Chapter 16


Nature is always calming. The different hues of green and the mellow sounds coming from it provide that feeling of total serenity. Beca always loved looking out unto it. Her mother, when she was alive, had loved nature. That's why there always had to be a garden wherever they may be residing around the globe where she would take long walks around it with Beca bouncing along. Looking out to the wide windows of her father's office, Beca is relieved to have this perfect view of their garden. One more second having to stare at papers that needed signing and listening to advisers telling her what is best for this and that is going to make her go bang her head in the wall.

A knock pulls her out of her thoughts as she tiredly hums a reply. The door opens quickly and Beca doesn't bother turning around to know who it is. With an arm around her middle to prop up her elbow so her fingers can softly press her temples, Beca closes her eyes.

"I said I was going to review it first," she mumbles in a lazy manner. She hears footsteps stepping forward in front of her table. The wooden furniture, if one would notice, was made with such sophistication and about six kinds of exotic wood that would have every president in the world long for it with envy. But the visitor isn't interested in any of that. Her eyes had been focused on the back of Beca's head from the moment she stepped in.

"You also said that yesterday and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that—"

The words abruptly come to a stop as Beca turns around to face stunning bright blue eyes, wavy red locks swept to one side and soft pink lips pausing mid-talk.

"…your highness," Chloe adds, a little uncertainly and even Beca still can't get used to the title. The Vanderbilt may have called her such—teasingly—when they both entered a blood contract about a month ago but the circumstances today were totally different from that time. Formalities are a much serious matter now and crowned royalty must strictly be addressed with the highest form of respect.

Beca then reaches at the bottom of the small pile of documents on her table before pulling out a yellow folder and placing it on top of the pile.

"There," she says while placing a hand on top of the folder. "The bill of unicorn rights is surely going to be the first thing I'll review tomorrow evening and after I am done deciding on it, I will call you to my office immediately. Now, is that all?"

"Why not now, if I may ask?" Chloe asks, eyeing the folder then back at Beca.

"Because I'm ti—," she stops before she trips on her words, cursing internally at how close she was to making a mistake.

"Yes, your highness?" the redhead eggs her on, eyes watching her carefully as she leans closer and Beca knows she was waiting for her to admit it—which she won't, by the way, admit the fact that she was exhausted and stressed.

Being queen is no joke.

"Thinking," she blurts out instead. "Plans, laws, projects, developments and strategies. Urgent matters," and there really is stuff to do, just not as urgent or important as she keeps elaborating.

Clearing her throat and keeping her hands busy by re-arranging her papers she finally says, "So, if that's all then you may go,"

"Actually," Chloe starts again before stepping even closer to Beca's table, her pastel violet coat hitting the edge of the wooden table. "There's one more thing," she bites her lip as she says this and Beca is already certain what it's going to be. Also, quickly averting her eyes from those distracting lips is totally the safer and best option right now—if she wants to continue breathing properly.

"What is it?" she asks, eyes and hands finding interest in her fountain pen instead.

"Can I talk to Beca? You know, Beca Mitchell, not the queen of Corvinn castle, crowned royalty, head of the royal army, leader of the council and of the people. Just Beca. Please? I really need to talk to her," Chloe looks at her pleadingly with those sparkling big baby blue eyes that makes Beca sigh in defeat.

With her shoulders sagging down, she lazily sits down at her chair and eyes the redhead for a couple of seconds, "Fine, idiot. You have five minutes. Five," she breathes out, emphasizing the time before leaning back and swivelling her chair to the side to throw a crumpled paper ball into the bin, ultimately dropping all formality and every trace of the invisible crown on her head.

With the queen gone and the laid back Du Pont taking her place, Chloe exhales in relief and plops down the chair in front of Beca's desk. "When's the last time you ate?" she quickly asks in a much friendlier tone and Beca shrugs.

"I've had a coffee," she tries to dismiss but no sooner has she said this Chloe pushes her papers aside instantly earning a reaction.

"Those are important," she warns but is immediately faced with a pointed stare.

