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hookedonapirate · 5 years ago

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Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cabin on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

So a few things before we get started with this chapter.

You've probably noticed, I made Emma older than she is usually portrayed in fanfics since being chief of surgery requires an extensive medical background, education, training, experience, etc. Basically this is how old she would be ten years later from the OUAT pilot. With that said, I've made the other main and supporting characters older as well. Emma and David are 38-39, and Killian, Elsa, Anna and MM are 32-35. Just wanted to clarify that to avoid confusion, though I do mention some of their ages in the story. I'm doing my best to keep the timeline consistent but if anything doesn't make sense with the timeline, or in general, please don't hesitate to ask me about it either on here or Tumblr.

Secondly, I know some of you, or maybe all of you are hoping Emma will contact the police about Neal, but keep in mind, Emma's a suspect and yes, contacting the police would be in her best interest, but Emma's going to be paranoid about every move she makes because she overanalyzes and thinks everything through. And any move that could potentially bring more attention to herself regarding graham's murder could effect her career she has worked so hard to obtain. So please keep these things in mind before you get too upset with her.

Also, this chapter is in Killian's pov, so we will see the video footage of Emma's interview. To avoid a bunch of repetition this chapter shows different points of the interview so that's why different questions are shown in this one, except for a few that I included in both chapters..

You will find that Killian has to iron out some wrinkles in his relationships with David and Elsa, so this chapter and the next will include some angst, but I think all of you lovelies are going to like what I have planned for chapter 5, so please bear with me until then :)

Okay enough of my rambling and on with the story. Thanks for reading!

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1 I Ch 2

Chapter 3

“Uncle Killian!”

With a big smile on his face, Killian watches his nephews charging toward him. He sets down his tackle box and fishing pole and wipes the sweat off his brow as he steps off the dock. “Oof,” he feigns a pained noise with a chuckle as Leo tackles him. Killian picks him up, drawing him into an enormous bear hug, noticing his nephew is heavier than the last time Killian picked him up. “You’re growing too fast. Soon you'll be taller than me.”

“Nah-ah,” Leo laughs, shaking his head.

“Uncle Ki-wi!” Liam wobbles toward him and wraps his arms around Killian’s legs.

“Can you tell they missed you?” Mary Margaret asks as she catches up with her children, David hot on her heels, their hair rustled by the wind.

“No, not at all,” Killian chuckles, setting Leo down to pick up Liam. “It’s been too long. Far too long.” The two brothers are four years apart, and though Killian is not related to them by blood, he’s like a brother to David, thus Uncle Killian to David’s sons. “I missed you too,” Killian says, dropping a kiss to the crown of Liam’s head.

The little lad will be three years old soon, but it feels like only yesterday when Killian cradled the newborn in his arms as the parents announced they were naming him after a man who died a hero—David’s best friend and partner, and Killian’s brother.

He sets little Liam on his feet and looks up at David, noting the laptop satchel strapped around his shoulder. He fooled Killian into thinking this was only a social visit by wearing his casual clothes—khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. And Mary Margaret is carrying a tote bag of beach supplies, ready to lounge on the beach.

“Did you catch anything?” David asks.

“Fishing is not about the catch, mate.”

David grins. “I know. It’s an excuse to drink during the day, right?”

Killian scoffs playfully and waves his words. “Like I need an excuse.”

They share a laugh as they draw each other into a hug and pat one another on the back. They’ve been friends long before Killian joined the Storybrooke Police Department. David’s four years older than him and the same age as Liam would've been—thirty-nine—but the three of them were pretty much inseparable. And after Liam passed, Killian and David shared a heartache neither would ever fully recover from. “I’ve missed you, Jones.”

“Missed you too.” After they break the hug, Killian turns to Mary Margaret, smiling warmly at her. “Thanks for bringing the boys.”

“Of course,” she says, throwing her arms around him. She’s six years younger than David and has been married to him for ten years. They met right after she graduated from college and moved to Storybrooke to take a teaching job. She is now the vice principal at Forest Grove Elementary.

“Sorry if I smell like fish and sweat,” Killian apologizes as he wraps his arms around her.

“Oh wow, you do,” she laughs, pinching her nose but doesn’t pull away. “That’s okay. Wouldn’t expect anything less since you live in this fishing town.”

He chuckles. “You know, I could’ve just visited you all in Storybrooke if I had been given more notice. I could’ve saved you a trip.” He didn’t even know they were coming over until last night when David had called him out of the blue.

Mary Margaret waves off his words as they break the hug. “Nonsense. The boys were dying to see their Uncle Killian, and they've been begging us to take them to the beach, so we thought we'd kill two birds with one stone.”

“It’s nice to see all of you again.” He looks at David, narrowing his eyes. “Though I have a feeling this isn't just a pleasure trip for you, is it?”

David gives into a grin and pats Killian on the shoulder. “Is it ever just pleasure with me?”

Killian chuckles and shakes his head. “Never.” Outwardly he’s relaxed and cheerful, but inwardly, he has a bad feeling about whatever David wishes to discuss with him.

“Uncle Killian, will you make sandcastles with us?!” Leo asks as his mother hands him and Liam a big sand bucket packed with sandcastle molds and a shovel.

Killian opens his mouth to answer but David beats him to the punch. “Actually, we have some important things to discuss first. Then Killian can make sandcastles with you.”

The boys groan their disapproval, Leo gets over it quickly and wastes no time racing off toward the shoreline, Liam wobbling after him.

“Not so fast, you two! Sunblock, first, then floaties!” Mary Margaret calls out, following their trail of messy footprints in the sand.

When Leo halts in his tracks and turns around, going to his mother as she spreads out a blanket on the sand and retrieves a bottle of sunblock from her tote, Liam trails behind his brother.

“Anyone want something to drink?” Killian asks them.

“Sure, I’ll take some iced tea,” Mary Margaret replies.

“Do you have Capri Suns?” Leo asks.

“Of course I do. What kind of uncle would I be if I didn’t stock up on Capri Suns for when my nephews come to visit?”

“Yes!” Leo exclaims, fisting the air.

Mary Margaret pulls off Liam’s shirt and rubs lotion over his back and arms. “Thank you, Killian. And you don’t have to worry about Liam, he has his sippy cup with juice in it.”

“Okay.” Killian turns his head to look at David. “Want a beer?”

“Sure, you got Lone Star?”

Killian’s lips stretch into a wide grin. “Any other beer would be treason.” After he grabs his fishing gear and stores it in the garage, he and David head inside the house.

Killian goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a pitcher of sweet tea, a fruit punch Capri Sun and two bottles of beer, setting them on the island counter. He pops off the caps of the beers before handing a bottle to David. “What important things did you have in mind to discuss?”

David holds up his bag. “Take a wild guess.”

Killian sighs as he pours Mary Margaret a tall glass of tea. “And here I thought you just wanted to catch up on old times.”

“I do, but I also want to discuss a case with you,” David admits softly before taking a swig of his beer.

