Caramel stepped out of her room the next morning at noon, tired as hell. Natalie had not come in to wake her up for school, so she had slept in. She had only fallen asleep at 4am, after hours of working on the designs for the Luminescence project.

Since she didn't actually have to go to school—she was classified as a working student, and thus had license to skip school for important business—Caramel decided she would go take a look at the fabrics and some other stuff downtown that day. She was calling Heather to meet her for an impromptu lunch before setting out when she walked into the dining room to find a bunch of cameras and mikes, as well as people, gathered there.

"What's going on?" Caramel asked, raising her eyebrows at Lucas and Law, who looked liked they were being taped, and looked up to blink at her in surprise.

"Aren't you supposed to be in school?" Lucas asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Look who's talking." Caramel snorted, blinking at the cameramen, who shifted slightly to include her in the shot. She turned her head away to ignore them and grabbed Law's glass of milk.

"I'm working." Lucas scowled.

"Well, so am I." Caramel grumbled. "So can someone tell me what's going on?"

"We're filming a documentary." Law finally spoke up, grabbing his milk back. He reached for an oreo and dropped it into his milk. Caramel scowled at him.

"What documentary?" She finally poured herself her own glass of milk and sipped at it, blinking at the cameras and lights.

"A documentary on me, something like a video biography and stuff." Law fished his oreo out of the glass with his forefinger and thumb to bite into it.

"That is gross." Caramel said immediately, because the milk was dripping everywhere. She pushed herself away from the table to leave, but then Law said—

"That's not what you said when I kissed you that day."

"That's my sister you're talking about, man." Lucas jammed an elbow into Law's midriff. Caramel rolled her eyes and left—she hated cameras.

Richard, who was also on the way out, dressed in a dapper black suit with silver stripes, stopped her at the door.

"Have you decided on your bodyguard?"

Caramel scowled.

"No. I was thinking of hiring a personal assistant, actually."

"That works too." Richard shrugged. "Kidnappers are generally deterred when you're not alone."

"So you were just worried about me being kidnapped because I was alone?" Caramel raised her eyebrows, checking to make sure nothing was wrong with what she was wearing before stepping out.

"Pretty much." Richard shrugged. "You like being alone too much."

"Keeps me sane." Caramel muttered before she stepped out of the house into her waiting Lamborghini. Jonathan slid the door closed for her. Caramel nodded to him before driving off. She arrived at Beau Monde street in moments—it was the size of a small village with everything—and Heather was already waiting outside a store, looking through her iPad.

"I was arranging the interviews for your new PA." Heather said. "There's a surprising number of applicants—I think the news of your generosity got out."

"What generosity?" Caramel snorted as she adjusted the rearview mirror. There was a car that had been following her since she left the gate of the Veshkini estate, and it made her nervous.

"Millionaires don't normally pay bakeries tens of thousands a dollars per week to help feed the homeless, or pay millions to help the poor install cable tv in their homes."

"It was spare change." Caramel fibbed easily as she slid the car into a free parking spot.

"Four million dollars is not spare change."

"It's not like I'm using it—are you asking for a raise, or something?" Caramel rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm just saying, you should use your actual name for this kind of thing instead of—" Heather and Caramel paused as they saw a cameraman getting out of the car that had been following her, and another woman stalking towards her from a car that was stuck in the middle of the street. That woman was lucky Beau Monde was practically considered a gated community—or else she would have a really crumpled Bentley.

"Can I help you?" Caramel frowned at the cameraman.

"Oh no, just keeping tabs on GoldenHawk's lover. Do you want to tell us about it?" The man grinned from behind his camera.

"Hey! You over there! You took my spot!" The woman in the Bentley cried. "Move your car!"

"The space was free, lady." Caramel called out.

"I had my eyes on it first!" The woman called out. Caramel rolled her eyes.

"That's lame!" She shouted, but gestured for Heather to climb back into the Lambo anyway. She frowned when the cameraman scrambled back into his car to continue following her. Caramel was really glad her windows were tinted now—she flipped open a compartment in the door and pulled out the pink mobile Law had given her.

He picked up on the third ring.

"There's a guy with a camera following me, and it's your fault." Caramel said into it as the Lamborghini slid out of the parking spot.

"Is he stalking you?" Law chuckled.

"Seems like it."

"Get used to it, doll. You're a millionaire, you drive an apple green sports car, and you're gonna be in Forbes magazine. Oh, and you're dating me."

