End all, Be all

Her words were met with a polite smile on his behalf; sure, if he could make sure to be informed whether or not the woman had come or not, he could find a way to let her know he’ll be late for the meeting, especially when he knew who she was. Still, once again Vittorio decided on leaving things that way, risking to make a bad first impression. Was it his tactic to intimidate her the way she did with him after reaching out so out of the blue? And what statement exactly those actions were supposed to make? Certainly not one that said “I have nothing to hide” since if that was the case, he wouldn’t have chosen neutral grounds for this meeting.

“Maybe some other time.” Rio wasn’t sure what stood behind her shared interest in the vineyard, so for now it was save to not give promises he might not end up keeping. At this point everything he had learned about Law started kicking in and he wondered if his father would be proud of just how well he behaved himself under pressure. “I’ve got nothing to hide, Savannah,” wasting no time he went straight to the first name basis, fully aware of how he didn’t want her to be his enemy; so far he knew he had a few he had to deal with later, “everything I do is legitimate. Just like it has been for the past few generations. But I’m willing to hear what you have to offer.”

“Everybody has nothing to hide, what I’ve found is that it’s usually the people willing to offer that sentiment up as some deterrent straight off the bat usually have more than most, they just believe they’ve already worked out how to keep it from prying eyes.” He wasn’t the first person she’d ever cornered with intention, and he likely wouldn’t be the last. Savannah Delore might have been a lot of things, but safe had certainly never been one of them. No part of her was so willing to openly disclose the reports she’d received from those she’d had tailing Vittorio, picking apart the visual aspects of his business. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d poured months of resources into doing such for the pure reasoning that she never quite liked being wrong. Lips pursed tightly and curled into a smile that lacked sincerity, “Tell me, how many times have you had to convince the people around you of your company’s legitimacy? This is sounding awfully rehearsed.” “What I’m offering is simple.” She shrugged, the soft sigh that pressed her lips almost haphazard as if such conversation were little more than passing pleasantries. “I’m offering you the opportunity to continue what you do, with little interference from me.” While destabilizing his company, and everything behind the scenes wouldn’t surely stop the supply of weapons into the city, it would surely be enough to cause a rift; and the biggest waves always started somewhere. “All I need from you is information, ongoing, of course.” She lifted her drink, “Then again, if you’re still going to try and convince me that this is all legitimate and you’d never dirty your own name, I’m completely willing to have a team converge on your supplier within the hour. Cut off your oxygen, so to speak.”

“Seems to run in the family.“ Samuel countered, stance immediately relaxing as the face of his sister came into view from where she steeped out of the sanctuary of the shadows. The silence between them was nothing if comfortable as he continued to soak in the sound of the gentle waves lapping at the wharf. There was nothing quite as calming as the ocean on the mind. Though as she spoke up once more, his gaze shifted to move in the direction she had come, the dark SUV was enough of an eyesore without the two apes stood beside it, one watching with intent while the other remained concentrated on their surroundings. Perhaps they weren’t complete imbeciles. “How do you do it, put up with all of that?” He asked, genuinely curious as his attention turned to that of the older sibling. 

Samuel had always admired Sav, she may have been the only female in the family but she was the fiercest of them all. And just like when they were kids she continued to have a way of reading him when many others could not. After all Samuel had never been one to wear his heart on his sleeves, if the man could be allergic to emotion then he likely would have been, least since his time in the military that was. “Just clearing my head — sleep doesn’t come easy these days.“ He admitted honestly, see that was thing with Savannah, she would see right through his lies, so he had to give her just enough as to not ask any more questions. Or at least that was how he saw it.  

Something she truly couldn’t fault any of them for. Each and every Delore sibling held strong in their entanglement with every ounce of courage and stupidity they held within them. One couldn’t truly exist without the other, and that’d shaped all of them in starkly different ways and yet consequently, she’d never known a family like them. Teeth caught the inside of her lip, Savannah not necessarily needing to follow the line of her brothers gaze to know what he might have been talking about. She couldn’t truly remember the last time she’d been without her own detail, not by choice of her own, rather urged upon her by the chief of police and the mayor. She rustled too many feathers to be left unaccounted for, and even more than to consider herself simply replaceable. “Honestly, sometimes I don’t even realize they’re even there.” She’d note quietly, “a necessary evil, or so I’m told.” Savannah had never wanted to feel as if she were hiding behind something, as if she couldn’t face up to the people she went after face to face. It hadn’t been easy, but somewhere along the line she’d found compromise with those tasked with staying by her side at all hours. “They don’t smother me, which helps.” There was no sense in questioning it, Savannah knew above all else that despite the four of them being close, they all held their own secrets, demons that found them in the middle of the night. She, was no closer to telling her own than any single one of them, and she’d known long ago that chastising her brothers for holding things in was hypocritical, of which she’d hope to have no part in. “How about something to eat? You can never go wrong with midnight pancakes.” Her hand slipped to curl gently around his upper arm. “Maybe we can work at clearing our heads together, ignore it for a little while longer.”

