Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.

Beta'd by HollettLA.

Please excuse the fact that this is a slow-start. I have different reasoning now. Bwahahaha. I aim to introduce these characters to you. Although they're the same, they're older and totally different. (shrug) I'd also like to showcase their family dynamic a bit. As we get going, you'll see that all of their lives are very vast, except for Edward/Sonny who share the same occupation . . . even though they ARE ALL involved in "the thing" in one way or another.

ALSO, throughout the ENTIRE story, there will be varying POVs for each chapter. If we dive into a Damion arc, there will be a few chaps solely dedicated to him, and so on - the rest of the characters will be involved, though, and we'll ALWAYS come back to E/B POVs.

I say this because I know down the line some of you will complain: "I miss Edward." or "I miss Bella". Rest assured that THIS IS STILL AN E/B STORY and they are the MAJOR characters. We'll hear plenty from them, but to get in-depth, to see all sides . . . I'll have to change it up a bit. If it's not your cup of tea, I get it. But please give it a shot.

Still with me?

Please enjoy! I'm having a lot of fun writing this.

"Riders on the Storm"

Chapter Eight: Edward

Seething at the window, I couldn't believe my plans backfired on me like that.

I meant what I said to Kylie. I didn't think they'd run to the nearest bed.

Kylie is innocent and immature for her age. She doesn't know how the real world works. I hoped she'd gain some knowledge when she went to college, but she didn't go. She's still here, under my wing, and I was going to do my best to shield her from some things—the loose women, the strippers, and all the unsavory people.

My daughter's an angel.

And Aro says I need a reality check.

When Aro caught Sonny and Katie the first time—the actual first time, not when he walked in on them at Eclipse—he beat the fuck out of my son, and that didn't sound like a bad idea . . . teach Peto a lesson. We had beef after that altercation, but I understood it, and Sonny swung back and was also in his twenties. He got Aro good a few times.

I was so proud of him.

Regardless of who Aro was or wasn't, Sonny stood up for himself.

And Kylie is weak for Peto. He probably didn't have to try too hard to get between her legs.

Oh God.

I groaned and buried my face in my hands.

It's not fair.

Deep down, I knew this wedding was never going to happen. I essentially had nothing to worry about. And I always thought she'd . . . I don't know. Get married or be in a committed—committed—relationship when she was like twenty-five or so, or older. What the fuck did she need a man for? I'm here. Daddy's here, Sonny's here, and Damion's here, too. We're all here to protect her.

I mean, men are garbage who only want one thing. Doesn't Kylie realize that? Peto is young, but he's like Damion—in that he hasn't lived or done anything of substance besides go to school. Sooner or later, he'll feel the need to spread his wings, and where will that leave my daughter? There's nothing wrong with branching out and living as it's a right of passage . . .

And it's not anything against him—okay, I dislike him on principle alone—but what the fuck do these kids know about love?

Kylie said they "made love".

She was practically fucking naked when I walked in, which was something I never wanted to see, so I know something was going on.

Making love . . .

Is it still the same thing? Or have things changed? Like, was it this very meaningful fuck session? Or does making love mean something else to these kids?

I cringed and gritted my teeth.

When Bella knocked and then let herself in, I actually breathed a sigh of relief. I hoped her presence would ease these jumbled thoughts I have.

"She's almost done with her bath."

I didn't say anything to my wife. I thought by some stroke of luck she'd talk about something else.

"Look at me—" She hit me.

"What?" I asked. "Can't I read my book?"

She looked at it. "You've been on page twenty for the past hour."

I put it down. "What now?"

"I see those wheels spinning . . . You're not going to touch that boy."

I grinned, because fucking Aro should get some hell too. Bella never knew Aro had knocked Sonny around years back. "Remember that time Sonny was jumped by those kids—when he was leaving the subway?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"Just forget it," I sighed, leaning back. "I'm sorry, okay. Can we move on?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "From your medieval way of thinking . . . I hope so."

I groaned—a loud one. "She's my daughter. Why do you think I always tried to keep her away from those pigs?"

"Pigs?"

"Hanna and Carli—they were bad influences."

"I cannot believe you just said that about your nieces." She shook her head.

"Carlisle always turning a blind eye," I groaned even louder. "I don't want to fight with you," I said.

"Good . . . Kylie's going to come in, and you're going to apologize, wish her the best on her endeavors—"

"Since when is fucking Peto an endeavor?" I asked, as she continued to push my buttons.

She was laughing so hard she held her stomach. "I didn't mean that, but he's built very—"

"Watch it!"

She put her hands up. "All three of them are here . . . you got what you—I mean, we got what we wanted. Kylie's not getting married. I want a nice, quiet afternoon, followed by a nice dinner. No animosity, and I'm inviting Peto over—"

"Bella!"

"He'll be here by three, along with everyone else. We're having baked ziti, and then chicken cutlets, salad, and . . . I'm thinking au gratin potatoes, your favorite." She smiled, sitting on my lap. "And I want you to be nice to Peto—"

I whined in my chair. "I don't want to see him."

"Edward." She had a tone.

