowledged the man, and Annabeth was sure she had never heard his voice like this every before. Her insides went cold, and her mind went blank - like it was supposed to. She searched the man, assessing him, undermining him and his weaknesses and strengths, without moving her eyes from his face. The man did not look at her; he barely acknowledged her.

"Vy pozvonili?" He asked. You have called?

"Govorit' na angliyskom, Afansei." Percy growled. Speak English, Afansei. "Eto moya zhena," He gestured towards Annabeth. This is my wife. Annabeth made sure not to move her jaw; though the urge to clench her teeth was undeniable. "Ona dolzhna uvazhat'sya." Give her respect.

The man finally turned to look at Annabeth, and she noticed there was something ugly and appreciative in his eye. "My lady," he bowed just slightly, his voice hoarse.

"Net nuzhdy," she said sharply. Her voice was high and cold, the worst she had ever heard it, echoing in the metal room, sounding much more ominous and dangerous that ever. Besides her, she could sense Percy's surprise. She stood up taller, looking down on the man. He shrunk back an inch, his eyes wide. There is no need. "Opusti vzglyad." Lower your gaze. She said it quietly, but loud enough to be heard, and she sensed the sudden change in room temperature.

The man obediently lowered his gaze, his face an immeasurable mask of shock.

"Izvinite, moya ledi," he murmured under his breath. I am sorry, my lady.

"Vy budete." You shall be.

"Eto razresheno, togda." That is settled then. Percy said it with a voice of calm, and beneath it, lurked something different. Something directed towards the man.

"How may I serve you, Moy uvazhayemyy?" How may I serve you, My respected? His English accent was quite different and quite - flavorful, but the accent was not at all right.

He said it while looking at the both of them, careful to keep his gaze between them. His eyes did not stray to the men behind them, who remained quiet. Annabeth senses Percy about to talk beside her, and though the urge to speak first was hard to deny, she let him take control of the situation. She was new to this, she would let them deal with it, she would learn, and then she would take things into her own hands.

"My wife shall be initiated, and we shall need a small group of reinforcements to take us to New York. The Los Angelos and New York Mafias are both quite minor, and as of yet, I can not travel to Siciliy on such short notice. From New York, we shall travel to - " He paused, his voice not hesitant, but controlled. " - a place of our own liking, and from there, we shall travel to Sicily. First, we shall have to initiate her here, and then move on to - " Another pause. "Important things."

Something flared in the man's eyes.

"DA, Don." The man bowed his head even lower. "I was told Master need such reinforcements before, and so I have brought. The ride ready, Don." His English was not entirely correct, and his accent was still very rich in his voice.

"Konechno, Afansei." Percy talked calmly. "I shall also require information, as to what has been going on since my leave of absence." There was something in Percy's voice, something dangerous, something menacing, and Afansei immediately bowed his head even lower, his form trembling slightly.

"Everything ready made for you, Don," he said, shaking. "Glavnyy Don, you shall talk to the Neznachitel'nyy once we are prepared."

Glavnyy Don. Major Boss. Neznachitel'ny. Minor.

"Very well, Afansei," Percy stated, his voice still dangerous. "We shall be going now. You shall lead the way." Annabeth suddenly became aware of the gun at the back of her jeans, shoved into her pocket, against her bottom. She wondered faintly if it would go off and destroy her bum. She found the idea amusing in her blank, free, empty mind.

Afansei, for some reason avoiding their gaze, unsteady on his feet, turned slightly to a specific spot in the metal wall. He tapped on it, his fist shaking, and for a split second, Annabeth had angled his face towards Percy to see his reaction. And what she say made her mind almost blacken. His eyes were gleaming recklessly, his gaze fized on the form of the stout man - and suddenly, Annabeth became very, very aware of the gun in her back pocket. She suddenly had a good idea of what was to come.

She felt so sympathy. He had looked at her as if she had been a piece of meat; appreciatively, as if she were food he wanted to taste.

