Okay bots and girls, this is a bit different from the lighter things that have happened the past few chapters. With that in mind, I also wanted to let everyone know that this is starting to go a bit into the back story that I've been playing with for Sphinx. It's just one idea of many and I'll probably touch on others in the other stories I write. I own nothing but the ideas and my original characters . . . and I'll let you guys enjoy . . .
Bloodlines & Revelations
Augustus William Dashell sighed as he sank into the plush leather seat behind the ancient mahogany desk in his family study. It was days like this that he truly hated being a member of nobility . . . . but he knew someone had to do it. He reached out, picking up various pieces of post as he tried to organize the havoc that had befallen his workplace. It was a rarity for the desktop to be in such a state of disarray but he'd been rather lackadaisical about keeping up with the tedious paperwork that accompanied his position within the House of Lords.
It wasn't like the others actually did it anyway . . . they had assistants and scholars to do the actual work for them. And even then they rarely had everything they needed for meetings and votes. Blighters . . . .
He rolled his slate blue eyes, shaking his head as he made steady progress in cleaning. It wasn't like he had much else to do worth doing anyway. The parties and galas, meetings and lunches that had made up the bigger portion of his time over the past twenty years had gone from thrilling to dull and uninspiring very quickly. And he'd learned to deal with the constant boredom . . . . His hand brushed a slightly thicker piece of parchment and he raised a brow, pulling the elegantly inscribed envelope free from the other papers on the desk. He shrugged, pulling the small dagger he kept as a letter opener from the drawer and separating the lip from the body.
He found another smooth frosted vellum envelope inside the linen envelope and had to admit that the effect of the shimmering ink inside and the satin ribbons securing it closed was a nice one. Modern but still elegant. He looked back to the envelope, blinking slowly as he saw the address and crest stamped on the front. Guadimus . . . . He looked back to the vellum sleeve, slowly unwinding the ribbon to see what was inside.
Probably the invitation to Jacqueline's monster socialite wedding.
He'd heard, at the various social functions of London that the step daughter of the unorthodox but well-liked Lord was rushing into matrimony. Because she and Ambrose were apparently expecting a 'tiny bundle of joy'. He rolled his eyes again, depositing the ribbon carefully to the side as he broke the glittering black wax seal on the back.
Just what London needed . . . . more brattish offspring of the whorish and trifling little shits the upper crust had been producing over the past few decades. Seriously, one would think that the money and privilege that these children were born into would prevent some of the shit they could get themselves into. But apparently, they all wanted to be just like the Spoiled Brat sensation sweeping the former colony like a plague.
He looked over the invitation and sleeve, impressed by the feel of the paper beneath his fingers and the sheer elegance. This wasn't something the overly trendy Jacqueline or the harpy Selene would do . . . and then he saw the name at the top and smirked.
Chaosia.
Of course . . . .
The spunky wayward daughter from Guadimus's second marriage to that American woman. The girl wasn't anything like the rest of her family, choosing to stay in the States with her half brother-from her mother's first marriage that proved to be thorn in Bastian's side more often than not- and attend a public university. Completely snubbing the Ivy League acceptance letters and the standing offer from Oxford in favor of studying what she wanted and how.
The last he'd heard-from Prometheus anyway-in the Fall she was settling into a new home . . . And had apparently found some older chap she'd taken a liking to. He smirked, shaking his head. God in heaven help the bloke because Chaosia was a handful on her best days . . . he'd seen her and that little shit Ambrose go round and round over trivialities for years . . . and knew from his friendship with Bastian that her inappropriate attitude only got worse once she was back in the States. Though he was of the opinion that her brother was the bad influence, Augustus was pretty sure it was probably the opposite in reality.
He scanned the information, wondering who in the hell had decided that putting a name like 'Sphinx' was appropriate for a wedding invitation, before glancing to the bottom. He could go with Bastian if he asked, try and be moral support for his fellow . . . Then dropped it like it seared his flesh.