"My foot might go up his ass."

"And he'll take that risk, because he loves our daughter. After this morning . . . stepping foot in this house is commendable," she said. "Think about it…there are no secrets in this family, and he'll be at a table—sitting next to you, Carlisle, Sonny, and Damion. Aro's not coming. He and Lisa are going to see Derek or something. He's not liking that home they put him in. Regardless—whatever—just be nice and tell Sonny the same."

I shrugged, but then shook my head. "He was practically our fourth child growing up."

"That's right. You love him, too—"

I sucked my teeth.

"You do! So, you'll try. You were willing to make it work with Joe—"

"No, I wasn't," I laughed. "Maybe you misunderstood me. Even if Peto never showed up, Kylie wasn't marrying Joe . . . even if I had to . . . minutes before the ceremony—"

"Edward?"

"What?" Her cleavage was in my face now.

"I would have helped you bury the body."

I leaned my forehead to hers and squeezed her tight. "These kids don't know what love is."

"Neither did we, at first."

I sighed, letting the weight of her words squash me. "Right, but we were older—more mature."

"Not by much. We'd lived more, if that makes sense. Neither one of us had an easy childhood, and these kids had everything handed to them. We were…we were emotionally stunted. Whereas we showered our kids with love, and they've had us as examples. When they find love, they'll know what it is. There's a difference. When you have to struggle and fight—"

"Dad?" Kylie knocked.

"Apologize," Bella whispered. "Be nice and sweet . . . I swear to God, Edward." She waved her fist at me, and I had no idea what the fuck she was swearing to God for.

I rolled my eyes. Maybe I was pissed—shocked before, but by now I was just sad, and a little angry at myself.

Bella did that.

As soon as she pinpointed what I did . . .

I knew how horrible my wife felt after Charlie would say those things, how long it took her to get over it—if she ever did—and the damage it did to her spirit.

And I was acting just like Charlie had back in the day.

Yes, I hate myself.

Kylie came into the room with a clean face and her hair wet. She wore Care Bear pajamas and looked adorable.

"Um . . . I just—I wanted to say—" She looked to the ceiling. "I'm hurt by what you said. I know I put you and Mom through a lot, and I should have called. But I'm not a baby anymore."

Little did she know, in my eyes, she was still under three feet tall with curly, messy hair, uneven teeth, chubby thighs, and the cutest dimples. Then I shook my head, and I saw—a woman—my eighteen-year-old daughter standing in my office.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I shouldn't have—I was wrong," I admitted, feeling about an inch tall. "I love you, and I only want to see you happy and safe. And I'll never apologize for worrying or trying to make sure you're safe. It's just the way things are, so get used to them." Bella squeezed my thigh, and I could feel that she was smiling.

Kylie grinned. "I can live with that," she whispered.

"Uh, what you and Peto do in a bed is none of my business. I don't want to see it. I don't want to hear about it. I don't want you two fooling around in this house—" Bella pinched me and I stopped. "It's your business." I knew I'd make it my business to make sure they weren't around any beds—or ever alone for too long.

Not around here, anyway. Aro had it right last night. What they do at college, they do at college, dozens of states away.

And if she's pregnant before she graduates, he's paying for the wedding.

"I would never—not here." She spluttered.

"Okay." I didn't have anything else to say. "Oh, and I love you . . . and Joe and your brother came to blows last night. He did a very bad thing—"

"Carli?" She made a face.

"You know about that?" I asked, feeling heartbroken for her. I knew that was going on before she stepped out on Joe. "Are you okay? I didn't—"

"Daddy, I'm fine . . . that's what I've been trying to say." She came closer to me. "I'm happy. Joe can do what he wants."

I opened my arm, and Bella scooted to my other thigh, so Kylie could sit. "My two girls."

"Women," Kylie corrected.

I snorted. "Right." I hugged them both. "What else is on the agenda for today?"

"Well," Bella started, "You know I invited Amelia to dinner." She spoke of Luke's daughter. "I'm thinking maybe Damion . . ."

Kylie scoffed, leaving the embrace. "Yeah, thank God Gio's coming . . . or else I'd have to watch those two drool over someone. They're gross—"

"And boys like that are my point, baby girl!" I got excited, hoping she was going to see my side. "Your brothers, me, and your uncle—no good."

"Edward!" Bella slapped my bicep.

"What?" I shouted.

"Nothing." My wife shook her head at me, her tits still in my face. They distracted me. "What am I going to do with you?"

I grinned, leaning in and palming her ass. "You can love on this old pervert—"

"Dad!"

I laughed, having forgotten that my daughter was still in the office.

"And you're not that old," Kylie said. "You still look young, like Sonny could be your brother." My daughter is good.

I winked at her and dug into my pocket for some cash. "Thanks, baby girl."

She smiled, taking the fifty from my hand. "But stop talking about you being old. It scares me." And she looked like she was about to start crying again. Every woman in my life can turn the tears on and off, like flipping a switch.

"Okay," I agreed, "but I'm not going anywhere . . . promise."

Bella kissed my cheek. "Thank you for coming around."

