'Stilwater woke up in shock this morning: The triturated bodies of two men have been found inside a trash compactor right in front of the city's PD. They were later identified as Mark Calder and Phillip Perez by their police badges.

It's unknown whether the two deceased policemen were dead or alive while the engine went off, as it is unclear to the Stilwater Gazette who could be responsible for this gruesome attack.

Outraged citizens gathered since this morning at the crime's scene in protest, asking for authorities to put an end to this violence.

Present to pay his respects, Director of Special Projects Dane Vogel from Ultor Company declared:

"We have nothing but respect for those heroes, they died fighting crime to protect us and our families. Ultor is looking forward to see the whole city go under renovation, clean each neighborhood from gang activity so this madness can stop."

So far everything leads to believe that one of the city's gangs is indeed at the origin of the two murders, but the Chief of Police Troy Bradshaw refused to comment on the case.'

Max tossed the newspaper at the center table of his living room and unscrewed a bottle of whiskey. Next to it, there was a copy of a demission letter: He was no longer a cop.

He passed one hand on his forehead and leant back on the couch to think, but his worries were interrupted as the cellphone started to vibrate insistingly inside his pocket.

'Troy again.' He muttered and pressed the upper button to turn it off.

Did his ex Chief suspected that he was the one to tell The Saints where those scum cops were hiding after attacking The Boss?

Opening my eyes after a night high on meds was like watching a movie screen slowly opening from the middle, then trying to focus. The sides of my vision were blurred, but after some effort I understood that I was lying on my back and in bed, staring at the decrepit ceiling of my room and that I was back in The Hideout, safe.

I vaguely recalled escaping death the night before. Some images overlapped in my mind's eye: Old cars in an empty garage, me and Shaundi at TNA, Carlos telling me about his childhood in the dark and Max's worried face. The chronology of the events was messed up in my brain, but I was so tired, my body ached so much, that I didn't bother to make an effort to figure things out.

I tried to move, cautiously, since every fucking bit of me ached and let out a faint groan from this stabbing feeling on my sides.

At that moment the mattress moved by itself under my weight, calling my attention to the fact that I wasn't alone.

A hand slowly touched my head in a caressing motion as a familiar voice said:

'Morning...'

And without expectation, a complete, unknown happiness took control of my body, relaxing it. I felt calm, at home...

Without making a sound, Carlos waited patiently on the armchair for The Boss to wake up. He got up a couple of hours before, but even if some sleep made him feel better, he had no will to move from where he was.

Anguished, he simply sat there watching over her sleep.

He had one elbow on the arm of the chair, his hand was holding his head while it covered his eyes. At that moment he was analyzing everything that happened those last days:

'God. Look how you are, baby. Look how I am, look what I did last night. You wouldn't understand, would you. This is no big deal for you, or for Gat. Boss, this is no way of living. What kind of life did you have before to be able to put up with it? You know where this is going to end, don't you. Why you don't care if you die at all? I do. I fucking love you. What if I convinced you to drop all this shit? Would you do it, would leave with me?'

A faint groan coming from the bed made Carlos suddenly drop his thoughts and sit straight on the armchair.

She started to move and so he went sit next to her, striking her hair as if to let her know he was there, watching over her all this time and that he loved her very much.

'Morning…'

She smiled immediately and he came closer to kiss her.

'How are you feeling?' He asked.

She pressed her mouth on his ear, and muttered after a long silence:

'I'm happy.'

Her voice was shaking, indicating unmistakably, strong emotions.

Carlos didn't answer, but it would be clear to anyone watching, by the way that his tired expression changed, that he was over himself with joy.

The back of his hand slid down the side The Boss' face, tenderly, as a silent thanks for making him feel that way, then pressed his forehead on hers, staying like this for a long time. At the contact of his girl, he forgot his remorse and all worries that were eating him a moment before. It all faded. He simply enjoyed that blessed moment, forgetting everything else.

At the door, Gat's silhouette appeared unnoticed. He wanted to see how The Boss was and pushed the door slowly in case she was sleeping, but as soon as he saw what was going on he stopped and hesitated for a second.

Then, his expression lightened, his lips let out the tiniest smirk and he left shaking his head. He closed the door silently so he wouldn't disturb them.

On an apartment across town, we'll see Max getting himself ready to go out.