Because there, in glittering black and gray ink against white linen paper beside the Guadimus Coat of arms was his own . . . he looked back up at the names at the top, trying to place any family member that could have the gall to not only go through with this but to send him an invitation without asking his permission. As was customary since he was technically the Lord of the House of Dashell. And kept drawing a blank.
He reached over, grabbing the phone and searching for Bastian's number in the contacts. He would get to the bottom of this . . . but first he needed to clear his schedule. He apparently had a wedding to go to in two months time.
Chaosia groaned as she reached for the phone, looking at the bleary numbers on the screen in vain before answering it. Only an idiot would call her at three in the morning now that she was out of school . . . She just had to wait until the end of April to actually walk . . . . and then two weeks later she was going to march down the damn aisle haunting her dreams every damn night. Except for tonight . . . Sphinx-having taken on an extra shift at the morgue to start banking more time for their upcoming honeymoon-wanted her to at least get a good night's sleep before she had to go and do the dress fittings with her bridesmaids tomorrow morning. So he'd made her a huge steaming cup of chamomile and lavender tea, put on Monty Python-chuckling as he did so . . . and forced two sleep aids down her throat before tucking her into their monster of a bed and heading out.
And as mad as she'd initially been at him, she had been sleeping so soundly and deeply when the drug had taken effect that she didn't even remember dreaming . . . until the damn phone started ringing. If someone wasn't dying she was going to kill something.
"Hello?"
"Chaosia? Its Jacqueline . . . . Look I know its late but I need you to come get me."
Chaosia sat up slowly, running a hand over her face as she shook her head to try and clear it. Was her step-sister high? Because if she was while she was pregnant she would hop the next plane to kick her ass . . . . She blinked, trying to wake herself up enough to deal with this.
"Jacqueline . . . . I can't come get you. You're in London, honey. Are you okay? Did you take something?"
The whimpers and snubbing sobered her as she leaned forward and tried to concentrate on the phone call. She could barely make out what sounded like a dull roar in the background . . . and distant voices. What in the hell was going on? It was still too early even in Britain for her to be out somewhere . . . Something was wrong . . . very wrong. And Jacqueline's next words confirmed it.
"Actually I'm at LAX . . . I couldn't do it anymore . . . I left London Chaos. I left Ambrose . . . ."
Chaosia walked through the huge glass doors of LAX, pulling her black cardigan tighter around her as she tried to find Jacqueline in the crowd. This place never sleeps. She hadn't even thought to call Sphinx to tell him what was going on; she'd just thrown on jeans and a cardigan over her tank top and gone. But now that she was here she still couldn't wrap her head around what the hell was going on in London. Jacqueline hadn't said much of anything on the phone . . . just that she'd left Ambrose and was in LA County. And that no one back home knew where she was . . .
Now if she could just find her maybe she'd be able to get a clear picture on all of this . . .
She breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted her stepsister . . . to have to fight the emerging freak-out mode as she noticed the bruising around her cheek and her neck. Jacqueline had always been fair skinned; her peaches-and-cream perfect complexion naturally complimentary to her straw blonde hair-that was always styled to perfection. And hardly ever seen out of anything with a designer label stitched somewhere . . . But here, under the harsh glow of the fluorescent lights she could see that the girl's normally meticulous appearance was nowhere near its usual standards.
Her skin seemed hallow and ashen, the bruising dark and blue against her flesh while her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed and washed in a few days. The billowing black sweater seemed to swallow her whole while the jeans bagged . . . the slight bump she knew to be there not even visible beneath the bulging fabric. The huge blue leather hobo bag slung over her shoulder was her only luggage . . . other than the ratty stuffed rabbit that she was tucking reverently back into the bag.
Chaosia wanted to smirk at the rabbit, knowing that it was one of the few things that the girl had from her childhood that she actually cherished . . . hence its less than glamorous state. Jacqueline spotted her, moving quickly as she worked her way through the crowd. Chaos wasn't prepared for the bone crushing embrace she found herself in . . . or the tears that started bleeding into the fabric of her shirt as Jacqueline sobbed against her. She barely registered wrapping her arms around her stepsister and petting her hair, trying to work through the knots and tangles as the other girl finally broke down.
