A/N

Not the longest chapter in the world, but I'm impatient, and I'm willing to bet one or two of you are too! Let us know what you think, and as always, thanks for sticking with us!

A wreck, a wreck you make
You leave, you leave me in your wake
Oh honey, let me go
Don't you let me go

- AG - Terrible Thing -

Lorna ate breakfast alone that next morning. She wasn't sure what Luciano was occupied with, but she hoped she would be let in on the secret soon enough. She was getting antsy here, locked in this holding pattern until she saw an opportunity she couldn't pass up. It was beginning to become infuriating.

Luciano came in just as she was finishing up. His expression was one she hadn't seen in a while. His eyes were alight with something- Not malice, per-say, or curiosity, but something in between. "You won't believe who just called," he said, sitting down across from her.

"I don't know, maybe I will. Who was it?" She asked, raising an eyebrow on the side of her face that hadn't been backhanded by him yesterday.

"Moriarty," he said with a bit of a laugh, reaching out for a danish. "Or rather, his representative. Seems they approve of our escapades with Armetti. Which is a surprising development to say the least."

Internally, she felt incredible relief. Jim was working with her. Thank god. Externally, she coughed into her water. "Really? He must be looking for an excuse to replace Armetti. Maybe he's too volatile to keep."

"Entirely possible. Well, the world is looking up for you, now, isn't it?" he asked, chewing his danish contemplatively. "This is your ideal scenario."

She nodded, looking vaguely impressed with how the cards fell for her. "Yes, it is. Maybe not for the same reasons you think. What are your reasons?"

"Moran," he pointed out. "With Armetti no longer tied to Moriarty you should be free to pursue him."

She froze for just a millisecond, as if that thought hadn't occurred to her, as if she'd been so caught up in revenge and survival that love hadn't even been on her radar. Of course, the only reason she was here was love, but he didn't know that. "You're right," she said slowly, running her thumb back and forth on the edge of the table. She looked at him, carefully. "And what about you? Forgive me for asking, but when you've lived my life... Me suddenly throwing myself behind this for another man, that doesn't bother you?"

He laughed, and shrugged. "Are you under the impression that I thought this-" He motioned between the two of them- "Would be anything permanent? I'd rather you're happy. Happy means you don't have a reason to stab me in the back." He shrugged. "Though if you do end up pursuing Moran, we'll have to discuss the limits of your loyalties."

She gave him a sharp kind of smile as he finished. "If I end up going after Moran, it will be because you are under Moriarty's umbrella. Somewhere I have already been; let me give you this word of advice. Don't think too loudly about loyalties being you or him around Moriarty. He's under the impression that they should all be for him. He may be getting rid of Armetti for this very reason, now that I think on it," she added, drumming her fingers slowly on the table. Her position here had changed with Jim's message, and she would exercise its limits. "People who have loyalties to anything other than him create problems. And Armetti is far too loyal to me. That's why I was forbidden from seeing Moran - it stretched Armetti's loyalties the wrong way."

Luciano seemed unperturbed by what was ostensibly a veiled threat. "I'll take that under advisement. Thank you for the concern." He stood. "As for now, I think we perhaps take it as we must, and see what Armetti does next. He's received the video. But my sources aren't sure about his response yet. Whatever it is, it's more tactical than I was expecting from him."

She sighed. "He's smarter than he lets on. No matter. If we need to, we'll simply go after him. Now that we know Moriarty won't interfere, even better."

"True," he agreed with a smile. "I had hoped to avoid Moriarty's sphere of influence, but I suppose there are benefits."

She shrugged, swallowing a piece of toast before answering. "He's powerful, and annoyingly, much brighter than most of us. This is the best outcome - you have permission from the God of Crime to take out one of his more valuable assets. You're not going to get a better deal anywhere."

Luciano laughed at that. "You know what? You're right." He turned towards the door. "Want to come upstairs? The jacuzzi was just cleaned and I was thinking of taking a swim."

She looked pleasantly surprised, and made a hum of agreement. "Yes, please. The day I pass it up something has gone wrong."

They spent the day in his rooms, talking, fucking, drinking. He was relaxed, showing no sign of concern at the morning's developments, but he had not relaxed his watch over her in any way.

Lorna felt less like he was going to kill her any day now, but was frustrated that she didn't have any more power to work with, nor any additional trust. He watched her just as closely, as relaxed as he was as they 'enjoyed' each other's company. She'd been here too long, in any case. The clock was ticking.

The next day he was away on business, but the day after that he returned, and invited her for an afternoon walk through the vineyards to discuss the state of things.

She joined him just inside, finding him waiting on a bench for her, and she smiled in greeting. Today she had her knife in her bra, knowing that she could refuse sex if she needed to. But if she could find an opportunity... It was too late not to take it. "Have a good trip, Antony?"

"Excellent," he said with a smile. "Spain. So little time there. It is unfortunate. I love the place- I can never get enough of it." He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

"Please. I'm growing to love the vineyards as much as you," she replied, taking his arm.