Next to the door, he placed a cardboard box full of the things he was supposed to give back to the PD. Files, his old uniform and some weapons.

He finished getting dressed and got the keys from his car. But as he approached the door he stopped in front of the box, kneeled down and hesitated. He slipped a cig in his lips to help him think, confronted to a dilemma:

'Why bother lying to yourself that's it is the right thing to do, you know you won't do it.'

He stretched his arm and recovered two things from the box: One was an USB card that he stuck on the pocket of his vest, the second was a file.

He stared longly at the cover that read: 'Criminal record - Valentina S. - Filiation: Third Street Saints.'

In that file was the result of his hard work and months of digging at Troy's request: Turns out his true mission, as he would be informed after (much to his disgust), was not to team with the Saints to get rid of The Ronin, but to gather info on their Leader.

He should've been proud of his investigating skills, for he did what no one could: Uncover most of The Boss' past. He was the sole person in that country to know so much about the mysterious criminal. But proud wasn't it.

Max quickly flipped through it, admiring his job painfully as the uncompleted phrases, and fragments of a story that hurt his heart, passed along with the pages :

'Under weight.'

'State suggested severe child neglect.'

'Possible sexual abuse.'

'Flew before being taken by an agent of Child Protection.'

'Arrested in Tihuana for stealing at a supermarket.'

'Confirmation that this illegal immigrant and the Leader of The Saints are the same person.'

He closed it. No. He could never pass such info ahead. She was going to keep killing innocents, she deserved to be behind bars, but never; he thought. Never by his hands.

He searched for his Zippo but before lighting the cig Max made up his mind and led the flame towards the file, incinerating it.

'Mind giving me a ride downtown?' Johnny opened the door and took a sit next to the driver.

'Nope. I left The Boss with Shaundi so I could pass at the church, we have plenty of time.' Carlos started the car as he replied. 'Samedi?'

'Yeah. Now that The Boss is out, I have to work for two. Hardly slept last night.'

'Me too.'

'You look dead tired, man.'

'These last two days haven't been easy on me, you can guess why.'

'I do. By the way, thanks for taking care of The Boss.'

'Oh, Shut up.' Carlos muttered, in a bad mood. 'Of course I would take care of her.'

Gat bobbed his head, impressed again at the change of Carlos' attitude. 'Now you're telling me to shut up.' He said, thought more of a statement than a threat.

'Sorry. I have a lot going on right now.'

'I see. Shall we call Pierce and get drunk?'

Carlos blinked, confused. Gat was hard to figure! One day he would be giving you tons of shit for dating his best friend, the next he would be offering you his friendship:

'I thought you wanted to kill me right now.'

'Seeing how you care about her made me change my mind, for the most of it. But I'm still keeping an eye on you.'

'Fine.' Carlos consented with a shrug. 'Well, I could definitely use a drink, if we don't take long.'

They took the car downtown and stopped at a flower shop, as Carlos wanted to pay his 'manda' and give thanks for finding The Boss.

Gat, much to his surprise, handled him 30 dollars and asked for him to offer a bouquet on Eesh's name too.

Carlos' car stopped at The Saints Row church, the former HQ of The Saints on the old days. The place brought a million memories to Johnny, but he decided to stay in the car. He wasn't really religious or even sure that a higher power existed. Besides, he felt that a person like him had nothing to do at a church. It was best to let someone like Carlos handle the PR between him and God, or whatever.

Gat watched Carlos' tired silhouette enter the church and kept thinking to himself that he was right all along about this kid not being gang material. Johnny felt bad for him, he knew that Carlos was a man of faith and that what he did yesterday was hurting on is conscience. Who could imagine that he was the one to come up with the idea for their death?

It didn't take long for the Lieutenant to go out though, and soon the two were seated enjoying their much deserved beers after the exhausting days of worry.

'I didn't know you were catholic?' Carlos asked curiously.

'I ain't. But Eesh was.' Johnny explained quietly, as solemnly as his irreverent ways allowed.

'Oh... Right.' Carlos replied respectfully, remembering that even a dude like Johnny Gat had his dark moments in the gang. He thanked goodness in his mind that his love was still alive, but at the same time something like panic got associated with this idea, like Gat's loss could be a foreshadowing of his own in the future.

It was like Johnny read his mind when, with a sip, he said:

'You better get used to what happened last night. It's all part of what we do. It's always gonna be like that. Honestly, don't keep thinking about it or it will drive you nuts.'

