Chapter 4

18 hours earlier…

Sydney stepped off the curb, slipping into the cab quickly. She glanced out the window, spotting the red haired woman slip into a cab behind her. She narrowed her eyes, annoyed. The woman had followed her from Mexico to Italy. Stupid bitch. This woman was in the wrong business. Sydney gave the driver directions, sitting back in her seat to wait.

It only took five minutes to get to her location. She paid the driver, watching the red haired woman do the same. Fucking amateur. She stepped out; walking into the club she had directed the driver to. The place was packed. Bodies grinding together everywhere, people drinking, smoking. She walked to the back, pushing away anyone who came near her. She wasn't exactly feeling friendly right at this moment.

She pushed open the back door, closing it behind her. She breathed in the fresh air, thankful she wasn't in the smoky club anymore. She stood in the shadows, waiting. It only took two minutes before the red haired woman emerged from the door. She walked down the alleyway. Sydney silently came up behind her, her gun directed at the woman's back.

----------

"So, are you going to tell me why you were following me, or do I need to make you?" Sydney regarded the red haired woman who was now tied to a pipe in a darkened corner of the alley. The woman looked up at Sydney. She stayed silent. Sydney nodded her head.

"You sure about that? 'Cause I'm feeling rather unhappy right now, and I have no problem using you as my punching bag." The woman said nothing. Sydney walked closer to her. She punched the woman across the face. Blood speckled the alley wall. She leaned down the woman, whispered in her ear. The woman's eyes widened, she looked away.

"I just… I'm just doing a favor for some guy. He paid me." Sydney nodded.

"And this guy's name?" The woman shook her head. Sydney picked up an empty beer bottle breaking it on the wall. She put it to the woman's throat.

"Wait, wait…" The woman closed her eyes, "His name is Thomas D'Aubigne, he works for himself, I swear. He owns a club here, across town. It's called The Colony." She looked at Sydney, her eyes begging. "Please, let me go… I won't tell him anything." Sydney stood up, backing away from the woman. She raised her gun, met the woman's eyes.

"I would advise you to find another profession," she spoke quietly, "and if I ever see you again, I will bury you, whether you're breathing or not." She slammed the butt of her gun against the woman's head, knocking her unconscious.

----------

Sydney had waited for the club to close, which had taken quite a while. It wasn't until three am that she spotted D'Aubigne make his way of the stairs to his living space. She silently followed the man up, knocking one guard unconscious before he could say anything. She waited a moment outside D'Aubigne's door before opening it silently. It was dark, only a small light on. She walked down the small hallway, peeking into one of the bedrooms. Bingo. D'Aubigne was lying on the bed, probably passed out. Sydney slipped a silver knife out of her boot, her lips curving into a smile.

----------

Present…

Sark moved his head slowly. His chest hurt like hell. He licked his dry lips. Damn, what the hell did you drink— oh fuck. He tried moving his wrists, no use. His head shot up, which he immediately regretted. His neck was sore from hanging on his chest. Dammit. He scanned the area. He was still in his bedroom, except he was now tied to a chair. There was another chair across from him. He glanced down, noting he was only wearing a pair of cotton drawstring pants. He sighed, looking up.

He tried moving his feet, no use. They were tied to the chair as well. Sydney obviously didn't want him moving. At all. He closed his eyes, sighing. Things were so fucked— his head snapped up as the door to his room opened. Sydney walked in; her hair was wet, the tendrils hanging over her shoulders. She was wearing a clean tank top. She sat down in the chair across from him. She folded her arms, leaning back in the chair. She regarded him.

"Sydney-"

"Don't talk." She didn't move, simply spoke. He shut his mouth, waiting for her to speak again. "I'll ask questions, you answer. Got it?" He nodded.

"Why did you help me?"

"I told you, because I don't think—"

"Don't give me any of that bullshit, Sark. I want the truth. Simon mentioned something about my mother. What was he talking about?"

"I don't know—" Faster than Sark thought possible, Sydney had backhanded him across the face. He licked the right side of his mouth, tasting blood.

"Don't bullshit me, Sark. I'm not in the mood." Her voice was cold, same as her expression.

"Simon and I promised Irina we would protect you. That's all she asked of us. She knew about the prophecy, she knew people would be after you."

"If she knew about the prophecy why would she have you protect me?" Her voice grew even colder, if possible.

