Warnings: mature themes (18+)
A/n: It’s at the stage where everything I write feels like lazy slop lmaoo. Do yk how many times I’ve written over this chapter? Anyway, last chapter (much shorter) coming soon then that’s it for the ten of you who like this fic. As always, thanks for the support 🫶🏾
The woman dresses herself in frantic, jerky movements. Her mouth is twisted in a bitter frown. Annoyed doesn’t begin to cut it; she’s livid and rightfully so. It’s almost 2 am in the morning and he just told her to leave after inviting her over half an hour ago. It was supposed to be what it usually was— he’d have her tied up and suspended in the ceiling of his penthouse. Veronica used to be one of, if not his favourite. Her almond eyes are always challenging and she takes whatever he has to give, no matter how much or how rough he gets. But tonight, while he tried to make knots over her skin, he couldn’t help but wish it was russet brown instead of cinnamon. Midway into tying her up, Veronica chuckled a bit when the knot digged a little too deeply into her skin and he wished she had whimpered helplessly instead. He found himself wishing the feline-like curve of her eyes would soften at the edges; he wished she’d look at him like she witnessed him crafting the moon in the sky with his bare hands. He found himself wishing Veronica was Phoebe. Then everything started feeling wrong.
“Don’t ever fucking call me back, V. Not until you sort out whatever feelings you caught for that woman.” Veronica hisses at him like a threatened snake.
“I don’t hav-” but he cuts himself off, curling his hands into tight fists.
“Good on you for not lying to yourself.” Veronica scoffs before slamming his front door shut behind her. He files it away in the back of his mind to send her a generous amount for wasting her time. In the meantime, he finds himself getting dressed. He doesn’t question it as his feet take him outside and all the way to his car. He only has one destination in mind.
Phoebe stirs in her sleep from lights spilling into her room from the hallway. It takes her another few seconds to crack her eyes open and when she does, she chokes on a scream. Valid reaction to seeing him suddenly standing in her doorway at almost 3 in the morning he supposes.
“I came to check on Cas. He shouldn’t be moving around too much and he’s stubborn.” He finds the lie easily. Is it convincing? Not to him and definitely not to Phoebe who looks to be fighting a smile.
“Okay. It’s well beyond Cas’ bedtime as you can see. He doesn’t play about his beauty sleep.”
Her eyes shine even in the dark room. He can’t fucking stand her.
He should leave, but his feet remain frozen in the doorway. Hesitantly, Phoebe shuffles out of bed and makes her way over in his direction. She’s in the same pajama set he saw her in earlier and his nostrils flare in response. She’s tentative about reaching for his hands, but she does. Kicking the door shut behind him, he allows Phoebe to lead him over to the bed. It doesn’t take them long to get naked. Virgil gets on his knees and licks her up until her legs quiver by his ears because he felt fucking starved for it. He doesn’t stop until his jaw aches and she’s begging him with tears in her eyes for a break. They meet in a kiss so desperate you’d think the world was ending and they only had a few minutes left to savour each other. Virgil settles behind her body, hiking her left leg up before filling her to the brim. She quakes while he kisses and bites at her shoulder. He doesn’t stop until she’s screaming through another orgasm. She tells him how much she loves having him inside, she tells him how much she belongs to him, she tells him how much she always aches for hours after he’s done with her because he’s so deep. He comes so hard he almost blacks out. And for the umpteenth time, he wonders if her tongue is lined with magic. He has seen a lot of things that go beyond logic, Phoebe being a witch wouldn’t surprise him. In fact, he’s hoping it’s true so he can make sense of the hold she has over him. Their clean up is halfhearted and slightly too intimate. Phoebe clings to him and he allows it, he even finds himself caressing her lightly in between. When they’re back in bed, just as he’s lingering between blissful sleep and muffled consciousness, he feels the soft pads of her fingers against his skin. Phoebe scratches at his goatee, rubs at the mole beneath his eye, traces along his brows—humming all the while. And it makes his heart swell in his chest. It makes warmth flood through his entire body. It makes him realize that he might like her even more than she likes him. It makes him realize a few miles between them is still not enough.