'I wish I could.' Carlos sighed, and almost emptied his entire beer in one drag.

He didn't know Gat so well, but right now he looked so open and friendly that he decided to speak frankly to him. Besides he felt that if someone could understand what he was going through more than anyone else, it was him.

'Can I pop a personal question?'

Gat scratched his chin, took another sip and replied:

'Unless it's about the color of my underwear, shoot.'

Carlos chuckled and joked back:

'I hate to say that we all know you only have purple ones. You hang them to dry plain in sight before breakfast where everyone can see. It takes my hunger away every time.'

'What can I say? Nuts don't go with cereals.' Gat laughed, but soon regained seriousness. 'So?'

'Have you ever thought of dropping your flags and going straight?'

'Once. Because of Eesh.'

'What happened?'

'About four months ago, we thought she was pregnant.' Johnny confided, with baffling sincerity. His eyes got lost on the wall of the bar, with all the sadness of a life that could have been. 'We decided that we were going to do this for real, no more break ups. I was going to tell The Boss, but it turned out to be a false alarm. Of course we had another huge fight after that, I can't remember why. It was our thing. On and off and on again.' He continued with found nostalgia. 'So we dropped the idea. But yes, I would've done it even if I think I would've made a terrible father.'

'You wouldn't.' Carlos considered. 'If you were willing to give up everything else for your family.'

Gat nodded, pleased with that thought, but then his canny stare went from the wall straight into Carlos' big eyes, assuming:

'And you're asking this because of The Boss.'

'Not gonna lie. I am.' Carlos ordered another beer.

'You pretty serious about her then?'

The Lieutenant gave Johnny a tired look and opened his bottle at edge of the table.

'Of course. I think I can give her a better life.'

'She ain't gonna do it. The Boss would never leave The Saints, Carlos.'

Carlos lowered his head, vanquished. He had to agree with Gat, against his will.

But he would never expect the following words would leave Johnny's lips:

'That being said… If she ever agreed… You have my blessing.'

Carlos stood there with his mouth hanging, surprised as fuck. Inside him, a new ray of hope was lit. Before he could recover from his shock Johnny already regained his laid back ways and rose from the chair:

'I am going to take a piss. It's on you, man.'

'No problem.' He replied, a small twitch finally on his lips.

He had just reached for his wallet and tossed a couple of bills at the table, when his cellphone started to ring.

He retrieved it from his pocket, watching the screen: 'Unknown number. This is odd.' He thought. 'Hello?'

'Is this Carlos Mendoza?'

'Who the hell is this?'

'Max.'

Oh. It was Payne. The Boss's ex and savior.

That guy really knew how to ruin a good time, didn't he?

Carlos got his mouth closer to where the mic of the phone was and almost yelled:

'How the fuck did you get this number?! '

On the other side Max showed that he too, had a bad day:

'Am I to explain you that cops are not as dumb as you think or just sit back and put up with your shit as usual?'

Carlos rubbed the back of his neck fiercely as he tried to get his temper under control. After all, this man saved his girlfriend:

'Ok. Fine... What is it?'

'I have something important to discuss, I need to come to the Hideout.'

'You should call Johnny, he is the one in charge for now.'

'I couldn't reach him. So lucky me, I'll have to deal with you. Just to let you know I am on my way.'

The other side cut it and Carlos released his anger by sending the phone to the ground.

'Asshole.'

Max climbed down the stairs of the main hall escorted by a gangster girl carrying a machine gun. Taking it by her constant smile, she probably remembered him from the party. He apologized for been late, and said that the reason was a black kitten that he rescued and now held between his fingers.

'Sorry, I found this little guy lost upstairs.' He explained as he stroke the animal's back with his innate mix of rough charisma and sweetness.

The Saint girl picked up the cat and started to laugh at the little pussy cat's effort to catch the fingers that Max playfully wiggled above it, her body language suggesting that she wouldn't mind if the visitor took care of her pussy as well.

At a corner, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Carlos rolled his eyes, more annoyed than ever. 'Why don't you take your dime store hero act somewhere else, Don Juan.'

He decided it was best to swallow his hard feelings for now and raised an arm politely inviting their guest to the adjoint room, so they could speak without being disturbed.

