CHAPTER 5:

Hookie

Emma Frost, the wealthiest woman in the five boroughs of New York, sat in the front row of Milan Fashion Week, watching models march up and down the runway. Her mind was mentally taking snapshots if she wanted to purchase any pieces she saw today. She could make her own decisions while waiting for Ororo's late meeting.

Since Ororo, a close friend and confidante, was preoccupied with her husband, she urgently asked Emma to talk with her contact. They said it was a matter of life and death, but Ororo hadn't seen her husband in months. Being the kind-hearted woman that she doesn't pretend to be, said sure.

"Enjoyin' yourself?" Elizabeth's soft, mental voice tickled Emma's mind, watching the show.

"Whoever is the contact, they're late." Emma mentally pouted while her face stayed cold, "I wish Ororo had told me more about this contact instead of playing hide and seek with a man who doesn't shower."

"Logan showers."

Emma scrunches her nose, "Does he? I couldn't tell with the cheap cigars he chews on."

She hated the potent smell of the things because her father always smoked them in her face. Or when he was walking around the house with a drink in hand, ready to shout at her, her mother, and sisters, he'd shout, saying they didn't have the guts to run a business or be as ruthless as him to get to where he was.

Well, guess who's laughing?

She's surpassed him in many ways. If he were alive, she'd shove it right in his face. But she doesn't need to. Her success speaks for itself, a testament to her resilience and strength.

Logan's cigars trigger the memories, and she wishes he didn't have much control over her.

"An adamant smoker like himself, you'd think he would have better choices in the cigars he put in his lungs."

Betsy went on a tangent.

Emma unintentionally tuned her out when familiar brain scatter bombarded her mind. Betsy quit speaking when she felt the change.

Emma tsked, "Some kids of ours are playing hooky."

In disbelief, Betsy snorted, "In Milan?"

"Who are their educators?!"

"That would be us, my love; I will tell Ororo."

"Don't bother, I will handle it."

LYLA'S POV

"I can't believe you talked me into attending Milan Fashion Week!"

I couldn't either, but Ruby doesn't know the definition of discrete. Instead of bringing two people we both trust, each person brought their trustee. At this point, the entire student body is sitting in the front row across from Mrs. Frost. Her cold, blue eyes are hidden behind cat-eye white Vogue sunglasses. I positioned myself between Megan Frost and Malakai Winters, altering my form so our principal wouldn't detect me. Unfortunately, my brain pattern is changing for the others who can't do the same.

"Stop thinking so loud," Mali snapped with a harsh shout. She moved her chair away from me and closer to Uriel.

He was my second, other than Leo, who wanted to stay at the mansion. Please play interference for us if you need it. It will.

After hearing Megan talk to Ruby about it, Stephanie Worthington decided to join the party. Saif also wanted to join to get to know Stephanie's older brother better. Although it may not have been the wisest decision, Uriel and I agreed. Megan couldn't keep a secret and complained to Mali that I was coming to Milan. Neither she nor Micha trusted me, so they tagged along, bringing Rosie with them.

Yay me.

Not only do I have to watch my back out in the field this week, but I also have to make sure none of the Winters/McCade family tries to kill me.

"She's going to kill us," Megan panicked. "My mother is an Omega-level telepath. Nothing like Jean Grey, but still… she'll know!"

My eyes turned behind me toward Ruby. White Tom Ford sunglasses hide her red-on-black eyes as she watches the models strut down the runway. She is probably used to her sisters' antics.

"Is she always this paranoid?"

Ruby shrugged. "When it comes to our mother? Yes. Why do you think she and Oliver are dating?"

I blinked in shock. There's no way my sister's offspring is a goody-goody.

"Are you kidding?"

Sitting beside Ruby, Rebecca snorted. "I wish she were kidding."

"Megan likes to keep the facade like our mom. Playing hooky ruins that image."

Megan frantically shook her head. "This is not hooky! This… this is suicide."

"Are you all quite finished?"

I looked at the others as they sat up in their chairs. Their backs were straight, and so were their gazes. I had adjusted my brain waves and body to mimic someone else, so Megan couldn't link me up quickly enough to rejoin the mental group chat. It looked like our principal had caught them.

"And this is why I told you to stop projecting," Mali mumbled aloud.

"We're caught?"

Mali nodded. "After the show, she wants you, Uriel, and Ruby to meet her at her home on the beach. She said Ruby knows where."

Shit. This got complicated.

RUBY POV

My mother paced back and forth in the living room of my childhood home, thinking.

This summer villa wasn't the main house, but she used to send my sister Megan and me out there during the summer here once in a while in case we needed a great escape from our father's depression and her struggles dealing with the deaths of her friends and family. When Dad passed away when I was 12, Mom stayed locked up in her room at our estate in Boston while my sister and I were in Milan.