He smiled. "Wait until we begin the harvest," he said with a chuckle as they started to walk. "Fresh-pressed grape juice is something unto itself."

"Oh, I bet," she said, and glanced over at him. "You wanted to discuss something, though?"

"Yes," he said, sighing at the prospect of getting back to business. "Armetti has not made any moves that we can see to come retrieve you. I believe it is safe to say at this point that he will not. So now the question becomes- how best to advance against him?"

She shrugged a little, though it was clear she was in thought. "We know we can't get in through any connections I used to have there; they're all gone. So send me after him. Who needs a plan."

Luciano made a contemplative noise. "Possibly. But you do realize that- with Armetti's failure to come after you- I have lost any reasonable incentive to trust your story?"

Lorna snorted. "All your reason lies in the fact that I came here to begin with, Antony. Not a risk I'd take if I had any other choice. I didn't, and still don't. This where I have to be. I'll make the fucking most of it." She met his gaze. "Like I said. Keep me here until you can be convinced. I'm not in a rush. You're certainly good at keeping information you don't want me knowing from reaching me, so I'm not exactly gaining anything by waiting, but I'm not losing anything either."

He sighed, but inclined his head, stepping down over a rock. "I dislike delay. It is po-"

He cut off, whatever he was going to say lost to the air, as a sharp ripping noise interrupted their conversation, and his legs gave out. He was on the ground before he understood what had happened, hands going to the pain in his side and coming away bloody. "Christ-"

She dropped into a crouch next to him, looking around for the attacker, but they weren't visible. Shit. Fuck. She leaned over Luciano and yanked up his shirt and suit jacket to look at the bullet wound in his side. Possibly fatal without treatment, but he would get treatment. Unless. She ignored the bloody hand that he gripped her arm with, instead looking from his wound to his face. "Interesting development, but you know what? I don't think I like where that conversation was going, Antony." Her hand slipped up, into the collar of her shirt, and came out brandishing the knife Anton had given her when she'd first arrived, and without further ado pressed it up under his jaw, her grey eyes sharp. "Time's up. Where's the computer cards?"

He looked up at her, panic subsiding quickly as he analyzed the situation, his breathing harsh, pulse jumping against her knife. "Very good," he breathed, studying her face. "But here is the problem: Either you will kill me, or you won't, and my telling you anything will not change that."

She leaned in closer, a grin spreading slowly across her face, the knife pressed firmly to his throat to discourage him from headbutting her. "I kill you, or I rip open that bullet wound to about ten times that size, and you die in your own waste after your bowels bleed into the rest of your body. I hear gut wounds are terrible. And if you still refuse to tell me, well," she shrugged. "I'll tear this place apart and find them anyways. I don't think your men will be very invested in sticking around with you dead and Moriarty's emissary claiming your territory, do you?"

He grit his teeth, considering her, his eyes flinty. "Who are you working for?" he asked, his breaths short to minimize pain, delaying.

She pressed the knife harder into his throat, unwilling to let him just shrink away from the blade, and drew blood. Still, she couldn't resist gloating a little, after another glance up to make sure no one was advancing through the vines to them - but the attack had obviously been long range. If she had been the target, she would be on the ground instead of him. "Moriarty," she smiled gleefully. "I haven't worked for Armetti in years. Guess I have Holmes to thank for covering my tracks, but," she shrugged again. "Don't worry, Antony, it wasn't all deceit. I'm married to Moran, for instance, that's real. I'm here for him. I need the information in your barn's basement or he could die. Cards. Now."

He nodded a little, his expression slowly relaxing as he forced himself under control, though he was paling rapidly, and sweat was beading up along his skin. He swallowed, his throat dry. "That explains why... Armetti never came," he said, pausing to catch his breath. "You're set on killing me, then. No way I talk my way out of this?"

No, there was no way he could talk himself out of it. Mycroft had been clear that Luciano had to die, once she got what she needed. But he didn't need to know that. She snorted, as if she doubted he had anything worth saving him for. "Not unless you're about to be wildly fucking helpful, signore."

His eyes narrowed, but he nodded infinitesimally, very aware of the blade under his throat.

"There's a compartment built into the back of the freezer," he said slowly, trying not to move his throat too much, blood dripping down from the cut she had left. "The insulated lining hides it from sweeps without looking suspicious."

"Good enough," Lorna said, and leaned into the blade while slicing to her left, half through his throat, and he died gurgling in his own blood. She stood, looking down at the twitching body, and was annoyed to find the satisfaction she'd been expecting to feel had been taken over by something else. She couldn't put a name to it, but it was darker, and more worried.

Lorna turned and made to leave the vineyard, wiping the blood off the knife on her dark slacks before tucking the knife away again. No one was waiting at the door for her - they weren't expecting Luciano back for another half hour, at least. She needed to move fast, and she needed to sow discord. She started jogging through the halls, working up her breathing to a light pant, and rounded a corner into a guard she'd seen enough to recognize. "Signore!" she shouted, grabbing his gun arm quickly, her face panicked. "Luciano is in the vineyard! Shot! We have to get help! Set an alert! C'mon!"