"Oh do they give you energy and nutrition now?" Chloe fires back, an eyebrow arched up perfectly as she waits for Beca to object. The Du Pont looks away instead, having no valid argument for that and Chloe reaches down on the paper bag Beca hadn't noticed she was carrying earlier.

In seconds a lunchbox is laid on top of her desk, followed by two more plastic containers and a mug. The sight makes Beca groan, "Time to hide kids, the nutrition police is here," she smirks at the glare the Vanderbilt throws at her in reply.

"How come they aren't feeding you? You're the queen for god's sake!"

"Well, I might have dismissed them a couple of hours ago…" she trails off softly while fiddling through the edges of stacked papers and the Vanderbilt just throws her an exasperated look.

"Are you even sleeping these days?" Chloe asks worriedly as Beca pokes on the food, hoping that her stomach doesn't embarrass her more by growling loud enough at the sudden mouth-watering dishes in front of her. Most especially if said dishes are native to her mother country.

"There's a sofa over there and this chair is comfy," she mumbles before taking a spoonful of Hachis Parmentier or mashed potatoes over a layer of ground beef and then eyeing the blood sausage or as they call it in France, Boudin noir. It's extremely delicious—which she's not going to admit, even if they're her favourites.

"Becs!"

"What? I've slept in worse conditions. Besides I'm home anyway, what difference is sleeping in the sofa than in the bed at this point?" she defends before slyly taking a piece of blueberry muffin.

"You need to take a break," Chloe suggests and Beca doesn't see how her she fidgets her fingers when she says this.

"Easier said than done," she replies—as she starts demolishing the blood sausages.

"At least a couple of hours," Chloe tries again and there's a hint of hopefulness to her tone.

"You've seen the line of people outside wanting to see me, right?" she counters with her mouth full of food.

"You can dismiss them and besides, there's like three people waiting outside. It surely won't take you all day,"

She surely is very passionate about this—like a lot of things Chloe Beale is so passionate about. For example, and in no specific order, humanitarian efforts, vampiritarian efforts, recycling, acapella and debating that the overfeeding of pigeons in the park needs to be discouraged. Sometimes it's so hard to even believe that a person like Chloe exists.

"Yes it'll be easy if they are going to talk about unicorn rights which by the way, is hard to protect if you can't even see one," she points out in between sips of blood from the adorable otter mug.

"Didn't really have a choice. How else am I supposed to see you unless I set a valid appointment?" she mumbles quickly that Beca doesn't catch her words properly—the blood sausages are to blame.

"What?"

"Unicorns are important too! Just because you rarely see them doesn't make them invalid," Chloe blurts out before switching back to the main topic.

"As I was saying, you need a break,"

Beca hums another reply, eating a piece of blueberry muffin as she waits for another set of reasons why she needs to get some rest. Rest, something she could actually get anytime she wants if she could only sleep properly at night and stop trying to forcibly get everything done all at the same time. They're all distractions, she admits, stuff to take away her mind of feelings she is trying to push away. Feelings that are bringing her delicious French food, entertaining her with unicorns and doing a great job at keeping her mind at peace. And her stubborn heart completely fluttering over to beautiful baby blues and clinging to them tightly for maybe the rest of her life or until she forcefully reels it back in the dungeons where she safely tries to hide it.

She almost chokes on her mashed potatoes as she stops her thoughts from going where it isn't supposed to go—damn, feelings! When she looks up at the Vanderbilt who has strangely gotten silent for a minute now, she lays down her spoon and looks at her with a look that screams, 'just spill it'.

"What now?" she asks knowing that there's a favour brewing from underneath that badly wants to rise up.

When the redhead remains silent and instead, starts unconsciously fidgeting with her fingers again she goes for a threat, "You do know that your five minutes is up, like fifteen minutes ago," and Beca swears that if this is something as shallow as another bill of rights for the ducks then she's seriously going to—

"Go out,"

Go where?

But before she could even asks, the Vanderbilt was quick to elaborate, "You need to go out with me—I-I mean we can go someplace relaxing so you can like, unwind!" she stutters, her tone going quick and up in some record breaking pitch.

