Sitara

Fingers curled around the trigger of their firearms and prepared to shoot, Marcus and Quinn held one another at gunpoint. Both men were fully aware of the severity of the situation, it only took a slight squeeze of the trigger to end a life. Also, the warehouse was still in complete turmoil due to the ongoing brawl between the cops and the guards. Amazingly, they appeared to be cool, collected and focused, as if they had stared into the face of death far too many times to be fazed by it now.

"Where is Wrench?" Marcus asked, his glare locked on Quinn.

"Gone," Quinn answered, a smug smile tugged at his lips. "And you're never going to find him."

A twinge of hatred flared in Marcus' eyes. Fueled by anger and contempt, his voice grew cold, and harsh. "You wouldn't be the first smug fuck to underestimate me. I'm not gonna ask you again— where the fuck is he?"

A quick, disgusted snort escaped Quinn. "I'm not one to be easily intimidated. Quite frankly, you're not as scary as you think you are. I've danced this dance countless times."

"This ain't my first tango either, and it won't be the last, motherfucker."

"Arrogance is blind to the stumbling block, Marcus. You pull that trigger and we both know how this ends. You shoot, I shoot, we both die. Or we can simply continue with our pointless standoff until the police escort us out in handcuffs. Either way, we both lose. However, I can propose a more suitable scenario that'll benefit the both of us, if you'll indulge me."

Marcus glared at Quinn for a moment in silence contemplation. "Alright, you've got my attention."

"We go our separate ways, and live to fight another day," Quinn said. "That way, you can pursue your pathetic, deluded fantasy of saving your friend, and I can go about my business. Dying here won't accomplish anything." He leveled his blank, empty gaze on me. "You wouldn't want to leave the pretty girl here to fend for herself, would you? I gander the fragile thing wouldn't last long without you."

"Screw you," I muttered. I wasn't some delicate little girl constantly in need of saving, I could handle my own. Although, I hated to admit it, but in a sense, Quinn was right. Marcus was my everything. How would I find the strength to go on in this terrible world without him by my side? I wasn't too stubborn and headstrong to realize how much I needed him.

My gut knotted tightly at the thought of losing him. I clung to Marcus, and held him tightly from behind, hiding behind his broad shoulders to shield myself from Quinn's unnerving, icy gaze. His rich brown gaze darted to me, and softened for only a moment, before diverting his full, undivided attention back to Quinn.

"So, what will it be?" Quinn asked. "Shall we kill one another here, or…"

"We lower our guns on the count of three," Marcus demanded. "Smooth and slow— any sudden movements, and you're dead."

Quinn nodded stiffly. "Very well."

Marcus started the countdown. Once he muttered 'three', gradually and very cautiously, they both began to lower their weapons.

"I figured you for the reasonable sort," Quinn stated.

"This ain't over," Marcus replied. "I will find you, no matter how long it takes."

He smirked, and turned away. "I wouldn't dawdle if I were you. The clock is ticking, the more time you waste here, the less your chances of finding your friend alive."

Once Quinn made his exit, Marcus and I slipped out the warehouse undetected, and was fortunate enough to hack and steal a getaway car from the parking lot without attracting any unwanted attention.

The drive back to the hackerspace was uncomfortably silent, however. Marcus wouldn't say a word. There was tightness in his expression, and his brown eyes were intense, and boiling with anger. And his face— there were small cuts scattered across his cheeks and forehead. His muscular arms were damaged and bruised as well. He had been through so much today, and I wanted to console him, but I didn't have the strength. I was exhausted, and I needed comfort just as badly as he did.

I couldn't stop thinking about Wrench, and all the horrible things those people could be doing to him. It was hard to believe people could be so shitty, every single one of them deserved to rot in Hell. We were going to make them pay, we just had figure out how.

Josh greeted us at the hackerspace's metal entrance, just before the stairs. His eyes widened at the sight of Marcus' disheveled appearance. "Marcus? Are you okay? What happened?"