A few moments later, the stuttering and sobbed words that left her stepsister's lips broke her heart. Something she'd never figured the normally flighty and mean-spirited girl would ever be able to do.
"I'm sorry . . . but I didn't know where else to go . . . I just had to get away . . . Somewhere he couldn't find us . . . "
She nodded, pulling her tighter before taking he bag from her and trying to usher her towards the car. She'd brought the Aston because it was a smoother ride than her Chevelle . . . and she hadn't wanted to traumatize the girl too much by putting her in an American Muscle Car as soon as her feet hit American soil. Though now looking at her she was glad she had. The way Jacqueline moved screamed louder than her bruising that something horrible had happened . . . . and not just the beating. Hopefully the plush, heated seats of the One-77 would be a comfort.
As she walked them out and to the car, Jacqueline started to look better the further they got from the airport. When she got her settled in the car and started the engine, the other girl's shoulders sagged and she literally collapsed back and into the seat. When she pulled out of the complex, her stepsister's dark blue eyes were drooping . . . and by the time she started navigating her way towards home she was out like a light, head lulled to the side and propped against the door. Showcasing a very definitive and large hand print at the base of her slender throat.
Chaosia felt her blood boil as she turned, making sure to keep her eyes on the road as she reached into her jeans pocket and pulled her cell free. She quickly dialed the number for the Coroner's Office and asked to be transferred to the morgue. When Newman answered the phone she bit back a long suffering sigh and asked to speak with her fiancé.
A few seconds-and some very odd sounds-later, she heard a door slam before silence filled the line. She shook her head, slowing for a light as she made her way through downtown Long Beach. God could he not just answer her tonight?
"Sphinx?"
"Chaosia? What's wrong? It's almost six in the bloody morning . . . You should still be asleep. You have to be at that damn fitting before noon . . .and I am not going to be up to fight you awake."
She rolled her eyes, slowing for another light as she made her way towards the house. She really hoped he wouldn't blow a gasket over this . . .
"I know . . . and I would be if I hadn't gotten a call from Jacqueline at a little after three . . . "
He snorted and she could hear him grinding his teeth as he groused. She tapped her fingers against the wheel, counting the seconds down until his quiet grumbles became more vocal and she knew he would be willing to listen. If he didn't get his say then she could give up on him actually hearing what she needed him to. For a guy who usually didn't speak he could make it damn near impossible to get a word in edge wise when he got going . . .
"Oh? And let me guess, the silly little git forgot about the time zone difference . . . or was she calling to bitch because she was having to wear something she didn't hand pick for the wedding? I swear when I see your family in April, Chaosia; your father and I are going to have a nice long talk about keeping his wife and stepchildren in line. And out of our hair . . . "
She sighed, glancing over at the still slumbering girl beside her as she made the right onto Quincy Ave. Even from the end of the street she could spot the top of their roof and felt a whole hell of a lot better. She just wanted to be home . . . Actually she just wanted to wake up and find out that this had all been some sleeping pill induced nightmare. But the odds of that happening weren't exactly in her favor.
"Well, you'll probably be getting that chance sooner rather than later . . . Jacqueline called because she was at LAX. Alone and without anything but the clothes on her back and her purse."
"What? Why? What's happened?"
"I have no clue . . . but whatever it is I think it's really bad. All she's said is that she left Ambrose and she didn't know where else to go for 'them' to be safe . . . Sphinx, she looks like she's had the shit beat out of her . . . I don't know what to do about this, Baby . . . "
The silence on the other end of the line was ominous; his displeasure carrying even over the phone as he brooded over the information he'd been given. This side of him-the quiet brooding one full of meance- had always put her a bit on edge . . . but nowhere near as much as the words that he spoke slowly and carefully into the receiver. He was pissed. And she had a few guesses as to why . . .
"I'm lighting out now and I'll meet you at the house. Call Donnie and get his ass on the way. Wait on us and don't try to move her by yourself. If she's in bad enough shape then she'll need to be seen to . . . Is she still . . ."