The two entered what used to be the game room of the hotel, it had two big old couches and a pool table.

Carlos took a sit and made an effort to be friendly:

'Sit down, please. Drink?'

'Sure, why not? It's not like I am on duty.' Max accepted the whiskey that was passed to him.

'So...I'm listening.'

Max took an USB card from the pocket of his vest and tossed it to Carlos.

'The man who planned the attack on your Boss is a close friend of Dane Vogel. I caught some security camera footage that puts them both in some deep shit. He even owns a Penthouse loft in the Suburbs under Ultor's payroll.'

'Thanks for the heads up.' Carlos said, looking at the USB card. 'And…'

There was a moment of awkward silence where he simply watched his fingers turn the object, then he continued.

'…Thanks for what you did for The Boss last night. I… I Appreciate.'

'No problem. I also came here because wanted to ask you to take care of her. She told me you guys are close.'

'We are.'

'As close as she and Gat I suppose, so…'

'As in close as in a relationship way.' Carlos answered.

'Oh... You two... Ah, I see.'

And with that... Max felt that he had little else to do there.

'I definitely came to the right person then.' He chuckled in resignation. 'Well, my mission here is done.' He swallowed the last drops of his drink and rose.

'Guys please escort Max out.'

'Hmm, actually, I would like to see her. Got some stuff to discuss in private, if possible.'

At that, Carlos halted. The almost friendly expression on his face vanished while two little wrinkles formed in the space between his forehead and his nose.

For him, the word 'private' had the power to ruin everything, and splatter crap all over their white flag. Gratitude, mind and manners, it all vanished. All that he could see in the cop now was a rival. He wasn't far from the truth, since his instincts read Payne beyond his words: That guy still had feelings for The Boss.

'I will show you to her room, we can talk there.' He replied rashly, his expression closed.

Max body language switched immediately, starting to become pissed too. So he had a small laugh and replied sarcastically:

'I didn't see that one coming.'

'Excuse me…?!' Carlos raised his voice and stared back aggressively.

'I remember how you tend to follow her around like a puppy!' Max yelled back.

At that Carlos pushed Max, who reciprocated and pushed him even harder.

Attracted by the loud voices, Gat stepped in followed by Pierce and a few more Saints. He got between them and tried to avoid a fight.

'You think I will be told what to do by some little punk who's still in his diapers?' Max taunted over Gat's shoulder.

'Forgot to mention your adult diapers, the motherfucking geriatric ones!' Carlos kicked him from under their human barrier and things went out of control.

Gat was pushed to one side, unable to retain them any longer.

Max passed his arm over Carlos' neck and put him under a head lock.

The two stumbled from left to right, fighting for control.

'Even an old man can beat the shit out of you when he's pissed!' Max replied, his drunken arm had the steadiness of steel.

Carlos lost no time and punched Max on the stomach, the second started to let go unable to hold the pain.

The Lieutenant gasped without air, but it didn't take the power away from his arms. He kept punching so strongly his opponent was forced to loose the grip.

With this Carlos freed his head, ready to retaliate and 'whooch!', spat right on Max's face.

Disgusted, the cop passed his fingers on his face to clean it, staring at the sticky line attached to it.

'WHA…!' He roared as his expression twisted with rage.

He jumped towards Carlos and aimed his elbow on his face, but Carlos dodged and grasped his arm, twisting it.

Like too enraged wolves, they struggled alternating grips, each side desperate for dominance.

Their eyes were frozen on one another, dangerously mixing intimidation and bestial anger. The Saint crew, by then, had formed a loud circle around the men.

The ex-cop saw a brief moment of hesitation from The Saint and tried to submit him into another head lock, but Carlos used all the strength of his body, turned and pushed him to the nearest wall.

The ex-Sargent's hit his ribs painfully on the bricks and stumbled, falling on his knees.

In a moment of defeat, he raised a hand significantly so he could get up, surprised with the strength of his opponent.

Carlos could have used this moment to attack him, but merely circled around proudly waiting for Payne to get up.

He did so and Carlos came closer to kick him, but Max dodged and punched him straight on the chin. His body swung backwards, his mouth sprayed blood. But he was too pissed to even give a shit.

He merely missed a few steps, and whipped his mouth without breaking eye contact.

'Did it hurt, little boy?' Max asked him, panting.