Moments were far and few between in the last few years that Jane was sought for either comfort or counsel. She’d endured enough that she’d managed to exclude herself from such a position. But, clearly, in a time of great personal trial, she was the one Savannah had sought out. In a way, things felt normal. Jane wasn’t a mourner, but a human again, and here was proof she could be of some use to someone again. “I’m sure it can’t be as bad as it seems.” Jane assures, cavalier in the thought that things really couldn’t be as bad as losing a child - and therefore any trial or tribulation was surmountable with the proper amount of effort.

“You can tell me.” Jane assures as she steps over, manicured hands clasping over Savannah’s in comfort. “Some things… Some things you can’t fix. But you can get past them.” Even the woman wasn’t sure she believed the words - how could she, when the very thought meant moving past Eva Claire? She gave it a mental shrug, unable at that moment to dwell - not with Savannah before her. “You’re always perfect, Sav… You’re allowed a fuck up or two.” 

Friends were few and far between when every new person she met wore thin on the barely there sliver of trust she could extend to anyone. The lacking time and effort she could make beyond the people who had always been there was a stringent factor in Savannah finding such comfort with her brothers wife. The leg work had already been done through her own brother’s marriage; the foundations of family lay well before she’d ever needed to find reason to distrust the woman and from then; it’d been irrevocable. She laughed, a sound lacking every ounce of humor as she could toy with the idea that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. A thought she could truly only hope to find agreeance in. “You don’t get it, it’s not ..--” the younger woman sighed heavily and placed her glass down, the churning of her stomach well beyond the fault of anything she might have eaten. 

There was no guideline of where she was meant to start -- how she was meant to begin in processing any single thought that perched the edge of her tongue. Hugo, a child that would now solely rely on her in the dire circumstance that his own father met his end. Ethan, a memory she now tied almost tirelessly to the boy, making it seem near impossible that she could ever find it in her to let go of her fallen friend. But beyond all of that -- there was no fixing the ache in her chest for the man she’d left behind. The chill of her hand trembled slightly as she moved to cover her mouth as the detriment of such weight hit her full force. Disheveled tresses fell lip as she shook her head, “Nobody can know, Jane. I can’t..-- I can’t tell anyone. I don’t even know why I thought I could just.. Everything I’ve ever done, this screws all of it up. I’ll lose everything.” 

“Well, you know I so enjoy looking for the good in people.” The untruth fell from his lips at such a leisurely pace that he almost believed it came from another mouth, one less accustomed to cruelty and malice. A penchant for sarcasm he could never quite break if he ever even thought to try. “Oh, Savannah, I never worry over you. You’re about as harmless as those rainclouds out there on the horizon.” He gestured with his champagne flute, toeing a particular line he so thoroughly enjoyed. “Always lurking, but never quite close enough to meet the goal.” Not that he hadn’t given her opportunities to try, but for now he remained elusive in nature. His business perfectly legitimate on paper despite its practices under the table. “A spectacle means you’re doing something right, I wonder if that’s why they decided to forgo one for you. A shame, really. If only wanting something was as gratifying to the public as actually achieving it… Maybe you’d be mayor.”

“We both know it’s not that simple.” He’d state, knuckles slamming in the table. “Sit the fuck down, Savannah. I haven’t spoken my peace. I get that, right now. I get to be listened to one last fucking time.” His finger presses into the tabletop, leaning out of his chair as he stared her down, brow knit in frustration. “I don’t care if I’m convicted in a court of law. Do you think I’m fucking afraid? You don’t do what I do, and fear anything.” He finally falls back into his chair, ankles hooking into the legs to drag it ever closer to the table. “You love me. You’ve said it, you meant it… You have my mother’s ring. You know exactly how I feel for you.” 