Killian’s jaw twitches as he glares at his old friend. “Then you’re wasting your time. I came here to Port Lavaca to get away from that stuff.”

“Which is exactly why I brought it to you.” David sets down his beer and places his laptop bag on the counter, unzipping it. “Just give me five minutes, okay?”

“And why should I?”

“Because you’ll want your hands on this case, trust me.” David pulls out his computer and sets it up on the counter.

“How are Elsa and Camila doing?” Killian asks, deliberately changing the subject. He’s not interested in whatever case David is about to present to him, nor is he pretending to be.

“Why don't you ask them yourself?”

“Because you see them and talk to them more often than I do. I didn’t even get invited to Anna’s wedding, which I’m positive the Maid of Honor had something to with.”

David looks up from his open laptop, furrowing his brows. “Doesn't the bride and groom normally choose the people on the guest list? Mary Margaret and I chose our own guests for our wedding.”

“True, but even if Anna and Kristoff wanted to invite me, you don’t think Elsa talked them out of it?”

David shrugs. “Maybe, but if she did, who’s fault is that?”

“David…” Killian mutters with a pained expression, his heart constricting. “You know my relationship with Elsa hasn’t been the best since Liam passed.”

David turns around and plants his hands on his hips, gaping at Killian. “Hasn’t been the best? It’s almost nonexistent.”

“Aye, because of what happened,” Killian states bitterly. “Since then, she’s only ever let me stop by so I can pick up my niece and spend time with her.” He desperately wants to change that though. He wants his sister-in-law back, he wants the friendship they once had, and he wants to spend time with both her and Camila again. He’s tired of missing out on important milestones in Camila's life all because her mother and uncle prefer not to be in the same room together. He’s just been too much of a coward to tell Elsa that. To apologize for letting his temper get the best of him.

“Do you blame her? You let her husband’s killer get away with murder,” David scolds.

Killian slams his beer on the counter, anger surging through him. “I loved him too, okay?! I was only trying to prove—no, you know what?” He raises his open palms in protest. “I’m not doing this with you. Not today, not ever.” He gathers the beverages and storms out, the backdoor squeaking on its corroded hinges as he strides onto the deck and rushes down the steps. He doesn’t need this shite. His nephews are here to visit with him and he’s not about to waste the opportunity.

“Killian, wait!” David calls out from the deck as Killian trudges through the sand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have said that! I know you loved him! We all did!”

Killian turns around, pinning him with a glare as David makes his way down the steps. “He was my brother. I’m the last person in the world who wanted that piece of scum to get away with ending his life.”

“I know.” David sighs as he inches closer. “Which is why I’m here.”

Killian narrows his eyes, his brows knitted in confusion. “I thought you were here to discuss a case?”

A pained expression etches David’s features. “I am. A case involving your brother’s killer.”

Killian’s fists clench around the drinks, his jaw tightening at the thought of another innocent victim falling at the hands of—

No, he can't do this. He’s not going down that path again; it only leads to anger, bitterness and vengeance. He shakes his head. “I told you, I’m done with detective work. I’m not interested.” He walks away again, heading toward Mary Margaret and his nephews.

“What if I said there's a good possibility you could catch him this time? Then would you be interested?”

Killian stops in his tracks, gazing out at the sea as David’s words slice through him. No, he shouldn’t care about catching Liam’s killer anymore. He gave up a long time ago. But somehow he finds himself turning around to face David again, curiosity clawing at his gut. “How?”

A triumphant grin crawls across David’s lips. “I knew that would gain your attention.”

“Just tell me,” Killian demands ardently.

David steps toward him. “I'll tell you when you agree to hear me out.” He holds up the five fingers of his right hand. “Five minutes.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Killian mumbles and turns around, walking away. This time, David doesn’t holler after him or follow him.

When Killian brings the drinks to Mary Margaret and Leo, she thanks him and lifts her sunglasses, perching them atop her head and squinting up at Killian. “What were you and David shouting about?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing important.”

Mary Margaret frowns, not believing him. “You should hear him out, Killian. He really misses working with you.”

Killian sighs and sips his beer as he watches Liam filling his bucket with sand and Leo walking along the shore, collecting seashells. “Will I really want my hands on the case?”

A solemn expression creases Mary Margaret’s features. “Would David drive three hours to ask you if he thought otherwise?”

“He would if it meant spending time with an old friend… or at least I would hope,” Killian grumbles.

“Of course he would, but if he didn’t think you’d be interested, he wouldn’t have brought it up.”

Killian takes another swig of his beer, pondering David’s offer.

Mary Margaret puts her tea in the beach cup holder she’d brought with her and gets up to walk toward her sons, giving Leo his drink and sitting across from Liam to help him make a sandcastle.

Killian misses spending time with them, but he doesn’t know if he’s ready to head back to Storybrooke. He’d moved here to this fishing town, Port Lavaca, almost two years ago and bought this cabin on Lighthouse Beach. After Cassidy got away with murdering Liam, Killian blamed himself—everyone blamed him—and he couldn’t stand to be in Storybrooke any longer. He couldn’t live in a town that reminded him of his brother, a town that couldn’t bring his brother’s murderer to justice and pointed their fingers at Killian for the reason Cassidy got away with his crime. David knows he has no interest in going back. Not to Storybrooke, not to the SBPD, and yet he made the trip with his family three hours away from home. Nolan wouldn’t have bothered bringing the case with him if he knew Killian wouldn’t take the bait.

When Killian heads inside and steps through the backdoor, David’s back is leaning against the counter, his arms crossed as he waits for a different answer. Or rather the answer he wants to hear.

Killian knows he’ll regret this, but he can’t deny his curiosity is piqued. The detective in him is itching to know more about the case, or so he tells himself. He assents with an exasperated sigh. “Five minutes. That’s all you get.”

David grins. “That’s all I need.” He brings his laptop to the table, and once Killian takes a seat next to him, David plays a video that’s ready to go on his laptop. “This was recorded yesterday.”

The video feed takes place in the interrogation room. David and Detective Jefferson are sitting at one side of the table and there’s a man in a suit sitting on the other side who David says is an attorney. But what really piques his interest—or rather who—is the blonde woman sitting next to the attorney. She’s beautiful, with long blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail and striking green eyes. She’s wearing a black blouse under a fire engine red, two-piece suit and red pumps on her feet. Bold color choice. She’s definitely not a woman who lacks confidence.

“Who is she?”

“This is Dr. Emma Swan. She’s a surgeon at Storybrooke General.”

“That name sounds familiar,” Killian comments, more to himself than to David.

“She’s Anna and Elsa’s cousin. But this conversation and what I’m showing you has to stay between us. I’m only here to visit with an old friend, got it? I haven’t even told Mary Margaret that Anna and Elsa’s cousin is involved in the case.”

Killian nods. “I understand, but what’s her crime? Dressing too nicely. Being too pretty?” he quips with a smirk.

David rolls his eyes. “This is serious, Jones.” He reverts his gaze to the computer screen. “Her colleague, Dr. Graham Humbert, was murdered seven days ago in the Storybrooke General parking lot. They were rival surgeons who bickered and teased each other all the time. Both were vying for the Chief of Surgery position he was appointed to just a week before he was murdered.”