I nodded as Kylie let herself out. "Peto's not allowed in her bedroom."

It was my wife's turn to scoff and leave the embrace.

"Whatever." I wasn't apologetic. "That's the way it is."

Bella sighed, smiling and staring at me. "I hope Damion and Amelia hit it off." She took a seat across from me. "She saw his picture and then blushed . . . She knows it's a setup, but I don't think . . . I think Damion's still out of it from last night. He doesn't even know she's coming to dinner."

I truly had no comment, except, "Why hook him up at all?"

"Because he's shy—"

I laughed at her. "He's really not. Our son's a pathological liar who likes to fuck with people—I have no idea who the fuck that kid is nowadays." My lips drew a tight line because I knew exactly who he was. He's me—who I was—thirty years ago, only my son isn't a dog, as far as I know. Damion doesn't have the power or the money, status, I had back then. He walks around like some geeky fucker, always has his nose in a book, but his mind . . . Just by looking at him, I know his mind is always whirring. Okay, so maybe he is shy.

"He is not." She shook her head. "He's a good person. Last night, seeing him in the yard with Maggie . . . I couldn't believe it. He never disrespected this house growing up—not that he did last night. I'm just saying. Just like you expected Kylie to be a certain way, I know my Dame." She held her heart. "I just…I guess I just wish I knew what to tell Amelia. Like, how she can get Dame to open up?"

Again, I didn't have a comment.

"What can I tell her?"

"I don't know," I said. "What I do know…if she's on the quiet side, he'll feel compelled to fill the silence. Damion can read people—he's good at reading people judging by the things they say. If she doesn't say much," I laughed, "he'll feel intrigued, so to speak, to feel her out. If he's not attracted to her…" I trailed off. "I don't know."

"Have you seen Amelia?" Bella raised a brow. "I'm surprised Sonny isn't interested—"

"That's Luke's daughter. For Sonny, it's a conflict of interest. He can't hit it and run."

"That's the second time I've heard that phrase today."

"Carlisle's coming over. You might hear it again." I rubbed my face, tired as all hell from last night. "Why no interest in Sonny's love life? He's at that prime marrying age . . . Dame's not even twenty-five yet."

"Because I know what my babies need—"

"Oh, Bella…" Now I was ashamed that I wanted my wife to leave. I didn't want to sit through this shtick.

"Damion's wanted to get married for the longest time—find his special someone? He stayed with Julie out of habit, hoping they'd settle. He needs one fine piece of ass to knock him off his feet."

Surprised, I grinned at my wife. "A fine piece of ass?"

"Someone who's not afraid to make the first move." She stood up, coming back over to me, and I welcomed her on my lap. "Someone who will tread water." She kissed my nose. "Someone understanding…Amelia knows…Damion may not be a wise guy, but she knows—from her upbringing—not to ask unwarranted questions. I think they'll get along well. Plus, if Amelia and Dame hit it off . . . New York and New Jersey . . . You'd be even more powerful, you'd run more shit. You'd be bigger than Chicago and Boston combined . . . You already have Cali in your pocket."

"It's not about—"

"You've had an alliance for years. Their union would just make it that much stronger. I'm not…I'm not pushing, but think of all the benefits if they hit it off?"

I nodded because she was right. "But don't push…Luke has a lot to gain, so I'm sure he's pushing his daughter enough. And I better tell Dame to be careful," I laughed. "They hook up, and then she gets knocked up . . . Maybe my son is smart enough for medical school, but pussy clouds his judgment. His head is nowhere near the baby track."

Bella shuddered. "The thought of Dame with a kid," she giggled. "But I can't wait until we have grandbabies."

I sighed. "Sadly, I bet Kylie gives us one before the other two."

"Oh, did you ever talk to Carlisle about Anthony?" she asked.

"Yup . . . he knows, and he doesn't care. I told you and Lex he wouldn't." I kissed her temple. "He's worried for him, but not upset with him."

"Really?" She scrunched her nose. "With how macho Carlisle is . . ."

I shrugged. "Ant's the butchest gay I've ever seen. He's just as macho as any of us. Ant's a good lookin' kid, bet he's a ho, too." I cackled. "It runs in the family."

She sucked her teeth. "What gay people do you know? The only gay people you see are on TV."

"Still." I was still tired, mildly aggravated, and needed to end the conversation. "We should take a nap."

"Nah." She stood up. "I slept. You go ahead."

I pursed my lips and pulled a joint out of my desk. "Wanna smoke?"

That stopped my pothead wife in her tracks. "Okay. I just have to make a phone call. I'll meet you in the garage."

"Bet." I stuffed the joint and a lighter in my pocket as Bella went on her way.

I did, too, leaving the sanctuary of my office. Like I've said before, Bella enjoys it when all the kids are home. I find myself covering my tracks, making sure no one is eavesdropping, and trying to get a feel of who is where. When they're in my house, I like to know where they are. It's not to bust balls; it's for my personal peace of mind. I don't bother them, but since last night I can't get Damion out of my head—wanting to know what was up with him.

I knocked on Damion's door.