Chaosia pulled into her driveway and hit the garage button before she reached out, placing a tentative hand on Jacqueline's stomach. She pressed slightly and the girl whimpered, curling more into a fetal position with her back to Chaos and her stomach almost completely covered . . . which worried her. Badly. But her abdomen was still tight . . . and swollen without any large lumps or nodules that pointed to any major damage. She hoped anyway . . . it'd been a long time since she'd been in Med School . . .
"As far as I can tell . . . just . . . hurry? Please. . ."
Sphinx pulled into their driveway as Donnie was getting out of his Jaguar, pulling the large well worn first aid kit from the passenger seat. The larger boost had used that poor kit almost to death over the years, slowly restocking it when his ex-wife would speak to him . . . and Sphinx was thankful for that now seemed to be one of those times from the bulging sides of the bag. They were probably going to need it. He parked, falling into step with Don as they made their way to the half-open garage. Donnie glanced over, only barely awake.
"Your girl was pretty vague about what's going on here, Big Guy. Care to fill me in?"
Sphinx shrugged as both ducked to clear the door and was happy to see Chaosia and Jacqueline still outside. Thank God she'd listened to him for once . . .
"Not a bloody clue, mate. Girl got the call that she was at LAX . . . and got there to find her alone and apparently roughed up."
Donnie raised a brow as they stopped at the back of the gleaming red Aston. He nodded to the car as he spoke and Sphinx was thankful that Donnie had jumped into this with both feet. That would be a big help should things be worse than he was expecting.
"Anything else I should know? She's not a user or anything right? Because Mikhail hasn't exactly had great things to say about her partying lifestyle . . ."
Sphinx shook his head, knowing that-from his limited conversations with Chaosia while she'd been away- that her stepsister had taken to pregnancy fairly well, leaving the booze, boys and parties her family had feared would ruin her upcoming nuptials behind her pretty easily in favor of trying to be a good mom. The turn around had surprised Chaosia but she'd taken it in stride . . . because it really hadn't done much to curb the other girl's self righteous attitude and snotty disposition. But even with the bad blood between them, he knew this was bothering his fiancé.
"She's pregnant . . . nearly four months along by now . . ."
Donnie cursed, growling as he stalked up to the passenger door and let Sphinx open it slowly. The girl was still asleep, tossing and mumbling occasionally as Chaosia held her hand and tired to soothe her; petting her hair and ever cautious of her injuries. Sphinx glared down at the girl, knowing that- for him and Donnie if the sharp intake of breath and the sound of his knuckles cracking as he clenched his fist was any indication- the dark mars vibrantly shining against her ashen skin was pretty ghastly.
He'd dealt out plenty of beatings in his day, spilt more than his fair share of blood and buried a few bodies . . . but even he couldn't fathom doing this. He might not like the way she was to his wife but Jacqueline was a member of Chaosia's family . . . making her a member of his by proxy. And whoever did this would suffer for it. He'd make sure of that.
He moved around Donnie, nodding as he bent and-gently-picked Jacqueline up. Chaos moved, unlocking the house door and holding it as he carried her in, Donnie following before she shut and locked it; the sounds of the garage door lowering muffled by the thick oak. He moved through the kitchen and living room to the largest guest bedroom, placing her carefully on the bed and stepping just outside for Chaos to rid her of the bulky black sweater and baggy jeans. He leaned against the wall while Donnie took up a post across from him, neither speaking as they waited . . . A few moments later, she stepped out-the dirty clothes in hand. She nodded to them, going to do whatever with the clothes-knowing her it was a toss up between cleaning them and burning them in the pit out back- and Sphinx saw she'd put the girl in one of his wife beaters; mindful of the dark splotches and marks blossoming around her neck.
Donnie came around, setting the bag on the bed before pulling out a few of the things eh was most likely to need. Wraps and bandages, antiseptic and antibiotic ointment were all placed within arms reach before he turned to Sphinx uncertainly.