“And you think she offed him for his job title?” Killian asks, unable to take his eyes off her. She doesn’t look like your typical suspect by any means. She’s calm and still, her arms and legs crossed casually, her face expressionless. Typically, people who were being questioned for a felony offense trembled, couldn’t sit still and would sweat profusely. But not this woman. He can't detect any sign of fear or worry in her eyes, her posture or her behavior.

“I think there’s more to it than that, but yes, I think she had something to do with his death. The night he was murdered, Dr. Swan was with Graham at the Rabbit Hole. According to other colleagues who were also there celebrating Graham’s promotion, the two surgeons were having an intimate discussion.”

Killian lifts a brow. “You think they were lovers?”

“According to Emma and everyone else, they weren’t. They often squabbled, but it was mostly friendly. They respected each other.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Dr. Swan said he walked her to her car that night, and before she left, she saw him head back inside. According to the bar owner and his employees who were on duty that night, Dr. Humbert left the bar an hour later, around eleven o’clock and went home. His phone records show he received a call at 2:20 in the morning, but it was from a restricted number.”

“And let me guess, the number was untraceable?”

“Yep. But whoever called him knew the safety code.”

“Safety code?”

“Anyone who calls in hospital staff is required to supply the safety code. You know, like when parents give their kids a safety word for emergencies so they don’t get abducted by strangers.”

“So, whoever called Humbert was someone who works at the hospital?”

“Possibly, and either that person had something to do with his murder or it’s a sheer coincidence the phone call preceded his death by only twenty minutes. But no one I spoke with at the hospital knew about the phone call or why he would've been called in. He wasn't on call that night.”

“Was Dr. Humbert married?”

“Nope, never was. A few people I interviewed mentioned he once had a fling with Dr. Regina Mills, head of Cardiology, but it ended four years ago. She’s now happily married.”

“Maybe they still had something together, but kept it secret so her husband didn’t find out? And if so, maybe her husband found out and is the one who murdered him?”

“The husband, Mr. Locksley owns the Rabbit Hole, and he was closing the bar at the time Dr. Humbert was murdered. One of his employees was there to corroborate that.”

“Dr. Mills didn’t take his last name when they got married?”

“No, I asked her about it during the interview, and she said she wanted to keep her maiden name to avoid confusing her regular patients.”

“And where was she that night?”

“She was tending to a patient with cardiac arrest.”

“What was the cause of Dr. Humbert's death?”

David clears his throat and retrieves a folder from his bag, pulls out some photos and spreads them over the table.

Killian swallows the sizable lump in his throat. The photos are of the murder victim with a knife lodged in beneath his left arm.

“Massive hemorrhaging from the stab wound.”

Killian picks up one of the photos, studying it. “And the knife’s untraceable as well?” he asks bitterly, though he doesn’t need to. He already knows the answer.

“Of course. The knife is an average filleting knife that could’ve come from any kitchen. The blade went through clean as a whistle and popped Dr. Humbert's heart like a balloon. And no fingerprints. Whoever did this knew what he was doing. Or she.”

“Like another doctor?”

David shrugs. “Possibly.”

“And you’re certain the cardiologist was with a patient? She would know exactly where to stab a person to make it fatal.”

“I checked the hospital security footage for verification. She went into her patient’s room at the time of the murder. Her alibi checks out.”

“Were there any witnesses?”

“A security guard saw Humbert pull into the parking lot but never saw him go inside. When he left his post to check on Dr. Humbert, he found Graham’s body near his car. The murderer was like a ghost. Never seen, never heard. He left without a fucking trace.”

The hairs on the back of Killian’s neck stand on end. “Cassidy...” He cringes from merely speaking his name.

David nods. “Question is, who hired him?”

“This Dr. Swan… is she married?” Killian doesn’t think Emma had anything to do with the murder, but perhaps a jealous lover who saw her with Graham that night hired Cassidy. He’s drawing straws though.

“No husband or boyfriend to speak of. She lives alone. No kids, not even birth parents. She was shuffled around from one foster home to another until she was adopted at the age of ten—by Anna and Elsa’s aunt. I’m sure you've heard the story?”

“Aye, after their parents died in a car accident, Anna and Elsa went to stay with their Aunt Ingrid and her adopted daughter.” Killian points at the computer screen. “That’s her?”

David nods. “Yep. The aloof cousin.”

“Huh.” Why has he never met this aloof cousin? Of course, if he’d known she was so gorgeous, he’d have made that happen a long time ago, but he'd never seen a picture of her, at least not one of her as an adult. If he had, he would have recognized her on the video. Killian shakes off the thoughts and studies the photos again. “I don’t get how a good-looking, successful doctor like this man stayed single?” Or a beautiful, successful doctor like Emma for that matter.

David shrugs. “He probably was by choice. Maybe he was too focused on his career and thought a romantic relationship would only distract him. Or maybe he was in love with Regina and knew he couldn’t have her, so he didn’t want anyone else.”

“Or maybe he was in love with someone else?” Killian poses. If he were Graham and had a female friend like Emma, he doubts he’d have only platonic feelings for her. “You said he walked Emma to her car that night?”

“That’s right.”

“Was there a kiss goodnight?”

“When I questioned Dr. Swan, she said they hugged, and he kissed her on the cheek. I asked her if that was normal and she said no. It surprised her. But I checked the video footage in front of the bar. Mr. Locksley set up a camera there after someone tried to throw a rock through the door window a couple of years ago.”

“To steal alcohol?”

“Or cash from the till,” David shrugs. “Whatever their reason was, they weren’t successful. Probably got spooked by someone who saw them. Anyway, the hug between the two surgeons lasted too long to be friendly.”

“How long?”

“Ten seconds.”

“How long is a normal hug?”

“A few seconds, maybe more, depending on the relationship of the person you’re hugging. But ten seconds is too long if you’re only friends. Or frenemies in this case. So maybe, Graham had feelings for her but she didn’t return them? Maybe Graham made her feel uncomfortable or said something to her when he hugged her, and that, topped with him getting the promotion she desired was enough to want him dead.”

Killian mulls it over for a moment, then shakes his head. “No, it’s too obvious. She’s smarter than that. She’s a doctor and has way more education than both of us combined. If she really wanted him dead, she wouldn’t have hired someone to murder him a week after his promotion. I don’t think she hired Cassidy.”

David cocks a brow, a sly smirk curving his lips. “So does that mean you’re in?”

“I didn’t say that,” Killian grumbles.

“But it’s been over five minutes. Which means I’ve intrigued you. Otherwise, we’d be outside with my wife and kids right now.”

Bloody hell.

David’s right. Killian is intrigued, and not solely by the case, but by the blonde woman on David’s computer screen. He wants to know more about her; he wants to find out more information. He has a gut feeling about her; he knows she didn’t murder Dr. Humbert. He doesn’t believe the whole rival surgeons scenario is a motive for murder. He and David also bicker and tease each other, but he would never murder David over a job promotion. “Okay, fine. I’m intrigued. But as I said, I don’t think she had anything to do with Dr. Humbert’s murder.”