She contemplates on it for a few moments before figuring out that maybe she needs some details first. "When and where? Because I still need to check my sched—"

"Tomorrow, 2 am, beside Polis Café!" comes the very hurried reply and before Beca could even give an excuse the Vanderbilt gets up with an equally hurried, "Don't be late! See you tomorrow, bye!" before rushing out the door almost as quick as lightning.

If Beca finds sleeping hard, she's going to get none of that today. She did spend hours tossing and turning in bed as she tries to think of ways on how to tell Chloe that she won't be able to go. She's already got a mental list of reasonable excuses.

One, she was too busy, which was slightly true. Two, she's got meetings, which was again slightly true if you count that one video conference meeting with the Irish ambassador. And three, feelings, feelings and feelings! Stupid feelings that don't go away even if you beg them to!

Feelings that drive you to the edge when you least expect it and arise out of the blue. Feelings that make you stop in front of a pet shop beside the now closed Polis Café at two in the morning and worsen the grand debate happening in your head—she's losing in it, apparently.

She had spent her whole day being antsy and in the state of confusion. It was worse enough that she couldn't concentrate on her work. This wasn't exactly what she had expected when she woke up underneath the weeping willow a week ago with her head now buried in vanilla scented wavy red hair, arms protectively embracing the sleeping body next to her and legs still tangled up with each other. She swore she had a heart attack right then and there. So, she slipped away as quietly as possible and figured that now that things would surely grow even more awkward between them then she would be fine. Two days without hearing anything from the Vanderbilt already has her planning her flight back to France until those determined baby blues come greeting her in her office before laying down a yellow folder on the center of her table. If Beca was shocked, she didn't let it show as she had been trained to hide her emotions and school her features from a young age.

Chloe had then proceeded to get straight to business by pointing out that mythical creatures like the unicorns need to be protected as the threat of humans possibly finding and hunting them is increasing. Of course, Beca had first thought it was all a joke but as Chloe starts making valid points, even citing their laws on protecting the secrets of their world and everything connected to it, she realizes how serious the redhead actually was. And naturally, they argued and debated about it. What Beca hadn't noticed is that they've been going on for almost four hours straight or that unicorns wasn't the topic anymore—"No, why would I watch that? She's going to die anyway or they'll split up because of some dumb reason or they'll be forced in some heterosexual shit despite it being obvious that they are in love with each other since the FIRST movie! Lesbian couples never end up together! I'm telling you, human TV and films are trash, Chloe,"

It was only when an urgent phone call from Romania finally cuts their 'discussion' short. Beca would then find out that Chloe had scheduled that appointment two days ago because apparently, non-relatives can't just see her without an appointment about political matters or that she's suddenly coming up with numerous reasons why she should stay in Maryland instead of heading back to France. The Vanderbilt would then constantly return to her office for the next couple of days. It all fell together so easily and it makes Beca want to stab herself a million more times—because feelings.

It's feelings that have her standing out of her car with her hands in the pockets of her black knee-length coat and staring dumbly at the pet shop which definitely reads 'closed'. Only the clubs and 24/7 convenience stores nearby were open at this hour.

Anyone would've turned and walked away instead but they weren't Beca. They couldn't feel what she feels. There's that very strong pull coming from inside the small establishment or that extremely hypnotizing scent that fills up her lungs. Only Beca and Beca alone would know that Chloe is definitely inside.

She glances at the identical black cars, courtesy of the council, parked at strategic locations across the now empty street for security purposes. It had been difficult getting them off her back and in the end they had made a compromise to keep watch from a distance instead.

Due to the lack of people with it being a dead hour easily makes her hesitation outside very much obvious. She exhales heavily for the millionth time. Every time she takes a couple of steps forward it is followed by a couple of steps back. She doesn't even know what she's doing anymore or why she was acting so ridiculous. It's just Chloe and some trip to the pet shop.

Just Chloe. And that's the problem.

Her fingers hover above the door handle only to pause for a moment and drop back down to her side. It's ironic she thinks to be so close yet so far at the same time. It reminded her of eight years ago when they'd stand across each other at the school corridors, just a couple of steps away from each other yet unable to cross the distance. Because a Du Pont and a Vanderbilt don't mingle with each other.