Henri’s tongue runs against his parched lips, head shaking as a laugh erupted from his throat. “You promised to take care of our boy, and I know you’ll keep up your end of the bargain. But this - this… He doesn’t ever need to know about me. Do you understand? There’s no integrity to this. I’m not going to let you raise him like fucking Rose Bundy. I asked you once to let him have an image of a father worth having. Give it to him. And don’t… Don’t hesitate.” 

A shallow breath parts from his mouth, head shaking ever so slightly. “There’s nothing I can trade for my freedom, is there? Nothing to loosen this noose?” Henri raises a brow, eying her over. “If I’m being honest… It’s not freedom I want. Not in the removal of shackles or the march to sunlight, but… The fucking taste of you. That… And I’ll plead whatever you’d like.”

It rose a momentary leap of organ within her chest as the sound of his knuckles hitting the table caught her from leaving. The demanding rise of his voice something that she’d become all too accustomed to in every given place beyond the four walls of his home. “Really?” She challenged, “You’re going to demand the right to say anything, right now?” It was absurd, anything he’d had to say to her had become entirely redundant the moment he’d obliterated all but a single string tying her to him. Lips pursed tightly as she bit back a humorless laugh, and despite his demand, she didn’t sit. “That’s it?” She knew better, she’d seen it, ghost like in baby blue hues; perhaps he didn’t hold the same sense of fear for his world that so many did, but it lived, just as surely in his chest as it did in hers. “I don’t have it, actually.” The blank slate of her tone not nearly giving away the blatant lie as she finally sat back down.  Bewildered, the blonde couldn’t stop the disbelief that crossed her features at the very thing Henri feared showing face so viciously. “Believe me, whatever intention I had in allowing a son to know any semblance of truth about his father has been well and truly destroyed at this point in time.” A sentiment that clung to the hurt she’d felt of everything surpassing the passing weeks. “As far as you’re concerned, he won’t even know you existed beyond a fractured memory of someone I once knew.” As she so callously could hold onto in hopes he’d soon become that for her too. Even if there had been something --- anything she could lay out on the table that could offer him an open door into the world beyond, it would never hold up. There was only so much she could compromise over such a man sitting in chains. “You know there’s only one thing that might get you somewhere close to walking out of here, but we both know you’ll never do it.” Giving her something solid on Lorenzo Vittori was something she was well aware he’d never do; he’d never give up the family he had, at least, she’d never believe he could. The curve of her brow rose, just barely, azure pools drifting from his hands cuffed over his form, some semblance of a smile pressing the corner of her mouth as she pressed elbows into the table and lent forward. “Hold onto that thought, you might need it.”

Simon can hear the front door open and close, and besides Jane, who had taken Samuel out for the day, there was only one other person at that moment whom it could have been. Savannah was nothing if not efficient, and she was always there when Simon needed her. It was one of the many things about their family in which he’d found boundless wells of comfort. From around the corner, he appears, bottoms of his feet nearly numb from the paces he’d traced up and down the hardwood floors of the parlor. Tense fingers were wrapped tight around the body of his phone, and as Simon approached his younger sister, he’d waved the device at her almost erratically. “Have you heard from Syd?” It’s the only greeting he’d offered, paying little mind to his manners at that point. “He sent me this, and that’s the last I heard of him. Milena King has been all over the fucking news. He’s mixed up in it, Sav, I know he is.” Simon can feel his pulse thumping in his ears, his heart beating rapidly as he becomes more and more anxious.

Si slides his phone across the marble top of the counter in the kitchen- the very heart of the home where every conversation had always carried them. “I know the dangers of his job. I know that. Of yours. Of mine. ’It’s more than just a last name’- None of this is new, but.” Impossibly blue pools flicker to Savannah, and Simon would be the first to admit that he didn’t know exactly what he needed from her at that moment. The only thing that he was sure of was that he did. 

The sudden appearance of her brother might have shaken anyone else, find themselves shocked by the erratic air that grew so thick she was almost certain her heart beat at the same untimely rate that no doubt caught her brothers chest roughly as he shoved his phone so flippantly towards her the illuminated light of the screen burnt her eyes. “Heard from.. no?” Savannah had been yet to hear of those taken directly to the hospital, and yet to find out that the identity of one of those found with Milena King had in fact been her own brother. “What did he do this time?” A flippant remark, as if she couldn’t so easily digest the fact that he was so close to all of this, closer than she knew. Simon’s phone slid across the marble and she moved to retrieve it, to flick through the messages as if she couldn’t piece it together as quickly. The details of everything that had flooded her desk in the last few hours was monumental, and beyond the obvious movement of the police securing the scene, she’d been among those who’s entire thought process revolved around the aftermath of what was to come. “What does he mean? He fucked..--” Features paled and she pinned her brother with a dire look of silence as she inhaled deeply, “I know.. I know just.. “ pulling her own phone from the depths of her coat pocket to dial a direct to the officer leading the investigation, Simon’s impossibly irate tangent doing little to settle her own nerves, though she knew, if such panic rose in her as it did he --- he’d lose his head.