"Yeah?" It was Kylie.

I let myself in. "Where's your brother?" She was under his covers watching television, and it was really dark. Our middle child has a thing for black curtains.

"In my room," she said, and she sounded tired.

"You're okay?" I asked, my stomach tying in knots again. "Does Mom need to take you to a doctor…? I mean, are you okay physically?" I winced and wanted to hit myself.

Kylie giggled. "I'm more than okay."

I shook my head and closed the door behind myself.

I know I asked . . . but I didn't know if Bella ever took her to those woman docs or had a talk with her.

Again, I asked for my own peace of mind.

When I approached Kylie's door, I just let myself in. Dame was lying on his stomach with pillows over his head. The room was bright as Kylie has these sheer curtains, which don't block the sun—where one is light, the other is dark.

And Sonny still has those blue and beige plaid shits from when he was a teen. It's odd, how someone's choice of window shade can define them. But it's not about decoration. It's about what each color for each of my children represent.

"I'm up." He groaned.

"Good," I said.

He jumped up, and I guessed he thought Kylie entered, not me. "I gotta headache . . . and I'm no mood."

"Word?" I grabbed his leg just to fuck with him.

"Just tell me what you want." He rolled over, his nine falling from his waist.

I smiled, taking a seat by his feet. "Get up."

"Just let me sleep it off . . . don't give me shit. I was always the good kid, and now I'm an adult . . . I can do what I want." He grumbled, adding "oh my God" to his sentence.

I rolled my eyes and dug out the joint. "You wanna smoke? It'll help your hangover."

He paused, contemplative. "Okay."

"Come on. We'll smoke in the garage." I left the bedroom, knowing he was following. We passed Bella on our way, but she was none-the-wiser.

"Good, you're up." She fussed over him. "We need to get you water and some Advil—"

"I'm fine." He left, going down the stairs.

Bella stood there kind of stunned.

"He's a man." I kissed her head. "You can't smother him."

She made a face. "I just want him to look nice and put together for when Amelia gets here. He needs to shower, not lie around all day looking like …that." She waved a hand.

"Stop worrying about bullshit. You'll drive yourself crazy. Let's go smoke."

"Lemme just turn down the stove."

I left her to it and followed after Dame. Bella's car occupied one side of the garage, while I grabbed a crate to sit near the washing machine. "Open that window," I told Dame.

He did as I said, and then hopped onto the dryer. "Mom's got clothes hanging." He pointed to the laundry.

I didn't give a fuck and lit the joint, taking a few fast pulls before handing it off. "Be easy. This ain't the reg shit you get from the corner." I blew the smoke out, trying not to cough.

He didn't reply, content to stare out the window, smoking slowly. "We can smoke weed, but Mom makes me go outside to smoke cigarettes."

"Cigarette smoke destroys the walls, makes it stink. It's nothing personal." I took it back, wondering how much longer Bella would be. "So…how was your night?" I decided to tread lightly.

He nodded, keeping his gaze low. "It was—it was something. It didn't turn out the way I thought it would."

"When does it ever?" I sighed. "You know . . . you can talk to me."

"I'm fine."

"No, just…like we can chill. We can talk about whatever you want, as long as you speak to me." I felt a little…raw? Exposed in some way, as I was going out on a limb with him, my son.

"I go to school . . . there's not much more to my daily life. Broads and bullshit are trivial, and . . . I'm boring—"

"That's not what I'm saying. There are loads of things we could talk about." I was hoping he'd elaborate, tell me a little more about the shit he'd been doing with his brother. "After dinner, you have to speak to me. We're sitting down and getting to the bottom of some shit. But right now, you have my ear."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Take it however…you know of the family business, you're rubbing up against it. You know who I am, and I know you're private…but when you combine the two, there are no secrets to be kept from me."

He nodded, still refusing to keep my gaze.

"Look at me." He raised his head. "I don't know what's going on with you. You were always such a happy and giddy kid, and then you changed…Before yesterday, I'd never imagined you'd do the things you've done. I don't know you anymore, which means I can't trust you until I do. Understand?"

"I'm still . . . I want to say I'm the same as I was, but Dad . . . I don't know me anymore." He snorted, ruffling his hair. "That's some good shit." He passed it back.

I clipped it in the ashtray to leave some for Bella.

"I don't know what I want, except for school. That keeps my head balanced and busy, and everything else . . . I tend to make up as I go along. I didn't know I could do what I did…until I did."

I nodded, respecting that. "How?" I asked.

He swallowed. "That I can't tell you—I can't tell you how it all started. I'm sorry, and it's nothing against you, but I can't."

"Do you enjoy it?"

Dame locked eyes with me, and he looked as though his words were on the tip of his tongue.

"You feel in control?" I asked. "Like you could do anything? Like you have this power, holding someone's life in your hands?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "I'm not crazy…I'd never, you know, someone innocent, who's never done anything. For the most part, I just do whoever Sonny tells me, like any other shmuck on his crew."

"And you like that? Being on a crew? A knock around guy?"

"I'm not one of Sonny's guys," he laughed. "I'm too busy to be."

