Chapter Two


"So he's got you on a leash," Talon chuckled as he wiped his blades clean of blood. He was efficient in his movements, as though he had done it a thousand times before. He probably had.

"I'm not on a leash," Kat replied with a grunt as she pulled her dagger from a dead man's chest; he'd been running, so she'd had to throw it. If the man hadn't been out of reach, she could have slit his throat; a much more efficient way to kill a man, and less painful. More mess, sure, but almost instant. A knife to the back was slower, more painful; the only good part was that there was less blood.

"He's got you reading how many books again?" Cassiopeia tittered as she holstered her gun.

"Twenty five," she grumbled. "But they're not all books. Some are short essays, and some are… reference texts, is what he called them."

"Sounds like way too much reading, to me," Talon laughed, and Katarina spun around, drew near to him, and shoved him. He was ready for it, though, and with his feet squarely planted on the floor, he barely moved an inch.

"Someone's angry."

"Shut it, or we'll see how far I can shove this up your ass," she hissed, prodding him with the end of her bloodied dagger. It was an empty threat, and he knew it. Talon snorted in distaste at the stain she'd made, and tossed her the cloth he'd been using to clean his blades. She caught it and scowled as she began to clean her own dagger, the cloth coming away crimson.

"We'd better leave soon," Cassiopeia said, moving towards the window and peeking out from between the blinds. "There isn't much traffic on the streets yet, but it's almost six. If we leave now, we might even be able to catch an hour or two of beauty sleep before school."

"I wish Dad would let us skip," Kat grumbled. She inspected her blade—clean of blood. She tossed the cloth back towards Talon, who pocketed it. Why he put the bloody cloth in his pocket, she didn't know, and she didn't really want to. Talon was strange, sometimes.

"He wants his children to be educated," Talon said with a grin. "Though you have me to thank for public school."

Katarina snorted. Once her father had adopted Talon, he'd pulled his two daughters out of private school and forced them to join the oh-so-wonderful public school system. When the then seven year-old Katarina had thrown a tantrum, her father had pulled her aside and calmly explained that it was to help make Talon feel like less of an outsider, like a part of the family. He'd come from poverty, and all he knew was public school and services that were provided for free. But it had given the boy a way of handling life, an outlook, that her father wanted his daughters to share in. Katarina had hated it, at first. The lunches were terrible, and she had few friends. But Cassiopeia had loved it, and eventually, Katarina had gotten used to it. She wouldn't say she liked it, but she tolerated it.

The three of them made their way out of the house and into the car waiting for them. Leblanc sat patiently in the driver's seat, dressed in a dark business suit and wearing a purple scarf around her neck. Once they'd closed the door, she adjusted the mirror until she met Katarina's gaze.

"Was the mission a success?" Leblanc asked, though she knew the answer by their safe and silent return.

"It's done," Katarina replied tersely. "Take us home."

"Or course," Leblanc replied, and Kat noticed the hint of a smile playing on the woman's lips. The ride was silent—uncomfortably so. When Leblanc pulled up to the DuCouteau mansion, she met Katarina's gaze in the rearview mirror once more. "You make your father proud," she said.

Katarina narrowed her eyes. "I hope so," she replied before exiting the car and marching up the steps to the front door, angled so that she always had an eye on Leblanc, who smirked at them from the car. As she shifted the car out of park and began to leave, Leblanc raised her eyebrows ever so slightly and offered a smile and a small wave before turning and driving away.

Some of the tension that had been in her for the entire car ride left Kat in a huff. "I hate that woman," Katarina muttered. "I can never figure out what she's thinking."

"I feel the same way," Cassiopeia admitted, a frown on her face. "Something about her just... sets me on edge."

"I don't like her, either," Talon admitted. He produced the keys to the front door from his pocket and unlocked it, letting Katarina and Cassiopeia in first before he closed the door behind them.

They headed for their father's study, where he would be waiting for their debriefing. Despite the late hour, Marcus DuCouteau made it his business to always be awake when she, Cass or Talon returned from a mission, in order to ensure they gave him a full report of what had transpired, and to ensure that they had returned safely and in one piece.

Katarina knocked on the door, as she always did. Her father thought it rude to enter a room without knocking if one respected the person on the other side of the door. And Katarina had nothing but respect for her father. She waited for his voice to call "Enter!" as he usually did.

It was unusual for her father not to respond immediately when she knocked. Talon moved to stand beside her, shifting from the balls of his feet to his heels, then rebalancing himself in his anxiousness. To her left, Cassiopeia's gaze narrowed. The three siblings shared a glance, and she knocked again.

"Dad, it's us," she said. Nothing. Not a sound. She drew her blades and narrowed her eyes as Talon did the same, and Cassiopeia drew her pistol and unlocked the safety. Talon took the handle in his hand and held up three fingers.

Two...one...