He manages to be up before the sun, meaning he’s running on less than three hours of sleep. But it doesn’t matter, he has a long day ahead of him. Phoebe clings to him like a koala. The heat of their embrace amplifies her soft, sweet scent. A soft, distressed whine leaves her mouth while he works to gently untangle their limbs. She fusses a bit but settles again, clasping her hands under her soft cheek. And Virgil takes the time to really observe her. She looks to have lost a bit of weight but that’s expected with her sudden change in diet. His eyes subconsciously drift to her naked belly. It’s too early for there to be obvious changes to her body, yet his palms burn with the need to touch. He wants to span his hand along her lower abdomen to feel. Instead, with great determination, he eases his way out of bed. He closes the door gently behind him, feet stumbling when he notices Cas leaning against the wall with a smirk.
“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting here just to see that look on your face?”
Virgil neutralizes his expression then; “You’re supposed to be resting. I came over to make sure.”
Cas chortles. “Yeah, I’m soooo sure, V. I’m fine by the way! Thanks for checking in.”
Virgil rolls his neck when he feels his patience wearing thin. He can’t pop him in the mouth in his current condition.
“Shut the fuck up. And remember to keep her in your sight over these next couple of days. Under no circumstances is she to leave, got it?”
He has plans. He can’t have her anywhere in Rocco’s vicinity these next few days. Especially now that the Italian is livid after Joe dumped the heads of the cartel men in front of his spot.
Cas’ expression shifts from amused to somber in a second. He offers him a solemn nod.
“Good. I’ll keep you updated.” Virgil rounds his cousin’s frame in the hallway then pauses.
“And not a word of this to Joe.”
That sly smirk is back on Cas’ face but he hurries out the apartment before he’s subjected to more teasing.
“I’m going to need a favour from you real soon.” The man on the other end of the line is quiet for a while. He knows this won’t be a small thing. Virgil keeps his gaze on the world bustling below from his ceiling to floor glass of his office. It’s the lunch hour rush and the streets are busy. He has grown a bit paranoid over the last couple of days and rightfully so. He finds himself observing more than usual, eyes narrowing at every person with a neck tattoo especially. His men are close by though, though out of sight but ever alert just in case they’re needed.
“What is it?” The senator asks with a hint of resignation. He knows he has no choice: not unless he’s ready to lose everything.
“I’m going to be… louder than usual soon. Some of my men might get arrested and rightfully so. I need you to make sure they get out.”
“Virgil, what the hell are you planning to do?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m doing what needs to be done to protect my organization. Do what you need to do or you know what’s coming.”
He chucks the phone on his desk after hanging up already over the tedious conversation. He files it away in the back of his mind to get a new one with a sturdy case as well.
Phoebe stares at the message for minutes straight without blinking. Her eyes burn, yet still, she stares.
[Rocco. 11:13 am]: I need you at the club before 8 tonight. No excuses.
“Hey! It’s a little rude that over here trying to tell you about the best show to ever exist while you stare at your phone… like you’ve seen a ghost by the way, are you okay?”
Cas’ voice brings her back to the present. ‘Good Girls’ is still playing on the tv; so far, the plot is decent but Phoebe is sure Cas is only watching the show for Rio.
“Uh, yea. I’m fine. I just… I might need to step out for a bit later.”
“What for? You know you can’t go to the club.” He tries to appear insouciant, but Phoebe sees the imaginary raised hackles.
“No, not the club. I just… I need to go to the pharmacy.”
His eyes narrow sharply; “Just tell me what you want, I’ll let one of the guys-”
“It’s a bit personal. I’d feel more comfortable getting it myself.” Her tone is challenging.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Pheebs.”