But then there's that small smile and that knowing look. It only takes couple of moments before it fades when their families make the gap even more prominent between them. She'd be pushed around to a corner and Chloe would be pulled away. But that's how it is.

Always separated.

The memory makes her take a step back, her feet just about to turn around when the door suddenly opens. It makes her stop, the growing smile greeting her instantly erasing that strong resolve to leave. Those lips begin to move but she doesn't catch the words coming out of them and only stares as warm fingers wrap around her own, pulling her inside. She follows without a word, eyes gazing on swaying auburn hair in front of her.

It takes her back again. The clock ticking slowly as she happily runs across the gardens with Chloe in front of her, those same auburn locks bouncing with every movement. Their hands locked into each other as they imagine of great adventures filled with mystical creatures and friendly aliens.

Only this time, said mystical creatures and friendly aliens happen to be—

"Kittens?" she repeats, looking distantly at the little balls of fluff stumbling around their little enclosure as she lingers by the door. Chloe on the other hand is already excitedly carrying a bunch of kittens in her arms.

"I know! Aren't they cute?" she gushes, turning towards her.

"Yeah they are," she replies monotonously. "Are you adopting one? Is that what why we're here? And please tell me you had legal access to this shop because even though breaking in is fun, I'd much prefer to be caught stealing a liquor store than a pet shop," she says as she pokes at one of the stuffed pet toys in a corner.

"First of all, what if we don't get caught?" Chloe throws back at her, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Second, maybe I want to adopt one. Do you think I should take the white one or the brown one?" she says looking down at the little fur balls in her arms and proceeding to explain more about each kitten.

"And they'll claw at everything, pee on your lap, get cat hair all over your furniture and their shit smells twice as bad than dog shit," Beca continues for her, propping an elbow on top of one of the cabinets as she taps her finger on another stuffed toy's nose.

But as she already knows, nothing dampens Chloe's resolve to do anything she sets her heart to. "But you'll get loads of fluffy hugs, kisses and cuteness! Their awesome companions too,"

Beca narrows her eyes at her words and sighs, "That's," she starts choosing her words carefully and shaking her head lightly at the only conclusion that comes up. "That's not how cats are. They are pure evil, Chloe,"

The offended look almost makes her smile but she masks it perfectly well. "How are these sweethearts evil?" she questions, her tone hiking up to the roof. It doesn't really bother her at all until she sees that familiar look. The one that doesn't settle well in her gut. The calm before the storm. The silence before the pounce. The kittens on the ground.

The kittens are down on the fucking ground.

The kittens are crawling on the ground because the idiot has just released them and now they are marching her way to wage war at her—those evil beings.

"No. Don't go this way—Shoo!"

Beca steps back further against the wall—if that was possible—and tries to scare them off by shaking her foot in front of them. She does get most of them to scamper away except for one.

A single kitten with gray and white fur underneath the black stripes that stretch all over its body, looks up at her with its dark blue eyes. Upon closer inspection, the black markings on its forehead and around its eyes in contrasts to the brown fur of its face reminded her of a racoon.

"Go! Go follow your friends," she says, waving it off with her hand but none of her shooing works. Instead, the kitten crawls even closer until it reaches her feet. She remains still as it climbs up on top of her black and white sneakers, a paw against her leg as it lets out a small meow.

Uncertainly, she reaches down to take the little fur ball off her, placing it down the floor and gently pushing it in the opposite direction. It doesn't though and just keeps crawling back to her.

"She likes you," Chloe observes as she kneels down the floor to play with an orange kitten.

"Because it's evil," Beca grumbles, still trying to push the kitten away.

Her words are quick to make a frown appear on Chloe's face, "Why?" she asks and perhaps it was the poor lighting of the room but she almost seemed hurt.

"Why do you make it seem so wrong for someone to like you?"

And maybe Beca wasn't prepared for questions like that. So, she lets the silence stretch. Her hands slowly cease to push the kitten away until she just stops and just watches it crawl back to her, rubbing its head against the side of her sneakers. Sighing in defeat, she sits on the floor across Chloe, who was now settled down with her legs crossed, and lazily strokes on black fur.

"I've killed many," she quietly answers after a while.