Carlos swallowed the rage caused by these words. In one fraction of second he noticed Max's guard was open from the left, so he turned and threw a powerful spin kick.

Max still had the time to see it coming and hold Carlos' leg, but he couldn't deflect it properly: The foot hit him. He fell backwards taking The Saint with him.

'Ouch!'

Carlos landed on his stomach, unpleasantly crushed under Max's weight. His chin hit the ground, cracking the skin open.

Quickly, Max grabbed Carlos by the shirt and started punching his face while his own nosebleed rained over the Lieutenant.

Carlos endured the punches and covered his face with his fists.

Max, on his side, seemed to be running out of steam. His punches slowed down until a big kick coming from bellow hit his stomach.

On the limit of his endurance, Carlos saw what happened next through a veil:

His adversary hugged his gut in pain, bent over himself and slid to one side.

A wild feeling of achievement washed through of his body, he let his head fall back with a victorious and absolutely exhausted sight.

Upside down, he could see the crowd going wild.

Carlos told me he wanted to bring me something bigger from the flower store, but he said that if he did people would notice.

My attention was on the improvised vase (an empty whiskey bottle) over the nightstand.

A white rose, most of it's petals still not open.

I held it in my hand and the sweetest feeling I've know so far flooded my heart.

It hit me, that I was loved.

I had so much love during those days, probably more than I've ever had in all my life.

To think I was so afraid of it, that I wanted to run... But hey, how could I deserve something so wonderful as this?

My focus shifted as I felt something wet falling over the little treasure in my hands, and quickly opened my eyes to see what it was.

The flower now had little pearls of water all over it. In disbelief, I touched my cheeks and found out that they were wet too.

My body was shaking, but it was a wonderful sensation. I closed my eyes fiercely, wanting to make that moment last as long as possible.

But since nothing that it's too good it's bound to last for long, seconds later the sound of voices and things clashing coming from the main hall interrupted my magic moment.

I could hear, over the muffled sound of broken furniture, something like crowd cheering. Several voices yelling together:

'Carlos! Carlos! Carlos!'

What the fuck...?!

I carefully put the rose over the nightstand and rushed to check.

On the way out of my room I bumped into Shaundi, who was just as puzzled by all the noise.

'Can you tell me what is going on here?'

She told me that she was in her room and that she had no idea.

I leaned on her for support, and she took me to the main hall, where she halted at the top of the stairs, pointing down:

'Oh my God, Boss, look!'

I wasn't prepared for this.

On the room below us the couch was turned, broken bottles of beer scattered over the floor.

Layers of loud people, swinging their fist in the air, formed a purple circle with two men in the middle:

Carlos and Max were lying on the floor in the front of the entire crew, who was yelling and extremely excited to see their fight.

I was relieved to see that Carlos recovered from his side and got up, but Max just remained there coughing, probably from exhaustion. Carlos had enough dignity not to kick the man on the ground, but I heard him taunt:

'What's the matter? You having a heart attack? Shouldn't have popped that blue pill?'

Between gasps, his adversary let out a scream of rage:

'You... Little... SON OF A BITCH!'

To my surprise a very pissed Max used his last drop of stamina to drag himself on the floor with his arms, then ferociously grabbed and bit Carlos' leg in retaliation for suggesting that he needed Viagra. I winced.

'Aaaaaargh! What the fuck!' Carlos said kicking Max with his other leg, hoping he would let go, but my ex's teeth remained sunken in his skin like an alligator's. It was only when he really went out of air that he backed off.

'You fucking bit my leg!' Carlos touched the wound and looked in disbelief at the blood on his hand. 'Motherfucker! He really bit my leg!'

I decided maybe it was time to end this classy display of gentlemanliness.

'Fight! Fight! Fight!'

Thirsty for some action, the crew asked non stop for another round.

They were also starting to throw knives, bottles and even a chair to the participants as weapons.

Next to the center of the ring, a Saint in a black and purple polo shirt was screaming and shaking his fist in the air while holding bills he collected from the audience with his other hand.

'I can kick your ass again.' Carlos defied Max. 'But before, should I ask the guys to bring you an oxygen cylinder?'

'Sure, if you wish me to shove it up your ass!' Max was starting to recover and stood up to show that he accepted a rematch.

Upstairs The Boss's silhouette briefly froze in shock, then hurried as best as she could to stop the fight.