"I don't know, but," he raised his voice before she could hit him, "I would assume, since Irina was always fond of Rambaldi, she wanted to see what would happen." Sydney let out a humorless laugh.

"Guess she would be happy if she knew how it turned out, huh?"

"Sydney—"

"Why didn't you tell me you were related to him?" Sark met her gaze.

"Because I knew if I did, you wouldn't let me help you." Sark raised an eyebrow, "Am I right?"

"Yes, but you still should have told me." Sydney looked away for a moment. "Where is she, my mother?"

"I'm not sure." He spoke softly, "I have ways of contacting her, but I haven't in quite a while. May I ask a question now?" At Sydney's nod he continued. "You were covered in blood before, whose was it?" Sydney smirked.

"I went to visit a friend." She said. "The Covenant, are they really after me?"

"Yes, but not only them." Sark said, "Anyone with any…interest in Rambaldi is looking for you and…" He trailed off.

"My children. And you, of course." Sydney filled in for him. He nodded. "Does anyone know you're Rambaldi's relative?"

"Simon, Nikolai, Irina, and…" He pressed his lips together for a moment. "My father."

"Did he tell anyone?" Sark shrugged.

"We're not sure." He said, "But it's probable."

"Probable?" Sydney shook her head, "What are you going to do if they have?"

"I'm not… sure. Yet." Sydney turned her head, staring out the window for a moment. The sun was rising. She turned back to him.

"I suppose one way to solve the problem would be to kill you." Sark met her eyes with a blank stare; nodded.

"It's a possibility, but they would still hunt you." Sydney nodded.

"Probably." She regarded him for a moment, "So this leaves us in an interesting situation, huh?" She smirked. "It doesn't really matter if I kill you or not. Either way, I'll still be hunted. And I did promise you I would kill you if you ever betrayed me, so… would you like to start begging for your life, Sark?"

----------

"Ciara, babe," Simon tugged her hand, pulling her to a stop. "Babe, I know you want to bring your friend with you, but we can't take a little girl home, it's-"

"What are you talking about?" Ciara was frowning. "We're not bringing a girl home; we're bringing my dog home." Simon's mouth shut. Oh.

"Uh, Ciara, I'm not sure if that's such a good idea. You see, I don't think my friends would like-"

"But Casey's my best friend!" Ciara's eyes were tearing up. Simon's eyes widened. Shit.

"Wait! Don't cry, please! We'll bring him." He let out a mental sigh when she smiled. "Let's go find the little bas-… dog. Let's go find your dog." Ciara smiled and started walking again. Simon followed with slumped shoulders. He was so screwed, there was no doubt about it.

----------

It was a huge mass of fur.

It was slobbering everywhere.

And it was in his car.

Simon grimaced when the huge mutt smeared drool across a window. Simon wasn't exactly fond of animals. He had nothing against them; he just didn't feel the need to own any, or touch any... or be near any. You had to feed them, and wash them… too much responsibility in his opinion. And yet, here he was… the owner of a huge dog, as well as a father. Holy shit.

----------

"McKenas Cole." The voice was female, with a slight Russian accent. Cole grinned into the phone, licking his bottom lip in anticipation.

"Baby, so nice to hear your voice!"

"I could not say the same." Cole laughed, catching the attention of the few people in the parking lot he was standing in. He waved to them, making a crude sign towards the blonde woman nearest to him. She opened her mouth in outrage, and walked off quickly.

"Baby, you know you love hearing me talk. It's one of your favorite pass-times, apart from torturing people, of course."

"It is true I very much enjoyed torturing you, Cole." She spoke. He smirked.

"Yeah, that was fun-time for me too."

"Did you receive the photos?" She asked softly. Cole nodded into the phone.

"Sure did, babe. Interesting things going on, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes. Do you understand what you are to do?" She spoke again.

"Uh-huh. You sure you want me to wait 'til then? I could easily do this now—"

"No." The woman spoke coldly. "You are to do as told, nothing else. This cannot go wrong."

"I hear yah, babe." He spoke calmly, even though the woman on the other end was obviously not someone to mess with.

"Good. Call me when it is done." She said.

"Sure thing—" The line went dead. Cole stared lovingly at the phone. What a woman she was, a cold-hard bitch who didn't give a damn about anyone other than herself. Just the kind of woman he always fell for. He flipped the phone shut, nodding again towards the group of women. They glared at him as he walked away. He had things to prepare if he was going to pay a little visit to Pigtails anytime soon.