"How am I going to work with people following me everywhere?" Caramel growled as she stepped on the gas. Even if the man had a car to follow her, he didn't have a Lamborghini.

"You get used to it." Law said easily. "Anyway, since you're not working today, and tomorrow's Friday, wanna skip school tomorrow and spend the weekend together?"

"Don't you have work?"

"Nope. Sales have never been better, we already passed platinum two days ago. So I'm getting a break, although I won't really call it that, since I'll be writing songs and stuff."

Caramel frowned and nudged her car into a parking space around the block. "Fine. I'll be at Astor Faith for the weekend, then."

"You don't have to sound so reluctant, you know. I promised Luke to make sure you enjoyed yourself."

"We'll see about that." Caramel didn't bother saying goodbye—she dropped the phone back into the compartment before opening the door. The camera-guy was gone.

"As I was saying—" Heather grumbled. "You should use your actual name for all those charity stuff."

"It doesn't matter, Heather. Anyway, for the personal assistant thing, I really don't actually need it. You're doing fine. You mean you want to remain as a secretary for the rest of your life?" Caramel asked as they stepped into MOOD designer fabrics.

At Heather's flat look at changing the topic, Caramel sighed and said, "I'm not being charitable to be famous—I'm doing it cause I want to. Now shut up and help me look for those buttons."


Richard stepped into the office, duly impressed by the real gold furnishings, and the diamonds dangling from a lampshade. Kamil Jawahir kept a very luxurious and opulent place wherever he went, and his L.A. office collection was nothing to scoff at.

He was holding a diamond up to the light and examining it with the help of a mini telescope when Richard walked in. Kamil smiled at his business partner and friend and stood to offer a handshake.

"I'm glad you could make it here at such short notice, Richard. It has been too long since we spoke face to face."

"Your request intrigued me enough for me to turn up personally." Richard chuckled. The conniving bastards at Wall Street would probably go mad when they heard of this meeting. Kamil was a multi-billionaire, and one of the wealthiest men with his base located in Egypt. Richard was similarly wealthy like Kamil, with his base in the Americas.

Whatever that resulted from this meeting would change everything.

"I would have thought it would shock you rather than simply intrigue you." Kamil laughed, signaling to a servant to serve Richard some tea.

"Not really—there has been nearly twenty marriage proposals for Caramel since the news broke." Richard chuckled. "I'm keeping those families waiting for now—I haven't actually told her about them quite yet."

"I hear the Rothschild offered one of their boys to you."

"The French Branch, yes." Richard remarked drolly.

"Then I'm glad I contacted you before you agreed to their offer. How about it, Richard? My only son, and your only daughter?" Kamil grinned.

"Why her?" Richard asked. "I know you've met her once—and I hear she made quite the impression on you."

"She shouted at me." Kamil laughed, pushing away the tray of diamonds he had been examining to lean forward with an odd gleam in his eyes. "She reminds me of my late wife. She possesses a quiet strength, like a finely tempered steel blade."

"A blade?" Richard laughed. "Yes, that is rather accurate, I must say. But enough of these jokes. We both know what makes her so desirable as a wife—beside her bank account, of course— and that is exactly what makes her so hard to obtain."

"Zain is ready to woo her. That boy has been fooling around for too long—it will be good if your daughter can tame him. He thinks I don't know—but I know he's been rearing a harem of his own."

Richard burst into laughter.

"Like father, like son!" The billionaire chortled. Kamil cracked a very small smile—it was almost cute, the way Zain sometimes subconsciously imitated him.

"So, what do you think?" Kamil grinned.

"We'll set them up to meet officially. I'm not going to make a decision for her—I want her to at least meet Rothschild's boy at least once before I make any promises."

"What about Richford? I hear he's been stirring up some trouble over her."

"Naturally—you must have heard, but Richford is that child's father. It doesn't matter—he just wants to retire peacefully within the next two years."

"What about you, then? Have you thought about retiring?" Kamil grinned.

"My eldest is graduating from school this year, so of course I've thought about it. But a few more years, give or take." Richard shrugged.

"I've been thinking about it too. We're old, Richard. But for now, here's the finished contract." Kamil nudged the folder forward, filled to the brim with the terms for the merger of two of their biggest companies and holdings.

Richard picked up his pen and signed on the line, and the deal was sealed and done.

"To money and happiness." The two billionaires laughed.


"What the fuck are you wearing?" Law gaped as he climbed out of his car. Natalie, now the official Head Servant at Astor Faith, was decked out in a plain black dress with a matching frilly white cap and plain white apron with an unnecessarily wide sash.