David makes a noise of hesitance and appears to be unsure about Killian’s assessment. “There’s something else you should know that might change your mind.”

Killian cocks a brow. “What’s that?”

“Did you hear about Cassidy’s most recent trial?”

Killian shakes his head. “I stopped watching the news or following any media regarding that arsehole,” Killian mutters. “Not knowing there’s yet another victim left in his path of destruction is the only way I can sleep at night.”

“He was acquitted from another capital punishment.”

Killian scoffs. “So he got away with another murder? What else is new?”

David sighs and fast-forwards through the video. “Just listen.” He hits play.

“Dr. Swan, did you recently serve on a jury that recently acquitted an accused contract killer, Neal Gold?”

Killian’s eyebrow jumps, and he reclines in his chair, crossing his arms.

“What’s the relevance of the question, Detective?” Mr. Hopper asks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

David raises his hand in defense. “I’ll get to that, I promise.”

“Please do very quickly,” Emma says curtly. “Some of us don’t have time for unnecessary interviews. I have patients waiting for me.”

David sighs. “The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner you can leave.”

She expels a tentative breath. “Yes, I served on the jury that acquitted Mr. Gold.”

“And were you or were you not the forewoman?”

Killian swallows the lump in his throat.

“I was. But you already knew that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked.”

“Feisty lass,” Killian remarks with a subtle smirk.

David nods. “That’s for sure. Feisty but polite.”

They revert their attention to the video.

“That’s correct. I’ve already interviewed the other eleven jurors.”

“Why?”

“Because I believe Dr. Humbert’s killer was hired. He wasn’t robbed, and he has no known adversaries… other than you, Dr. Swan.”

Emma narrows her eyes at the insinuation. “Dr. Humbert and I were not adversaries. We were friendly colleagues.”

“Yes, you were a colleague of his who wanted the promotion he got, and recently let a contract killer back on the streets.”

Her eyes widen as she lunges forward in her seat. “I didn’t free him. The judge made the final decision. My job was to determine the facts and reach a verdict based on all the facts and evidence. In that case, the evidence was lacking.”

Her attorney puts out his hand to stop her from continuing to speak any further. “Detective, Mr. Gold’s crime was alleged and has no relevance to this case.”

David pauses the video. “Some of the jurors said Cassidy and the doctor kept making eyes at each other.

Killian quirks a brow. He doesn't doubt any straight, red-blooded male would be attracted to Emma, but he highly doubts a woman of her class, beauty and intelligence would be interested in a scumbag like Cassidy. “Did you question her about it?”

“Yes, she claimed he kept staring at her, but that his attentions were very much unwanted. That’s as far as I got before Mr. Hopper stood and asked if there were any more unnecessary questions I wanted to ask her.”

“So, you think the doctor hired Cassidy to eliminate her competition?”

“The crime scene had his name written all over it.”

“I’m not arguing that. But I don’t think someone like her,” Killian says, pointing at the paused screen, “would get involved with someone like that piece of scum.” The thought makes him utterly sick to his stomach.

“He may be scum, but he’s clever scum. That’s why your brother coined his moniker, remember?”

“Aye.” He remembers very well when Liam began calling him Cassidy.

One time Killian asked his brother why he called him that, and he said Neal’s father, a convicted felon Liam successfully put behind bars, was referred to only as his surname, Gold. To avoid any confusion, he didn’t call Neal by his surname too, nor did he wish to call Neal by his first name—Liam never called perps by their first name—so initially, Neal was the clever killer because he seemed to be an exception to Locard's Exchange Principle, which asserts, “the perpetrator of a crime will bring something to the crime scene and leave with something from it,” and that “both can be used as forensic evidence.” Dr. Edmond Locard was the Sherlock Holmes of France who came up with the basic principle of forensic science, “every contact leaves a trace.”

While Cassidy always leaves a weapon at the scene, he never purchases the weapons, or at least there is never a trace of the purchase. He also never leaves fingerprints. There was only one single time when Cassidy was sloppy and accidentally left something of his behind and that was when he murdered Liam. But he never took anything from his victims.

The name Cassidy was brought up when Elsa became pregnant with Camila and they were deciding on names. Elsa had mentioned Cassidy as a possible name for their daughter, and when Liam looked up the name to see what it meant, he discovered the origins of the name and that it meant clever. So it became Neal’s nickname.

When Liam’s daughter was born, he suggested they call her Camila, which means perfect , and Elsa was immediately on board with it. Killian’s glad Liam and Elsa didn’t end up naming their child Cassidy. How ironic would it have been if Liam gave his daughter the same name he gave the man who eventually killed him?

Liam never mentioned Neal Gold to Elsa, he didn’t like bringing work home with him and he especially didn’t like to cause his wife any distress by talking about a notorious serial killer on the loose. He didn’t want Elsa to worry about her husband, and while she knew the risks that came with Liam’s job as a homicide detective, he made her believe he mostly reviewed old, unsolved cases.

After Liam died, Killian promised Elsa he’d find her husband’s killer. While no one was certain of who murdered Liam because there was no evidence, except for a single thread of fabric left behind at the crime scene, Killian and David knew. But Killian botched any chance they had of convicting Cassidy and failed Elsa and Camila in the process. Not only did he fail, but he’s the reason why Cassidy couldn’t be convicted. He acted on high emotions after Liam’s death. He was so angry and vengeful, he was willing to do whatever it took to put Cassidy behind bars. And that’s exactly why he failed. He didn’t think. He made a split decision, and several people have subsequently paid the price for that decision. Now a highly respected surgeon has been added to that list, along with who knows how many others.

“So, how will you proceed?” Killian asks skittishly, afraid of what David’s answer might be.

“Not me. Us,” David says. “I need your help.”

“Why me? Why not Scarlet or Jefferson?”

“Because I need someone with your instincts, someone good, and you're better than them or anyone else in our department. Besides, no one knows Cassidy like you do.”

Killian shakes his head. “I can’t. Any case involving Cassidy is personal for me. After he killed—” His voice cracks. He can’t even force the rest of the words out. “I can't.”

“Come on, Killian. I’m not asking you to come back permanently; just this one case, that's it,” David pleads. “If you won’t do this for me, do it for your brother.”

Damn it, Nolan. Why did he have to go and use that card?

Killian sighs and stands up, pacing the kitchen. When he reaches David again, he stops and places his hands on his hips. “Let’s say I said yes, what would you want me to do?”

“Search for any clues that will tell us if Emma and Cassidy are in alliance.”

Killian furrows his brows. “Since you need probable cause, I'm guessing you don't have a warrant for Dr. Swan, so how do you suppose I do that?”

David shakes his head. “Ah-ah, I’m not telling you until you say you’re in.”