She bumped on Pierce and Gat on her way down, and the two were so into it, they totally missed her:

'All right! Where did he learn these moves? Another fifthy on Carlos!' Gat placed his bet, applauding.

'He used to go to a Kung Fu ring in Sunnyvale with his bro.' Pierce explained, over the top. 'Tough call, Gat! Tough call! Max knows his shit, but our boy is in better shape and is faster! Fuck it, I'll make it two hundred!' He succumbed to his gambling rushes. 'Go, Carlito! Make us some bank homie!'

He almost had a heart attack when a hand touched his shoulder harshly and he saw who it was:

'What the fuck is going on here?!'

He and Gat froze.

The Boss' presence was enough to turn the loud noise into dead silence in a blink of an eye.

'Oh, shit.' Carlos and Max stopped to see why the room went quiet. As soon as they saw what kind of expression was on her face, they decided their beef wasn't so important and let go each other.

Head down, the four men lined side by side, hands crossed solemnly in front of their junk.

It all happened really quickly, but Max took notice, bitterly, that The Boss' first glance was to check if Carlos was ok.

'What does the gang's book says about fights within these walls?' She asked.

No one answered, by fear of getting framed.

She stepped in the circle and almost glued her forehead on Johnny's, aggressively:

'Gat…?!'

'Members must ask permission before they set their differences.'

She picked a broken bottle of beer from the floor, and showed the object in the air as she stepped towards Pierce.

'...And?'

'Uh. Bare handed fights.'

The object went flying and shattered on the wall behind them.

'What's this on the floor?' She pointed down.

Pierce hesitated as he didn't feel the answer he had was acceptable:

'…A cinder block. And, huh, a knife.'

'No one got hurt. The guys were just enjoying some entertainment, Boss.' Gat justified.

She frowned with annoyance, and Gat regretted immediately not having kept his pipe shut, since The Boss snapped an automatic pistol stuck on the sides of his jeans and smashed the frame on the back of his head as a warning. The Second missed a few steps, stunned, and while recovered found the barrel of his gun stuck to his face:

'You have a problem on how I run my crew?'

'Ouch! No.'

'I could expect this crap from these other punks because they're new. But from our Second In Charge? You, I expect to fucking know better.' She continued to walk back and forth, her voice dead serious and pissed. 'While I am laid down I let you in command for five minutes, and wake up to you taking fucking bets?! Is this a joke?'

'No, Boss.' Gat answered quietly.

'And that goes for everyone! This was the first and the last time, is that fucking clear?!'

'Yes, Boss.' Heads still down, the line of four men agreed together, along with the rest of the crew.

Shaundi, behind The Boss, pretended to be scratching her nose but actually covered her mouth not to laugh:

Max wasn't from the gang but seemed to have been caught in the moment, because he clumsy repeated 'Yes, Boss' too.

The Boss walked to Carlos and Max but both kept their heads down, pretending they were invisible.

The Lieutenant's cute face was marked by a huge trail of blood coming from his nose, his chin was also soaked. Max, on his side, had two black eyes and was holding a tooth.

'Fantastic!' She scolded and turned to the pile of cash over the counter. 'I am keeping this.' Much to Pierce and Gat's dislike, The Boss stuck the bills in her pajamas. From the corner of their eyes they exchanged an outraged glance.

A diffused and disappointed 'aaah!' rose from the crowd, possibly from those who also lost their bets.

It caused The Boss to lose her patience, she took Gat's automatic and fired some rounds in the ceiling to shut the gang up.

In response, the old hotel trembled a bit, some concrete detached and fell on top of them.

In the upper part that covered the underground there was a detonation and beneath their feet the ground begun to vibrate.

'Shit, I must've hit something structural, this shithole is falling apart!' The Boss tough, but as soon as the noise died muffled screams could also be heard from above.

'It's gotta be The Samedi, they're re attacking us!' Pierce said.

'This is ridi…!' The Boss was about to dismiss this possibility, but turned out he was right.

Upstairs, there was gunshot.

Gat exchanged a perplexed look with her, then turned to Max:

'Damn it! You were followed.'

Wow! Can't believe it took so long!

I def didn't forsake this story and will bring you more chapters ASAP.

:3 Here is a chapter just to thank you for your patience and get things going again. Hope you'll like it!

Thanks everyone so so much for your lovely feedbacks during this time!

Please review!