"Uniform." Natalia said curtly. Thankfully, she did not react like a fangirl—mostly because she was widowed.

"Unifo—what?" Law stared.

"I'm experimenting." Caramel said as she skipped down the stairs, a flamboyant robe flung over her black boyshorts and lacey purple camisole. Law gaped.

"What the fu—" He turned and stepped into the house, promptly closing the door on the filming crew that was still following him.

"Why are those people still there?" Caramel frowned, putting her hands on her hips.

"Put on some clothes before they film you in that!" Law shouted.

"What's wrong with this?" Caramel glanced down at herself. She was wearing a bra and a top, and she wasn't showing her midriff. And they were comfortable.

"You—You're…." It looked fine. Fabulous, in fact. It left very little to the imagination, with the form fitting silk and tight shorts. But Law didn't just want anyone to see Caramel walking around in what was practically her underwear. Sure, it was a camisole, but…

Was this woman shameless, fearless, or what?

"What do you think?" Caramel asked, closing the robe around herself. The robe itself was made of flimsy white silk with a pattern of pale green butterflies around the hem, and it was trimmed with pale pink ribbons.

"It's very nice." Law growled. "But I'm not going to allow the film crew guys to be around you when you're dressed like that."

"Why are they still following you?" Caramel crossed her arms. Unbeknownst to the both of them, the film crew was actually filming the scene—they had come in from the back, because this scene was just too juicy to not be in the documentary on one of the biggest singing sensations of the decade.

Law swallowed when her crossed arms simply pushed the curves of her breasts up so even more skin was being flashed at him.

"They have to follow me for a week, to take enough scenes from my everyday life to put in the bloody documentary. Will you put on some clothes now that I've answered your question?"

"No." Caramel uncrossed her arms and slipped the robe off to reveal her bare arms. "It's my house, I'll wear what I like. Natalie, bring this to Aliana and tell her to put it in the 'approved' box."

Natalie, who had been watching the scene with amusement, left after taking the robe from Caramel. "Can I change out of this now?"

"Yes. Put the outfit in the 'redo' box."

"What the fu—" Law finally noticed the filming crew. He shrugged off his jacket and grabbed Caramel to stuff her into it. Since she was short, and he was tall, it fell to mid thigh. He roughly zipped it up, and felt that he could breathe again.

"What are you doing prancing around in your underwear?" Law hissed.

"Trying out the outfits for the photoshoot. For my company." Caramel glared at him and made to unzip the jacket, but he pinched her on the wrist and she backed away, whimpering like a whipped puppy.

"That hurt, you asshole!" She gasped out and rubbed the reddened skin with a pout.

"That'll teach you to walk around in your underwear." Law muttered. Caramel frowned at him.

"I am not walking around in my underwear. Are you crazy? This is my house—I should be walking around naked."

Law became very red at the mention of Caramel naked, and he dragged her upstairs while pointing at the filming crew and mouthing—

"Edit that out."


"What is wrong with you!" Caramel yelled as she was manhandled into her room, where Law stormed into her closet to find 'appropriate clothing'.

"You can't walk around like that when I'm around this week—the film crew will be with me!

"But it's my…house…" Caramel mumbled into her pillow, repeating for the third time in the past five minutes. She sighed into her bed and curled around her pillow. She was tired after a day of sewing and looking for various things for the photo shoot. Said photo shoot would take place next week, which meant she couldn't go to school again because she had to oversee everything.

"You can walk around naked for all I care, but not this weekend, because the crew's gonna be here." Law growled. He turned with a shirt in hand, as well as a skirt he had found buried in the corner of the closet.

"Those clothes aren't any better." Caramel pointed out from where she was sprawled on her bed, her dark hair like inky thread against the white of the sheets. Law had picked out a tight fitting shirt and a mini-skirt.

A mini-mini skirt made from denim that had been a gift from Lucas from Christmas, saying she needed to wear more skirts.

She had been in her jeans phase then.

"It's better." Law insisted.

"It's a fucking mini-skirt." Caramel growled. "I'm not going to wear a mini-skirt at home—that's stupid."

Law narrowed his eyes at her.

"I'm not going to let you walk around other men in your underwear, doll." He crossed his arms and tried to stare her down. Caramel sat up and stared right back, crossing her arms as well.

"I'll change into a baby doll, but that's it."

