"Calli," a soft voice prods the darkness swimming behind my eyes. I don't want to leave it just yet, although I can't quite remember why. "Calli. Wake up."

I groan, trying to turn away from the prodding voice but my body feels so heavy and raw that I put a stop to the movement.

"Wake up," an impatient snarl sounds next to me. I flinch as a sharp sting burns over my cheek.

"Jesus, Dante," that soft voice mutters.

Something heavy thuds dully beside me, sounding suspiciously like flesh hitting concrete. Dante hisses a pained breath.

"Let me go, fucker," Dante hisses. "Or we'll call off the deal."

It's silent for a long moment, then a familiar click fills my ears. Dante lets out a startled shout before a loud pop erupts through the echoing room, causing my ears to ring as something warm splashes across my cheek.

"You motherfucker," Kal breathes. I can tell he intends the words to come out thick with fury, but the hollow sound of barely-concealed terror fills his voice instead.

"If I see anyone else try to touch her, you'll find that my punishments are typically far less merciful," a familiar dark croon growls. Sinclair. For some reason, his presence soothes a deep ache within my chest I hadn't realized pained me until now.

"And if you lay another finger on my children, I'll gut her and force you to watch, Black," Delia says. She sounds far away, her voice ricocheting through the room although her approaching footsteps indicate she's headed in our direction.

"You owe me blood," Sin says, a quiet, spine-chilling kind of rage leaking into his voice. "I was promised she'd be returned safely."

"I recall that I told you I'd return her to you alive."

"Watch yourself, angel blood." I feel the warmth of his body seep into my side and realize he must be kneeling beside me, the tickle of his fingertips hesitantly smoothing over the lingering twinge on my cheek as if he's scared he'll break me further. "I don't take well to other people touching what's mine."

She scoffs. "You'd be wise to remember that she belonged to me before you stole her away. You're merely a blip in her timeline, Sinclair Black."

He snorts at that. "I could say the same to you." Despite his harsh tone, he lays the softest touch on the arm throbbing at my side, breaking me free of my half-conscious state and causing my eyes to shoot open.

Pain flashes through me so sharply that black speckles my vision. "Fuck me sideways," I whisper, trying not to look over at the mess of mangled skin that makes up my bicep. "That hurts like a bitch." I take in his presence, looking over his broad body with wide eyes. Thankfully, he seems untouched aside from a small splattering of blood on his shirt. Probably Dante's, considering the conversation I overheard only moments ago. "What are you doing here?"

"Easy now," Sinclair murmurs, gently brushing his finger over my lips. He gazes down at me, ashen eyes tender despite the tautness that radiates throughout his body. "I'm getting you out of here."

Guilt, thick and heavy dredges through my veins at another realization I realize I'll have to utter to him. "Oliver...he—"

"I know," he says, looking away even as his thumbs draw little circles over my cheekbones. "Don't get yourself worked up over it right now."

Hot and unbidden tears rise in my eyes. A part deep inside of me screams that it's my fault. That if I hadn't needed to be protected, he wouldn't have had to put his safety over mine in the first place.

"Stop that," Sin whispers, brushing his knuckles over the wetness that tracks down my cheeks. "He knew what he was in for when he dedicated himself to this life."

"But—"

He silences me by gently pressing his lips to mine. "You'll have time to mourn later, angel. All in the time in the world once this is finally over with." The heated touch of his palm pulls away from my face as he shifts beside me. Raw, unfiltered panic fills my system at the thought of him leaving my side.

I snag his wrist with my good arm, gripping it so hard that my nails bite into his skin. "Don't go."

He stills, leaning forward to brush the hair from my face. "We need to wrap that arm, angel."

"No," I say quickly, then wince. I've never been the type to admit how scared I am, but the thought of being by myself again fills me with unadulterated terror. "I like you here. With me." I stare at him, mentally willing him to stay put. Hoping that he won't make me say the words that are probably written all over my face.

His eyes search mine as he finally nods begrudgingly.

My lip wobbles out of sheer relief. I guess the blood loss is making me into a clingy, emotional mess. "Promise you won't leave?"

His lips thin at that, a pregnant pause stretching between us. But then he nods his head, leaning down to press a soothing kiss to my brow. "I promise."

I stare at his handsome face for a moment longer, feeling unconvinced. Maybe it's the grim circumstances or the fact that I've already lost enough blood to kill a human, but the nagging sense of dread won't seem to leave my system despite the fact that Sinclair is here to take me back home.

Sin shrugs off his shirt once I finally let him go, wrapping it tightly around my arm. I grit my teeth at the intense shooting pains that erupt through the butchered flesh even though Sin attempts to mend me with a ginger touch.