"But you like taking orders? Doing shit because others tell you?" I asked.

"I don't think anyone likes that, but I know I have to get used to it. With school and then residency . . . it's all about taking orders from senior residents, attendings, and I won't be able to complain. When it comes to that other shit, I just do what I do, when I'm told who to do it to. Sonny doesn't have to give me jobs—"

"Lemme stop you right there. Your mother and I told you from the get-go. You go to school, maintain your grades, and we'd pay. I still put money on your student account every month, but you don't touch it. You don't need to work. We pay your tuition, and we never asked you to get a job, only focus on your studies."

"It's not about the money, which is just a perk. I don't have a problem doing hits. It doesn't bother me, and I have no problem with carrying shit out. I'm good and fast, and I'm invisible. I blend in, get the job done, and I get the fuck out of there. And you can trust me. This is just something I'm good at, and I hope it doesn't change the way you see me." That whole rant was the most I've heard him say in a dog's age.

"Okay." I pursed my lips. "But if I said you couldn't do it anymore, how would that affect you?" I asked, watching his demeanor go from casual to tense.

"It was a lot more fun when no one knew about it," he laughed. "So, no…I wouldn't give a fuck. I'd respect your decision."

"Fun?" I inquired, just as Bella let herself in. She sniffed the air, and then looked between Dame and me.

"Are you guys smoking pot?" She acted as though she was upset.

I handed her the clip and took out my lighter. "Yeah, we smoked."

Bella gnashed her teeth together before she stomped out of the garage. I think she only did that for Dame's benefit.

"Shit…she gonna get on my ass now?"

I chuckled. "No. Just let it go." He didn't see or catch that Bella left with the joint and the lighter. I bet our bathroom stinks when I get up there. I wished she'd not only talk and get to know our adult sons, but chill with them. Sonny's mad cool to be around, but, sadly, I can't say the same for Dame yet. And Bella's a fucking blast. She can drink and do whatever with the best of them. Not much has changed. She enjoys partying, just like I do, now that our children aren't…children anymore.

"Um," Dame started, "can I ask you a question about the thing, with no evasiveness or changing the subject? I'd just like an answer."

"You realize that I'm really not supposed to discuss any of this shit with you, right? You don't have a button. I've never seen you do shit, but go ahead. You get one question . . . This is me trusting you - trusting that you'd never open your mouth."

"I would never." He placed his hand on his chest.

"Never say never . . ."

"That's you trusting me?" he laughed.

"Just get on with it." I snapped, gesturing for him to continue.

He licked his dry lips. "God forbid something ever happened to you, who would—"

"Ahhh." I nodded. "The million dollar question." Folding my arms across my chest, I leaned back to gaze at him. "Are you hoping to be in the running, or…?"

Sonny was the first person to come to my mind, while my stomach also rolled with a realization. My eldest would never go so far as to take, or steal from me—kill me for my spot. He's content where he is, doing what he's doing and getting paid. Damion, however, wouldn't give a fuck about what stood in his way if he wanted something.

That's how much I knew about him.

Because that's how much I knew about myself.

Marcus was more of a father to me than my own back then, and I didn't bat an eyelash. True, I considered it because of Carlisle and then eventually agreed because of the threat to Bella and myself. The end result was the one I'd been yearning for—to be the boss. I sure as fuck earned it, even if I was crazy young when I acquired that title.

I've been lucky so far. I keep everyone happy, ensuring no one stages a coup. I make sure all my ducks are in a row, so the Feds can't crack down. Overall, I'm careful now, and I have more money, more power, more people at my disposal than ever before.

But historically?

How was my life going to end?

Realistically, I'll either die in the joint or by a bullet.

And I hardly trust anyone anymore. The only people who'd be capable of taking me out are those closest to me—those I trust, or love.

It's a crazy thing to accept and believe, but—in my eyes—getting clipped is better than rotting in prison, or dying on my back in some hospital bed, riddled with cancer or some shit.

However way I go, I'll be on my feet—fighting for my life.

"No," he said. "Call me morbidly curious."

I wasn't ready to answer that question, or maybe I should—to get the idea out of his head. It won't be him, that's for damn sure. Besides icing somebody, I have no idea what Damion is into, how he'd fare being on a crew, or running one.

He has a lot of Bella in him, too, which contributes to him being so compliant all the time . . . and a practical jokester, a ball-buster, and an overall pain in the ass. He also lies about the dumbest shit ever just to get people to react—do things, get them to do what he wants them to. He changes his demeanor to appeal to just about everyone, become their friend, get what he wants. The latter isn't like Bella at all—he gets that from me—but I never fucked with people as much as he does.

I know when he's lying—his eyebrow slightly twitches and rises—but most don't know that, not even Sonny and Bella.

These days, it's only fear that keeps Sonny doing what he's told. Otherwise, he knows what's best and carries on, does what he wants, no matter what anyone says—except me. He gets his orders straight from me or Aro. No one else, none of the old-timers can bend Sonny to their will. It's his way or the highway.