"We got fucked, that's what happened," Marcus snapped, and brushed past Josh, descending the staircase.

Josh gazed at me. "Where's Wrench? Why isn't he with you guys?"

My stomach hardened. "He's gone, Josh."

"G-gone? What do you mean?"

"The human shit-bags at the warehouse took him—"

"Sitara!" Cindy appeared, and raced up the stairs into my arms.

"Cindy?" I gasped. I could hardly believe my eyes. "What the friggin' heck are you doing here?"

"Why haven't you been returning my calls?" Cindy asked, avoiding my question. "I called you like a bajillion times—"

Boom! Crash!

The noise of objects being thrown and tossed about the hackerspace stole our attention. Cindy cringed, and slipped behind me for shelter.

"What's going on down there?" She asked. "Is that your boyfriend? What's the matter with him?"

"Boyfriend?" Josh gazed at me. "You and Marcus are official?"

I had to fight back a blush before answering him. Referring to Marcus as my 'boyfriend' was going to take some getting used to. "Um, yeah, we're official. So guys, would you mind giving me some space so I can talk to Marcus?"

"W-we don't have time for that Sitara," Josh stammered. "If what you said about Wrench is true, the first twelve to twenty-four hours is the most critical. The longer we take, the less likely for a positive outcome—"

"I know Josh." I paused to let out a sigh, and touched a hand to my forehead. I could feel a migraine coming on, the stress and worry regarding Wrench's safety was weighing heavily on me. It was so hard to keep it together. But I had to, for his sake. "It'll just be a second, okay? I promise."

Josh nodded. "Be quick, Sitara. We'll be in the game shop."

Once Josh and Cindy departed, I descended the stairs into the hackerspace in search for Marcus. I spotted him leaning over the Wrench Bench, nostrils flared, and muscles and veins straining against his flustered skin. Unable to contain his rage, he had reduced our home into a complete wreck. The couch had been kicked aside, and the fold-up table was flipped over, leaving all the empty coffee cups, energy drinks, and days old strawberry cream donuts we had carelessly forgotten about scattered across the floor. There was also a gaping hole in the wall just above Wrench's Bench.

Whenever random dents in the plaster walls appeared throughout the hackerspace, Wrench was always the culprit. He was known to lose his temper every now and then, and took it upon himself to repair the damage he caused during his reckless tantrums. This hole however, was much too wide and deep to be his handiwork. Marcus had to be responsible.

I warily approached him, studying him closely. He was fueled with anger, he was practically trembling. Marcus was always so relaxed, rarely did he ever lose his cool. And when he did, he'd just curse up a storm, but remained level-headed, no matter the odds. To witness him like this, so distressed and furious… it was frightening.

Although, I couldn't blame him for being upset. It hurt that Wrench was taken, and I wanted nothing more than to have him back, but the pain and loss I felt was nothing compared to Marcus'. Marcus and Wrench were thick as thieves, they were the best of friends with an unbreakable bond. If there was anything I could do to alleviate Marcus' despair, I was more than happy to do so.

"Marcus?" I asked. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not fucking okay," he snapped, and pounded his fist against the Wrench's bench, causing it to shake violently. "Wrench is gone! Those motherfuckers took him, and I couldn't do shit about it."

"You need to calm down. Throwing a tantrum won't help anything."

Marcus didn't respond, he merely shook his head. I tapped his shoulder. He flinched, and whirled around to face me.

I spotted a wide blood stain on the side of his white t-shirt. The bloody spot was conspicuously large, and certainly wasn't there on the drive back to the hackerspace, I would have noticed it then. My heart skipped a beat. It looked… fresh.

"Marcus, are you bleeding?" I asked.

He remained silent. He wouldn't look at me— his deep brown eyes were fixed to the ground, his gaze wet, distant and dull. Careful not to startle him this time around, I slowly reached out to him, and gripped his bloody shirt. Thankfully, he didn't recoil, and allowed me to remove his shirt entirely without protest.