The man was startled by her grip, but quickly recovered, activating the mic at his collar and speaking in rapid italian, directing other members of security to the vineyard. "Ma'am," he said once he was finished. "I must ask you to come with me."

"Yes, of course," she agreed, mostly lying, her face the picture of anxiety and innocence. "To where? Lead the way!" If he led her somewhere she didn't want to go, she'd kill him. Not hard.

"The security center," he said, motioning for her to follow. "If there is an active shooter that will be the safest place to be."

Nevermind, she thought to herself on the subject of killing him, and followed by his side as he started off. "Understood," she said, voice mostly firm but still carrying the tones of someone worried and afraid. Cultivating an air of weakness until she didn't need it anymore. The security center, while safe, would also be doubly useful - it had intercoms. She could, in theory, take over the entire compound with a quick and threatening speech. Moriarty was no longer a secret, these days. Everyone knew who he was. By god, she'd use it.

He brought her to the first basement level, down a few halls and past keycard checkpoints. Finally he entered a code into a pad next to a steel door, which swung open, and they moved into the security center proper. One man was watching over a bank of monitors, while another man and a woman were watching two large screens on the far wall, flying drones over the orchards, a map on another screen marking their locations with colored blips as they charted a grid pattern. Lorna made an effort not to get too excited about her chances. Things could still go wrong. Still, it would be so easy to slit the throat of her guard and rip the gun out of his hands to turn it on the others. She stayed somewhat near him, for this purpose, ready. No more fucking around.

"I have a body," the woman said a moment later, the drone in her control descending to get a better look. "It's Luciano. He's dead. Gunshot wound and slit throat."

The man at the monitors swore and picked up a radio. "Lock down the compound. Repeat, full lockdown."

Okay, they were about two minutes away from putting two-and-two together. She had to act before they thought to check her for a knife. The blade was in her hand a moment later, and she slit the throat of the guard in front of her with a vicious pull of the knife, yanking the gun out his hand as he dropped to his knees and hoisting it at the other three in the room after tucking the knife into her back pocket. It was an automatic rifle. She vaguely knew how to use these. They didn't need to know that. "Alright, folks," she started, smiling comfortingly. "We're all going to behave nice and calmly, and no one is going to get killed like this unfortunate soul at my feet. I want access to the intercom, now."

They hadn't been paying attention to her, focused on screens and the activity on the grounds, so by the time they realized what was happening, she had the gun level with their faces. Three sets of hands raised very slowly, three sets of eyes analyzing where their loyalties lay with the author of their paychecks dead in the dirt.

"Yes, that's right, think long and hard about where that paycheck is coming from, it's healthy for you," she said, idly looking over the consoles for something that looked like a microphone. "First person to help me gets a guaranteed job with Moriarty's network. In fact, I'm about to lay claim to the entire fucking villa in his name, so if you're not on board with this, you can go sit in that corner," she gestured with the gun to the far side of the room, away from the door, where she could keep an eye on them, "And if you sit there like a good little idiot until I'm on my way, you get to live. Get it? Help me, be rewarded. Stay out of my way, continue on living. Fight me? Die by my hand."

"Pretty clear," the woman said with an agreeable nod. "Seems fair. The intercom's there." She jerked her chin toward the radio the man had first spoken into.

"Fantastic. Please go stand in the corner by the door. Do not leave until I am gone or I give you permission. You two," she looked at the two remaining men, "Into the idiot corner please." The first of the men started to go fairly willingly, and when his comrade hesitated, dragged him along by the arm, obviously desiring to avoid inciting Lorna to pull the trigger. She appreciated that. She needed relative silence until she made her speech to the compound.

She waited until they were a safe distance from the intercom and then walked forward, quickly finding the controls that allowed broadcasting to the entire villa, and after flicking several switches, she leaned forward and tapped the microphone. Feedback came over the speakers, which was a hopeful sign. She would just have to hope it was going everywhere she needed it to. She began speaking, in Italian, for the benefit of the people listening. Her British accent, however, made it clear who was speaking.

"Hello, everybody. I am speaking to you today on behalf of Mr. Jim Moriarty. Yes, that Moriarty. Luciano is dead. Not by our hand, but, well, time to make the most of it, people. I hereby declare this villa absorbed by Moriarty and his holdings - if you disagree with this, you are welcome to leave and go find another job. If you'd like to avoid a job hunt in a country riddled with what sometimes feels like thousands of little crime lords who all hate each other, you can stay, and in a couple weeks when all this is sorted you'll be absorbed into Moriarty's network. Those who join can expect raises and immunity from all these little war lord's squabbles. Those who leave, you're free to go. Those who fight me will be shot down by myself and my new friends. Those in the room with me seem to have gotten the message, so I hope the rest of you aren't stupid as well. Oh, and anyone who brings me the computer cards Luciano used to access his computers will get a several million euro bonus and a kiss from me. Go have fun on that scavenger hunt." She shut off the intercom, and turned around to smile at the people in the room. "How was that?"