"A babydoll is lingerie, for god's sake." Law's hand curled into a fist. Caramel shrugged, and he swallowed at the sight of the creamy white skin of her shoulders in the dim light of the room. He abruptly realized that she was sitting in her bed, dressed skimpily and glaring at him.

It was kind of hot.

Or a lot of hot.

And it was turning him on.

"If I can't wear what I want when you're around, you can get out of here until the film crew's gone."

Law gritted his teeth. She had a point—but he had wanted to spend the weekend with her. Now that she was more receptive to his affections, he didn't have time to pursue her?

This sucked.

"Fine, I'll go. But you have to make it up to me for chasing me out."

"It's your own fault." Caramel drawled. She paused at Law's arched brow and pouted, curling around her pillow again. She buried her face in the soft cotton, feeling herself blush when her eyes had met his stare. Why was he so good-looking?

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

"Are you blushing?" Law asked, sounding much closer than he had been a few moments ago. Caramel rolled out of the way to get further away from him, but he grabbed her around the waist and pinned her down by straddling her back.

"I'm not blushing!" She shrieked into her pillow. "Go away—I'll see you next week."

"No. Come on, look at me." He murmured into her ear, his fingers trailing down to her hips. His fingers gripped her hip, and Caramel tried to squirm away, but he was heavy.

"No!" She cried into her pillow, and then let out a muffled shriek as his fingers poked into her midriff.

"So you are ticklish. I owe you one, Luke." Law grinned darkly as he poked Caramel. She laughed so hard tears came out of her eyes, and finally managed to jerk him off when her fingers had found his nipple under his shirt and twisted it.

"Ow!" Law yelped. Dammit, she was one hell of a vicious girl if she wanted to be. "Fine, I'll stop. But before I leave…." He bent down, and Caramel turned her face away so his lips met her cheek.

"No kissing on the lips." Caramel said, glaring at him.

"Why not?" Law grumbled, staring down at her.

"Just no."

"You're just afraid of becoming addicted." Law laughed as his hand trailed under the curve of her spine to slide under her butt. He sat up and hoisted her into his lap. Caramel frowned at him, then squirmed slightly to settle more comfortably. Law groaned when he felt her rubbing against him, his arms locking about her waist and shoulders. Since Caramel was short, he didn't even have to crane his neck so that they were face to face.

"To what?"

"My kissing." Law murmured, stiffening when he caught the very faint scent of a musky perfume. Caramel usually smelled like some sort of fruity soap—peach or mango or sometimes cranberry.

"What's that perfume you're wearing?" He mumbled into her shoulder, burying his nose into her neck. But today, she smelled….


"Oh." Caramel seemed to perk up, and squirmed off him, a beam on her face. "We got a perfumer today. I met him at the office, and he helped me make a scent to demonstrate his skills. Does it smell nice? What do you smell? Do you like it? Wanna sign a fragrance contract with us?"

"Can we please don't discuss about that shit when we're sitting on your bed, and you're barely half-dressed?" Law growled, his eyes dark and voice husky.

"Well…." Caramel looked around. "You wanna talk in my office? The monkeys like to look for me there though—cause I'm there most of the time with food and stuff."

"I don't want to talk." Law said flatly. How oblivious could she get?

"You hungry?" Caramel tilted her head slightly, blinking at him. "You could've told me—I made peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. Aliana says I should open a bakery if the Luminescence project falls through."

Didn't he just say he didn't want to talk? So why was he still letting her talk?

"Wait. You shouldn't eat cookies—cause you're a singer. Too bad—we have orange juice. You can go get some if you're thirsty before you leave." Caramel beamed at him.

Law stared at her. Why had he fallen in love with this kind of girl?

And was she chasing him out?

He had to be a masochist of some sort—the next thing he did when he got out of here was to get Melanie to schedule an appointment with a psychiatrist, because no man in his right mind would want this girl.

Besides him, of course.

"So is the perfume nice?" Caramel asked, her hair tousled from rolling around in the bed when he had been tickling her. It was like bed-hair, except a bit tamer. The thought made him swallow.

"It's….nice." Law swallowed again, his mouth dry as he stared at her.

"Nice how? Do you think it should be improved? Do you think it can?" Caramel asked, apparently very concerned about his 'professional' opinion. "And why are you staring at me like that?" She paused, and stared at him with those dark brown eyes of hers.

"It needs to be…" Law paused. "Wait, I have to smell it again to be sure." He grabbed her and buried his nose in her neck, running his fingers up her bare arms to stroke the smooth skin of her shoulders. Caramel became very still in the embrace. Her breath hitched slightly when she felt him bite her earlobe.