Eyes roll back violently, tongue in cheek as he laughed. Not yet the laugh of a desperate man but certainly one perplexed by the situation - the little box of horrors that was his mind yet to find a remedy to this god-awful situation. “Savannah.” His voice would lower, jaw setting momentarily as he refused to let his rage boil to the surface. “If I tell you the truth, or at least what I’ve been able to surmise.. I die anyway. What do you propose I do? Die honestly?” He raises a brow, his knee jerk reaction to fold his arms, only to find sensitive skin harshed by the metal cuffs. “Then fucking book me.” Henri shrugs, quiet resignation in his eyes. “Either I die on the streets, or I die in prison. Either way Lorenzo is going to finish what he started here.”

“Nineteen years I’ve been with the family, you idiots couldn’t so much as find sometime to say I’d stared at them crookedly, and you’d like to convict me for a double homicide? You think this isn’t a fucking game because I didn’t fall in line when in mattered?” A shit-eating grin spreads across Henri-Phillipe’s face, gaze shifting to scan her expression. “Lorenzo was putting hits out on you. I was intercepting them. I assume… he figured it out. Why else would I be sitting here with a folder full of evidence I don’t fucking recognize?”

It was like falling right back into place, the never quite manic look in his eyes still glimmering with some sense of apt disbelief, as if he could perhaps find himself one step ahead with little more than a thought, even if the evidence that damn near bled the paperwork before him all but signed away every ounce of freedom he’d ever had. “When are you going to get it, Henri? The truth doesn’t matter.” Just as surely as he and his could warp any ounce of information, which she was well and truly aware was what lay between them, Savannah had never been so righteous as to claim she’d never done the very same in order to get what she needed. “What matters is what we’ve got and how deeply we can dig your grave with it.” However much she could have claimed justice was what she aimed for, she knew for certain that was never quite her intention; at any cost, even if that cost was her own integrity. “So maybe it’d kill you to do one honest thing in your life, it’s not as if you have much else to lose.” A bitterness that tasted different bloomed in the bed of her voice.  “It’s certainly not as if we could just..-- let it slide,” her mock extempore not nearly blatant enough for features to soften. “It is what it is, and you’ve caused enough problems in this city to force anyone that might even consider you particularly innocent of this to look away.” A concept of it’s own, the man across from her not falling in line was laughable at best, as much quite obvious from the glimmering humor that blossomed porcelain features. “Hits out on me? Then I guess it’s about to get really interesting around here.” No ounce of the uncertainty that caught the pit of her stomach could surface, she’d never let it. “It doesn’t matter, the fact is you are, and nobody is about to let you walk out of here.” She rose from her seat, making no move to retrieve the scattered folder, “I’m sure someone else will be in within the next few hours to book you.” A brow rose as she gestured the metal cuffs, “---- I just needed to see this.” 

David in fact could remember the last time he had felt this scared, Like the time he’d gotten the news in the hospital, the same hospital they were in now that his wife had died. It was that same stiffening fear that tightened his chest and made his throat dry up. His hands trembled as they dropped to his sides, clenched into fists as he tried to hide the fear from his sister, or even convince himself that he was okay. “I don’t know,” he spoke, uncertainty lifting a tremor in his voice, he had absolutely no idea. He was lucky he was spared, the thought shook him. Only repeating the same phrase in a whisper when she asked again, “I don’t know.” Blue eyes lifting to meet his sisters, who only stared confused back at him. All his life he knew his sister to be strong, she was so much stronger than he was, always had been. And she was scared, he could recognize the signs. The clenched jaw, the assertive tone and the way her eyes were locked on him. She was trying to control the situation, but this wasn’t in her control. 