Talon swung the door open and raced inside, Katarina at his heels, and they quickly surveyed the study.

Papers littered the floor, and the books that had lined the shelves had been knocked to the ground. The lamp in the corner of the room had been smashed and lay across the floor, the glass from its lightbulb glittering on the floor. The wooden chairs in the room had been turned over and their legs broken. The armchair in the corner of the room had been slashed, and the stuffing was tossed haphazardly across the room. Their father's chair, fine leather, as old as the estate itself, had been slashed and upturned. His computer had been completely smashed to bits, as well as the monitor. The pictures that had sat on his desk had been knocked to the ground, and their family picture was torn and lay trampled on the carpet floor, ripped down the center, though not cleanly apart.

The room was empty.

Kat kneeled, taking the ripped picture into her hands and stuffing it into her backpack. She turned and beckoned her siblings to follow.

"Whoever did this might still be here," she said. "We need to clear the mansion." Cassiopeia and Talon nodded; they were all shocked by what they had seen, but their training kicked in, and they knew they needed to clear the perimeter before they did anything else.

They cleared every room of the mansion, only to find it devoid of anyone. The garage, too, was empty, as were the gardens. That in itself wasn't unusual, as the servants left after seven and arrived at eight in the morning. But it meant that whoever had been here was long gone. By the time they'd finished their search, the sun had risen, and it was approaching the hour at which they would usually leave to attend school.

Katarina swallowed, hard. "The place might be bugged," she said softly.

"Safe house?" Cassiopeia suggested, and Kat nodded.

The DuCouteaus had several safe houses in the city, as well as several located throughout the country, and a fair few overseas. It was possible that their father had retreated to one of them. He hadn't left any message for them that she could see, but perhaps there hadn't been time to.

They opted to walk to the nearest safe house. Driving would have been faster, of course, but if their father's study had been compromised, it was entirely within the realm of possibility that their cars might have been, too. If it was the feds, then the cars might be bugged, as well, and driving it would reveal the location of the safe house. While they could check for bugs, it was time they could spend searching for their father instead.

Katarina was worried—no, worried was too small a word; scared was more accurate—but she forced herself to appear calm. She couldn't show her brother and sister how fearful she was for their father's safety, or else they might lose hope. As it was, Katarina herself was clinging desperately to the hope that their father was fine, that he was taking refuge in one of their many safe houses.

Of course, even that hope came with its own set of worries; if he was hiding, who was he hiding from? Should they be hiding, too? Were they headed into a trap?

Katarina hoped not, but that was about as much as she could do—hope. They reached the closest safe house within the hour, a nondescript, windowless building surrounded by a tall, metal fence. The front gate was padlocked, but all of the siblings had a key for it; Talon used his to open the way, and they locked the gate behind them.

They walked to the front door, and Katarina took a deep breath. Then, she knocked.

It was silent, and Katarina felt the horrible sense of reliving that moment an hour ago, when she had knocked before, only to find the study trashed. With bated breath, they waited a whole minute before Katarina knocked once more, this time louder.

Katarina thought she saw something through the peephole, but it was too fast for her to be sure. At least, until she heard locks being undone from the other side of the door. The door opened, and she was greeted with the sight of her father.

Marcus DuCouteau bore a bruise under his right eye, and a scratch on his forehead. His lip had been split, and his hair had dried blood caked in it. His clothes, however, seemed clean, and Katarina could only assume that he'd changed into some spares once he had arrived at the safe house.

He beckoned them inside, and they hurried through the door. Once they were in, he locked several locks, and led them further into the building, to what served as a living room.

Kat finally found her voice. "Dad, what happened?" she asked.

He sat upon one of the armchairs in the room, and gestured for his children to do the same. Once they'd taken their seats, he ran a hand down his face, heaving a great sigh.

"While you were gone," he began, his voice low, and tired, "I left the study to fix myself a snack. A few minutes later, I heard noise from the study, so I went to see what it was. When I entered, I was attacked by the man who was tearing up the room."

"Who was he?" Talon asked.

Their father shook his head. "I don't know. He didn't say a word. I managed to apprehend him, and I brought him here. But..." He sighed. "He must have had some sort of poison on him. He's dead. I got rid of the body, so I don't know exactly what poison he used."

"He committed suicide?" Cassiopeia asked, her eyes narrowed.

Her father nodded. He reached into his shirt pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. "This was the only noteworthy item on him." He handed the paper to Katarina, who took hold of it warily and carefully unfolded it before reading it aloud to her siblings.

"'Take care, Marcus,'" Kat read, "'You don't want more enemies.'" She glanced up and met her father's gaze.

"It's directly addressed to you," Cassiopeia murmured. "Whoever wrote it knew you would be able to find it."

"They sent the man in knowing I would either kill him, or catch him, yes," Marcus said, and Katarina returned the letter to his outstretched hand. "Whoever they are, they know of my particular... skillset."