"Think I should try to wake her up? She comes to while I'm checking her over and she's liable to freak on both of us . . . and do more damage if anything's torn or broken . . ."
Sphinx considered the option before shaking his head. She'd barely twitched when he'd picked her up . . . and so long as Donnie wasn't too rough in his inspection she would sleep right through it. No need to add anymore drama to this than there already was . . . Sphinx sank into the chair beside the bed, ready to help should he need to and began listing the visible injuries and possible causes like he would at work. The bruising around her throat and face suggested not only attempted asphyxiation but assault with-at the very least-moderate force and a blunt object. Her cheek was broken, as well as the orbital process and the bridge of her nose . . . but she should be fine without reconstructive surgery if she didn't swell too badly. But none of the analysis prepared him for what was under the shirt as Donnie lifted it enough to look over her ribs and torso.
Jacqueline was still-obviously-pregnant from the slight swell of her lower abdomen . . . but her upper body was littered with bruises and marks; several just above what Chaosia had jokingly teased was her 'baby bump' when they were in London . . . . Though it really hadn't been anything at all then. Now three months later she was definitely showing and had definitely taken a pretty severe beating.
While her neck and shoulders seemed to have born the brunt of the attack, her arms were covered in what he knew were defensive wounds and the skin stretching over her left ribs was a bright angry red . . . with raised welts that looked far too similar to a heel print of a man's dress shoe. He glanced up to Chaos as she re-entered the room and knew she was drawing the same conclusions as he and Donnie from the look on her face. She reached out, tracing the print before shaking her head and covering her mouth with a shaky hand.
He didn't stop her as she left the room . . . just like Donnie didn't try to stop him from cursing when he saw the mate to the other print on her side. Right above her stomach . . . this had been deliberate. And he could guess the end that this had been the means to . . . Now, after they'd ensured nothing was broken or too severely damaged, he and Donnie were going to leave her to sleep. Lord knows she would need it . . .
As they made their way to the media room, he started analyzing the situation they'd found themselves in. Jacqueline had survived a pretty brutal beating . . . And come running to Chaosia to fix it . . . The question was why? The two weren't close, never had been despite Chaos only being a few years her senior . . . and she had-according to both his fiancé and future in laws- always been a bit wild. But she'd settled down tremendously when she'd discovered her impending motherhood.
She'd even offered to allow Ambrose to sign over his rights-to name the child a bastard to society-just so she could have it when he'd been lobbying hard for an abortion. A solution that-while nowhere near as scandalous as it had been forty years ago-would still put a blight against her name . . . and her family's while effectively destroying any chance of the child being able to claim any inheritance or recognition from the Windom's. Thus making life incredibly had for said child should they stay in London. Something he himself had far too much personal experience with.
He opened the door, spotting Chaosia curled up on the sectional with a half glass of what he hoped was water and her cell phone in hand . . . . talking very angrily into the device before taking a long draught from the bottle. Donnie stopped behind him before moving on to go behind the bar and grab a beer, passing him one of his own as he sank into the plush armchair.
Sphinx sighed, cracking open the bottle and draining half before sinking into the sofa beside Chaosia . . . who leaned into him even as she continued reaming whoever on the other end of the phone. He closed his eyes, trying to erase the sight of that girl beaten and bruised in their guest bed . . . because the circumstances swirling around her woke far too many unpleasant memories for him. Only Chaosia knew that he was-in the eyes of London society anyway-a bastard child to a noble house . . .
He shook his head, raking a hand over his face as Chaosia's words broke him from his own wallowing and self pity. He almost felt bad for whoever she was laying into . . . Christ was she pissed. And the barest hint of the British accent was leaking through and coloring her already colorful vocabulary.