Give Damion a dollar amount, and he'll do just about anything. It's not about being stupid or a pushover, or a whore—to do things solely for a buck. It's because, on a certain level, Damion is very subordinate. He has to be in control, but he doesn't like the responsibility.

That's where Damion's like Bella, too.

Power in itself is powerful—a driving force.

If I told Damion that his brother was my successor, Sonny might start aching for it, dreaming of it.

And to want something like that . . . Let's be real. He's basically wishing for my death or incarceration.

And if I was Damion . . .

I'd conspire and fill my brother's head with garbage to get him to consider taking out the boss—to fill his shoes—so I could be along for the ride.

I can't condemn either one for the possibilities or the choices they might make.

I can relate—I can also see every pro and con there'd be.

"We'll talk more about the little clusterfuck you got yourself into later—"

There was no point in speaking of his involvement while the others weren't here. We'd just have to repeat ourselves later on. Plus, Sonny played a huge role in this. It's actually his ass that's on the line, not so much Dame's. If it were anyone else—an outsider who Sonny paid to carry out those hits, someone I did not know—they'd be dead already to squash any unwarranted drama. My being nice about it at the rehearsal dinner was a ruse, setting up a sit-down. That person would have been iced the minute I heard about it.

Damion took out a made guy from another family.

And if anyone found out, Boston would have the right to take his life.

He shook his head. "I just wanted to know—"

"I'm not dead yet." I smiled. "I'm nowhere near ready to retire and hand the reins over. Get that out your head. You don't worry about me and what I do. You need to focus on yourself. We'll talk later, and you better be straight with me. I find out you're lying or keeping shit from me…" I stopped talking, locking eyes with him.

"Is Sonny good at what he does?" He kept his tone low.

I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief, or maybe it was the weed. "We'll never get anywhere—you and me—while we talk if we keep evading each other's questions."

"I just wanna know if it was worth it…"

I was confused, and I knew he was telling the truth. It may have come out mumbled, but he never broke his stare. "If what was worth it?"

He ran his hand through his hair.

I placed my hand on his knee. "Dame…it's me. Whatever it is…I'm your father first."

At the end of the day, regardless of all the garbage, he's my son—whether he'd take me out or not, I love him and—circumstances notwithstanding—it doesn't matter.

"I'd never, never hurt you. What I do, who I am outside this house, doesn't change the fact that…I'm your father."

I've never spoken about business with him before. If he starts working for me, I'll treat him like anyone else—outside of this house.

Those were the lines I drew for myself before Sonny was even born. We may talk shop in the living room, or my office, but I'm Edward—Daddy—within the confines of this home first, and the Skip second.

When he clammed up, I felt a twinge of anger. "Christ…What's it going to take to get you to open up to me? I don't know you at all. Frankly, I don't give a fuck about what you did with Sonny. We'll get to that later. But whatever's bugging you now—whether it's because of the shit you've done or not—it won't sway me either way, business-wise, when we all talk later. . . Wait, no . . . I need to know you—you, Damion—in this house, as my son, before I can trust you out there as one of my guys." I jerked a thumb. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He nodded.

And then I waited for him to speak up.

When a few minutes had passed us by and an awkward tension filled the garage, I just felt like a fool . . . going out on that limb with him.

"Did we not…love you enough?" I always thought my disregard for human life came from the fact that I didn't have a mother—that I'd been hurt as much as anyone could be, which made nothing else compare. But deep down, I don't know how I can be a heartless bastard, and then me, how I am now—dread in my stomach, lump in my throat, and tears ready to well up—all because . . .

I never wanted either one of them to be anything like me.

Two days ago, before I found out about Damion's small role, I thought he was just doing his thing—isolating himself to focus on school. It's only now, after I became aware, that I realized his distance stems from something much deeper than that.

"Tell me what we did, Dame. We gave youse everything we had, including a shitload of love. We were always there for you guys." I massaged my forehead.

"Of course…you guys…you guys were great parents." His shoulders slumped. "I just…my first hit. I didn't do it consciously. It just happened."

I wanted to tell him about the kid I stabbed when I was sixteen—my first—that fuck who stole my chain, but I just couldn't.

"What's that gotta do with Sonny?"

"I don't know." He was shutting down again.

"What you say to me right now won't leave this garage. You know that, right?" I asked, and then reached over to lock us in with my key—lock the garage door.

He stared up to the ceiling. "I never even knew that guy's name. He could have killed Sonny, instead of the other way around . . . I was there and I stepped in—followed my gut. I wasn't even angry or scared. I just…sprang into action. I felt nothing while I did it…I never feel anything." He sniffled, and for him to cry when he's talking about how he feels nothing…

"When they're dead—when they get that emptiness in their eyes…" He stared unseeing across from himself. "I get a jolt…this level of excitement I've never felt before. It's not because I'm scared or sad…I can feel…I am empty, just like their eyes. It seems like there's nothing inside of me sometimes. Sex is cool for what it is…a release. I know I love my family…I don't know what's wrong with me. But when I do what I do, I get—I can't explain it."