"It's a threat," Talon said.

"Clearly," Cass replied, rolling her eyes. "But it's also a warning." She crossed her arms. "A warning to stop whatever it is you're doing that they don't want you doing." The question was left unspoken, but it hung in the room, stifling.

"I have a good idea what that might be," Marcus said quietly.

"Are you going to tell us?" Kat asked softly, her tone matching their father's.

He sighed. "I don't want to bring you three into this."

Kat snorted. "We're here—we're already involved."

"Not to mention, we're involved simply by our relation to you," Cass said.

Marcus closed his eyes, seeming to consider his words, then nodded. "All right, I'll tell you... a little bit. I don't really know much, myself, yet." He opened his eyes and looked at each of them in turn. "I've been investigating the deaths of Noxus' former leaders. They weren't killed by Demacians."

Katarina's eyes widened, and beside her, Cass took a quick breath, and Talon stiffened.

"The Demacians were framed for it. And some were paid handsomely to cooperate with the investigations into the Darkwills' deaths. But there was more," he told them. "Someone orchestrated their deaths, and it wasn't the feds. From what I've been able to gather, the ones behind this call themselves the Black Rose."

"The Black Rose," Kat repeated.

"The only problem is, there's no proof they exist. It's all hearsay and circumstantial evidence. Nothing definite. I've been trying to find out more about this Black Rose group, but I've been doing it without letting Noxus catch wind of my actions."

"Why?" Kat asked. "High Command have the resources to help you—"

"It's obvious," Cass interrupted. "These Black Rose people kill Boram and Keiran, the former leaders of Noxus. Who benefits from this?" Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes. "Only those in High Command benefit from it—particularly those who rose in power."

Things clicked, finally, for Katarina, and she turned to face her father. "You think Swain is behind this?"

He sighed. "I don't know," he admitted, "but it's a strong possibility."

Katarina was quiet, for a while. "So what?" she asked, and they all looked at her. "So what if he killed them? That's how Noxus works—the strong survive."

Marcus stood. "That's true, Kat," he said, then began pacing. "However, Darkwill was one of the only men I could trust in High Command. With him and his successor gone, I am the only one left who once fully supported his leadership. That puts me in a dangerous position. If I'm seen as a threat, that puts me and my entire family at risk." He stopped pacing and met her eyes once more. "I won't let them hurt you. Any of you."

Katarina was silent. It felt as though he wasn't telling them everything. Cassiopeia subtly glanced her way, and the sisters shared a look that told Katarina that Cass was thinking the same thing—that their father wasn't being entirely honest with them.

"Well, I'm glad you're safe, Dad," Cass said, abruptly changing the subject. She stood and walked to Marcus, and threw her arms around him in a hug. "I love you."

He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to the top of his daughter's head. "I love you, too." He said softly.

Katarina was moving towards him before she realized she had even taken a step forward, and soon she was embracing him as well. After a bit of hesitation, Talon joined in.

Marcus hugged them all, and though he did not say anything, the way his arms tightened around them, and the way he pressed his lips atop her head, told Kat everything she needed to know before he drew back and dropped his arms.

He glanced at the clock that sat upon the wall, then nodded. "It's almost seven thirty. You three need to get ready."

Katarina blinked, then felt her jaw drop as she realized what her father meant. "Dad, you can't be serious," she said.

He turned and offered her a stern gaze. "You three are going to school. You will act as if nothing unusual has happened, as if you know nothing of these events. And once you get home, you will meet me in my study. Tell no one what I've shared with you; it would put a target on your back. Am I making myself clear?"

He didn't get to do this to them, make them pretend everything was okay while he could possibly be killed, while an unknown group was after him. It wasn't fair. Katarina curled her fingers into fists and grit her teeth, but a pacifying hand on her shoulder stayed her from saying any rash words.

"Yes, Dad," Cassiopeia said, her hand tightening on Katarina's shoulder. Kat glared at her sister before meeting her father's gaze and nodding.

"Good. If you hurry, you'll make it before the bell rings," their father said.

Katarina shrugged her sister's hand off of her shoulder. "After school, you'll tell us everything?" she asked her father, who met her gaze with an emotion behind his eyes that she couldn't quite read.

"Everything," he agreed softly with a nod.

The siblings made to leave, but Katarina lagged behind her brother and sister, fiddling with the zipper on her backpack. Her father was well aware that her actions were merely stalling for time, and he waited patiently until her siblings were out of earshot, in the other room.

"We're not dressed for school," Kat mumbled as she finally let the zipper go. She shrugged it onto one arm, letting it hang off of her shoulder. "We have bloody knives and used guns on us."

"It's not ideal," her father said, approaching her.