The shirt is still warm from his body and smells like musk and a hint of cigarettes. I want to wrap myself in the scent and fall back into the darkness that beckons my eyelids. It's strange how just the smell of him can soothe my soul in ways I can't fully comprehend.

"Can we go home?" I whisper. I'm so tired that I don't even have the energy to admire the hard panes of his chest. All I can think about is collapsing in the soft silks of our bed and staying there for days.

His fingers smooth over my brow bone. "Soon." Sin grazes his fingers over my cheek, then my jaw, tracing little shapes that tingle against my skin.

I frown. He doesn't usually touch me so sweetly, at least not in public. Usually he's possessive and dominating and is solely focused on making sure everyone in the room knows that I belong to him.

"How much did you buy me back for?" The question dawns on me. It must have been a fortune if it dwarfs the previous offer on his head.

He pulls his hand back at that, his lips thinning. Sin refuses to meet my eyes as he remains silent.

I mumble a quiet curse. "You just spent an arm and a leg on me, didn't you?"

At that, an amused grin flits over his lips. It's crooked and adorable and fills me with warmth but is gone just as quickly as it came. "More than that, actually."

"So what, we moving into a shack now?" I say, but I can't help but smile a little. We could be homeless for all I care. As long as I have Sinclair at my side, I don't think I would mind.

He snorts. "Of course not. I'll always make sure you're always well taken care of."

I don't doubt him for a second. "When can we leave?"

"Soon," he says, staring at me with those intense silvery eyes even though he makes no attempt to move from where we sit on the floor. His features have tightened despite the warmth of his tone, like he's swallowing back words that desperately want to spill past his tongue.

"Sinclair," Delia interjects, and I jolt a little. Maybe it's the gaping wound or Sin's domineering presence, but I'd nearly forgotten that she watches us only a few feet away. "Any longer and I'll need a larger sum for my payment."

His jaw clenches so firmly that it appears painful as he untangles himself from my body and rises to his feet. "Theo, it's time."

I don't even realize Theodore stands behind him until he strides over and kneels beside me, gathering me to his chest and taking extra care not to jostle my arm. I don't like the idea of being carried but I'm so exhausted and sore that I sag in his arms, swallowing any words of complaint.

But instead of heading for the exit, Sinclair approaches Delia.

"Now, Theo," Sin says.

Delia sighs, stepping so close to Sin that her chest nearly touches his. I stiffen as I notice the blade hanging loosely in her hand, still painted red from where it skimmed through my flesh.

"Sin," I breathe nervously, although there's no way he can't not see it when it dangles so obviously by her side. Still, he doesn't appear alarmed by its appearance.

Both of them ignore me, the energy between them palpable despite their deal nearing its end. "Not until your end of the bargain is fulfilled," she says.

That cool, emotionless mask settles over his features. "I don't want her here for it."

I blink. What the hell is going on?

"Theo?" I murmur, my eyebrows drawing together. "What are you guys not telling me?"

He refuses to meet my eyes. "I'm sorry, Calli-girl."

"Turn around, Theodore," Sin says. "Cover her eyes. Whatever you need to do."

Theo turns around and tries to walk away but I flop in his arms, desperate the catch sight of them over his shoulder.

"Sin," I yell, my voice hoarse with rising panic. "What the fuck are you doing?"

He doesn't answer me. Doesn't glance in my direction. My heart shudders as his gaze trains on the weapon Delia raises to his chest.

None of this makes sense. Sinclair would never risk me when my life is bound to—

I stiffen when I realize that the snake winding around my forearm is gone, the skin as untouched as it appeared months ago before a greedy demon claimed me as his own.

"Try to calm down," Theo whispers, his grip on my body so tight that it hurts. "Everything is going to be okay. I promise."

I almost spit a scornful laugh in his face. "Let me go, Theodore, or I swear to god you won't like what I'll do once you put me down."

He shakes his head, lips thinning as continues his slow stride forward.

"Don't fucking touch him," I snarl as Delia's blade embeds itself past the solid muscle of his chest. She ignores me and I watch helplessly as red weeps down the warm tones of his skin as she pushes her weapon in to the hilt.

It takes a moment for Sinclair's body to react to the intrusion, but even as he falls to his knees in front of her, his face remains impassive. Willing, even.

"Sinclair." Mustering every last bit of strength in my arm, I whip my elbow into the side of Theo's face. Horror threatens to swallow me whole but I brush it away before it can claim me. There's still time. Sinclair's strong; an upper level-demon. If I can just get close enough to knock Delia out then he might still have a chance.