"I know" comes the equally soft reply.

Somehow it irritates her how casual it sounds, how easily it was taken in, or how simple it was. Of all the vicious things that she had done, people have looked at her in horror, avoided her and wouldn't even dare come across her ever again.

"All of them died brutal deaths,"

"I know,"

She mustn't be saying that and Beca feels like she was thrown in some alternate universe where life wasn't an ass.

"I'm evil,"

"You're not,"

The sarcasm in her laughter is evident and she doesn't bother hiding it. Anger starts to rise from inside her chest and she doesn't even know where exactly it is stemming out of. Or like everything in her life, she probably just didn't want to face it.

"You're naïve to think that," she strikes, looking at the redhead whose attention was still held by the kittens playing around her.

She keeps looking though, "Life isn't only filled with rainbows and sunshine. People whoever they may be are capable of being cruel. Just because I saved the world doesn't mean I'm good. Don't twist things and talk about them like you know it all. I just happened to not have a choice. It was only this or that,"

That finally makes the Vanderbilt look up back at her and Beca figures that it only hurts. How painfully beautiful she was. How those magical blues are capable of destroying worlds. It wasn't fair.

"Is that what you want me to think of you?" she questions, her gaze unwavering and Beca doesn't know what to make of it.

"It's the truth," she answers.

The redhead's eyes drop down to the kitten now settling down her lap as she continues softly, "It is, maybe, but it still doesn't make me think of you any less,"

Beca could've easily countered that but her thoughts fade into a blank piece of paper as the redhead suddenly adds, "I don't think I can ever hate you, Becs. I don't want to. I never wanted to,"

Beca's suddenly reminded why she didn't want to be there at that moment. There's a million things she could say. A million things she could ask. But she doesn't out of fear of what she may hear. She wasn't ready for that. She'll never be and her walls are in danger of crumbling if it happens. She can't ever let that happen. But Chloe Beale, destroyer of worlds and the greatest danger to her mental well-being, doesn't make things easy and Beca finds that the will to push her away wasn't as strong as it was. Not when they are at this point.

"Do you hate me?"

Those baby blues search hers and for a while they just stare at each other in silence. The dimness of the room unable to hide her. She couldn't look away. "Do you still hate me, Midnight?"

Beca was never good with words when she was a child. Time has improved that flaw. But tonight the jumbled mess in her mind and the conflicting feelings swirling inside her chest has brought back that flaw. There was an answer but saying it out loud could ruin her, ruin… everything she built. It suddenly scares her.

But even then Chloe always seemed to know. Beca never really had to say anything. She always could tell even back then and it makes Beca feel even more nostalgic. For years, she's deemed their history, tragic and unrepairable just like their families. She's figured that it was better that way. Figured that it was better to leave it with unmeasurable hate rather than stay and complicate things further.

But how does one stray from the very thing your heart desires?

Tragic, indeed.

How she wished she could stay angry at her, to remain furious and resentful. How she wished she still could conjure that much hate as she had felt before. But she doesn't.

That hate never even existed and it's tragic to love someone you know will never be yours.

She doesn't immediately realize Chloe sitting down next to her but when she does, her heartbeat increases in speed.

"I missed you,"

It comes as a whisper but to Beca it's as loud as an explosion, a bomb ticking off in front of her.

Three words.

It only took three words to make her cave in.

"I missed you too,"

The space lessens and Chloe's hand brush against hers. Her heart stops and Chloe fingers gently wrap around hers, slow and uncertain. But she was too far gone. Miserably failing to grasp control of her own body as she closes her fingers around Chloe's and holds on to it.

Everything feels light. She discovers that it's a new kind of high. One she wants to get into over and over again until she overdoses herself in it.

"Are you still leaving for France?"

"Eventually,"

"Oh," the disappointed tone was too obvious and it takes so much for her not to fall completely.

"After I finish the school year in Victor Barden. Council's orders. Apparently, being queen means having a splendid educational background,"

"Oh," this time it sounds more hopeful, one that comes with a small smile.

And it's all just too much. If she hadn't caught herself in time, she would've done something she might regret.