Killian sighs dramatically as he drags his hand over his face. He has a feeling he’s not going to like whatever plan David has up his sleeve. But he misses working with him again, and he has to admit, he still doesn’t believe Emma had anything to do with her colleague’s murder. So perhaps he can go along with David’s plan to prove that. He looks at David again and with a curt nod, he makes it official. “I’m in.”

To that, David says nothing, just grins complacently.

Killian gulps. What the bloody hell did he just sign up for?

Tagging some people who have shown interest so far. If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know.

@itsfabianadocarmo @snowbellewells @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms @teamhook @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @xsajx @julesep3026 @hookedmom @biefaless @cluttermind @yasbio2015 @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @harshini01 @noensnaringnet @xarandomdreamx @onceuponaprincessworld @annastasiarinaldiva @royalswan @brustudyblog @officerrogers @gingerchangeling @melly326 @singersdd @mzbossyboots @unworried-corsair @iamemmaswanjones @authorarsinoe @kingofmyheart14 @nightskylover @jamif @resident-of-storybrooke @iam2307 @winterbaby89 @chinawoodfan @mormonkryptonite @ultraluckycatnd @captainswan-shipper88 @killianswanjones @bethdacattfm @andiirivera

#cs ff #captain swan #beyond a reasonable doubt #my fic recs

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godsofmonster · 7 years ago

Text

Florida Kilos ≽ IV.

Reader x Bangtan- Drug Cartel

Word Count- 6,000

Warnings- drugs, guns, blood, prostitution, violence, abuse, sexual content, betrayal, character deaths, ect.

≽ Links to previous chapters can be found on my masterlist in my bio because Tumblr sucks now! You can also click on the ‘Florida Kilos’ tag!

From the time that I was a little girl, growing up in poverty, I decided that my adulthood would be different. At a young age, I was more sure of myself than most of the people around me. As a result, I made my way down to Florida where I began to both make and deal cocaine- alongside the man of my life. We shared our dreams, our bodies, our business. I was in a drug cartel with responsibilities and a lot of talent. I made dangerous partnerships, million dollar deals, and a lot of money; that is where this story continues.

The trunk of the car slammed shut by the intensity of Jungkook’s heavy hand. The last of the luggage was secured into place and there was nothing left to do. Yoongi and Hoseok were already inside the transport waiting on the rest of us. It was breaking dawn, only a few hours had passed following Jungkook’s party and everyone was still at the residence.

Taehyung stood in the front of the house, leaning against one of the two columns that withheld the porch roof. Jimin stood at his side, turned in his direction and speaking in a low voice. Taehyung's eyes, on the other hand, stalked closely as I helped Jungkook finish packing up the rest of our things. Jungkook’s two-hour nap barely allowed him to sober up along with a headache that irritated his mind.

“Come on kid, you can sleep on the flight,” Hoseok called from the car.

Jungkook groaned, glancing over at his new car that was still untouched beside our home. “I didn’t even get to drive it yet.”

“It’ll still be here when you get back.” I patted his shoulder as he stood beside me and wore a short pout on his lips. My eyes peering back up at Taehyung and Jimin.

“Tell me again, why you are taking Yoongi and Hoseok with you?” Taehyung spoke up, his voice carrying a cold breeze with it. I stretched into the back pocket of my jeans, drawing out a half-empty pack of Capri.

“Because I have to yet figure out how many gunmen we're going to need to take out our target,” I placed a single smoke between my lips, hunting for a lighter in my free hand. Jungkook soon came at my side holding a flame source for me to accept. “I need smart and trustworthy men ready for any request I decided on.”

I took a deep drag, the end of the cigarette lit brighter than the grey sky, muttering a thank you to Jungkook as he snapped the lid of the lighter shut. Staring back up at Taehyung's never alternating expression of seriousness.

“I have plenty of experienced gunmen that you could have taken with you. Instead of the leading men in charge of commanding the production in the warehouse.” I blew my smoke towards him- mirroring his face and gestures of indifference.

“I also said trustworthy.” He scoffed at my words and dropped the topic altogether. Jimin inspected his watch after a moment of silence and returning glimpses, “Time to go?”

He nodded his head, looking back at Taehyung that leaned in to mutter a few last words in his ear. Jimin simply nodded repeatedly, silently leaving his boss' side to the awaiting vehicle.

I turned my back, not bothering to exchange a final look with Taehyung. However, he called out to me. With the cigarette still resting between my lips, Jimin and I both looking back in his direction,

“You and I are going to have a talk when you get back.”

“What do you think, doll?” Yoongi asked, his hand resting warmly on my knee.

I watched from the window of the rented car as we passed over the Manhattan bridge. The air was cool and carried the scent of pollutions and the water that ran underneath us. The beams of the early morning sun illuminating the buildings waiting for us on the other side.

“I love it- a lot.” I knew that he could see me smile as I observed the cars pass by. Taking in a scenery that was so foreign to me- so different from the city of Miami

“Too bad we aren’t here on vacation,” Hoseok mumbled. He rested with his arms crossed over his chest and head leaning against the seat.

“Yep... we’re here to murder a mafia leader,” Jungkook said in a similar position. Shut eyes and furrowed brows as he tried to enjoy his last minutes of rest before we reached the warehouse.

I laughed soundlessly to myself, returning soon to resume favoring the view. The traffic was beginning to pick up and Jimin assured the warehouse wasn’t far from the bridge. Though, sooner rather than later, my smile was left short as I felt Yoongi foraging through his clothing.

I snapped my head back to see him rummaging through his pockets, “You’ve got to be joking!”

My voice fell hushed, under my breath but with all the rage of yelling. I wished to avoid drawing attention from the sleeping boys beside us. Yoongi bothering to say nothing in return, obtaining the vial from deep in the pocket of his jacket. My hand didn't wait to reach out, snatching it out of his hands.

“If I decided to bring you- it was so that you can actually be helpful during this job. I need you clean, in all five senses Yoongi.” I began to scold him like the child he could become. All he could manufacture was a naive sigh for a response. “If you can’t go without this shit for a couple of days- I’m going to send you back to Florida and you will have-”

“Okay, you’re right- you’re right.” He apologized, like always, leaning in and setting a kiss on my lips.

I watched him attentively while he leaned back into his seat, resting his head back and shutting his eyes like the rest of the boys. I sighed pestered by the situation that had ruined my spirit. Looking back out the window to escape the disappointment, I caught a glance of Jimin’s eyes through the rear view mirror, it was only for a second before he looked back at the road.

We moved down an old alley that was surrounded by largely abandoned warehouses. Trash blew in the air of the streets as we pulled up in front of a large, rusty and yellow overhead door. Jimin walked out of the car to open the doors and then continued to drive the vehicle into the extensive construction.

We all stepped out of the car, taking in the view size of the area, while Jimin went back to close the warehouse doors. From the inside, it was twice the size of the one we had back in Florida. Very few windows alined the very top of the walls, tinted and barely letting in any light at all. It was full of untouched machinery and dust.