"An adrenaline rush—it's like an adrenaline rush, a surge of power and self-satisfaction," I said.

"Basically," he whispered, wiping his eyes. "I don't feel bad after. I sleep just fine, and I spend more time wondering why that is, than worrying…or stopping that kind of behavior. I don't know what it means."

I nodded.

"Can you tell me what it means? Can you tell me so…Can you tell me how to stop?"

I blew out a breath. "I can't tell you because I don't know. I've done things in anger. I've done things because I was supposed to, or had to, but hits never bothered me either. Nor did they affect me on a personal level. It sort of came with my job, but we're not in the same line of work…" I waved a finger. "It baffles me that you wanna be a doctor, and yet you have this hobby. How does that compute?"

He smiled. "I can't tell you because I don't know. I do…want to help people, though."

"I don't know much about healthcare, but…you can't discriminate on who you treat. If your reasoning for doing what you're doing is because you're doing the world a favor . . . Dame, you're not Superman." I wasn't sure if I was getting my point across correctly. "You won't be able to deny medical care based on someone's morals or ethics. When you get your license, you'll have to treat anyone who comes to you."

Either way, he didn't comment on it.

"If I didn't give you the option, if I told you that you couldn't carry out contracts anymore, will you turn into a...serial killer? A murdering psychopath? If I took away your vice, how would you get high?"

"It's not a vice," he laughed. "I used to…I used to chase it, that high, until Sonny'd just give me mark after mark, and then it became like a job."

I nodded. "Okay."

"They were all bad people." He bit his thumbnail.

"What if they weren't?" I asked.

"Then they'd still be alive." He hopped from the machine. "A mark wouldn't have been placed on their backs. I look at them like I would those guys who shot Sonny…they deserved to die." He stared me down again. "Are those fuckers dead?"

I smiled. "While you were at Disney, I had myself a spree, and we'll leave it at that." As a matter of fact, he was standing inches away from where I killed that kid who followed Bella and me home that one night.

He had no comment.

So, I continued, "Yet, these are people who are essentially like me, your brother, your uncle...practically everyone around you—" I twirled a finger.

"It's a thin line…one I couldn't draw or explain." He shrugged. "I went through my whole childhood being scared of my own shadow." He snorted, shaking his head. "Now even my shadow's scared of me."

I patted his back. "If believing that helps you get through the day . . . I can't erase the images you've seen. If I could, I would—I fucked up as your parent. I failed to keep you safe, but I know when you changed. That day, I was terrified—more so than I'd ever been in my entire life. You feared for your brother's life, but you were young—you only knew what we told you. I hate to think about it." I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. "Meanwhile, I told you to be brave . . . I dragged you twenty feet while we were getting shot at . . . and I told you to be brave." I pushed my hair back. "All your life, I never let you feel the way you wanted to—always telling you bullshit that would make me feel better."

"You tried to comfort me the only way you how—to push your feelings aside and try to forget about them. It works, I guess."

I had no reply to that.

"I just…I don't know. After that all happened, I stopped seeing reasons to smile. And then something else would happen, and then another thing after that. I kept losing faith…in God, in myself, in you guys." He turned, tears falling down his cheeks again. "I started to realize that…a lot of shit was bullshit, you know?"

"I get it…you're talking about your innocence? The shit that made you that lovable little guy . . . You really were a cute fucking kid." I touched his cheek.

"I don't know who I am." He placed his hand on mine.

"You're my son." I pulled him in for a hug. "And you're allowed to be anything in any way you want to be. Just be you." I rubbed his back, and he hugged me tightly while he quietly sobbed. "The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. You know? You don't know me that well, but I'm hoping that in time you will."

"'K."

I smiled, happy to have him in my arms.

All three of my children—it doesn't matter what they do or how old they get—they're still my babies.

"I'm sorry." He leaned away to wipe his nose. "Last night was just fucked . . . I did something horrible."

I raised a brow. "Please don't say that child down the street." Again, I was amused. Sonny was right; she's not my kid, and he couldn't get locked up if he fucked her.

"No." He scoffed. "I hurt the one person that, besides you and Mom, actually loves me…Well, I don't know if she does."

"Julie?"

"Sure." He nodded, lying through his teeth. "I crossed a line, said a bunch of shit. Now I know it was wrong. I'm not in love with her, but I do love her . . . I keep telling myself that I had my head, but I don't really know."

"When was this?" I asked.

"Before I came home…right before I met Maggie." He grinned. "Fucking Church Girl."

"I thought you were okay with not being with Julie anymore?" He was confusing me again.

"I am…I don't know. Look, there's this other chick. We've only been friends, really close up until now."

"Oh!" I exclaimed and then laughed, trying to encourage him to elaborate. "Damn, baby boy. How many girls you got?"

"I don't have any…none. Everything I touch turns to shit."

I rolled my eyes. "Go back to last night."

"It's fucking with my head big time…I mean, am I a rapist on top of being a murderer? I didn't, but…if things didn't play out the way they did, would I have?" He groaned, holding his head. "How could I do that? I forced myself on her, and…she sees me, and…she's just wonderful."