Mom was unwilling to return here; too many painful memories lingered. And yet, here we are, with her giving me an icy glare while Lyla relaxes nonchalantly on the cream couch beside me. Lyla's expression is inscrutable, revealing nothing. Since that age, I have feared she would always know what I was thinking.

Unlike me.

I sat there, anxiously bouncing my leg and biting my lower lip, half expecting my mom to somehow telepathically uncover the truth. She had never done it before, but I couldn't shake off the memory of when she hinted at such abilities when I was 9.

"Let me understand you are in Milan because of an old friend of yours," her cold eyes fall onto Lyla. " Believes some X-Men are being held in a concentration camp in the Alps? A bit far from there, no?"

"We are here to get the blueprints, and not all people here are going."

A shot at me.

I must confess that I confided in the wrong people. However, I need to be involved if there are indeed living X-Men. I'm sure that my father isn't among them. I vividly remember his execution shown on national television and his eyes paraded through the streets of D.C.

But, a girl could hope.

"I hate lying," She tells my mother without fear, "it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. And I get violently sick."

Glancing to my right, I take a moment to study her. It dawns on me that what she told me back on the pirate ship is true. She was the one who killed Malakai's sister. Suddenly, I feel a surge of intense interest and curiosity. I know I don't deserve answers, but if it were Megan, who had been killed, I would be consumed by the desire to make whoever was responsible suffer as much as possible.

Mom stopped before the light-bricked fireplace; her arms crossed over her chest. A perfectly manicured brow arched as she glared at us, "Thank you for bringing it to my attention. The true X-Men, who aren't training, will take it from here."

Oh shit, Lyla is standing.

"No."

My eyes flared wide in shock. No one tells my mother no.

"What if I am wrong? I don't want them to have to grieve all over again and get their hopes up."

"And what about their parents?" Mom pointed to me. She doesn't mean me, but I represent the others.

"That is why not everyone is coming." She repeats.

"then, who?"

"Malakai, Uriel, and Ruby."

"No telepath?"

"I can make do without."

Mom looked me over and sighed, "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

She shook her head.

The White Queen stepped forward, revealing a side of her that I hadn't seen in a while. She narrowed her eyes at my growing friend and said, "If any of them get killed because of you, I'll do something far worse to your brain than what that prison did to you physically."

The corner of Lyla's lips curled, "I will try my best to keep them from dying."

"You better get going."

I sprang from the couch, ready to tell my mom I loved her. Her eyes looked away from me as she swiveled out of the room.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Nothing I am not used to."

"Your mom loves you," Lyla said as she walked beside me to the expensive rental she had gotten us. I'm still trying to figure out how she still had all this money when she had been in prison for some time. Don't they freeze bank accounts?

"I'm not denying it; she threatened you. But," I look down at my feet, afraid opening up to her will bite me in the ass. "I'd like her to tell me to my face."

Lyla doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry. Is talking about family painful for you?"

"Are you assuming my childhood was fucked up, adn my father and mother didn't tell me they loved me?"

My mouth hung open, ready to apologize immediately, when Lyla started laughing.

"I'm kiddin', yes. My father never told me he loved me, and I barely knew my mother. But it's fine." She climbed into the driver's seat. "Can you text the group to get ready for a house party? We have a few contacts in town we have to talk with."

I did as she asked, oddly falling into a submissive role in this relationship.

"So you and Mali? Are you ever–"

Lyla tilted her head back with a boisterous laugh, "Never gonna happen. Why?"

I shook my head quickly, not responding.

LYLA'S POV

I view house parties and nightclubs in a similar light because I used to own a nightclub and frequently hosted house parties. These were not your typical high-school gatherings, though. These events were more about fostering connections with the people I did business with, and the merchandise I offered was presented as a token of appreciation. The host of the villa had something I long for women. We all have our needs, and I haven't had the opportunity to relax and have fun since my release from prison. So, please forgive me when my head snapped to my right when two women sauntered past us by the front door. They made their way to the open-concept Italian kitchen, swaying their hips. All I need is 20 minutes for each—just twenty.

On my right, Ruby scoffed and rolled her eyes. Behind me, Rosie called me a pig before she took Rebecca's hand to usher her to the dance floor.

Mali's impeccably manicured finger delicately lifted my chin, compelling me to meet her gaze with her soft, cerulean eyes. A flick of her hair cascaded over her exposed shoulder, the remaining locks draping against her bare back. Her attire was a daringly short black dress, exuding an allure that could easily be my undoing.

Mmm…nope.

I can't think about another winter in this way, especially after what happened to Yvonne.

If I didn't give her a cocky grin, I'd lose myself in her.

She rolled her eyes, took her same finger, and forced me to look away from her heated cheeks.