We followed Jimin across the large space, toward the back where he had things more established. He pointed out a pair of metal stairs that led up to an upper level, where we could find rooms for us to stay in. There were empty white tables in the middle of the room with a few chairs, under emergency lights that never shut off.

“Hoseok and I will start taking the stuff out the car,” Jungkook announced behind us.

I shook my head, still looking around the warehouse, before pulling out a seat for myself at one of the tables. Hoseok and Jungkook disappeared back to the other side of the building, leaving me with Jimin and Yoongi.

“What do you want to do first?” Jimin asked.

I sighed, leaning back in my seat and beginning to think to myself. I didn’t want to be in New York longer than I had to be; the risks would grow higher with each day that passed, especially now that we were number one of the DEA’s list. I had many ideas of how we could kill Alessandro Botticelli. Though any one of them would do perfectly fine- nothing felt right. I kept finding myself become frustrated as to having a face the dead body.

“Fill me in on everything having to do with Alessandro Botticelli and the coke business here in New York.”

Jimin nodded and walked over to the wall in front of the tables, where he pulled out a stashed bottle of whiskey from an aged cabinet. Yoongi found a seat beside me as we watched Jimin pour a glass for two.

“Alessandro Botticelli; the youngest Italian mafia leader in history, with the age of 29. He took over the position after his older brother mysteriously committed suicide,” Jimin shuffled back with the glasses in his hands, giving one to Yoongi and I. “-of course, there are rumors that he was behind his death. Foul play was suspected but nothing could be linked back to him in particular.”

“What about the other competitors in the area?” Yoongi asked, holding the glass to his eyes, inspecting the drink.

“They're not a problem; we’ve been edging them out of the business little by little,” Jimin assured, watching as Yoongi hesitated to drink from his glass. “They are small groups that simply can’t compete with our product.”

I nodded my head, taking in the hard liquor with a sip, hissing as it burned its way down my throat. I still didn’t like the idea of having any competitors, no matter how small.

“Where can I find this man, Botticelli? I need to meet him- see his face.” I set my glass down, Yoongi doing the same, scooting his chair closer to me and leaning.

“Why is that?” There was that tone again. He hated my mouth for even allowing words like that to come out.

“To know our enemy, of course.” I turned to look at his glaring eyes. “Only when I see his face, will his death become clear in my head.”

Yoongi held his gaze, jealousy blackening over his already dark eyes. He bit the side of his lip, holding back any disagreement that wanted to escape without reason. He simply turned his head away and went back to the drink in his cup.

“Well,” Jimin cleared his throat. “He’s known to frequent two places in particular; a restaurant in Little Italy and a small bar under a hotel in the Nothern part of Manhattan.”

Jimin took a step back, walking over to the counter once again to get a drink, this time, for himself. “He is an easy man to spot, good looking and well mannered with a lot of class- hiding his criminal face under millions of dollars.”

“(Y/n) going into his territory is a just plain bad idea,” Yoongi said, once again rejecting my intention.

“He has no idea that a woman is behind the competing business- that’s an advantage,” I said pushing my seat out and standing to my feet. With the bit of alcohol in my system, I was ready to meet him now.

“Excuse me, (Y/n) I have to agree with Yoongi, are you sure you want to meet him?” Jimin asked also.

“That’s right.” I beamed, spotting Hoseok and Jungkook coming back with a few of our bags in their hands. “And those two are coming with me.”

“Yes, boss,” Jungkook replied immediately, as he walked by easily holding most of the luggage. Hobi, on the other hand, stopping in his tracks to question what it was that he was asked to do.

“Wait (Y/n) again, I have to object,” Jimin said stepping closer to me. “If you walk in there with a threatening number it is going to raise suspicions.”

“Fine,” I sighed while trying to hold the back the urge to roll my eyes even though he made a valid point. Yoongi also got up from his seat in an attempt to keep clasp on me. Both men were showing little trust in my selections, “I’ll go alone then.”

“No that's not what-” Jimin and Yoongi both instantly started objecting like two barking dogs. I couldn’t even hear myself think over their statements overlapping each other.

“Enough!” I groaned pushing my chair in roughly. They became silent at the crashing noise, “These are orders, goddamn it. How about showing a little faith in me?”

“Whatever you say...” Jimin breathed as he ran his fingers through the front of his blond hair. “When do you want to go?”

“Today,” I said turning back to look at Yoongi who wore a sour expression on his face. “We’ll leave at noon.”

I had Jimin pull up and park at the end of the street from the hotel. He had a classic 1975 Cadillac in all black, tan colored seats, that rode the streets of New York like a phantom. The three other men were in the back seat, crowded up against each other from door to door.

The car came to an apparent stop, Jungkook who was seated directly behind me opened his door and stepped out. I collected my handbag as he made his way to open the door for me. Jimin also stepped out of the car, looking down the street where the bar was located for a sign of Botticelli or his men.

“(Y/n),” Yoongi called out to me right before I was about to step my foot out of the auto. I turned my head to see him lean in closer to the front. “I don’t want you to go in there alone- it’s too dangerous.”

“It’s the only way,” I remarked directly before taking a hold Jungkook's hand as he helped me out of the car.

I stepped out into the light, the cool air of New York sent a shiver down my body, a breeze I had not felt in so long. I adjusted the hem of my black and white patterned dress, facing Jungkook as he began to speak,

“Boss, I know you don’t want us to come in but,” I looked down at his hands as he pulled out a phoenix 22lr pistol, loading the chamber before handing it my way. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Thank you, Jungkook.” I took the gun and placed it inside my handbag.

“(Y/n) you pay Jungkook to protect you- maybe he should just come in with you, at least,” Hobi begged, stepping out of the same door as Jungkook did.

“If Botticelli catches you, what are you going to do?” Yoongi continued to call out from the car.

“For the love of god, enough- I’m just a woman getting a drink!” I slammed the car door before I walked around the front, meeting Jimin on the other side.

“The hotel down the street, the stairs that go down into the lower half is the entrance to the bar.” He said to me, eyes directing me down the sidewalk. I nodded, assuring him that I knew what I was doing. “Also, if you don’t mind, Jungkook and I will be walking up and down the streets in case of anything.”

“Alright.” With those final words, I started walking down the sidewalk. The wind blowing in my direction as I left behind all of my protection. Exposing myself for anything to come my way.

There was a minute, right as I came up to the stairs of the bar, that I almost hesitated. Walking down the steps was like walking voluntarily into the pits of hell. Nevertheless, I buried the fear deep down until I found the courage I needed. As soon as I walked through the set of double doors, any and all doubt had vanished from my bones. The room was echoing soft violin music, smelling of wine and tobacco, it was practically empty at this time of day. Empty- except for a group of men in a round booth at the end of the room. Five of them to be exact- two with their faces hidden from my line of sight, and three who’s features were softly glowing in the candlelight of their table.