As the big brother he felt like had to try and be stronger for her, to hold it all in. Tell her that everything was going to be fine and he’d figure it out. But staring back into those blue eyes. He felt lost. Words escaped him. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to crawl back to his old home in Norther Quebec and sink into that mental hole he’d dug himself into when his wife died. But that wasn’t possible. Not anymore. The Syndicate had him in their scope and he would have to face them eventually. Either as David or Sydney Delore. “Sav,” he shook his head, finding himself holding back tears, “you can’t make that decision,” he tried to smile, only one corner of his mouth lifting. He wanted to apologize for everything, for putting her through this. For making her and his brothers worry. For not being there. For missing everything. All he could croak out was a small apology, “I’m sorry. I=” he fell short, for a long time, letting the words settle in and try and figure out what to say,  “We’ll get through it. We always do.” 

Every professional bone in her body wanted to press him further, dig beneath his skin and pry what he might have known from between every vein she could reach. But this wasn’t her usual, this was her brother; parading about as some criminal and walking himself right into the biggest case that’d hit the desk of every officer in the city, painting himself as heavily involved and earning himself a target even bigger than the one found attached to his own family name. There should have been some relief in knowing he didn’t know --- being knocked out could have granted him some sense of silence within it all, but she knew far better than to expect his own criminal higher ups to find reason to trust a man who didn’t see anything, as Milena King was executed feet away from him. The thought made her sick. “Okay..-- Okay.” She spoke, through the whirlwind of pressing thoughts. “They’re never going to accept that and you know it.” Lips pursed and she looked beyond him to pinpoint a place on the wall, right beside their brothers graduating certificates. “You’re going to have to come up with something, you give them a name.. Any name, I’ll..-- I’ll figure something out.” Anything to take the heat from her own brother. As her name fell from his lips, she shook her head, refusing beyond any better judgement to return her gaze to him as she felt the overwhelming feeling of helplessness swell in her chest at the very thought that she couldn’t control this. “Like hell I can’t. If you think for one second I won’t get your acting chief to pull your ass out of there today, Sydney.. You’re sorely mistaken.” Pointed words formed to cast shadow across the truth of such vulnerability, her refusal to feel or show it. The mottled break in his voice almost unbearable, uncertainty had always paved the path they’d walked, but finding it before them right now felt wrong. “Stop apologizing.” The sharp tone of her voice not lost as she shifted to the window, the ache in her chest rising to sit thickly in her throat as she bit back the heat in her eyes. “Stop apologizing like we didn’t all know exactly what we were getting into -- like you didn’t know.” 

Henri-Phillipe Baudelaire didn’t take kindly to federal officers forcing entry into his penthouse - he didn’t enjoy being forcibly awoken at nearly three o’clock in the morning and dragged from his bed, nor did he enjoy the sight of his son being taken by child protective services. The man couldn’t say he’d swallowed the pill calmly and with a splash of champagne. No. See, Henri-Phillipe Baudelaire was careful. He didn’t leave traces, evidence, nothing that could ever implicate him - not that he often did his own dirty work. He’d been prepared for the eventuality that he’d be dragged into the precinct under cover of darkness, deprived food and water and legal counsel, all in the hopes of stirring fear from the man’s heart, to get him to cave, confess - though clearly none of them knew who Henri was. 

Except for Savannah. 

He’d watch with keen eyes as Savannah Delore entered the interrogation room he’d been settled in for what could have been eight hours or eight minutes. His nerves were frayed, and yet, a smile parted tired lips as the femme fatale sat opposite of him, scoff parting from his lips as the folder slip across the table and made contact with his barreled chest. “Not guilty.” He’d reply, baby blue irises assessing her features. “Where is Hugo? And would you take these fucking handcuffs off of me?” He’d pull against the restraints that plastered his aching wrists to the hard surface. “You’ve got to know… You’ve got to know there’s no fucking way I did any of this.”