Kat narrowed her eyes. "Ideal?" she said, seething. "Nothing about this is ideal. You were attacked and threatened, and you want us to just pretend like it didn't happen. To go to school and act like normal kids, to… To pretend like…" She couldn't finish her sentence aloud. Pretend like you're not in danger of getting killed. She was scared, she realized as the chilling thought ran through her mind. She was scared. It had been years since she'd felt fear for the life of someone she loved, and it had never been so intense. She was scared, and she didn't know what to do about it. She couldn't do anything about it.

Her father sighed. "I know. And I'm sorry it has to be like this." He frowned. "Kat," he said. "I need to ask you something. I wanted to ask you last night, but Swain was there, and this needs to stay between us."

Kat eyed her father, who had crossed his arms—something he only did when he was worried. "What?" she asked.

"During the mission at the Westside building… you retrieved a briefcase, correct?"

Kat nodded. That was the mission where the Demacian had shot her, and the thought made her feel both furious at and disappointed in herself. Talon had retrieved the briefcase, not her; she had been unconscious. She'd only managed to distract the Demacians, and that was a fact that she resented. She'd performed poorly. "Yes," she answered. "Talon grabbed it."

He nodded. "Was there anything else?"

Kat frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Were the Demacians carrying anything else?"

Kat recalled the fight, racking her brain for images and information. "The big one had two tranquilizers and a baseball bat. The other one—"

"Not weapons," her father interrupted, and his tone was urgent. Almost desperate, Kat thought. "Had they taken anything from the safe? Anything besides the briefcase?"

Kat shook her head, confusion evident on her features in the way her frown had deepened and her brow was lined. "I thought the briefcase was the only thing in the safe," she said. "I didn't see anything. Was there something else in there?"

Her father's shoulders slumped, and he tilted his head back slightly as a smile slowly grew on his lips. "No," he said, closing his eyes and sighing. "No, there wasn't." He opened his eyes, giving Kat little time to wonder at her father's odd behavior before he spoke once more. "Kat, I want to tell you this now. I may not get the chance later." He placed his arm on her shoulder, and his grip was firm, but not painful, and he looked deep into his daughter's eyes.

"I'm proud of you," he told her. "I'm proud of the woman you've become. You're strong, fast, intelligent… and you're a leader. I have faith that you will be able to lead House DuCouteau in my stead one day."

"Dad—" she said, wanting to tell him to stop, to not say those kinds of things, but he continued speaking.

"I believe in you and your judgment. Your sister and your brother—I'm proud of them, too. But when I'm gone, they will turn to you for leadership, for guidance. Protect them, Kat. Promise me that no matter what, you will protect them."

She wanted to tell him no, she wouldn't make such a promise, because he wouldn't be dying anytime soon. But the fact that he was telling her this, when he never had before… Kat realized that he was scared, too. For himself, for her, for her sister and her brother. And Kat had never spoken with such conviction before in her entire life as she did then.

"I swear it," she promised, and he looked into her eyes and saw her confidence, her assertiveness, her dedication. She wouldn't fail him. She wouldn't allow herself to fail.

"I trust you," he said quietly, offering her a small smile that didn't meet his eyes. He took a deep breath, and then squeezed her shoulder once before letting go, and Kat felt the absence of his hand as its warmth vanished, leaving her shoulder feeling cold and bare, and she felt unbidden tears begin to swell behind her own eyes.

"Dad—" she said, but he interrupted her.

"You need to get going," he said. "Cass and Talon are waiting."

Kat glanced at the door to the adjacent room, then back towards her father. She bit back her tears, forcing herself to swallow all of her emotions, to wear a mask of impassivity as her father had taught her to. She had never been as good at it as her siblings; Cassiopeia could hide her emotions effortlessly, and Talon hid his behind a scowl. Kat made do with a grimace, and she blinked back her tears.

She nodded at her father. "See you later," she said with a desperate sort of hope that if she said it, it would be true, that they would return from school to find their father safe and sound, untouched; but she wasn't able to say it without her voice breaking. Her father's own mask broke for just a moment, and the look of pain that crossed his face was one that would haunt Kat's nightmares for years to come. But then his mask was back, and he nodded, his eyes stern and his mouth thin.

"Of course," he said.


"Did you read the essays?" Garen asked.

Katarina glanced at him and shook her head, foregoing one of her usual snarky remarks that he'd come to expect from her. She had dark circles under her eyes, and she blinked frequently. She stifled a yawn; obviously, she'd been up late last night. He hoped she'd managed to get at least a little bit of sleep.

"You ought to get a good night's rest," he cautioned, "It's detrimental to your well being and your grades to not get a full eight hours of sleep."

Katarina glared at him from heavy lidded eyes. "I was busy," she grumbled, breaking their eye contact and placing her pencil on her desk. She began to draw on it, and Garen was horrified.

"Katarina, you can't do that!" he breathed.