My eyes admittedly landed on the youngest and most attractive of the three, who’s mouth had stopped speaking the instant he saw me walk in. His silence brought the other men to follow his gaze, wondering what had caught him so off guard. In the short time our eyes locked, I knew he was the one, and with that, I made my way casually to the bar. I held the smirk that crept across my face until my back was turned to him. I took a seat on one of the stools, placing my handbag on the bar counter, and guarding it with my hands. The bartender who hadn’t even noticed me come in was to busy with his back to me, cleaning a few glasses. I listen closely to any audible noise that could be spoken from his table. Music and muttering were all that I could make out and before I had any other opportunity, I heard footsteps walking up behind me. The situation had just become all the more challenging, laying low was no longer an option, but fortunate for me- talking is what I was best at.

“Giorgio, a glass of champagne for the lady.” His voice was deep and fixed. His scent was like a desert flower, surviving in an uninhabited location. Before he even took the empty seat next to me, the bartender was quick to leave his work and attended to the sound of his voice.

“No, that’s quite alright- thank you,” I said calmly, making the bartender stop in his tracks and look back at the man now seated beside me.

“I insist.” He smiled in my direction, gesturing the bartender with his hand, who handed him the glass in a matter of seconds. “Consider it as a welcoming to the Big Apple.”

His voice softened each time he spoke to me as if he didn't want to scare me off. He followed by sliding the glass in front of me just beside my handbag where my hands rested. I kept my face forward allowing him to only speak to my profile.

“And what makes you think that I am not from here?” I question, not moving to touch his offering. He chuckled lowly, a laugh that could be so charming if it were anybody else listening.

“Because I’m a type of... ambassador for the beautiful women all across the city.” I laughed, from disgust, but still, it was a laugh.

“Oh wow- what an honor,” I said sarcastically, catching him smirking from the corner of my eye. I turn my head to him, “So you know all the women of New York? What does that make you- the boss?”

His smirk only grew into a smile, one that came along with a slight flush in his cheeks. Although his young age, the toll of his job was beginning to show in the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Handsome, nonetheless, with hazel eyes that were guarded by strong, thick eyebrows. He had full lips and a scruffy beard; dark thick hair that hid his forehead and framed a long face. He only caught my eyes for a moment before he looked down at the drink he had brought from his own table.

“So? Are you the boss?” He seemed hesitant, not knowing how to answer my question. My presence made him uneasy, while at the same time, fascinated him.

“Let’s just say-” He grabbed his drink and leaned back as if he was sharing with me a hidden secret. “that I have a small empire.”

“Empire, huh?” My eyes locked with his, taking in his strong features and suggestive words. “I would like to have something like that myself- but for that to happen I have to be here.”

“So I was right? You are just visiting?” He smirked and brought his drinks to his lips, not breaking eye contact with me.

“Yes... but I’m taking a liking to his city. There is something-” I sighed. “Special about it.”

He stopped before he could take a sip from his glass, bringing it out towards me, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Cheers.” Only then, did I take a hold of the champagne glass, bringing it to connect with his choice of liquor.

I watched him bring the glass back up to his mouth, his free hand adjusting his open blazer, causing my eyes to linger down his body. A silk white handkerchief confined in the front pocket. A solid black button down, with its two first buttons, undone and a golden chain lurking underneath his collar.

“Allow me to introduce myself, signorina. I am Alessandro Botticelli.” He extended his hand out to me. “I would love to know, who I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

I set my glass back down, keeping my vision low and unsure, as I answered him. “Why do you want to know?”

“Well I would like to attend to you properly,” My question was to be perceived as innocent- unsure of my position so that he could feel in control. “How a beautiful lady should be.”

“No, I don’t think that’s it.” I shook my head, changing the tone in my voice, making him raise a single brow at me. “I think you want something else.”

“Oh really?” He licked his bottom lip with engagement and leaned in closer than before, not taking his eyes off my triggering lips.

“Yes,” I smirked. My hands ran across the edge of the untouched champagne.

Botticelli almost whispered, his voice dropping slightly lower than before. “Like what?”

“What you want- is to sleep with me.” I turned my knees so that they would face his direction. Leaning my elbow on the bar and watching him as he unraveled in a heavy laughter. A blush coming on his cheek from a combination of my words and the alcohol. “Of course and then you’ll wake up in the morning, leaving me a note to never to be seen again.”

He ordered another drink while he continued to shake his head and chuckle at my blunt nature. “Then what simply started as a conversation at a bar, will turn into an outrageous affair you will tell your friends all about.”

“Hmm.” He hummed, looking me up and down as he got a new view of my body. “What makes you think you know men so well?”

“No, I don’t think I know men at all.” I shrugged, moving my hair from the sides of my face. “But you’re Italian, right?”

“Italian, and a little something else.” He smiled and took his new drink in his hands.

“Thank you for the champagne.” I grabbed my handbag and stood off the stool. His smile faded as I went in and pecked a kiss on his cheek.

“W-wait, signorina.” He panicked as I began to walk away from him. Finding my way to the exit of the bar, leaving the glass of champagne untouched like a virgin.

I left him there at the bar, astonish and stunned, and with his drink in his hand. I kept my head straight and moved quickly and calmly up the pair of stairs that lead me back to the safety of the street.

But as I was about to make to the top step, I heard footsteps mimicking mine. I stopped in mid-step and turned back to find a man, young and built, following behind me. I recognized him as one of the men that had been seated next to Botticelli in the booth earlier.

“Excuse me, but I prefer to walk alone.” I faked a smile but my uninterested voice seemed to bother very little of him.

“I need your contact information.” He informed me as if he was the police. It was clear Botticelli had sent him after me, not taking nothing for an answer.

“Listen, you can tell your boss, that if he wants to become the owner of this city,” I stepped down, in arms reach of him I took the handkerchief from his blazer. “He’ll find me very easily- I like leaving things up to destiny.”

With the silk cloth open in my hand, I brought it up to my mouth and left my lips imprinted in red pigment. I handed the handkerchief back and he nodded his head understanding what I was telling him. I stood in my place, forcing him to be the first one to walk away, backing into the bar to deliver the message.

Once I made sure no one else would come following behind me I continued up the rest of the stairs to the street. Looking down seeing Jungkook and Jimin walking close by to my left, I nodded my head at them and began to walk in the direction of the car. The two of them coming up close behind me, careful not to make it obvious.

“Who was he?” I asked Jimin loud enough for him to hear me as he walked behind me.

“Vincent Romano.” He answered shortly after waiting for a couple to pass us on the street. “One of Alessandro Botticelli’s more dangerous gunmen and his right hand.”

“Looked like just a pretty boy to me.” Jungkook mocked.

“He has a body count higher than ours put together,” Jimin noted, just as we made it to the end of the block where the car was still waiting for us.

Jimin stepped in the front driver seat while Jungkook came around to open the door for me, shutting it and quickly taking his seat in the back.

“So? How did it go?” Yoongi asked as soon as I sat in the front.

“I know how we’re going to kill him.”

“Whenever you are ready boss. Just tell us what you need us to do.” Once we got back to the warehouse, after stopping to get some takeout, everybody sat at the table and waited for me to tell them what plan I had brewing in my head. Jungkook, being the restless one, was the first to say something.