----------

"Sydney…" Sark spoke quietly, watching Sydney as she paced around the room. "Why don't you untie me and we can figure this out—" Sydney's hand covered his mouth, her mouth next to his ear.

"I know Nikolai wants me." She felt Sark tense next to her. "I could go find him right now… I could fuck him, right now, while you're tied to this chair. I bet if I left the door open, you would even be able to hear us. Would you like that, Sark?" She pressed her lips against his ear. "Hearing Nikolai and I fuck?" She laughed as he ripped his mouth away from her hand.

"Oh," a concerned expression covered her features, "did I upset you? Did I make you angry, Sark? Or maybe… maybe I made you hot." She laughed again, coming to kneel behind him. She put her mouth on his neck, biting him softly. She looked up to see his eyes closed, his expression blank. She smiled, licking his neck.

She made her way up his neck, up the side of his cheek. Her mouth found his. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, searching for his. After a moment, a strangled noise made its way out of Sark's throat. He pushed back against her mouth as much as he could while tied up. His tongue met hers. She pulled back, breathing harshly. She smirked.

"So I guess that answers the question of whether you still want me." She stood, walking towards the window. Sark watched her, breathing deeply. He was pissed now.

"Sydney—" Before he could finish his sentence, the door to his room opened, Nikolai appeared. He was only wearing boxers. The scar from his gunshot wound was a white jagged line across his chest. Without his shirt, you could see both of his nipples were pierced. He surveyed the room, glancing from Sark to Sydney and back again.

"Is this some sort of weird sex game going on in here?" He glanced down at Sark's tied feet and hands. "Or did you want some help?"

"Sark's fine." Sydney spoke commandingly, walking towards Nikolai. "We're just having some fun." She came to a stop in front of Nikolai, running a hand over his chest, fingering one of his nipple rings. She glanced up to his face, her eyes dark.

"I like these." Nikolai smirked. Sydney rose up to cover his mouth with hers. She brought her hands up to his face, holding him while she pushed her body against his. Nikolai responded, one arm snaking around her waist. He kissed her for another moment, letting the feeling of her wash over him before his other arm came around, this one holding a syringe. He plunged it into her ass. She pulled back with a yell, looking at the syringe in his hand.

"You fucking… bastard! I'm going to…" She fell; Nikolai caught her before she hit the ground. He picked her up gently, laying her on Sark's bed before coming back to Sark, who wore a blank expression. Nikolai untied his arms, Sark untied his own legs. He waited for Sark to speak, watching as he walked over to Sydney, checking her pulse.

"It's just a sedative." Nikolai spoke. He had made sure to come prepared. He knew Sydney wasn't playing nice, and although he would have liked to see how Sark got out of that one, he didn't want his little brother to receive any…permanent damage. They couldn't afford any injuries now. And Sydney was obviously pissed. Extremely pissed. Before Nikolai could ponder anymore, Sark turned, his fist connecting with the left side of Nikolai's jaw. Nikolai fell against the wall, holding his face.

"Fuck!" He pushed off the wall, moving his jaw gingerly. That hurt. "That's how you thank me for saving your ass from being sexually assaulted by—" Nikolai stopped, glanced at Sydney lying on the bed wearing only a small tank top and panties, grimaced, and nodded. "Never mind. I would have punched me too." Sark pursed his lips, shaking his head.

"That was for molesting Sydney." Sark spoke calmly. Nikolai scoffed. Like he needed to molest her. All he had to do was walk into the room.

"Molesting her?" He laughed. "She was all over me. Not the other way around." He shook his head, his eyes roaming over Sydney again. What have I done? "I should have just let her ravish me." Oh yeah.

"Nikolai!" Sark sent a glare in his direction.

"What? She's hot. I'm horny. We'd be good together." He put a hand to his chest, brushing over one of his nipple rings lovingly. "They always love the nipple rings." They both looked towards the door as Simon walked by carrying something, or rather, someone. They waited a moment, in which Simon had backed up, adjusting the little girl in his arms.

He walked into the room, glancing from Nikolai, who was standing and fiddling with one of his nipple rings, to Sark, who was standing there in his boxers staring at him, to Sydney, who was lying on the bed, obviously unconscious. He waited a moment, then turned without saying a word and walked out of the room.

TBC…

Thanks for the reviews, guys! Keep 'em coming!