"I have to go," she finally lets out and it honestly feels like being ripped back into the horrible reality.

"So, tomorrow?" Chloe asks, again with that hopeful tone and thankfully, Beca wasn't looking into those eyes or she might just pathetically cave in again.

"Can't. Huge meeting with the council tomorrow,"

It's a lie. But it's the only way she knows. She needs to save herself or she'll drown completely and she can't have that.

"Maybe some other time then,"

"Yeah, some other time,"

The racoon kitten is already sleeping in between them and when Chloe asks what name she would give it—just in case she picks that one—Beca doesn't hesitate on saying, 'Evil Warlord,' It elicits melodious laughter and it's probably going to ring in Beca's ears all night.

They slip out of the kitten room and just when she thought she could finally grasp for air, Chloe pulls her back down in the deep again. She reaches for Beca, drawing her in for a hug and for a few moments Beca thinks maybe it is okay to drown in the moment. But lingering any longer than she should is dangerous. Especially when Chloe's body fits hers perfectly, her scent so good and her exposed neck where that throbbing pulse is dangerously close to Beca's lips.

So she pulls away with every will power she can muster before she completely loses it and leaves.

"Cancel everything tomorrow," she orders when she gets home, running her hands through her hair before grabbing her personal car keys. She then quickly hops into one of her cars. Ignoring her security and driving off as far as she can go.

She stops in front of a club, the one she is granted VVIP access to and heads to the bar without pausing. They pour her poison of choice and she drinks it all in one go.

It doesn't take long until she finds a warm body in the crowd, easy and willing for her. The air thickens and it's too hot for clothes. She needed release and she needed one now. When she gets it, there's only one name spilling off her lips and it's one belonging to someone she can't have. But it wasn't enough and unfortunately she knows why.

So she settles for what's in front of her instead.

She needed more.

She needed a distraction.


3 years ago

Russia

345th Annual Royal International Military Exercises

The cold bites back harsher than ever out in the forest with snow thickly blanketing the ground where Beca's boots have been trudging along for three days. Behind her, a team of 30 soldiers follow, all eyes peeled at every corner of their surroundings and ears trained to pick up the faintest of sounds even an ordinary vampire can't hear. Their hands carrying assault rifles filled with fake bullets instead of the real ones and their backs being weighed down by travel bags of necessities they needed for their four day military activity.

Every year, military teams from all over the world join together to conduct friendly battles in order to share skills, knowledge and strengthen international ties. This year, six teams from all over the world, including the five elite heirs are taking part of this year's exercises. Being paired randomly, it promotes unity, makes things much interesting and less biased. For sixteen year old Beca it's bullshit and a waste of time, energy and money. Plus, one look at her co-commander and that belief strengthens even more. She'd rather have her brains fried than spend another day in the wild without having to actually create havoc. It's like mock debates but less fun.

"We camp out here for now. The sun's about to come up," Thomas Vanderbilt says, stopping next to her while she visually checks the perimeter.

"If you want to get ambushed easily and take last place in this child's play then go ahead and build your luxury tent," she mutters, eyes still scanning the area while she internally frowns at the Vanderbilt heir's highly expensive choice of gear and equipment.

Thomas or Tom for short—a nickname Beca won't ever use because speaking it already causes her stomach to turn—glares back at her and she could feel his temper bubbling up to its limits like the countless of times it has already happened for the past two days.

"Just so you know, if I haven't made myself clear since the first day, losing, isn't in my vocabulary nor do I know what that feels like so if you've got a better idea then go ahead and share it then since you're such an expert, apparently," he says through gritted teeth as Beca levels his glare. They stand in front of the other for a minute, being both harshly bred and trained for leadership, both their dominant personalities are bent to clash at every turn and decision they encounter.

Being tired, hungry and cold, Beca decides that now is not the time to kick the Vanderbilt's ass as she silently points over a certain direction, eyes never leaving Tom's as she does so.