"I don't give a flying fuck what you were told happened or why, Bastian . . . all I know is that Jacqueline just turned up here in Long Beach looking like she'd gone eight rounds of bare-knuckle brawling with a bloody pikey! She was beaten and kicked! Yes kicked! In the stomach while she was pregnant! Now I know that you and that little shit stain are friends so I'm giving you this opportunity . . . You will deal with this-before ten am my time or I will tell Daddy . . . No, I don't care will happen to him if I tell Daddy . . . Why?! WHY? Because Jacqueline is out sister you fucking moron! Did all of the inbreeding in your mother's family just manifest suddenly as a lack of relaying mental capacity? Because I know you are far more intelligent than to have just asked me that question . . . No I don't fucking care what time it is there! Deal with this. Now. Or so help me I will . . . you know what . . . Fuck you, Bastian. I'm calling Daddy."
Chaosia jerked the phone away from her ear, ignoring the clearly audible protests of her oldest brother on the other end as she hit the end button and pressed the speed dial for her father. She didn't even let her father get more than the first half of 'hello' out before she started. She was so pissed, so upset with Bastian that she was about to fucking scream. How dare he try and tell her that he already knew what had happened? She didn't a bit more believe that Jacqueline had attacked Ambrose in a drunken fit anymore than she believed that Sphinx was suddenly going to sprout wings and become the next fucking Cupid. She knew Jacqueline wanted this baby . . . more than anything she'd ever seen her want before. So when she voiced that opinion he tried to take up for that little shit . . . oh she would see both of them tagged-and bagged if she had it her way . . .
Her father for the most part was silent until she finished, giving him as much detail about the injuries and the account that Ambrose had drunkenly relayed to Bastian before he spoke. And when he did, she felt relief flood her. He would take care of this . . . and she would do her best to take care of Jacqueline until they could come get her . . .
"Bloody Hell! The boy asked Selene to take her on a soddin' holiday a few days ago . . . and we haven't heard from 'em since they lit out save some odd text messages the past two . . . Christ. Selene's been worrying but I kept telling her that they were probably just too busy to call. She'll kill him for this . . . Is she there with you know?"
"No Daddy. She's asleep in the guest bedroom. Look, you guys just figure out what to do and we can handle it for a few days . . . I just can't believe that Bastian took up for him, you know? I mean . . . I know Ambrose is a fucking tool. He always has been . . . and if my brother is going to act like that then I don't want him at the wedding. And I sure as hell don't want Ambrose here unless its as the sacrificial Lamb . . . "
"I read you loud and clear; Duckie . . . and I get it. I really do. I'll have a discussion with my wayward son over his choice in friends before we head out to collect Jacqueline . . . Just take care of your sister okay?"
"I will Daddy. I will. I love you . . ."
"Love you too, Chaosia. Go and try to sleep some. I'll call you when I have a clue as to when we'll be Stateside . . . G'night."
Chaosia nodded, hanging up as she turned to look at Sphinx. Who looked just as bothered by this as she was . . . She sighed, setting the bottle on the table and glancing to Donnie shaking her head with a smirk. He was asleep with the empty beer bottle in his hand, head tilted back as he snored quietly. She leaned into Sphinx, nuzzling into his chest as he pulled her closer and dropped a kiss to the top of her head.
Eventually he broke the silence, speaking quietly as he worked his fingers through her hair. Much the same way she'd done for Jacqueline earlier.
"So I'm take it Ambrose is to blame for this? And your wanker of a half brother knew?"
She nodded, growling as his hands stilled in her curls . . . then winced as his fingers clenched into a fist. Shit that hurt . . . but she knew how he felt about all of this to begin with. He had good reason to be . . . emotional where this was concerned. And if she'd known any of his reasons before she'd drug him to London at Christmas she would've never suggested it. Because if her same dipshit of a brother she'd just cussed hadn't bowed out at the last second Sphinx would've surely been brought face-to-face with his own.
She'd recognized the crest for the invitations and asked the questions . . . and sworn to never bring it up again. She thought all of it was insanely unfair to him but he was content with the life he'd forged for himself in Long Beach-with the family he'd found for himself-and she would respect that wish . . . She just wished his half-brother would use his brain and see that he was still family.