The man tapped. Twice. Thrice. Then Once. Add that to that first tap, that was seven taps in all. A door formed in the metal wall where it hadn't been there a moment before, the sheen dangerously bright, before it swung open on it's own accord. The man stepped out, and the party of four followed, Annabeth having looked away from Percy. Since they were underground, the door led up to a series of ladder steps, and once climbed, it revealed the glorious night above.

They followed, and when they finally got out, Afansei was waiting at the side, sweating. Percy looked at him clearly. "Did I not say that you shall lead the way, Afansei?" The man squeaked - yes, he squeaked - and he hurried up ahead in front of the party.

Up ahead, waiting for them was a long, black, shiny limo. Inside it, through the open window, four men could be seen, with black sunglasses and smart suits, standing straight and stiff. Afansei led them towards the car, and rapped on the back door. A click could be heard, unlocking the car. He moved aside, and opened the door, revealing luxurious, velvety seats and air conditioning. The night was dark and had blackened considerably since they had entered the building, the shooters from earlier were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps that had to do with the fact that had exited from underground, and they were at the back of the building. Yes, perhaps it did.

Percy stopped straight before entering. You turned around, composed, and looked at the two older men, who stood several steps behind Annabeth, fanning out on either sides of her, looking official for some reason.

"You are dismissed," he said carelessly to his father and father-in-law, and out of the corner of her eye, she watched them nod. Then he looked at Annabeth, his eyes turning dark with intensity. He put a hand gently on her hip, inching slowly towards the gun, looking at her with the same intensity and desire, but there was still something else in his eye. He was a changed man now, Annabeth could not afford to forget that. Around other people, he was this man. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, and the hand on her butt pressed against the gun, but did not withdraw it.

She was quite sure he wasn't doing that just to be perverted.

The portly man cringed besides them at the intimate contact. Percy's thumb caressed her cheek gently, and on her own accord, Annabeth fixed a similar, lovestruck, lustful look on her face. "Are you ready, my darling?" He purred at her, his green eyes still gleaming, and while it might seem that he was talking about the ride and the long path up ahead, Annabeth got a different meaning.

He was about to do it. And he was going to make her do it. And at this realization, she came to recognize that bitter look in his eye as he watched her.

She slinked a hand around his neck.

"Yes, I am." Her voice was low. He smiled salaciously at her, and this time, instead of there being dangerous underneath, there was sadness right underneath the surface. She inched her head closer to his, and he did the same, and just as they were about three inches away - she snapped her head back, quickly and swiftly drew the gun.

It was like she was watching herself in slow motion, as she turned and angled the gun to slowly point it at Afansei's head, and then at his neck, where she could severe his artery. But neither of those were good enough options. No, they certainly would not do.

She watched herself, she watched her finger push back the trigger, and she watched as the bullet came racing out, and she watched as she shot Afansei straight in the chest, where his heart should have been.

Where his heart immediately stopped beating.

I have to say, I had tons of fun doing all that Russian. It was a nuisance searching up the correct words on the Internet, but honestly, for the most part, I found it part. The last part, the tense part, the dangerous part - I really enjoyed writing that part. Did anyone like Afansei? I'm curious. I don't care very much for him, and the way he looked at Annabeth at first did not help my thoughts on him. He is a lackey, an inconvenience to me, and so, what had to happen had to happen. He also seemed like a very suspicious person.

He is not needed.

And this is the Mafia. I was searching online today, and that is some serious stuff. A person's rank in the Mafia rises depending on how many people he has killed. And if this person has a grudge against anyone, they can go outside of the Mafia itself and do whatever the hell - as long as he as permission from this Council.

and concerning that i am a week late in publishing this - well, my grandparents have come for the first time and we've gone sightseeing for the past few days. (it's tiring.) not that you care about the excuse, but I thought i'd put it out there :) and i updated a week late, i know, i could have updated tomorrow - but i wanted to put this out there. i finished it today anyway - so why the hell not?

and by the way - i've edited chapters two and three.