A bitter chuckle eventually breaks the tense silence that ensues.
“So Virgil tried to make it seem like I’m the one doing the babysitting… it’s the fucking opposite. Is that what he told you to do? Pretend you’re not mad at me so it’d make this a lot less obvious?”
“You still don’t trust me.” It’s barely above a whisper, burdened with guilt and melancholy.
“Pheebs, I do. I swear I do, but Joe and V… not so much. This isn’t just about keeping an eye on you, staying here means you’re safe. I think they’re planning on moving against Rocco and Santiago tonight. I’m a bit out of the loop, but I’ve been commanded to lay low and keep you inside with me.”
Her phone buzzes with another message;
[Rocco. 11:16 am]: I mean it. I won’t be in tonight so Lorenzo will be overseeing. The club will need entertainment.
Her brows furrow in confusion. It’s unlike Rocco to keep the club open when he’s not available. Something’s up. Her brain yells at her to warn them. But then she’s reminded of her situation; Virgil moved her into a building filled with bratva men and one of the persons he trusts most to keep her under watch. They’ll all probably just think she’s lying to distract them for Rocco’s sake. It’s best if she brings back solid proof. She needs to go.
“I guess it can wait until the dust settles.”
Cas breathes a sigh of relief, his pretty smile lighting up his face again.
“What time are you due for another round of your painkillers again?”
“I must say, I was surprised when I got your invitation to dinner, V.”
Rocco eyes the small mug of green tea warily.
“Pleasantly I hope? And please don’t insult me. Only cowards use poison.”
He pauses for meaningful silence. Or dramatic effect, whichever one.
“In any sense, I’m glad you accepted my invitation. At least you decided to still honour some codes.”
Rocco’s eyes narrow; “I honour all the codes.”
“Ah. So this is you confirming that you’re declaring a war, Rocco? Because that’s how it is,right? The ‘rules’” he throws up casual air quotes around the word; “State that stepping foot in another’s territory with acts of violence is-”
“No Italian set foot in your territory. I’m here at this meeting, how can you say I’m-”
“Lee, the next time he interrupts while I’m talking, take his right hand.”
A sinister smirk stretches across Lee’s face at his command. Rocco tries to school his expression while the four other Italians he barely recognizes shifts nervously in their seats. He wonders briefly where Lorenzo is and why he isn’t in attendance.
“As I was saying…you think you’re a lot smarter than you are, Rocco. That’s the excuse you’re trying to hide behind? That it wasn’t Italians who did it? You think word hasn’t traveled about how cozy you and Santiago have been lately? Then all of a sudden, I have a bunch of fucking cartel men causing me all kinds of trouble.” Virgil pauses to grind his teeth to keep his cool. It would be so easy to shoot the fucker right here and say fuck the cluster fuck of consequences; and he can tell by the look in Joe’s eyes that he’s probably thinking the same thing. But he has never been sloppy and that’s mostly why he’s so widely respected. He’s not starting now despite this being a little personal. Besides, he promised Sato that there’d be no violence in his establishment.
“And that’s why I extended the invitation to both of you. But seeing as Santiago didn’t show up, I’m going to take that as a message received loud and clear.”
Rocco’s mask slips just a little; for the briefest second, Virgil recognizes the shift of his pupils and a slight tremor in his hands. The man allows the silence to stretch another minute and Virgil knows he’s ensuring that he’s allowed to speak without losing a limb.
“Look, you said it yourself, those are cartel men. I have no idea about—”
“There’s absolutely nothing I hate more than a coward, I think. Have the balls to stand ten toes down in it. Like I said, I got the message I needed— the tea is now cold, you’re dismissed.” His tone is as icy as his glare. Rocco drops the facade, glaring right back as he stands. The man and his accomplices leave the table without sparing them another glance. Virgil calls out to him just as he’s about to descend the stairs;
“Oh, and if I would’ve, it would’ve been hemlock.”