Katarina rolled her eyes, then waved the pencil in his direction, the eraser closest to him. "I can erase it, you fucking dumbass."

Garen bit his tongue at the retort that almost left his lips. No, he would remain calm, and he would behave like a mature adult, regardless of the hurt that he felt. "That was rude, Katarina."

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, then crossed her arms on the table and plunked her head upon them. "Look, I didn't mean it," she mumbled, he voice muffled. "I'm just... on edge."

That was... probably as close as he'd be getting to an apology from her. He got the sense that she wasn't one to apologize often, even when she realized she was in the wrong. Garen couldn't see her face under the red hair sprawled across the desk, but he could imagine that her eyes were still closed. He scooted his chair a little closer, then bent over, trying to catch a glimpse of her. "Are you trying to take a nap?" he asked, unsuccessful in his attempts to spy her through her barrier of hair.

"Trying," came her muffled voice. "But someone's not letting me." He reached out and, hesitantly, took a small piece of her hair and swept it aside, revealing a brilliant green eye glaring at him.

"I don't think Mr. Blitzcrank will let you sleep during this time," Garen admitted. "We're supposed to be working on our project."

"Crownguard," Kat muttered, "let go of my hair."

Garen swallowed. "Of-of course!" he stammered, dropping the locks of hair in his hand as though burned. "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." he trailed off as he noticed her shoulders shaking, and for a moment, he thought that, for whatever reason, he'd somehow managed to make her cry.

But then she lifted her head off the desk, and swept the hair out of her eyes, and her eyes were crinkled at the edges, and Garen's heart fluttered in his chest as he saw the first genuine smile on Katarina's face.

"You are so... what's the word... the one for knights?"

Garen's brow furrowed. "Uhhh..." he let out. "What do you—"

"Code of honor shit—that's you," Kat said, clarifying nothing with that awful explanation as she waved her hand aimlessly.

Garen racked his brains until he thought he had figured out what she meant. "Chivalrous?" he asked, and Kat snapped her fingers.

"That's the word!" she said, shaking her head, still smiling. "You're so damned chivalrous, you know that?"

Garen's ears reddened. "I... was touching your hair without your permission. That has less to do with me honoring some sort of code than with me failing to respect you and your boundaries." He inclined his head. "For that, I'm sorry."

When he lifted his eyes, Kat wore a bemused sort of expression. "Huh," was all she said as she continued to watch him.

Garen cleared his throat and looked away, staring intently at his notebook so that he wouldn't stare at her. He flipped to the notes he had taken the previous night as he tapped his pen against the desk, a nervous tick. "I read the essays I checked out from the library and took some notes down. One of them says that the undertones of classism..."

He continued to summarize the essays he had read and, to his surprise, Kat actually took notes on what he said (well, if jotting down one word for every ten sentences he spoke counted as notes). Perhaps they'd come to an unspoken truce, of sorts. He would be more aware of her boundaries, and she would be more cooperative, it seemed.

"Who'd have thought there were homosexual undertones in Romeo and Juliet," Kat muttered after Garen had finished summarizing one particular essay, and Garen had to chuckle.

"Another author likened it to, what was it... a 'pinnacle of heteronormativity'," he said, "so perhaps that's up to how you interpret it."

"Heteronorm..." Katarina mumbled, "Why do essays always have to use such stupid vocab. Pisses me off."

Garen felt himself grinning, despite her language. "Perhaps academics feel the need to promote their intelligence trough the expounding of their sophisticated vernacular."

"Vernacular," Katarina muttered," Now you're the one using big words and pissing me off."

Garen grinned. "Only as a joke," he said. "And to be honest, that was a terrible sentence."

Katarina snorted. "Well, your humor falls a little short," she told him.

"That's because I'm not trying to be funny," Garen teased. "If I were trying to be funny, you would laugh. I guarantee it."

Katarina narrowed her eyes at the emphasis he placed on the two syllables of the word 'guarantee,' and Garen watched intently. Within the next second, her eyes widened just the slightest fraction, and then she forced a grimace onto her face—but Garen had caught a glimpse of the beginnings of a smile that had almost made itself known.

"Did you just make a fucking pun with your name?" Kat asked, and he grinned. She rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. Or, at least, what he hoped was mock annoyance.

He turned his attention back to the notes, and for the rest of the class, the pair discussed the ideas that the essays had brought up and topics they still wanted to consider. Katarina, surprisingly, had several creative ideas for topics, and Garen was impressed. Once class started nearing its end, Garen went over their plans for their next study session after school.

"So, we meet tomorrow for an extra hour at the downtown library," Garen said, double checking the schedule just to be sure.

It was five minutes until the bell rang, but Katarina was already packing her bags and readying to leave. "Uh-huh," was all she managed.