The harsh scoff that parted her lips didn’t bloom into any sense of harmonic laughter despite the irony that came with a man such as he claiming not guilty for anything at all. Regardless of whether he’d been the cause of the brutal crime scene that filled the now stray folder, she wasn’t so naive as to consider the man an ounce of innocent. “There’s not a judge within a hundred miles that would ever accept a not guilty plea from you and you damn well know it.” Nor would any sense of a jury rule in his favor given the opportunity of trial. “They’ll run you into the ground and you’re already looking at consecutive life sentences for this.” The tip of her finger flicked haplessly towards him and the mess left behind in his name. “No chance of parole.” It was exactly what they’d all been hoping for -- what she’d been gunning for, and though every ounce of the woman bled a certain satisfaction, the jewelry slipped from his hand to hers, now hung on a chain beneath her blouse damn near singed her flesh at the thought.  Azure hues met their equal as if he could so surely question what might have happened to his son when she’d already gone above and beyond to ensure Hugo would always remain safe. “He’s fine. They’re likely pulling up a next of kin list as we speak, if they haven’t already.” Which, damning in itself on her part, left her lungs riddled with the lacking capacity to fill entirely with each breath she took. Gaze drifted to the cuffs and the raw flesh beneath; she’d never really expected him to comply so easily, yet it still pulled softly at the corner of her mouth. “No.” It was far too sweet and she was far too satisfied. “It doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do --- there’s no lawyer in the country that could talk you out of this one.”

“You want to tell me how this ended up on my desk?” The interview room door closed quietly behind her as she threw down the folder filled with damning evidence. It wasn’t as if she was shocked in the least, Savannah was always entirely aware of what the man cuffed to the table was capable of. She might have been, perhaps the only one to be considering the idea that it was too much that pointed to Henri-Philipe Baudelaire’s blood stained hands, but one way or another --- it landed a big player, here, with no likely way of worming his way out and that alone was enough to leave forcing her hand as a very viable option. “Fingerprints, DNA, witness statement putting you there within the right time frame..--- I’ve got everything but your own damn confession, right here.” A manicured brow rose curtly as she took a seat opposite him, teeth worrying the inside of her cheek, mentally reminding herself that she certainly didn’t need to feel so tense, not since she’d already shut off the camera in the corner of the room. “This is a straight cut case, Henri.” And perhaps her only reasoning for being here, was that she knew it was too easy.

@sdclore

How did he end up in that situation? He had to admit there were a few weak links he had to eliminate long before something like that happens but perhaps he was too confident and that made him sloppy. Though he couldn’t know for sure that was the case. For all he knew, the woman could be playing him, getting him to admit his crimes and then she’ll definitely use that against him. He couldn’t know for sure until he meets up with her, so that was exactly what he was about to. On neutral grounds.

He was late, but not that much. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long. There was something I needed to take care of before coming here.” Vittorio spoke as soon as he was near enough for her to be able to hear him without the need to shout or anything.

The fact remained, she would have waited, no matter what. The slip of tongue from one of his men and the eyes she’d since had trained on him had solidified her every conception of the man and his doings in the dark. Much like those that perched the brink of war as she sat there, she had ever intention of using and obliterating his stamp within the city as best she could; however, the fact that he remained neither loyal to Ivory or the Vittori was something she knew could benefit her in the long run. Deals with the devil were a dime a dozen in a city like this, hers were no different. “I haven’t been here long, but I’m sure a phone call wouldn’t have killed you.” The smile offered was little more than a haphazard taunt, mocking in the very least brand of it she held within her. The perforating pause she took to simply take a drink from her wine glass, hues trained on him as he took a seat opposite her.  “Interesting choice of venue, I would have much preferred to see that vineyard of yours.” Oh, but she knew well enough that he likely wouldn’t allow her so close with such nefarious intentions. “Then again, I suppose taking the district attorney to the very forefront of your peddling scheme wouldn’t be wise, would it?” She’d waste no time --- the woman barely one for small talk when the time called for it, and this certainly didn’t. Azure hues gauged his reaction, if he intended to give her one at all. Little doubt settled on her tongue that he ran a tight business behind the veil of little more than a family owned vineyard, but there would always be cracks --- and Savannah Delore would always find them. “I have a proposal I think you’d like to consider.”

“You wound me, Savannah.” Not really, but he always did enjoy the taunting aspect of their less than humorous banter. “Here I thought we might be able to make it at least twelve seconds without getting particularly nasty. I should have known that was giving you far too much credit.” Some might proposition that it didn’t bode well to play with fire, especially where the ADA was concerned, but Roman had always been a betting man and his penchant for trouble still precluded better judgment even now. The fact of the matter remained, if she had enough to warrant him serving a long term prison sentence, he’d already be taking up residence behind bars of some upscale penitentiary. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a stellar mood? All they’re missing today is a parade in your honor.”