She felt herself become limp in his embrace. Law took the opportunity to tilt Caramel's head towards his, and then covered her lips with his own, sliding his tongue against hers. He could taste chocolate and….vanilla ice cream.

Caramel moaned in his mouth, her mouth hot against his as her teeth nipped his bottom lip, arms curling about his neck. Law, feeling like he was losing control of the situation, took her by the thighs and pulled her back into his lap so he didn't have to bend to kiss her. Caramel gasped, then softened against him, her curves pressing against the planes of his chest as he kissed her slowly, slowly teaching her, letting her know…

She belonged to him now.

When they finally came up for breath, Caramel was curled up in his lap, quivering against him.


"No." She gasped, becoming still again as she pressed against him, her eyes closed. She took several deep breaths. "I'm just afraid I'm seriously beginning to like you."

Law chuckled into her ear, resting his hands on the curve of her butt. She didn't seem to be averse to it, so he stroked the curve of her hip with his thumb, sucking in another whiff of the perfume she was wearing.

"It needs to be sharper." Law murmured.

"What does?" Caramel frowned up at him.

"Your perfume, doll."

"Why are you calling me doll?"

"Cause you don't only look like one anymore." Law laughed. "You are one."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She sat up and crossed her arms. Law grinned and pulled her close before moving in for another kiss. Explaining could wait—because to be honest, she was just as addictive to him as he was to her.


Isaac stepped onto the stage to polite applause from the paid audience. He had been practicing for this solo for the music video for weeks. The request had come from Law, oddly. The superstar had wanted to incorporate the violin and piano into his usual tunes, and had asked for Isaac as a personal favor to him, and to pay respect to Isaac's skills as a composer. It would be an unprecedented collaboration between them.

Right now, they were filming the music video. He waited for the cue from the director, and then raised his violin, holding it close. He lifted the bow and waited for the first two strokes from the violas.

Then, he closed his eyes and let himself be pulled into that special world where there was nothing but just him, and the music. He could almost feel his heart slowing to keep pace with the notes, and let the emotion suffuse throughout his whole body as he played.

It was too beautiful a song to not dedicate his soul to.

He heard—and felt—the song's quickening beat, keeping pace as his breath quickened. His violin was in perfect condition. He had polished it just last night, and tuned it personally, and then tested it thrice. It was in perfect.

That was why, when the string broke, he felt like someone had just shocked him with a thunderbolt—it was just that surprising. The director signaled for a cut, and Isaac stared at his violin, confused.

"Cut!" The director said, and the other musicians quieted.

"Are you okay, Isaac? Did you cut yourself?"

"No." Isaac said, pulling the violin away and staring at it, baffled. There was an odd sense of dread trickling into his body now, and he felt the warmth that had been flowing through him drain away to be replaced by an unusual icy cold.

Something bad was about to happen.


Lucas frowned upon seeing Law's car in the driveway of Astor Faith. He was here looking for Caramel—there was an offer for her to act in a movie. The clip of her using that fire extinguisher on the blonde trio had gone viral on Youtube, and since Caramel wasn't part of any agency and didn't have a manager, the director had called him instead to ask for her number.

"Where's Caramel?" He smiled at Aliana, who he found in the kitchen, pizza slice in hand. She blinked at him and flushed. Her English had been improving steadily with Caramel's help, and she could now make everyday conversation fairly fluently.

He should have noticed it earlier, but Aliana was rather beautiful. She was tall and stately, with proper curves and excellent bone structure. Her eyes were a pale icy blue, and she was all light and soft like a snowflake. Her smile was wonderful too.

Caramel had chosen well when she asked Aliana to model for her cosmetics line.

"Caramel?" Aliana repeated. She put down her pizza and looked about hesitantly, before shaking her head, blonde curls bouncing this way and that. Her Russian accent was very thick, but it just made her seem more endearing somehow. "I think I hear Natalie says she is in her room. With Law."

"Huh." Lucas decided to be magnanimous and not interrupt the couple. Law would need all the alone time he could get with Caramel to convince the girl to fall for him. "Got anymore pizza?" He smiled warmly at Aliana, taking a step closer. She was tall too—just a few inches shorter than him, which was rare, since he had to be tall to succeed as a model.

"Yes. There is only….this one left." Aliana reached for a box and flipped it open to reveal half a pepperoni pizza left.