"Uhhh... Perhaps we ought to... exchange emails or... or something of that nature," Garen said hurriedly, feeling his ears turning the same shade as Katarina's hair when she looked at him. "In case we need to contact one another. In case something comes up." He hoped he didn't sound desperate, even though that was how he felt. He wanted her phone number, but he didn't want to come off the wrong way. Not that these study dates were real dates, or anything, he reminded himself to no avail.

Katarina wore that same look from earlier, the one he couldn't quite read, as though she were looking past his eyes and into his heart. And then she smirked and tore off the bottom corner of one of the pages from his notebook. She leaned over the table and took his pen out of his shirt pocket, and perhaps he imagined the way her hand lingered just a little bit longer on his chest than necessary, before she drew back, clicked it, and scrawled something down. She leaned forward once more and tucked both into his shirt pocket, and Garen caught that scent of cinnamon once more that made his heart skip a beat. Her emerald eyes glinted at him as she patted his pocket once, and then the bell rang.

"Don't call me unless it's about the project, Crownguard," Katarina said as she gathered her things, stood and, still smirking, left the room.

Garen had to remind himself in the moments that followed that yes, he could breathe.


Katarina's smirk fell from her lips the moment she was out of Garen's line of sight. While she did enjoy messing with him, since it was fun to see his ears turn red, she couldn't deny that today, when he had talked about respecting her and apologized for touching her hair... She wasn't sure how to describe the feeling that had swept through her and, for a moment, engulfed her. She'd felt her face grow slightly warm, had felt her heartbeat quicken... And when he'd asked for a means to reach her, she could have given him her email. He didn't need her number, and yet... it was an impulse, yes, but she'd wanted him to have it. Not because she liked him, though she would grudgingly admit that he was handsome and smelled nice, like fresh pine. She'd felt a rush, one unfamiliar to her, when she'd taken his pen, and she'd felt him under her hand, his sharp intake of breath.

She shook her head, ridding herself of thoughts of Garen. They would see each other tomorrow, and hopefully she'd be able to sort out her confused emotions and thoughts then. But now, school was over, and that meant that she could go home and find out just what mess exactly her father was getting into.

Talon was waiting outside, leaning against the brick wall on the far side of the school building, as he always did. Usually, Talon would drive, and his convertible would be waiting in the parking lot. But not today. He was under the shade of an overhang, and he was chatting with a blonde girl Katarina didn't recognize. He seemed rather pleased by her presence, which was strange—Talon usually hated socializing with people, preferring to sit in the shadows and listen. As Kat approached, he let out a chuckle, and the blonde girl batted her eyelashes at him sweetly. Well, that was sickening.

"Am I interrupting?" Kat said rather loudly, and the grin vanished off of Talon's face almost immediately, as though he'd been caught doing something he ought not be doing.

"Not at all!" the blonde girl said cheerily. She stretched out her hand, and Kat narrowed her eyes, waiting several moments before taking it. She was surprised by the girl's grip—impressed, even. She hadn't expected it to be so firm. "You must be Kat."

"Katarina," Kat corrected, sending a quick glare towards her brother, who had the grace to make an apologetic face. "Only my friends call me Kat."

"Oh, I'm sorry! Katarina, then," the blonde said, unfazed by Kat's hostility. "Talon's told me a lot about you."

"And yet I haven't heard a thing about you. What'd you say your name was?" Kat asked. The girl hadn't said her name, but the question didn't seem to faze the girl one bit.

The girl beamed. "I'm Luxanna Crownguard. Talon and I have gym class together!"

"Gym class," Kat managed weakly. This was Luxanna Crownguard, Garen's younger sister, a prodigy who had skipped three grades so she could be in the same grade as her brother—and it was rumored she could have skipped more, had she wanted. She'd transferred from a private boarding school just this year; apparently she wanted to experience the life of public school before she graduated. She should have asked Kat before she'd done it; Kat would have told her it wasn't worth the downgrade to the shitty lunches.

Katarina had heard of her mostly through Cass, who made it her business to know everyone in school. She'd never met the girl before, and she hadn't realized Talon had, either. But apparently they knew one another, and from the way the Crownguard girl had been batting her eyelashes at Talon, it seemed like the girl wanted to get to know him even more.

"My brother mentioned that he was working on an English project with you," Lux said, and Kat nodded. "If you need any help with it, I'd be glad to lend a hand!"

"I think your brother's got everything under control," Kat said, not without a hint of snark.

Lux smiled a little sheepishly. "I'll be honest with you—my brother doesn't have the best ideas for a thesis. His grammar is definitely good, but as far as ideas go, well... Sometimes he's a little lacking, there."

Kat considered Lux's words. If what she was saying was true (and Kat wasn't entirely sure it was), then perhaps one of the reasons Garen was so focused on the research part of their essay was because he wasn't entirely sure how to do the writing part.

"Is that why he's making us read a million essays? To get ideas for what to write?" Kat asked, and Lux shrugged.