When he had been cornered by the two detectives he felt his stomach sink to the floor, and without given much of a choice, he was marched right back to the very place he had been trying to escape.  However, when he caught sight of his younger sister, most of the tension that’d previously been on his shoulders was released however he remained on guard. David took a glance around Simon’s office and returning his gaze to his clearly upset sister once the door had closed behind them. The way she stared at with that look, that damn worried look. He felt awful for putting his family through this shit, but with just that one look and her crack of distress in her voice, that just amplified the feeling by 110%. “Sav I…” he started, trying to find the right words to calm her down and ease her mind. “Everything just became a whole lot more complicated – one of the Vittori’s killed Milena. I think the Ivory’s are going to tear the city to the ground… “ he was trying to hold it together, keep everything under a tight lock and key, fool himself into thinking that it wasn’t a big deal and everything will blow over in a few days.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, Sav. It might be nothing. But they might…” he trailed off averting his gaze and sliding a hand through his hair, “They might find out about me. Or kill me. I don’t know which is worse.”

Part of her might have liked to lay claim to some sense of relief settling in against her bones being so near and now entirely aware that he was, physically, okay. For the better part, she knew it lived there somewhere, in the narrow ventricles of a heart that truly only beat so vibrantly for her brothers. However, she’d long since allowed herself to fall victim to being so blinded by such a thing when the depths of reality had drowned her long before. “Who?” She already knew that he had no idea who it was, the multiple statements that’d found their way across her desk had left them with little else to go on beyond the striking obviousness of the hit being taken out by those standing war against the Ivory. “Who was it, Sydney?” She’d cling to it; a life altering pitch between her work and the crossroads her family put themselves on, her panic didn’t serve anyone if she so let herself fall into it.  The pit of her stomach lurched, the woman not at all unaware of what might come from his timely involvement, even if he’d been little more than a bystander. That he’d been there at all, and Milena King was dead, was a sure sign that Sydney had been pitched forth into the blackened depths of lacking time. “You’re done.” Her voice iron like, unwilling to so easily buckle to what she feared most. Though it was no secret that the Delore family could well enough hold their own against the likes of those they set out to rid from their city, Sydney didn’t stand on the premise of their family name --- he was someone else entirely, and no amount of fear and respect their family name carried found itself in what he did. Their lived always had an expiry date, nobody that played with fire so effortlessly as they could ever hope to cling to some sense of longevity, but this wasn’t how she’d let her brother meet his end. “Nobody finds out. You’re done, Sydney. This isn’t what you signed up for.” It wasn’t her call to make, but damned if she wouldn’t try to make it anyway. 

@sdclore

The text had set off a series of panic and anxiety within him.

I’m sorry. I fucked up.

 Their brother had managed to send a message out to Simon, but Si had yet to hear anything back and he was, needless to say, worried. It was a dangerous caveat that came with Syd’s job, or rather, David’s, and they all knew it. Speaking only for himself, anyway, he’d tried not to dwell too much on the idea that anytime he saw him could have been the last. But none of their interactions had ever felt like this before. They’d never made him feel so unsettled, or restless. All of this coupled with the timing of Milena King’s death and, well… Simon didn’t know what to do, and there were only two people he could rely on to help him make sense of it. So he’d pull out his phone and begin to thumb a text of his own, the jitter of his fingers be damned. Simon: I’m sure you’re busy, but do you have some time? I need to talk to you. It’s important.

If there were ever a single component of her commitment to her job Savannah could prove wrong beyond any sense of doubt; it was that she didn’t have time. The woman could open up space for just about anything despite never truly having enough hours within the day. How any singular one person could carry the burden of Montreal as well as the utterly violent tryst her family seemed to find within the depths of it all. She’d perched the precipice of pinning down a case that would no doubt solidify her grip on the reality of her world; broken slivers of thoughts beyond such tied restlessly to the soft curls of a young boy and a man with the bloodied fingerprints she’d been looking for, for years, so an entirely different reasoning than she’d ever first considered. Needless to say, the message that illuminated the screen of her phone was without doubt, one of the very few things that could force her to drop everything within reach, thought or existence beyond what lay on the other end. It’s important. Sav: i’ll be there in ten.

Eight. Eight minutes it took her to make it from her office to his front door. Eight minutes for Savannah to move earth and sky to grant her the passing moments necessary to ensure that family always came first. Letting herself in, she could never shift the homely feeling whenever she was here, beyond the minimal comforts of her own place, there was simply more warmth here. “Simon?” It echoed the recesses of his home and she could only garner that Jane and Sammy were elsewhere, which truly did little else to settle the rise of uncertainty that’d pooled within the concave of her chest.