“I’m not worried about Botticelli anymore- I’ll take care of it by myself,” I said walking over the table where they were all seated. “I’ve got him eating out of my hand.”

“Whatever you say.” They exchanged glances between each other, Yoongi’s face not showing any support of my orders.

“But I want the names of every organization that's dealing coke in the city. How many there are- where they are.” I said standing over Jimin specifically. “I don’t believe in small enemies-I won’t risk the chance of a small bit of luck coming their way.”

Since he was the one who knew it all. “Got it? I want to break them- all of them.”

There was a thin line between Jimin and me; he had his own boss who he was loyal to and so I knew there was a limit to his loyalty. As far as I could see he was Taehyung's better set of eyes; and as long as the choice I made profited Taehyung- he would follow.

“We’ll get started on a list right away then.” He answered, looking up at me from under his long hair.

“While you all do that, I’m going to speak with Yoongi.” Yoongi's eyes darted over to me, unaware that we were scheduled to have a talk.

I didn’t even fret to look at his cold stare, I made my way upstairs to the bedroom where we would be staying for the next couple of nights. He knew very well to follow behind me without any objections.

Walking into the small room, that only held the necessities of a bedroom, Yoongi closed the door behind him. I took a seat in front of the mirror of the dresser, pushing my hair away from my face and touching up my makeup that may have shifted from being out in the world.

“Are you going to tell me what your problem is or are you just going to stand there?” I said while whipping off what was left of my red lipstick, applying lip balm to my nude lips.

“I don’t like the way you talked about that Italian guy,” He started and I was already groaning in annoyance.

“All I said was the truth.” I stood up, finding my suitcase was still packed on top of the bed, trying to search for clothes to break out of this tight dress.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened in that bar then?” He pursed, following me to the bed and standing at its edge. “How is it that you managed to get him ‘eating out of your hand’ so quickly?”

I took clothes from the suitcase laying them out on the sheets of the bed, not trying to look in his direction over a jealous tantrum. His stare was burning drops in my direction.

“By seducing him.”

“Really?” He slowly made his way closer to me, coming in my line of sight with a hard expression. “And you are going to say it, just like that?”

“Seducing is just that,” I said leaving my clothes on my bed and stepping to meet him halfway. “I’m going to drive him crazy until he falls so hard for me- that he’ll never get back up.”

“Even if that means sleeping with him?” He voice was threating, only inches away from my face and I could feel the heat radiating off his body from the anger.

“I doubt that would be necessary.” I sighed, bothered by the fact that I found ourselves here once again, fighting against each other when we were supposed to be a team. I reached over, wrapping my hands around his tense shoulders while pushing his hair out of his face. “You’re my man.”

“And you’re mine.” He muttered, taking his own arms and wrapping them around my waist.

“But let me tell you something,” I said pecking his lips. “If I have to let myself be touched by that man to be number one in the cocaine business- I will.”

“And if it were me? That had to sleep with someone to be number one in the business?” He asked quietly. My lips pressed together, holding back a sour grin, that causes him to laugh. “Ohh. You wouldn’t like that, right?”

“No offense Yoongs, but I doubt anyone of these druglords would want to sleep with you.” I laughed moving away from his smirking grip. Going back to the clothes I had laid out for myself.

“Why don’t you just let those three take care of Botticelli?” He helped me unzip the back of my dress, pressing his back behind me and kissing my bare shoulder. “I don’t want that man even looking at you, I would have to kill him, doll.”

“Calm down, Yoongi.” I groaned as I slipped the dress off my body and onto the floor. “Don’t be so dense.”

“Then let me be the one who kills him.” I stepped out of the dress just to turn back around and look at him.

“How do I make you understand that it’s just a strategy?” I asked willing to do anything at this point. “What will make get on board with my plan?”

He pulled me in again, this time I was chest to chest and face to face. His grip on my waist was tight and his eyes gazed into my eyes deeply as if he was discovering the ocean.

“Marry me.”

My hands slowly unwrapped from him his shoulders and dropped to my side.

“What?” His face was static and did not reflect the words he had just spoken. I held his gaze but could not figure out who I was staring at.

“You heard me...” Yoongi said leaning to kiss down the side of my neck, his hands gripping my sides tighter.

There was a moment that flashed in my mind, triggered from his words, making me relive a scene in our lives, a feeling that I once felt, a question I once asked him. When we had little time of knowing each other and I had just recognized him as the man of my dreams. The man I would spend the rest of my days with.

“I hope you don’t plan on waiting too long to propose to me, Yoongs.” I leaned against the armrest of our couch, pushing the heels of my feet against the skin of his lap. “I still want to be young on my wedding day.”

“Propose?” He chuckled, holding my toes in the grip of his warm hand.

“Of course- I am the love of your life, after all.” I rolled my eyes playfully, bringing my legs away from him, to cross them over each other and sit up. Yoongi continued to laugh to himself, shaking his head down, his thick black hair covering his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“You think I would do something as purposeless as get married?”He questioned while the smile of laughter continued to plaster his face.

“Well... ouch.” I laughed slightly flustered. Placing my head in my hands, watching him enjoy the laugh-provoking thought. “You wouldn’t want to marry me?”

He looked back at me, seeing that I was taking his words to heart. He turned his body in my direction so that I could look at him in both eyes.

“(Y/n), there is no doubt in my mind that only death will do us part.” He said clicking off the tv to address the disappointment in my voice. “But the way I see it, there are only two reasons people get married.”

“Which are?” I crossed my arms. Thinking he was about to make up any kind of excuse to get out of this situation.

“One- to get financial benefits and rights.” He reached to the side table of our couch, pulling out a single cigarette for himself. I watched as he held it between his lips and lit the end on fire. “Two- to prove your ‘love’ to other people.”

“What about to prove it to each other?” I asked a bit defensively.

Yoongi blew the smoke out of his mouth without pulling out the cigarette from his lips. Using his free hands to hold mine, and slowly guide me out of my sitting position. With his strength he brought me over him, my legs straddling either side of his thighs while he used his own hands to wrap mine around his shoulders.

“I’ll prove my love for you every single night that I make you mine in our bedroom.”

The words he whispered sent shivers down my spine. My breath hitching in my throat and color rising to my face. Though, I learned to take the cigarette from his lips and tossing it on the ashtray from the same table he had gotten it. Our faces meeting halfway to connect through our lips.

“I thought you didn’t want to get married?” I asked still trying to wrap my brain around the situation.

“Things can change…” He said simply. Reaching to cup my chin softly, making me look back up at him. “Marry me.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a question...” I breathed, still frozen in my motion. His lips trying to defrost me in his hands.

“Well,” He said before kissing my skin once more and coming back up to look at me. “I guess it’s not- I mean, you are already mine, aren’t you?”

The answer was easy. Yoongi and I had gone to hell - beaten, bound, and marked by death herself- we made it back. A life was born and a business was built; a world without him by my side could simply not exist. I was the moon and he was the sun- my darkness- his light. We were destined to be together until the very end.

“Yes…”

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