There was a lengthy gash on the side of his stomach, blood slowly seeped down from the open wound, and dripped onto the waistband of his jeans. I winced at the sight of the hemorrhage, the laceration was so wide and gaping, it definitely needed stitches, which was far out of my field of expertise. God, it must had been so painful. Marcus seemed to be completely unfazed by it, too immersed in woe over Wrench to be bothered by physical discomfort.

Fortunately for us, there was a first aid kit lying on the floor by the couch. I swept it into my arms, and scavenged through it for something— anything I could use to help stop the bleeding. Where did the wound even come from? My nerves were on edge, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking. It felt like forever before I fished out bandages.

"I have this bad feeling in my gut," he said quietly, his voice choked with emotion. "The same feeling I had when we found out Horatio was taken by the Tezcas. I know how this ends. Everything is so fucked…"

"Shh, just relax," I replied as I wrapped his wound with gauze. I didn't know what else to do with a cut so large, and there was no time to see a doctor. Hopefully the gauze alone would be enough to hold him over for a while. "Things are going to be different this time, we're not going to lose Wrench. Do you hear me? We're not going to lose him. Take a sec' to calm down. I know it's hard, but you have to, for Wrench's sake."

He shook his head, my words seemed to go through one ear and out the other. "I-I can't do this again, I just can't. I've been seeing shit girl, hallucinating about blood, and all kinds of fucked up shit. There's something wrong with me—"

"There's nothing wrong with you, Marcus," I said. "You're just overwhelmed, you've been through so much. Look at me, hun."

He sniffed, his dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears. Despite the crippling grief tugging at his heart, Marcus found the strength to lift, and settle his gaze on me. Despite the terrible timing, I found myself distracted by the shirtless, beautiful, vulnerable man who stood before me. He wept with style, silently gem-shaped tears escaped his radiant brown eyes, and rolled down his flustered cheeks, glistening like sapphires in the light, before disappearing below his sculpted jawline.

I took hold of his glasses, and carefully slipped them from the bridge of his strong nose, freeing his eyes from the thick lenses which shielded them. This way, I could marvel at his beauty in its entirety, my fingertips gently wiped away the wetness staining his handsome face. It was so easy to get lost in his gaze, the subtle hues of bronze in his pupils were mesmerizing.

I hated to witness Marcus hurting. My desire to comfort my lover and best friend spiraled higher and higher with every second that passed. Clearly, words weren't working, so I gravitated toward him, my palm smoothed over the broad planes of his chest, down to his hard, chiseled abdomen. His woodsy scent filled my senses, drawing me closer and closer, until the distance between us was erased completely. I knew I had to find some way to calm him down, and quick— time was wasting. Wrench was depending on us, and we needed Marcus' to be fully focused, and ready to work.

I wrapped my arms around him, and pressed my lips to corner of his mouth, boldly kissing my way down to his strong neck, tasting the saltiness of sweat and tears on the tip of my tongue. He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, the tension in his muscles gradually melted away beneath my touch, crumbling his resistance. I caressed his skin passionately, teeth nibbling on the hollow of his throat, lips sucking sloppily on his sensitive flesh, tormenting him. His breath quickened, and he flushed, blood rising beneath his prominent cheekbones.

I wasn't aware of all Marcus' kinks, my guess was he had a bunch, but there was one I knew for sure, he liked things rough. So, I played on that, my nails raked his firm back, all the while silently praying that I didn't end up hurting him, and making things even worse.

"Fuck," Marcus grumbled, abruptly pulling away, his muscles quivering. The sudden distance between us made my heart sink. He scrubbed a shaky hand over his flustered face. "Shit… we shouldn't be doing this right now. The fuck is the matter with us?"

My cheeks burned with shame. I sighed, and hugged my legs to my chest. "U-um, sorry," I mumbled. "It's my fault. I wanted to make you feel better so we could focus on finding Wrench…"

"I know, baby. I'm just…" He paused, rubbing his sore, watery eyes. "You're right, I'm fucking overwhelmed. I can't believe this shit is happening again."