"Pepperoni—my favorite." Lucas grinned approvingly and reached for a slice.

"This is called Pepperoni?" Aliana asked, blinking curiously. "Pepperoni. Pepperoni." She repeated to herself, so as to remember it for future reference. Lucas chuckled.

She was kind of cute like that.


Arven looked up from where he had been doing his math homework in the library when Tristan let out a surprised yelp, taking a step away from the table he had been working at.

"What the—" Tristan quickly grabbed a box of tissues and grabbed several of the flimsy paper before pressing them to the puddle of iced tea now beginning to drip onto the floor.

"What happened?" Arven frowned and grabbed more tissues to help Tristan clean up.

"I dunno. I was just working when I heard this crack. Look—" Tristan dropped the wad of tissues and picked up the cracked glass that had initially been holding his iced tea. There was a jagged crack running from the rim to the bottom, and the tea was leaking out of it.

Arven froze.

"Did you knock it against something?"

"No, it just cracked." Tristan said, shrugging.

"Shit." Arven said quietly.


"That's a really bad omen."

"Omen?" Tristan scoffed and grappled for the phone to press a button so a maid could come up to clean the mess. Jonathan wasn't nearby, since he had gone out with Richard on a rare trip outside of the estate for some super secret meeting with whomever. "I didn't know you were so superstitious, Arv."

"It's happened before." Arven said slowly, retreating from the table. He could not avert his eyes from the crack in the glass, and swallowed nervously. "That last time that shit happened…." He sucked in a deep breath, and became very quiet.

"What?" Tristan asked, feeling a sickening sense of dread seize hold of his heart at the expression on his lover's face.

"The last time that happened," Arven closed his eyes, his hands tightening into fists so tight, his skin above his knuckles turned white. He spoke very slowly, as if saying the next few words were now was torture in and of itself.

"The last time that happened, my dad died."


"What's going on?" Richard frowned when he realized it had been nearly twenty minutes since the car had moved. Jonathan, sitting in the driver's seat, frowned.

"There's a traffic jam." The butler reached for the radio and tuned in to various stations before he finally found one that was reporting about the traffic.

"—an urgent news report. We have received information regarding the traffic situation in downtown Los Angeles. There has been a series of gunshots fired by what appears to be a terrorist group on 27th street."

The DJ paused.

"That's quite close to where we are now." Jonathan frowned. He reached for his phone. "Sir, I'll call for a chopper to come pick us up. It's not safe to stay here."

"You do that." Richard said, and frowned as he continued to listen to the broadcast.

The DJ was speaking again. "Folks, I am looking at the feed from a camera recording this live from a helicopter flying above the scene of crime. One of the terrorists appears to be holding a flaming torch, and another one of them is taking something out of his bag. It's the Flag! The Flag of America. And—Jesus Christ, what is that man doing? The terrorist has…the terrorist has…."

There was a prolonged pause.

"The terrorist has set fire to the Flag of The United States of America. They are burning the symbol of our country! The symbol, which represents the unions of our states and colonies!"

Richard frowned. He looked outside to see drivers coming out of their cars, looking around with anger and confusion.

"The chopper will be here in seven minutes." Jonathan said, frowning as well as he put down the phone. The two of them sat in the silence of the car, listening to the DJ report about what was happening.

A sudden plume of smoke rising into the skies made everyone turn to stare. Richard rolled down his window and frowned at the smoke, listening to the broadcast all the while.

"—ists have just set fire to The Bank of America."

"We should go now." Jonathan said curtly, unbuckling his seatbelt. Richard did likewise, reaching for the door. He stepped out of the car, and Jonathan turned to lead him down an alleyway nearby.

However, it appeared that the smoke was some sort of signal, because a group of men burst out from the alley they had been headed towards, and raised the guns in their arms. They screamed incoherently before pressing down on the triggers.

Richard did not have time to react, even as Jonathan tried to push him back into the car, which was bulletproof. Pain bloomed in his chest, and Richard sank to his knees as pain exploded in his chest.

The last thing he saw before he fell into unconsciousness was Jonathan grabbing his limp arm while pulling out his own gun, shooting with deadly precision at the terrorists.

Richard opened his mouth to speak, but he felt his heart jump one last time before he fell into that comforting blackness.


A/N : I'm uh….sorry? Actually, I'm not. Bwahaha. Review, please.

On a side note, a huge thank you and biiiiiiiig hug to everyone who reviewed to let me know you guys still love me. Yeah. Awesome or what?