Rocco pauses then turns to fix him with a puzzled look. “What?”
“If I wanted to poison you, I would’ve used water hemlock. Natural, almost undetectable— need autopsies to confirm it really. See, water hemlock, it attacks the nervous system before it takes the victim. A lot of people who were poisoned by it were actually thought to have died from seizures. But I’m no expert, at least not like Santiago is. You should ask him all about it. Let him describe in great detail how he used it against your grand uncle to use his club as a stepping stone.”
Rocco stares at him blankly while Virgil smirks in wicked delight. The others beside him all hold scandalous expressions. Bingo. Even if for some reason Rocco decides to hold off investigating to focus on fucking with him a little longer, the others, won’t stay silent. Dante was well respected by all Italian families; they’d all want to see him avenged.
“ Don’t believe? Ask around for the widow of a Doctor Lopez who did Dante’s autopsy but was murdered by Santiago after being paid off to keep his secret. The man was smart though, kept a record in his safe at home that she has access too. Santiago seems to love befriending people then getting rid of them once he gets what he wants. I wonder who’s next on his list.”
Rocco’s fists clench so tightly that he physically shakes with the effort. The man almost skips down the stairs with veins bulging from the side of his neck. Reclining in his seat, Virgil accepts the glass of whiskey Lee pours for him. This is far from a victory but he did what he needed to do— weaken the foundation. Not only will Rocco be blindsided by his need for revenge, but Virgil also planted that seed of doubt. The Italians are not known to be levelheaded and the cartel are all brute force. All he has to do is be patient; in a few hours it’ll all start collapsing and all he’ll have to do is clean up what’s left in the aftermath.
Guilt sits like a boulder in her stomach as she ducks into darkened alleyways. She shouldn’t, not after taking shortcuts literally changed the trajectory of her life; but she has to be mindful to not be seen. Virgil’s influence spreads far and wide. She can’t let herself be spotted, especially here. Phoebe didn’t time her escape this perfectly to get caught now. Cas’ painkillers already make him drowsy, a little extra dose crushed up and sprinkled in his apple juice though? She left him sleeping like a log. Virgil is clearly planning something; the building only had two unfamiliar bratva men in the downstairs lobby who fell easily for her lie that Cas had given her the okay to make a quick run to the supermarket. She doesn’t want to think about their fate when V finds out they let her out of the building. The door gives reluctantly under her weight. Soothing instrumentals drift from the club into the back room she enters. She finds Lorenzo pacing impatiently.
The man startles at her presence then his expression morphs into disappointment; “I was hoping you wouldn’t have been stupid.”
“You weren’t supposed to fucking be here!” Spittle flies from his mouth. Phoebe cowers in fright. She has never seen him this livid.
“And V told you to stay put! Santiago is in the club right now and chances are, Rocco is going to come back and start shit. And I mean real serious shit, Nightingale.” Lorenzo’s eyes are wide with panic.
“But why would Rocco turn against Santiago already?”
“Because V called him to a meeting. If he had outright refused, then that would be sending a message loud and clear. Look, Santiago murdered Rocco’s grand uncle and he had no idea until I told him-”
“Ah, is that where Rocco is?”
Phoebe’s blood freezes in her veins at the sound of the gun cocking behind her. She’s sure she mirrors Lorenzo’s wide eyed stare.
“Meeting with V, huh? That fucking sellout! So he wants to keep secrets?”
Santiago is quiet for a few seconds and Phoebe is too afraid to turn around to look. His voice breaks the tense silence again as he rattles off something quickly in Spanish. She’s guessing he’s on the phone. Phoebe isn't fluent by any means, but she’s competent enough to piece together some of the conversation.
“He found out…. We… move…. Start cleaning up.”
A few seconds later, loud explosions start ringing out from inside the club. Phoebe screams bloody murder, hands moving to cover her ears as the chaos unfolds just beyond the walls of the back room.