"Everyone but Mali and Ruby, go have fun, be ready to leave in 45 minutes."

Not having to be told twice, they dashed to the kitchen for drinks or went outside to enjoy the vineyard. I have yet to tell everyone the whole plan besides Ruby and Uriel, who didn't want to come tonight because he hates crowded places such as tonight's event. Why did I have to tell Ruby? It's a possibility I am making a mistake in not telling Malakai, but she usually follows along.

I nod my head toward the kitchen.

A hidden door behind the pantry. It's easy to sneak by people when they're drunk or too focused on someone's lips. Damn, I wish that was me right now, but my…lust can wait.

"Who's the mystery contact you refuse to tell me about?" Ruby asked as I pushed the door open.

A familiar, bird-like man with blue eyes and bushy eyebrows sat in a lone leather chair near the Italian-bricked fireplace, his broad smile climbing on his face with amusement. "It's about time you made it, Ms. Creed." He puffed from his pipe as he stood. Leland's shoulders hunched, leaning his weight against his withered staff. The crooked smile on his face widened, if at all possible when he saw Malakai.

"Oh, my stars, Malakai Winters in the flesh."

She rushed him into a hug without hesitation. "I haven't seen you in ages, Leland."

Leland Owlery is a friend I met through my father. He introduced us at one of my unofficial house parties. My dad advised me to manage my finances, especially when things got rough. Taking his advice to heart, Leland and I became close friends. He became my go-to guy for financial matters. What's more, he's head over heels for my favorite Winters, apart from Malakai. He also supports the Seattle Assassins Guild, all because of Yvonne Winters.

"Condolences of your sister, young Malakai." He bows his head in respect to her, "I wasn't there for the funeral, but know my heart–"

She pulled away from him, patting his wiry hair, "It's okay. I know how much you loved her."

"I will not rest until her killer is found and brought to justice."

She glanced up at me, "Look no further."

He blinked at me, his expression hesitant and confused. Realization slowly caught up to him as he saw that Malakai still believed I was the one who killed Yvonne. Perhaps I might as well have been, but I'd rather have her hate me than know the truth about who killed her.

"In Milan for fashion week?" She asked, changing the subject.

He twirled on his display for her.

She clapped at his Tom Ford twill three-piece suit, which had a bright red tie to match his ginger hair.

Ruby cleared her throat, and he stopped immediately. Once more, he dipped his head in apology, "Excuse me, where are my manners? I am–"

"The Owl, Daredevil's nemesis and the current Kingpin of Hell kitchen."

Leland sighed out of boredom and sank back into his chair. "Well, someone has to keep the business going after my nemesis killed Wilson," he said.

With the pleasantries out of the way, he looked me over as I towered behind Ruby and Malakai. "Your plan is dangerous, and we may never see you again."

I shrug my shoulders as he hands me a key card. "I know the risks. Plus, it's only fair these mutants get back home to their families, yes?"

The sound of the worn leather under him shifted. He was uneasy but stood, having a prior engagement: "Protect yourself, then, kid."

Giving Mali a wink, he departed from the room, Ruby following behind to round up the room. Malakai walked beside me, ready to go, when the door burst open. Men in tactical gear pointed their guns at me, "Lyla Creed, you are under arrest."

Malakai pulled out a gun from under her dress.

Wait, where the hell has she been hiding that thing?

Focus.

She began shooting.

Got dammit. I admit it's my fault for not including her in my plan, but it's too late to calm her down now. Instead, I stood against the wall, observing her fight on my behalf. If I weren't angry, I might be impressed and turned on.

Once, the bodies dropped to the floor, dead. I walked over to her, grabbed her elbow, and dragged her out of the room. She protested, complained, and whined, but I didn't listen or care. Mali ruined the only opening we had for me to get into the facility in the Alps. So, now, I have to ask Leland for another way.

Mali's voice filled the car with a sudden outburst. "You should have told me!" I turned to her, shooting a disapproving look. She sank back into her seat, fiddling with the edge of her dress. Meanwhile, Ruby, seated in the passenger seat, comforted me with a reassuring pat on the leg. "It's not her fault, you know?" I clenched my jaw and maintained a steely silence until we finally arrived back at the hotel. We can resolve this.

MALI'S POV

I nearly came undone, reader.

Lyla's intense amber eyes bore into my soul, her jaw clenched with unspoken fury, her hands quivering at her sides, turning almost white. Her gaze shifted as if debating whether to lash out or confront me. It felt as though she thought I deserved to be hit and even wanted to be choked.

Did Yvonne go through this same turmoil when she fell for Lyla Creed? Did Rosalie? Did they hang on to every word like me or try to keep their composure when she walked into a room? A dark aura following each step she took? Did they want to grovel and beg for her to touch them as much as I want to drop and pray for her to do whatever to me? God, what is wrong with me?