"Probably," Lux said. She reached into her pocket and glanced at her phone, then turned to Talon, leaned on her tiptoes, and whispered something in his ear that made his face redden. Then she beamed at Katarina. "Time for me to head home! It was nice meeting you, Kat!"

Kat grumbled something about only her friends being allowed to call her 'Kat,' her eyes narrowed in annoyance. Lux waved as she skipped away towards the side of the school building, where an old, beat up blue pickup truck was waiting with Garen in the driver's seat.

Garen met Kat's gaze, and the two held it for a few moments before Garen broke the exchange and looked down for a moment. When he looked up, he grinned at her before he drove away.

She watched the old blue truck drive away until her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she didn't have to look to know who had just texted her. But she looked anyway, and rolled her eyes at the message.

See you tomorrow, it read.

Once she'd put her phone back in her pocket, Kat spun around and folded her arms, quirking her eyebrow towards her brother, who was doing his best to look anywhere but at her.

"I didn't know you had a thing for blondes," Kat teased.

"I... shut up," Talon muttered, his face slowly returning to its usual pale color, and Kat let out a short laugh. She'd been teasing, but apparently she'd hit the mark. "Where's Cass? We need to go check on Dad."

Kat shrugged. "Haven't seen her since lunch," she answered. But he was right—they needed to get back to the safe house. As her thoughts turned to her father, she quickly lost all mirth, and she frowned, her forehead furrowed in thought. Marcus hadn't told them everything, but what had he been so hesitant to share? Figuring out the answers to these kinds of questions wasn't Katarina's forte—that was Cassiopeia's area of expertise. Cass had a way with ferreting out answers and solving puzzles; where Katarina's skill lay in the way she used the sharp edge of a blade, Cassiopeia's lay in the way she used her sharp mind. It was why Leblanc had recently taken Cass under her wing and begun to teach her tactics and strategies the woman used to manipulate others in her daily work.

Cassiopeia hated it, hated working with a woman she trusted less than she could throw her—and that was saying something, since if Cass were to ever try to throw Leblanc, she probably wouldn't even be able to lift the woman. But when an esteemed and accomplished member of High Command offered to take you under their wing, it wasn't a request to be refused. And there was no doubt that Cassiopeia had been learning; she'd been able to get the info from the targets last night within seconds, thanks to the training she'd received from Leblanc. And she was a dead shot with a pistol, now; it was surprising, really, for Katarina. Cassiopeia had always preferred guns over blades, but her aim had never been so sure. Last night, she'd hardly glanced at the targets before shooting them through the center of their foreheads—three shots, in rapid succession, resulting in three very dead men. Katarina and Talon had taken care of the rest while Cass had searched the bodies for any useful information.

Kat's frown deepened. She'd never seen her sister so cold and indifferent to murder, before. Clearly, Leblanc's training methods had exposed Cassiopeia to far worse, and Kat suddenly realized that there was now a part of Cass she had never known, and perhaps never would know. She'd been training with Leblanc, a master of deceit; perhaps Cassiopeia was able to deceive them all, now. The thought was chilling, and Katarina wondered for the first time how much she could trust her sister.

And of course, Cassiopeia was the one to break her from her reverie with a quick greeting, having been let out of class a few minutes late.

"We should hurry back," Cassiopeia urged as she glanced at her phone. "The longer we wait, the more danger we put ourselves and father in."

Kat blinked and nodded in response, trying to read her sister. But all she could see was genuine worry on Cass's face. She let out a sigh of relief and chided herself for her lack of faith in her sister. No matter what, Cassiopeia was still a DuCouteau, and she was still Kat's baby sister, even if she'd matured without Kat noticing.

The siblings walked to the safe house as quickly as they could in the afternoon sun. Even at the brisk pace Katarina set, it still took them a little under half an hour to reach the small building.

But when they arrived, Katarina felt her stomach drop.

The gate was unlocked and swung wide open, for all to enter. The front door was hanging from its hinges, and Katarina's backpack nearly slid off from her shoulder in shock. She recovered quickly though, and immediately drew her concealed pistol, and her siblings did the same.

Kat ran to the door, then positioned herself so that her back was to the wall, and she waited for her brother and sister to take up positions beside her. They waited, and then Kat began a count in a low voice.

"Three," she began, and she raised her pistol. Beside her, Talon retrieved a spare dagger and spun it in his hand as the other raised his gun. On his other side, Cassiopeia raised two guns, one in each hand. "Two," Kat continued, and she unlocked the safety on her gun, as her siblings did the same. "One."

Katarina spun inside the doorway, gun raised and pointed, and began walking down the narrow hallway. She listened for any sound farther in, but all was silent save for the sound of her footsteps, her breathing, and her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

They reached the center of the building, where the hall opened into the living room. It was untouched. They went farther into the house, towards the sleeping quarters, and walked through the open doorway—and Katarina let her arms slacken at the sight.