“Now that’s what… ten? Or twelve more Italian scum added to my list.” Santiago’s voice is taunting.
Lorenzo is fuming. He’s livid and it makes him predictable. Phoebe shakes her head desperately, trying to communicate without words. But his mind is already made up. Her right ear whistles as the bullet whizzes by her head. Lorenzo crumples to the ground with his hand still reaching for his pistol. This close, it’s nothing like the movies show it. He doesn’t curl up or fall in slow motion. No, his body stiffens and he collapses immediately. Phoebe blinks at the sizable hole in his forehead that leaks crimson. That’s all her fault. Tears roll down her cheeks in rapid succession but she can’t make a sound.
“Now you, you clearly know more than I thought you did. You’re coming with me, Ruiseñor.” (Nightingale).
“For fuck’s sake, Pheebs.” Cas pauses to breathe through the exertion. He’s just walking, yet it feels like he just ran a marathon. Cas isn’t sure if it’s his body still healing or the fact that Phoebe probably drugged him. His hand shoots to his side feeling that familiar ache beginning to bloom.
“Are you sure you don’t want to-”
“Shut the fuck up and keep moving. And you better hope for your sake that she’s in there and safe.”
The duo of Russian men share a terrified look.
Though doubtful that Phoebe is on their side, he promised to protect her and he intends to keep that promise. Besides, he can only ignore Virgil’s calls for so long without having an update for him. Kolya eases the door open cautiously with his gun aimed. The second guy whose name Cas has already forgotten, follows close behind Kolya into the building where they both pause.
“Uh… a massacre.” Kolya opens the door wider for him to see inside. Cas surveys the bodies littering the club with his heart stuck in his throat. The pain in his side is almost numb immediately as he stumbles inside. He checks every face from the entrance all the way to the back room. He stares blankly at the man on the floor. Kolya suddenly appears at his side.
Cas exhales a heavy breath. “Call V.”
Santiago is pacing. His phone has rang twice since they arrived; both times the man had paused to release a string of curses in Spanish. Phoebe isn’t sure where exactly they are, she was too terrified the entire drive to attempt to map out the location through the heavily tinted windows of his car. All she knows now is that they’re in some meat factory looking space.
“That’s the Italians again, apparently. They’re hitting all my dens around the city. Doesn’t matter…” he fixes her with a glare.
“Tell me why V would be concerned about you enough to warn you to stay away from the club tonight.”
Folding her lips together, she stares pointedly at the rough concrete floor she’s seated on. Santiago cocks his gun.
“Either you’re going to be useful to me or…”
A trickle of sweat blurs her vision and she blinks away the burn rapidly.
“I… Rocco used me to get information about V for him… same thing he tried to do with you.”
“Hm… that still doesn’t explain why he’d give a fuck about you, Nightingale. I need something better than that or you’re wasting time I clearly don’t have.” He aims the gun point blank at her forehead. Close range. She shakes.
“Okay! I… it got complicated, okay? We got careless and I… I’m pregnant.”
Santiago is momentarily stunned. A smirk slowly stretches his lips until he looks nothing short of manic.
“Oh, Nightingale… you’ve just made my life a lot easier. While Rocco is busy with my men outside, I’ll handle your macro lover here. At the end of all this…” he chuckles like he can physically touch the victory he’s imagining in his head.
“Take your phone out and call him. Tell him you escaped the club; you’re near the meat factory on Seventh Avenue and you need him to come pick you up.”
Phoebe desperately wants to refuse, but she knows a psychopath like the back of her hand. Santiago isn’t bluffing and she doesn’t want to die just yet. Swallowing thickly, she tries not to cry at the thought of betraying V again if though she swore she wouldn’t.
“Put it on speaker.” He demands immediately as soon as she hits the call button.
Phoebe obeys. Her heart squeezes in her chest when the line opens to nothing but heavy breathing for a few seconds. He’s livid.
