âOf course I lost my fucking keys,â a frazzled Isla, in need of a shower, mutters bitterly. With gritted teeth and a clenching jaw, her fingertips frantically search her purse from the night before â oh so kindly handed back to her by the cops earlier that morning. Muttering something unintelligible under her breath, she waves off Jordan in the distance before moving to pick up the pot plant by the door in the hopes of finding a spare key. And just as she does so, the front door opens, coming face to face with the unexpected. Angelo was home.Â
    It wasnât often that he was the face to open the door to the Moretti family home considering he was barely ever there. The brunetteâs mind had been so consumed with the ordeal from the night before, and the fact that Rosie was still locked up, that she hadnât even thought to check up on her little brother yet. Thankfully she hadnât seen him at the gala, rendering him safe from the fire that had taken place the night before, and igniting a wave of relief to wash over her right then and there. Everything was a fucking mess, and she couldnât deal with the influx of obstacles that had been thrown at the world of Westport. All she knew was, she was in shock.Â
    Mostly from everything sheâd been through in the past 12 hours or so but, the fact that her brother had just leaned forward and pulled her into an embrace, left a usually chatterbox-Isla utterly speechless. Only for a few moments, of course. ââGee, you mustâve worried about me,â a smirk tugging at one of the cornerâs of her lips as her amused but tired eyes analysed his own. âGood youâre safe, brother,â she squeezes his arm with a small smile, before moving past him, dumping that purse of hers on a nearby console table. âUgh, can you fucking believe this shit? Honestly. âWait.. whereâve you been all this time?âÂ
Locking the door behind them, he leaned against it, crossing his arms as he watched the breadwinner of the Morettiâs move about the house. He faintly sighed in relief. Everything was back to normal. Everything in the world was alright again. Well, semi-alright, considering Rosie. He knew he wasnât the greatest of brothers, knew that they probably think he valued the Reapers more than his own blood, but they were...wrong? If given the choice to choose between his family and the gang ( which was also more like his family than anything ), thereâd be no doubt about it. Heâd choose his sisters. Right?
He gave her a confused look, mixed with slight irritation. âWhat do you mean? Iâve been here this whole time. Well, I was at the station for most of that time. Wouldnât let me see you two,â he eventually admitted. âAlso, I think you should take a shower. I donât think the whole gala look should last for more than a night.â His face was filled with mock disgust, but the affection was clear in his eyes. âAnd Iâm starving so you better hurry up.â Heâd forgotten to eat all day, and now that 1/2 of the locked up sisters have come back save and sound, the adrenaline that was sustaining him had died down, leaving him painfully aware of his lack of sustenance.Â