I beckoned Marcus closer with the wave of a hand, and carefully settled his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe it either," I frowned.

"Hey, how'd you and Wrench end up at that warehouse in the first place?"

"Some creep Wrench used to know gave us a lead the gunmen who crashed our beach party. His name is Giovanni, and he's kind of a big deal in the black-market gun trade. Apparently, he does business with Quinn."

"Take me to him," Marcus demanded.

The penthouse's patio had a much different ambiance than earlier today when Wrench and I met Giovanni for the first time. It was quiet, no maids, nor guards patrolled the deck. The patio was cloaked in the shadows of night. There was no sign of Giovanni— if it weren't for the gentle, midnight breeze, and the pitter-patter of our careful footsteps, there would be complete silence.

Giovanni must be inside, probably sleeping considering how late it was. With no guards to stop us, Marcus and I hacked into the ctOS box on the side of his house with ease, and unlocked the glass sliding doors leading inside.

Where were the guards anyhow? I was glad they weren't around, but a guy like Giovanni was bound to have enemies. If I were him, I'd have men patrolling the area all through the night. Better safe than sorry. It was odd, I didn't expect him to be so sloppy.

Gun in hand, Marcus cautiously slipped into the penthouse through the front, glass sliding door. I followed close behind. Although the goal was to find Giovanni and get out as quickly as possible, I found myself distracted by the sleek decor and elegance of his home. It was modern, tidy and upscale— the living room being the grandest, and most breathtaking section of the house. A big, extravagant sectional sofa stretched far across the room, and in the center of the space was a vast, polished wood table. The soft, plush carpet was so clean, and damn near spotless, stepping on it with our shoes left behind a mucky residue.

There were various pictures of landscape on the wall, all of them beautifully symmetrical, and elegantly hand painted. The gorgeous artwork would have been much easier to admire if it wasn't so dark. The shadows of the night hugged every corner of the home.

"Damn, this guy has a nice pad," Marcus muttered between clenched teeth, his palm probed his injured stomach. He attempted to take a tentative step forward, but lost his balance. I skipped in front of him just in time, and stopped his fall.

"Are you okay?" I asked, holding him up. The thought of him abruptly passing out had my nerves on edge. "You're losing a lot of blood, Marcus. Maybe we should turn around—"

"I'm good," he slowly regained his composure, and pulled away. "Let's split up, I'm gonna find Giovanni and see if I can make him sing. He's probably upstairs catching z's. You should take a look around for anything that might help us find Wrench."

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? What if you need back-up? You're hurt."

"I'm cool, girl. Don't worry." He feigned a smile. "We're strapped for time, and we got a lot of ground to cover. C'mon, let's hurry up and get this done. You with me?"

I nodded. "I'm with you, but I don't like this plan. Not one bit."

He reached his pistol out to me. "I know guns ain't your style, but the DedSec channel is down. We can't keep in contact. So, if shit goes south, don't be afraid to use this."

I grabbed the handgun. "Thanks, but what about you? This is the only gun we have."

"It's all good, I got my Thunderball."

Marcus gripped onto his signature weapon— the black, metallic ball dangling from his messenger bag by it's green, paracord rope. He bounced the heavy sphere in the palm of his hand a few times. It was a peculiar weapon of choice, but in his grasp, it proved deadly. Due to his skill and precise handling of the rope, Marcus could perform powerful attacks with the blunt ball attached to the end, at a frightening speed.

Still, I couldn't stop eyeing his bloodied sweater. The gaping wound on his stomach was leaking through the gauze, and staining his clothes. How much longer could he go on like that before he collapses? How on Earth was I going to get Wrench back without his help?

I shook my head. "This was a stupid idea, Marcus. We should have gone to a doctor first, you need medical attention. You can't go on much longer like this—"

He pressed a finger to my lips, and flashed a sweet smile. "We got this, alright? Everything is gonna be okay, just focus on the end-game— finding Wrench. I shut down all the laser tripwires and sensors, you should be able to get around without any problems. Come find me as soon as you're done poking around, alright?"