She shook her head and he realized he was clutching her hair, releasing it with an apologetic kiss to the crown of her dark curls. She glanced up at him, reaching up to cup his cheek as he looked down at her. He seemed so weary . . . more so than he had after their huge fight in November . . . He leaned into the touch, kissing her wrist before placing his hand over hers as she went to withdraw it; keeping it there as he closed his eyes. Okay . . . now she was officially worried.
"Sphinx? Baby are you okay?"
Sphinx nodded, opening his eyes as he looked down at his future wife. He knew that this was more her deal than his but seeing that things within the Upper Caste really hadn't changed that much just made his heart hurt . . . which was pretty amazing because he had been sure that the girl moving to sit in his lap and cup his face in both of her hands held all of it. Chaosia sat up on her knees, looking down at him as she tilted his face to hers . . . which wasn't by much because he still towered over her even sitting; looking down at him with worry clear in her pretty eyes. He sighed, reaching up and brushing her bangs out of her face as he cupped her cheek.
"Fine, Love. Just tired . . . when are they inbound then?"
She shrugged, leaning down to press her forehead against his as his hands slid to settle on her hips. She pressed her lips against his briefly before answering him.
"They're gonna call when they know . . . As far as they knew she and Ambrose were on some sort of holiday for their anniversary or something. They just thought she was having so much fun with him that she just hadn't called to check in . . . Then these odd texts started pouring in and Selene was about to freak . . . Looks like it was justified . . ."
He nodded, looking up at her. It was easy to see that this was just as hard on her as it was for her family abroad. She'd been truly happy for the girl to have found something to ground her even if it hadn't improved her personality any . . . and he knew she was blown away by this. Despite all of her oddities and eccentricities, Chaosia still held this innocent view that children were always loved and protected. And she became very angry when they weren't . . .
He knew-now thanks to the time he'd had to spend with the man while they finished the house-that Paul's abuse at the hands of his father years ago had been the catalyst for their long-enduring friendship. And he could completely envision a tiny, compact eight year old version of his girl strolling right up to the battered boy and holding out part of her lunch like it would make the world better. Just like he could see her seventeen year old self threatening to shoot the old drunk when he'd come to collect his bleeding and abused son. He'd wondered, lying in the massive bed she'd chosen for them and counting the days til she came back, how his childhood would've been if someone like her had been around . . . before deciding to just be thankful he'd happened across her when he had. Even if it had cost him a coat and his peace-and-quiet.
He shook his head, trying to jar his brain back to the matter at hand as he looked up at her. She would try and fix this . . . just like she would try to help Jacqueline-and her child- anyway she possibly could. He'd know that the second she'd called him. She would rail against Ambrose and anything else that threatened them until she was satisfied they would be safe . . . just the same way she had for Paul. And he would help her.
He pulled her tighter against him, letting her settle in his lap as the sunlight started to peek in through the windows. Donnie's snores had gotten progressively louder throughout their quiet conversation and he knew he needed to rouse the other boost. Allocate him to the other guest bedroom or at least the couch . . . but he couldn't force himself to move. The night that was finally transitioning into day had taken a turn into something none of them were prepared for . . . and as soon as he could will himself into action he knew he needed to call Atley and Memphis; let them know about what was going on and what they might need to do. He hoped that this had been a drunken mistake by the little piss ant he'd met before, and that everything could be resolved fairly quickly and with as little backlash for him and his family-Chaosia and the crew- as possible . . . but his gut was screaming it wasn't. And they needed to be prepared should something come of all of this.
He sighed, feeling Chaosia's breathing even out as he let his own head fall back against the top of the sofa. He closed his eyes, rubbing her back lazily as she sighed and snuggled deeper into his chest. She really hadn't been sleeping well since she'd gotten back-between the wedding planning and receiving the results for all of her finals from school the week before-and tonight hadn't helped. It wouldn't hurt to let her doze for a little bit . . . . He shifted, reaching out and flicking on the TV; letting the quiet murmur from the news fill the space as he settled deeper into the sofa. He was barely aware of his own eyes drifting closed a bit longer every time he blinked . . . or his own snores joining Donnie's as he finally succumbed to sleep.
God . . . thirty seven chapters . . . sheesh . . . .