She took a step toward me.

Nervous about embarrassing myself in front of the team, I stepped back and accidentally bumped into the bed in my hotel room. I hesitated to sit down because I felt like I might lose control and do something inappropriate in front of everyone. I recognized my weakness and felt pathetic.

Wouldn't you be, reader, if you saw the way Lyla Fucking Creed looked at me?

"Maybe we should get out of your guys' way," Ruby suggested, trying to usher the group out. Lyla's one word made my knees buckle.

"No."

Who knew one word could be my utter demise?

"Lyla." I croaked, trying to find the words. It nearly came out as a moan, a plea for her to run her hands over me. "I—"

Lyla gazed at me momentarily before storming out of the hotel room. The door slammed shut, causing the art on the walls to rattle. Tension hung heavily in the room, rendering everyone silent. I felt paralyzed, unable to move or think clearly. My mind was searching for answers that my heart couldn't comprehend. I never expected Lyla Fucking Creed to hold this much power over me.

"Why is she so pissed?" Rebecca asked from the far side of the room where Rosalie and Micha stood. I could feel his smirk forming from here.

"Well, my dearest sister ruined Lyla's plan. One she didn't trust all of us to be part of because she's p—"

"Enough. We have a backup plan for a reason. All of you aren't coming. Your planes depart tomorrow morning. " Thank goodness for Ruby Summers.

As the evening wore on, I found myself restlessly pacing the hall, grappling with the courage I needed to apologize to Lyla. It wasn't my first inclination, but I was acutely aware that I had made a severe mistake and felt compelled to acknowledge it. Despite Lyla's warnings to hold back and let events unfold, I had foolishly leaped to conclusions and inadvertently harmed the individuals enlisted to assist us. Steeling myself, I drew a deep breath before rapping on the slightly ajar door, causing its hinges to splinter and give way.

I quickly draw a throwing knife from its sheath on my thigh and cautiously enter the room. I opt not to call out her name, mindful that potential adversaries might lurk and wait to determine my whereabouts. Furthermore, Creed can detect my presence if she happens to be in the room. I carefully traverse the room and the bathroom, thoroughly searching to ensure Creed is not present. Her phone rests on the bed, indicating she is not at the gym or pool. Additionally, her battle tomahawks are prominently displayed on the dresser.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I rushed out of the room to find Uriel when I ran into Ruby, preparing to retire for the night. "Lyla's gone. Is this part of the plan since I fucked it up?"

Ruby said, "She's probably blowing off some steam."

"Name a teenager who goes out without their phone?"

Her eyes widen, "Shit, was thier a struggle?"

I shook my head. " It doesn't look like it. Knowing Lyla well enough, she would have left a mess."

"We are going to have to get the X–"

My phone buzzed inside the cozy warmth of my pajama pocket, the vibrations a persistent reminder of an incoming call. I consciously disregarded it, assuming it was probably Skylar, my ever-attentive cousin, checking up on me. As Ruby attempted to resume our conversation, the phone buzzed again, insistent and demanding. With a sheepish wince, I reached for it and reluctantly answered, feeling a pang of curiosity and mild apprehension as I didn't recognize the caller ID. Leland's soft voice hummed, "I will text you the coordinates for where Lyla and company will be in the next 48 hours. You'll have a tight window to do whatever heroes do best."

I sigh, "Leland, I'm sorry."

"You know Creed well enough to know if she called me, there was a plan." he scolds.

"I know."

"Don'y punish her too much, my dear winter breeze. Stay safe." He hung up.

Ruby, towering over me, glanced at my phone, "Was that Owlery?"

I lift my head to look at her, "We can do this our way or get the A-Team old heads involved."

Less than a month has passed since the teams were assembled. We are all struggling to find our footing and work together. Some argue that they could outperform Ruby and Lyla, and I must confess that I'm often one of them. Pride often clouds my judgment. Whenever I see Lyla, conflicting emotions surge within me - my heart longs to forgive her, my legs ache to embrace her, and yet my mind bitterly reminds me that she is responsible for Yvonne's death and Rosie's sleepless nights. My frustration lies more with myself than with Lyla. Our primary reason for being here at the X-Mansion is a thirst for revenge, which remains unquenched. I entertain the thought of leaving her to wither away in this concentration camp, thinking that would be the end of it. However, deep down, I know my heart would ache with the loss of something I wish I could have.

"I'm going to kill Lyla for putting me in this position," Ruby growled, getting me out of my head, "But fuck it. It's better to ask for forgiveness than permission."

EMMA'S POV

I can't believe my eyes.

The X-Men, including her late husband, are all gone, buried six feet under in Bayville after the battle at their old home. Yet, despite this devastating loss:

"I want to kill you with my bare hands."

"Is that how yah greet ol' friends shugah?"