He seemed so relaxed, and unworried, despite the mounting odds we were facing. I had a terrible feeling about letting him go on his own. I hated the idea of us splitting up without having the DedSec channel to keep in touch as well, but there was no getting through to Marcus once his mind was set on something. I sighed, and managed to form a tight smile. "Be careful, handsome."

"Aren't I always?" Marcus smirked, and turned away, disappearing into the shadows.

Cautiously, I began to pan the home for anything suspicious. Using my cell phone as a light source, I hustled about the spacious living room, shuffling through drawers, closets, and dressers. I didn't find anything out of the ordinary however, just booklets, clothes and loose change.

I took a sharp right at the end of the living room, and entered another room. It was absolutely cloaked in darkness, if it wasn't for the help of my phone's flashlight, I wouldn't had been able to see a thing.

After a moment or so of flashing light into the blackness, I realized it was a tidy, white bedroom. It was much too small and plain to be the master bedroom, it contained only the bare necessities needed for guests— a twin-sized bed, a closet, and a wooden end table paired with a lamp. I stepped into the darkness and attempted to rummage through the closet, but the door wouldn't budge. It was secured tight with an electronic lock. What was Giovanni hiding in there?

Marcus had the access key to the home's security system. I needed his help to get the door open. I whirled around to head for the exit, and slammed into a hard, tall figure instead. I let out a yelp, and shuddered with surprise, my phone and gun slipped from my fingers, tumbling to the floor. Heart hammering against my chest, my hand involuntarily curled into a fist, and I sent a jab toward the asswipe blocking my path.

"Damn girl!" The figure captured my fist before it made impact. "It's me, Marcus! Chill out!"

"Marcus?" My cheeks burned with heat. "What's your friggin' problem? Do you see how dark it is? Why'd you sneak up on me?"

"Shh," he whispered. "My bad, I didn't mean to scare you. But I don't regret it, you should have saw the look on your face. You were petrified." He bent over, scooping up my fallen phone and pistol.

I snatched my possessions from him. "You're such an ass sometimes. Did you find Giovanni?"

"I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I know where to find Quinn. The bad news is, I found Giovanni. Well technically, I found what was left of him."

"What?" I blinked.

"Check this out."

He held his phone out to me. On the bright screen was a gory photo of a bathtub, filled with so much blood, it was practically overflowing. There was a bloodstained saw on the edge of the tub, and something appeared to be floating within the crimson red fluid. It looked like human body parts, severed legs and arms—

"Jesus," I exclaimed, gazing away from the gruesome picture. "You found that upstairs?"

"Yeah," Marcus frowned. "Whoever did this sick shit is still around here somewhere. They're butchering the body to cover up the murder. Listen, we need to get the fuck outta' here, now."

"Wait," I pointed at the closet. "There's something in there, but it's locked, and I don't have the access key."

Marcus about-faced, and hacked the door's electronic lock, allowing us entry. We tip-toed to the closet, and spotted a small, square, metal safe lying on the floor. Although miniature sized, the safe's metal was heavy duty, and shut fast, trying to pry it open would be pointless. There was, however, a keypad in the center, but we needed the code if there was any hope in getting it open.

"Hmm," Marcus grumbled, tapping away at his phone. "Giovanni really went the extra mile to secure this shit. I might be able to release the lock remotely…"

"Aw, what's the matter?" I teased. "Can't hack an itty-bity safe? Need me to take the reins?"

"Hell nah, this is child's play. Give me a sec'."

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The sound of boots pounding against the carpeted floor echoed throughout the quiet home. Marcus was right, we weren't alone. It was hard to tell whether the footsteps were heading our way or not. But I wasn't taking any chances. I aimed my gun at the bedroom entrance, prepared to shoot.

"Got it," Marcus declared. The safe clicked open. He knelt before it, and reached inside, rooting through its contents.

