Truman French had been spotted again. So, naturally, Derek and the team had a long night. A very long night. It got bloody fast, as expected. He was shot at too many times to count. Some were misses…But a few did hit. Thankfully he walked away with only one flesh wound, a few cuts and bruises thanks to his bulletproof vest. The important part was that everyone made it out alive, which wasn't always promised.

All he wanted was a hot shower, a glass of whiskey, and his bed. Granted, when he thought of his bed, it always included a certain princess wrapped around him tight. He hoped she wasn't too pissed at him…

He didn't have enough time for a proper goodbye, but he did get to warn her that he was going out. She was not pleased, to say the least. But he'd make it up to her in their bedroom.

Or so he thought.

Casey had another idea. She must have been waiting for him, because she tackled him, coming through the door of the armory. She must have known he'd stop there first to put away his weapons before coming up.

"Easy Case," he grunted, shifting her weight to the one side of his body, away from his wound.

"What? Why ?" she asked, eyes all blown wide in fear, her head tilted back to look up at him. "Are you hurt?" she accused him like it was his fault if he was.

Before he even got an answer out, her hands were fumbling with his vest, pulling at the Velcro, eager to get to what was underneath. Derek let her manhandle him, knowing there was no use trying to stop her. She pulled up his shirt, taking inventory of his body.

He cringed, watching her suck in a breath seeing all the scars that decorate his skin. The tattoo that trailed up his rib covered a knife wound he got when he was 18. It wasn't the first time she saw his body. It wouldn't be the last. But maybe in this case, seeing him, in the armory, surrounded by his team, maybe it felt different. A little more raw knowing where those marks had come from, even if they weren't all fresh. He did have a few bruised ribs which would hurt in the morning, but maybe she hadn't spotted those yet.

"Der," she breathed finally looking up at him. The blue eyes were traced with tears that threatened to fall.

He tugged his shirt free, feeling almost embarrassed to be seen by her.

"Show me," she asked softly. But her words were not a question, a request.

" Casey," he groaned. He's tired, still hurting, and wanting to go to bed.

"Show me or I'll find it myself." she countered, eyes glaring into his.

He started down for a second. The kind of stare that would bring anyone to their knees. But not her. Never her.

He pulled down the collar of his black t-shirt to show her the edges of a white bandage. He had stopped by the medical wing before coming in. His team was always careful when it came to that kind of stuff. He hated it; hated having them fuss because of him like he was fragile or something. But in that moment he was glad Casey hadn't been staring at an open wound.

"What happened?" she asked softly, fingertips grazing the bandage, barely touching it. It was fine, it didn't hurt. He was medicated to his teeth. The best money could buy for moments like this.

"I may have gotten shot," he shrugged, letting his shirt fall into place and removing the vest completely.

"Shot?" she asked, as if she heard him wrong.

"Yeah," he sighed.

Casey turned to Ralph and James who were the closest guards to them, putting their gear away. His boys. His brothers. "You let him get shot?!" Casey asked, her voice lethal, as if she had any authority over them, and they had disobeyed orders.

To their defense, they barely flinched. Derek was kind of impressed. Casey could be terrifying, even to him.

"Princess," Derek groaned, wrapping his good arm around her waist, and pulling her into him before she thought of launching herself at the boys. " I put myself in front of a gun. There was nothing they could do," he explained.

The boys looked sheepish, almost blushing at her reprimanded.

"Get out of here," he instructed.

"But -" Ralph started to argue.

"Go. I got her," Derek explained. The threat was eliminated. They could rest easy for the night and debrief in the morning."Let's go upstairs," he offered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Help me get clean and I'll explain," he offered gently, doing everything in his power to get his mafia princess away from the guns and his team.

Casey looked between the men, considering her options, and sighed. "Fine," she snipped back, clearly not pleased with the situation.

"You're not going out again," Casey decided as they walked to his wing. He should have known she had been spiraling, their walk across the estate being a little too quiet.

Derek scoffed in response. "Oh yeah?" It was cute when she got like that. Cuter than it should be. "And why is that exactly?" he asked.

"Cause I'm not letting you. What's the point of having all these guards that work for you if you're the one getting shot?" she argued, storming into their bedroom.

He considered it theirs anyway. She hadn't slept anywhere else since. Her clothes had slowly found themselves in his closet. Her hair was all over his pillow. It was theirs, and she was his. For however long she allowed.

Derek shook his head, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. "Come here."

Casey stood between his legs, a pout on her lips. Her arms crossed over her chest. She had been worried about him, he was honored. He wrapped his good arm around his waist, bringing her as close to him as possible.

"I'll be going out again, Casey. This is personal. I have to handle it myself. It's not anyone's fault I got hurt. Not any of my guys. I put myself in front of a gun tonight," he explained as calmly as possible.

He didn't want to give her the details. He didn't want to tell her how many bodies he took down. She didn't need to know what they had done to the man who dared put a bullet through him. She didn't need to know about the things his monster did.

"Did you do it? Is it over?" Sshehe asked, tears filling her eyes to the brim. The fight left her body.

"Not yet princess," he sighed, leaning his forehead against her stomach. He wished it was over, but things went south and French got away. He decided that the pursuit wasn't worth it. "But I swear to you, I will end it, alright?" he asked, his hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb tracing her lower lip.

"Ok," she whispered softly, nodding in acceptance.

"Come on, you can play nurse and you can take care of me," he offered, his hands trailing down her side, her curves; his mind going to a few different places.