Tom seems to contemplate it for a while, his jaw clenching before finally breaking their staring battle and looking over at their team. "We camp up ahead," he orders while Beca starts walking towards the 'much more' strategic location. The Vanderbilt however walks past her, muttering an angry and low, "You can have this one, Du Pont. By the next decision, we're going to follow my orders,"

Beca rolls her eyes, wondering why of all the people she could've paired up with it had to be a Vanderbilt. She remembers having heard whispers and gasps as the announcement of paired team commanders happened. She already knew at that second that things are going to turn out the way it has turned out now.

Fortunately, winning was a goal they both shared despite of how much they wanted to strangle each other every passing minute they spend together travelling. So, they avoided getting physical at each other for the sake of getting first place. Yesterday night, she had relented to his 'opinion' about which direction they should take next and today just happened to be her turn to gain the upper hand.

"You have a death wish," Tom suddenly says, breaking the silence between them as they take refuge away from the sun. It won't be long until sunset though and they'd be back to travelling. Beca looks up from where she is seated to meet those icy blue eyes staring back at her.

When she doesn't reply, he continues to elaborate, "I heard you're enlisting for underworld,"

Underworld, a word used whenever one plans to join the military's underground operations. It's no secret that the council has trained killers to do what they dubbed as the highly confidential 'black book operations'. It was formed in secrecy years ago when the threat of exposure to their 'kind' has risen. Vampires had walked alongside humans for years but despite each one having general knowledge of hiding their identity to the world, there are some who still break the rules.

Massacres, assassinations and gruesome murders have increased during 1970s and the council is having a hard time catching and covering up the identity of those whom they call 'rogue vampires' or vampires who do not submit to the crown and cause havoc in the human world without a care of exposure. Thus, the Underworld is formed, an organization without the restraints of the laws and therefore can operate through illegal methods. However, if asked, the council would deny any involvement in its creation.

Unlike most elite heirs who would choose a seat in the council or in any prestigious government organization, Beca is about to officially join Underworld and would most likely be the youngest member to have ever worked under the black flag. Officially is the word because to be honest, she has been in the care of Underworld since she was twelve, being trained to become an official death squad agent. Training orphaned children has always been their specialty. Children were easier to train and earning their loyalty was easy. Regarding that, Beca breaks another record to be the only non-orphan child—she may only have one parent but still, she can't exactly be called orphan.

"Better than getting married," Beca finally replies, her words being shot like arrows and clearly hitting its mark.

"Depends on who you're marrying," Tom corrects her while Beca sighs.

"Congratulations then. Just a forewarning though, sex gets boring after a couple of months, love dies after two years and children are a pain in the ass. Good luck," she continues to say in a mocking tone before leaning back on to the cold rocky wall and closing her eyes to sleep.

"I'm marrying Chloe,"

The name comes out of nowhere like a speeding car colliding from behind her. It has been years since she last heard it. Her eyelids slowly open but they don't look at the Vanderbilt, her dark blue orbs settling at the thick snow covering the ground instead.

"You probably already know how it is in my family. She was bound to be mine from the moment she was born. I haven't seen her in years but I've been told that her beauty threatens Aphrodite's,"

Beca's fists clench unconsciously and the blue in her eyes threatening to be washed away and replaced by dark red.

"It's funny because I suddenly remembered," Tom starts before pausing, a finger tapping his chin, "A little bird told me that you and my future wife have seemed to be closely acquainted years ago… in secret,"

Beca finally returns her gaze back at him, her features going from playful to unreadable as she straightens up.

"We'll be seated in the council soon, our circle will grow smaller and our families mingling with each other more often than before. Maybe I'm just here to straighten some issues once and for all," he says before picking himself up.

"Or you can take this as a reminder that there are some borders that can be crossed and some that are impossible… like our families,"

Beca finds herself standing across from him, head held up high, unwavering as explosives set off in her head and her heart sparking a blaze that the line between what's wrong and right starts to fog up. She steps forward, her heart feeling that soft tug from that small and almost unnoticeable chain connected to it from the other end of the globe. If she wasn't so pre-occupied with murderous thoughts, she would've been surprised to find the connection still alive and unbroken.

Her eyes are focused at him with such intensity and it's like losing control for the first time again. It's like pulling the trigger and hearing the bullet hitting its mark with that sickening sound Beca will never forget.