"God, I hope there's something good in there," I mumbled. "Please make this worth it."

"Well, there's guns, like a shitload of gold-plated magnums. Think we can pawn a few of them? The guy is dead, I doubt he'd care. Oh, what's this?" Marcus fished out an old flip phone from the safe. "Holy shit, I haven't seen one of these since I was a kid. You can't find these anywhere—"

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The footsteps were getting much louder now. There was an eerie, creaking noise coming from overhead as well. God knows how many creeps were lurking within the house with us. Marcus quietly closed the safe, and clasped my wrist, lowering my gun.

"Don't waste the bullet, too loud," he muttered. "Go hide."

I ducked into the shadows, and took cover behind the bed. Marcus hugged his back to the wall just beside the bedroom entrance, silently waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

A masked man whisked into the room, with a black rifle strapped to his back, equipped with a long suppressor. The moment he stepped through the door, Marcus locked his arm around his neck. With his airflow constricted, he struggled soundlessly, attempting to wrangle himself free, but to no avail. It wasn't long before he was overpowered by Marcus' brute strength. His body went limp, and he was drawn into a deep sleep. Marcus set him down on the floor gently, quietly.

Marcus seized the unconscious man's rifle, and threw it over his shoulder. I emerged from the shadows and gravitated to him.

I gave the stiff body lying before us a firm kick, just for good measure. The murdering asshole deserved it. "Nice job, stud," I said.

"All in a day's work, m'lady," Marcus replied in his playful, refined accent. He eased past me, and returned to the safe. "And to the victor belongs the spoils—"

"Get away from my shit, ya' hooligans!" A lively voice with a thick, Italian accent filled the room.

Marcus and I froze in place. My blood ran cold.

"T-the fuck?" Marcus stammered. "Who just said that?"

"That sounded just like Giovanni," I swallowed deeply. "But he's dead… right?"

"I'm not dead, you idiots," the voice replied. "There's an intercom behind the broad, mounted to the wall. Let's talk."

I about-faced, and shined a beam of light on the wall. There was a small intercom built into the wall, just as the voice instructed. Marcus pulled away from the safe, and stepped over to the intercom. "Uh, hello? Who are you?"

"The name's Giovanni, nice to meet ya'. Listen up, I got a target on my back, kid. Powerful people want me dead. I've gotten myself in a real pickle, and there's no way I can get out of it without your help. Be a good Samarian and help an old man out, will ya'? I'm trapped in my panic room for crying out loud! There's a metal door standing between me and the outside world, and the passcode to open it isn't working. I'll starve in here!"

"Damn, you really are in a pickle, man. What makes you think we can help you?"

"I got surveillance cameras set up all over the house, I can see everything. And I'm guessing since your hanging around with the sexy DedSec broad with legs for days, you must a hacker too, yeah? You did manage to get my safe open without breaking a sweat, wise guy. I gotta' feeling you have exactly what it takes to get me outta' here. I'm no cheapskate, you might make yourself a couple of G's in the process. Remember how you kids broke into my house and tried to steal my stuff? If you can get the job done, I won't tell a soul. I'll sweep it all under the rug. So, what do ya' say?"

"That's a sweet deal, but we don't care about the money, grandpa," I said. "If we save your ass, you have to tell us everything we want to know. Or else, you can rot in there for all we care."

"You're one cold-hearted bitch, I'll give ya' that." Giovanni sighed. "Fine, get the door open, and I'll sing like a bird. There's a secret passage behind the bookshelf in the living room. That's where you'll find the safe room door. And try not to attract any attention while you're at it. There's hired gunmen upstairs, all of em' too busy trying to bust into another one of my safe. They're the brawny type, all muscle, no brains. They may be a bunch of schmucks, but they won't be distracted forever, so make it snappy."

"Relax man," Marcus said. "We'll have you out of there before they realize a thing."