There had obviously been a fight. What little furniture that had decorated the room had been upturned, and the cushions of the sofa had rips and tears in them; the stuffing had fallen out and littered the floor. The lamps had been knocked over and shattered, and the small table had been broken in two. The mattress had been slashed, as well as the pillows. Blood was splattered across the floor—a lot of it. Their father had put up a fight.

Katarina let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, and she felt fury course through her veins. She swung her backpack from her shoulder and threw it at the ground as hard as she could, where it flopped pathetically before sagging, the daggers inside clinking around.

"Fuck," she managed through clenched teeth.

Talon was silent as he moved around the room, looking desperately for any signs, any clues, that might be left behind. Cassiopeia observed from the hallway, her teeth grinding, and her eyes burning with a ferocity Kat had never seen before in her sister.

"Nothing," Talon said, unable to keep the frustration from his voice at the lack of leads.

Kat ran a hand over her face, her thoughts racing. With the amount of blood on the floor, it was clear that someone—or several someone's—had come calling for her father. They'd fought, and Marcus had taken out several of them, if the bloodstains were any indication, but the fact that Marcus was no longer here could signify a handful of outcomes.

One was that their father had gotten away, and was simply holed up in one of the other safe houses. Another was that he had gotten away, but was on the run. The likelihood of either of these options was low, given what information their father had told them earlier that day. The more likely outcome was that he had been captured and taken away; whether he was alive, they had no way of knowing.

"So he's gone," Cassiopeia stated matter-of-factly, having reached the same conclusion as Kat. Talon whirled on her.

"We don't know that he's dead," Talon said roughly.

"I didn't say dead," Cass replied, sniffing condescendingly, "I said he's gone."

"Obviously," Talon spat.

"I'm trying to state the facts, brother," Cass retorted, "and it's a fact that he's gone, a fact that we don't know who took him, a fact that—"

"We know who did this," Kat interrupted. She'd regained enough composure to holster her gun and return her backpack to her shoulder once more. She crossed her arms. "The Black Rose."

"Who we know absolutely nothing about," Cass replied, though she didn't disagree with Kat's assertion.

"He must have left something for us," Talon said, "Notes, or books, or a letter, or... something."

"That's why they sacked his study," Cassiopeia said, "to make sure he didn't have anything on them."

"But Dad killed the man who searched it," Kat said. "Dad could have taken anything he had and brought it with him here."

Cass gestured around. "It's not here anymore, is it?" she asked ruefully. "We're outmatched, clearly. We need time to investigate on our own—without attracting attention like our father did. This... organization was able to track down our father and capture him. That means we need to avoid a confrontation at all costs; if they can beat Dad, then they can destroy us. Which means when we investigate, we can't leave a single trace."

Kat nodded. "And we have to do it on our own. We know the Black Rose is made up of members of High Command. That means we can't trust anyone from Noxus."

"As of now, the only Noxians we can trust are ourselves," Cassopeia said in agreement.

Talon grunted. He'd watched the exchange in silence, taking in the information and observing his sisters. "We should check the other safe houses," he offered. "There's a chance Dad might be there." Cassiopeia gave him a look, and he continued. "Maybe he was able to hide something in one of them."

Cassiopeia's eyebrows raised, and she offered Talon a rare look of approval. "That's true. If he had anticipated something like this, he could have hidden materials for us to find."

"That sounds like him," Kat mused. "I guess we don't have many options left, at this point. We can search the safe houses now, and see if there's anything Dad was able to hide in them."

There were three more safe houses throughout the city, on opposite ends. The one they were in now was on the north side of the city; the others were in the east, south, and west. If the Black Rose had placed tracking devices on their cars at the mansion, which was very likely, then they couldn't use those cars to travel to the safe houses without revealing their location. The houses were too far away to walk to from here, though, unless they wanted to waste hours of time and get no sleep that night. They needed a ride—preferably with a vehicle that had never been associated with Noxus or the DuCouteaus before. One that nobody would ever suspect.

An idea struck her. Not a good one, but an idea nonetheless. Kat let out a sigh, then reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone.

"What are you doing?" Talon asked as Kat scrolled through her recent messages and began to dial a number.

"Calling Garen fucking Crownguard," Kat grumbled, and raised the phone to her ear.


A/N: Soooo... it seems like the chapters are kind of averaging out to be more like 7-8k words each. It's funny. I used to have trouble writing a 5k word chapter, even with multiple scenes. Now I'm having trouble keeping the word count manageable. I guess that means I've improved a little bit, maybe (either that or my writing is all purple prose oops). Umm... so this is almost half of what I've written so far. It's taking me a while to write, but I really love this story, so I hope to continue writing, even if it means the updates might slow their pace a bit. Hope this chapter was exciting enough.