A sadistic smile forms on her face. She learned that one from her father. "That's unfortunate," she almost whispers as a very small crease starts to show in between his forehead.

"Because the truth is, no matter how many churches around the globe you marry her in and no matter how many million times you claim her, there's always going to be a part of me inside of her that nobody can ever expel. Not even Chloe herself can do it and certainly not you," her chest heaves as she emphasizes each and every word, her eyes clouding with rage.

"It's flattering that you find me to be such a huge threat despite my absence in her life that now I'm certain of one thing. It'll bring me great amount of pleasure to know that as you take her as your wife, your partner and mate, that with every kiss she gives you, every bone crushing hug, every single touch, every sort of affection that she can show and that even as you make you love to her," she swallows hard and inhales as much air as her lungs can take.

"I bet, there'll always be that small worrying thought in the back of your head asking you that one question," she pauses, proud at the uneasiness slowly painting his face before continuing further.

"Does she really, truly belong to you?" she sneers, her fangs glinting in the moonlight.

"Then when you finally realize it, what you haven't spotted from the very beginning, what you failed to see from the start. That she may be born a Vanderbilt. That her blood may be considered pure but deep down underneath all that flesh and blood, deep in the core of her bones, she is very much as rotten as a Du Pont that she might as well be one. That it's not just because of my blood flowing deep in her but it's because she's always been different. That I'm just the trigger to that side of her you're probably going to be desperately trying to hide but can't and with that you can be sure, it'll be the greatest accomplishment of my life," she presses on tauntingly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she feigns surprise as she spots the vein popping out at the side of his neck in anger. "You must not know of this but… I know what her blood tastes like," she leans closer to his ear as she whispers, "And god it tastes extremely addicting. It's so," she prolongs the last word as if savouring something delightful. "Delicious, like the finest, rarest wine you'll ever taste. You just want to keep having more and more, and more. That's what Chloe tastes like,"

"My advice?" she says, finally stepping back and answering without waiting for a reply. "Be careful, Thomas. We Du Ponts have it in our blood to love the thrill of spiralling closely to the edge, defying authority, breaking the rules, have such strong affinity for the wild side and go boom when suppressed for so long, even more so when restricted," she says with a flourish of her fingers.

"You might want to learn how to duck and avoid when she's pissed, I might've taught her how to punch and kick," she nods, turning to leave before abruptly stopping to face him once more.

"Oh and will you tell your sister, Claire, that out in the wild it's the loud and chatty little birds that easily get spotted and shot first. Stay indoors,"

She then turns around, deaf to the furious retorts he growls at her from behind. Her feet don't stop as she lets the distance between them grow. She doesn't care about the stupid military exercises anymore. She's done playing those stupid games.

When she finally stops, she finds her heart pumping hard in her chest, her body tense and shaking. Not with the cold but with anger, maybe even fury.

The truth is, she didn't know were all those came from. Everything just spilled out of her lips before she could even fully comprehend them. She just wanted to piss him off. Admittedly, he struck a nerve. She didn't expect it. Anything regarding Chloe wasn't expected.

But it also dawned at her that her words held something behind them she suddenly refuses to accept. If it was something she could vomit then she would've done so now. Because if that really was what she was implying earlier then she must be going mad.

Did she just unconsciously made it clear to him that Chloe Beale is hers?

Was that possessive rage?

"I need alcohol," she mumbles to herself while shaking her head to dismiss the absurd thought.

Because Chloe was and can never be hers.

And working for Underworld? It's just another escape.

Another distraction.


A/N:

Alright. I'm up! I'm here. I'm alive. But what day is it today? Holy shit. Too early. Well, fuck it. Here's an update for all you pretty assholes. Merry Christmas! Oh double shit on top of a whole pile of shit. It's already 2018? I should stop. I'm drunk...in love. Damn.

Why am I like this?

Fuck. Language. Sorry kids.

Bechloe is real.

Thank you to everyone who favorited, followed and commented/reviewed Midnight Sunshine! I love and appreciate all of it. Update next week (or whenever this vacation/alcohol hangover goes away). Also, don't drink while you write. Psh, just kidding. Always drink when you write stories, NOT when you drive (NEVER when you drive).