"Whoa…hold up. You know no means no, right?"

"Yes…at least when I'm sober I do." He huffed. "I'd never hurt a female…I love them all, and that's the God's honest truth."

"All right . . . you got a little handsy, or whatever. Sit her down and talk to her, or forget about it. If you stopped, if you didn't hurt her—"

"I crossed a huge fucking line, and I know there's no coming back from it."

"Well…" I didn't know how to help him out. "Ask for forgiveness? I don't know. I've only ever been with your mom—"

He barked out a laugh. "You were a virgin when you met?"

"No, smart-ass." I smacked the back of his head. "She's the only woman I ever loved, ever, and I used to fuck up all the time. Shit, I still do. But before her…it was all bullshit."

"See?" He snorted. "I can't have meaningless sex."

"Then how the fuck can you call yourself empty?" I tried to wrap my head around that one.

"Because whatever I do feel, I feel for a little while, and then it goes away. I can't hold on, sustain emotion." He widened his arms. "The shit I did last night . . . I've never ever been sorry for anything I've ever done. Last night, I wasn't even sorry after the fact. I'm sorry now, but I don't know if I'll even be sorry later . . . Christ." He pulled on his hair with both hands, laughing his ass off—at himself. I didn't like that.

"Chill." I nudged him to stop his chuckling. "Is there any hope youse two will reconcile?" I took a seat on the crate again.

"Um . . . she's, um, she's married."

"Whoa…" I shook my head. "You don't wanna fuck with that. If she's someone else's headache, leave her ass right where she is."

"I thought…I thought there was hope for us, but she loves her husband more, and…I pushed." He cringed and winced and cradled his head.

"Be easy." I reached to squeeze his hand.

"I saw what I wanted to…through liquor goggles and blind hope…I suck."

I laughed. "You don't. And because you fucked up? That just proves you're just as human as the rest of us. One day, one day you'll meet a woman you can't live without. It'll just happen, and you'll know . . . you'll know because they'll matter more than yourself. Just be patient."

"You believe that garbage?" He chuckled.

"I do . . . I'd stake my life on it." I grinned up to him. "There's nothing wrong with you. You can be you…just relax. You're not empty, and you're not a bad person." I shrugged. "At least, you aren't in my eyes."

"Thank you." He sighed, clawing at his face.

"How do you do it? Your method of…" I pulled an air trigger.

His brows rose. "I, you know, I pop'em one." He shrugged.

"And that's the only way you've done it?" I smirked, because this kid thinks he's so badass.

He nodded.

"Who helps you clean shit up?"

He shook his head. "No one. Each job Sonny sent me on…the guy had to be found in plain sight—execution-style."

"And you've only done those who your brother told you to do?"

"Yeah…"

"Can you clean?" I was a little amused at this point.

"No one ever showed me. I mean—"

"Next time, if there will be a next time—we'll talk later—Aro will be with you. He's the best cleaner I know, and you'll learn all aspects…how to cover your ass."

He smiled. "I usually disguise myself."

"Have you ever shot someone as Damion?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but then just shook his head no.

"What role were you playing the first time?" I raised a brow, knowing a little bit about how his mind works.

The side of his mouth turned up. "I was with Sonny…In my head, we were you and Uncle Carlisle…I was you."

"Huh," I mused, finding that interesting. "If there's a next time, I want you to do it as Damion—no costumes, no role-playing shit in your head. And I want you to see if you'll be able to sleep that night." I patted his back.

He huffed a breath. "I need you to understand that I never aspired to do this. I was in a situation, and it happened, and I was able to do it…So, I did it again and again, and yeah."

"I'm not judging you," I said.

"Oh…okay." He went for the door.

"Not so fast." In my eyes, the gateway into his brain was wide open. I wanted to utilize my time. "Later . . . I might not be as…polite as I'm being now."

"What?" He scrunched his nose.

"When we sit down, I'll be playing my role as Skip. Get it? And there's some shit I gotta say, shit you may not like."

He nodded. "I understand . . . I'll be a condescending dick. How 'bout that?"

I laughed. "As long as you can handle the consequences."

"What's that mean?"

I sighed, standing up. "You'll see." I patted his back again before I entered the house. "One more thing . . . take a shower. You smell." He stank of liquor and just...the street, outside for some reason. Like garbage.

"I need more sleep." He straightened his jacket.

"Well, whatever . . . and your mother invited someone here for you."

"For me?" he pointed to himself. "Why—"

"She's gonna try and hook you up with someone."

"And?" he asked.

"And nothing . . . I'm just giving the heads up. She might be what you're looking for. She's single, pretty, in med school too—"

"Wow . . . who is she?"

"Luke's daughter, Amelia." I grinned. "I don't think you two have ever met."

He rubbed his stomach. "I kinda wanna take a break from the whole broads thing."

"Do what you want…Like I said, I was just letting you know. There's no pressure. Besides, I think she's really looking to settle—get married? That's not something you're into."

Damion looked contemplative as he stared at me.

And I felt a twinge of regret for planting that seed in his head.

Thank you for reading.

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