Theo grunts, his grasp loosening around me just enough that I'm able to push myself away from his arms. I fall to the floor so hard that it knocks the breath out of me, but I quickly refocus my energy into scrambling to my feet and racing forward. My battered body throbs with the effort.

Theo curses. "Calli, wait—"

Something solid wraps around my neck, tugging me against a warm body so abruptly that I don't have a chance to stifle the gasp that rips past my throat.

"That's not a good idea," Kal murmurs, the cold barrel of his gun pressing to my temple. His arm tightens around my neck, threatening to cut off my airway.

A cry rasps through my throat as I watch Delia drag the blade down the center of his chest, her arm shaking with effort to make a sizable hole in the gash.

I'm running out of time. If I don't do something now, I know I'll lose him forever.

It's clumsy and dumb, but I grit my teeth and shove my weight backward. I almost expect him to quickly right himself, but somehow the solid-bodied Kal hobbles on his feet. His arm slips around me and I thank god for being on my side (for once in my life, considering my usually shitty luck) and take the opportunity to dive forward.

Kal's gun clicks readily behind me as he regains his balance. I stiffen as it fires, preparing myself for the familiar sharp grate of pain.

A long second ticks by. Nothing such comes. I force my rigid body to relax, glancing behind me, my eyebrows raising at the sight of Kal's limp body against the ground.

A puddle of red pools under his chest, the steady trickle joining the puddle seeping from Dante, the thick splatter of his brain on the pavement only feet away. Both of their weapons lay pathetically on the ground beside them. Two more of my blood brothers, erased from this earth forever. Maybe Sin's cruelty has begun to seep into me because I don't feel any sadness for the loss.

"Focus, Calli," Theo yells behind me, clicking another bullet into place, this time aiming at Amara even though she makes no attempt to close in on us. Her eyes widen as she scoops up the little girl and tries to sprint her way to the exit. "Eyes forward. Don't get yourself killed."

I'm a mess. My nerves are fried, my aching body running purely on adrenaline, but I still find myself diving forward as Delia crouches over Sinclair's pliant body, reaching her small hand into the open cavity in his chest.

A scream rips at my throat, the inhuman sound raspy with savagery.

It's all in the heart, darling, Capponi's voice distantly echoes in my head. She intends to take him from me forever and something feral and ugly snaps inside of me at the fact.

Delia winces at the sound but it doesn't stop her hands from making quick work inside of him. I can hear the wet, cracking sound of muscle and sinew tearing, and then something comes away from him and rips off into her hand.

The large organ rests in her palm, her hand dripping thickly with the crimson that coats it. I can make out the thick veins that have only now begun to slow, as if just sensing it's been ripped from its home.

I can't breathe. I can't feel anything aside from the slap of pavement beneath my feet and the faint buzzing in my ears.

She smiles at the sight of the heap of bloody meat in her fingers, and I can feel my fists clenching so tightly that my bones prick. And then I leap atop of her.

She lets loose a stunned cry, dropping the mass of tissue as her head hits the ground roughly. Her blade whips up to jut into my stomach, but years of senseless training has made me far faster and I quickly knock the weapon aside by grasping her wrist and twisting so sharply that it cracks beneath my hands.

It clangs to the floor and I bat it away. My movements are swift and driven purely by instinct; I barely register my own actions until they're already in motion, tangling my hands in her hair as I hold her down and using my other to form a fist and brutally pummel them onto her face.

She shrieks, scratching my chest and face with her nails. The sting doesn't faze me and certainly does nothing to slow my actions. Delia has always relied on weapons to defend herself, and without them or her supernatural-blooded children to protect her, she is as defenseless as any other human.

I keep bringing my hand down until crimson splashes on my skin and her face turns a swollen, unsightly color. Her clawing slows and eventually her arms fall defeatedly to her sides, but even then, I don't stop. I wrap my other hand in her long blonde strands and lift her neck up and sharply bring it down on the solid ground, the hollow sound of her skull hitting the floor filling me with a dark sense of contentment.

Even as more dark liquid splashes over my skin, I don't slow my steady pace. Not until I feel a strong arm wrap around my torso and pull me away from her limp body.

I try and whip around to whoever holds me, but then a familiar voice cuts through the bloodthirsty haze that binds my mind.

"Jesus, Calli," Theo says behind me, his arm tightening around my waist, "you can stop now. Her head looks like a smashed pumpkin so it's pretty safe to assume that she's dead."

—

a/n

Hi. After the tone of this chapter, it feels a little weird to write to you guys, but I haven't said hello in a while so I figured it was past due. How is everyone??