Huddled in a crouch, Marcus and I returned to the living room. There was a crapload of commotion coming from upstairs. The ceiling quaked with every boisterous crash and bang. All the loud noise was making me nervous, my muscles wouldn't stop twitching, and my head felt like it was going to explode.

"Over there," Marcus led the way to a tall, sturdy brown bookshelf positioned against the wall. The shelves were neatly stacked with a colorful arrangement of books and magazines. "We're gonna have to move this thing out of the way. Give me a hand girl."

Careful not to make much noise and draw attention to ourselves, we eased the bookshelf aside, revealing the bulky, metallic door Giovanni spoke of. Instead of a knob, there was a keypad. However, the tiny keys were damaged— someone had completely smashed them all in with brute force.

"Damn, someone really went berserk on this door," Marcus said.

"You think the busted keypad has something to do with Giovanni being trapped?" I asked.

"Hard to say, there could be numerous reasons the door won't open. One thing is for sure though, with the keypad all fucked up, it'll be a lot harder for us to get him out." He peered at a clunky, metal box attached to the doorframe. "Luckily for us, it looks like we're dealing with an electromagnetic lock. It needs an electrical current to remain functional. Without it, it's useless. Not very reliable in case of an emergency, huh?"

"Okay, you should cut out the power then. That should make the lock disengage."

"Yeah, a power outage should activate the fail-safe." Marcus gazed at his phone, and quickly got to work on getting the door open. "Keep a look-out while I get this done girl."

"You know, if Wrench's life wasn't on the line, I'd have no problem leaving Giovanni in there."

"Damn, that's cold. What did he ever do to you?"

"For one, if he never sold those guns to Quinn, the DedSec members we lost at the beach party would be alive right now. Too many lives were lost that night."

"True that, but I doubt Quinn told him what he was going to use the guns for. If he did, maybe Giovanni would had reconsidered doing the deal."

"Because black-market gun dealers are beacons of morality, right?" I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, this guy gives off major creep vibes. Can you believe he had the nerve to try and buy me from Wrench? For ten thousand?"

"What?" Marcus exclaimed playfully, his brows raised in disbelief. "Oh, no he didn't."

"Oh, yes he did. Like come on, who does that? Do I have a price tag on me? Do I look like some kind of cheap whore?"

"Nah, you look like a classy lady, a damn fine one at that. And if you did have a price tag, you'd be worth double— nah, triple what Giovanni offered."

"My body is a temple, Marcus. It can't be bought, okay? It takes love, affection, sweet nothings and a whole lot of cuddling to gain entry inside."

"And even then, it ain't guaranteed, because you're a strong, independent woman who don't need no man. You can change your mind at any given second, you got options girl. You don't have to settle for anyone but the best."

"You totally understand me." I pecked his cheek.

Although his attention was fully immersed in hacking the lock, he managed to steal a glance at me and smile. "All jokes aside, I'm not a very big fan of Giovanni either. He talks to you like you're a piece of meat, and I ain't down with that. But we need him, so play nice, alright?"

"I'll try—"

Click. The lock abruptly disengaged.

Panting heavily, Giovanni barged through the door. Wearing nothing but a white bathrobe, he stumbled toward Marcus, and shamelessly captured him in his pudgy embrace.

"Thank you, thank you!" He squealed, his voice quaked with emotion. The old man's beady, blue eyes were practically tearing with gratitude. Overjoyed by his newfound freedom, he planted a huge smooch on Marcus' cheek. "You saved me! I don't know how ya' did it, but you're a genius, I tell ya'! The smartest guy that's ever lived!"

"Alright, alright," Marcus grinned awkwardly, and pulled away. "Enough with the mushy shit, pops. We're not in the clear yet."

"Damn right we aren't. It's time to make a stand." He snatched the rifle off Marcus' shoulder. "Those wise guys think they can just waltz into my home and steal all my shit? Forget about it! This is war."

Hope you guys liked the chapter! Sorry it's been so long since my last update, school has been hectic. Please leave a review if you enjoy my work, your feedback and suggestions mean the world to me. ^_^