“I’m going to fucking kill you, Phoebe.”
“I know! I’m sorry, it’s just, Rocco- he… look, I escaped the club when everything went down and I just… I got in a cab and he took me somewhere.”
“Where are you?” He asks with a hint of urgency.
“Somewhere on Seventh Avenue I think? There looks to be a factory closeby.”
“Don’t fucking move. I’m on my-”
“And tell Cas he has horrible taste. Rio of all the tv show men?”
“Why the fuck are you talkin-”
“Tell him! You have to tell him that I was right about that specific nationality of men!”
Santiago snatches the phone from her hand then proceeds to smash against the ground.
“Already relaying your last words? You’re smarter than you look, song bird.”
Virgil stares at the screen blankly while a million thoughts bounce around his head. They’re gathered at his warehouse downtown. And his index finger feels jumpy every time he looks in Kolya and Max’s direction.
“Was that her?” Cas looks pale, yet there’s determination shining through. It’s clear that he wants Phoebe safe even if it means it kills him. He hates that he gets it.
“Yes. She said to pick her up but… she said to tell you something about you having bad taste in men. Some man named Rio in some show you were watching and how she was right about men of his specific nationality.”
“What the fuck is she talking about?” Joe voices his exact thoughts. He’s annoyed, but even he looks a little worried.
“Oh, Pheebs. You absolute fucking genius…”
Virgil eyes Cas in confusion.
“What?” It’s clipped and impatient.
“We were watching the show right, like full on marathon of episodes. I was trying to make her see the vision with Rio, right? Absolutely sex-”
“Cas, get to the fucking point before I put another bullet hole in your side.”
Cas glares at him briefly before he continues; “Phoebe said I have horrible taste in men because Rio is a manipulative liar, just like all the other Mexican men she met. It’s a horrible stereotype that she subscribes to.”
“So?” Joe presses with tightly clenched fists.
But Virgil understands. He understands loud and clear and it makes something burn beneath his skin.
“She didn’t stumble on Seventh, Santiago has her.”
“It would make sense, you mentioned they were working with Turkish men recently. Their favourite covers are meat factories.” Cas helpfully supplies.
“Call Sato and let’s move.”
Phoebe’s heart stutters to a stop at Santiago’s sudden laughter. Three bodies occupy the entrance of the building; though concealed by darkness, she’d recognize his looming frame anywhere. Virgil is escorted inside by two of Santiago’s men. They try to usher him further into the room but he remains rooted at the entrance. His sleeves are rolled up to the crook of his elbows, his black slacks still crisp and his dress shoes almost glisten in the dimly lit space. He almost looks like he wants to be here.
“Ah, finally. Face to face with the infamous V.”
“Shame you didn’t accept my invite to dinner earlier. We could’ve met sooner.” V responds smoothly. He does a quick sweep of her from head to toe though his eyes give nothing away.
“Ah, it appears Rocco didn’t relay your message. Though I guess that’s lucky for me. You didn’t exactly give him good news, he knows what would’ve happened if I was there.” Santiago rubs at his beard with his pistol.
“What can I say? I think he deserves to really know the man he has formed an alliance with.”
Santiago guffaws until tears are pressed to the edges of his eyes. “You know what? You’re smart, V. I won’t lie to you, it’s something I have always envied. You have the Italians and Cartel killing each other and destroying the city as we speak and if it had gone as smoothly as you planned, either Rocco would’ve killed me or vice versa by now and all you’d have to do is move on the survivor with their strength and resources depleted. You always come out on top without getting your hands dirty. But…”
Phoebe cowers as he suddenly turns his gaze on her. She hates the harsh reminder that she once again fucked things up for them.
“What do Americans say again? A little… bun in the oven? Yes? My congratulations are in order.”
Virgil’s expression shifts just slightly before it returns to the collected blank canvas.
“Only that could make a man like you so… careless. Anyway, you blew up my club with Luis inside and I didn’t appreciate it, V.”
Virgil shrugs; “I only returned the gift you sent.”
“It was that fucker, Lorenzo, wasn’t it? That’s why I put a bullet in his head.” Santiago tries to taunt him.
“You did me a favour, I don’t form alliances with snakes. I would’ve killed him after all this fanfare.” V gesticulates boredly.
Santiago stares at Virgil like a deity in the flesh; “Wow. I can’t sing your praises enough. Why couldn’t you have just offered me a seat at the fucking table, huh?!”
Virgil smirks in amusement; “Ah, so that’s what this is about? You’re mad that I didn’t want to partner with you? You want to know why, Santiago?”
The man trembles from anger but gives a slow nod anyway.
“Because you’re fucking sloppy. You do things like have signature marks on visible parts of your body, it’s easy to link you to every single act you’ve committed. You take a man you know you poisoned to the hospital, and sure you paid off the doctor and killed him eventually, but you did that days after. That gave him enough time to whisper it in the ear of someone else. Sloppy. You partner with less to offer out of pure spite; not only did you lose a lot of men pulling those dumb little stunts Rocco is smart enough to not have sent his own men to do, you lost a fuckton of money in the process and you’re about to lose so much more… oh don’t look so surprised, Santiago.” Virgil pauses to smile in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“While you were so focused on the illegal side of things, I had PIs gathering evidence of tax evasion of your legal businesses, also, you haven’t been washing your money clean enough. I’ve already sent information to the senator who has had it sent over to the police. Even if you walk out of here alive, you’ll have nothing to your name, Santiago.”
Phoebe can swear she can physically see steam rising off Santiago’s body. Angry doesn’t even begin to describe it.
“Fair enough, Virgil. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re alone and surroun-”
V raises his index finger to interrupt him; “You didn’t let me finish. You’re so sloppy you’ll do things like send Turkish explosives to my building then attempt to lure me in a trap set in a base of your allies. If you think I’m alone and if you think you have the upper hand you’re stupider than I even thought, Santiago and that’s saying a lot..”
Phoebe doesn’t have time to scream when something whistles through the air and the man standing to Virgil’s right drops to the ground with a thud. The man to his left hardly has time to react before he meets the same fate. She stares outside but fails to see where exactly the bullets came from. Suddenly, rounds of gunfire erupt from outside. Phoebe curls into a tight little ball as it goes on for minutes. Then a sudden hush settles. Santiago yells something in Spanish frantically but no response comes.
“You lured me here with less than 15 men too. I’m sure the yakuza have already cut through them like child’s play. Or maybe it’s Maksim with the sniper, which I’m now sure he has aimed nicely between your eyes at this very moment. Never met anyone as deadly as him, he could pick you out from miles away, it’s super impressive. I hate going on hunting trips with the fucker.”
Santiago’s eyes widen in panic then he moves to aim his gun in V’s direction but another sharp whistle sounds. Phoebe swallows around the bile in her throat when his blood and brain splatter everywhere before he drops to the ground stiff as a board. Virgil moves to stand over him, eyes examining the hole in his head.
“ And I still didn’t have to get my hands dirty.” He says calmly.
He slowly turns to face her. She’s sure she looks a mess with her runny mascara and smudged makeup. She wants to say something, but her tongue is stuck to the roof of her mouth.
“Pheebs?” Cas sounds out of breath. Phoebe sobs in relief when the man almost limps in to lift her off the floor and envelop her in a hug.
“You drugged me… you’re such a bitch.” But he hugs her a little tighter anyway.
“I’m so- sorry. I was really trying to help, I swear. Besides, it was only a little extra I crushed and put in your juice. I knew you’d be fine.”
“Let’s go. We need to find Rocco.” Virgil’s voice cuts through their little emotional reunion. Phoebe and Cas both support each other as they trail behind V. Joe greets them at the entrance, handing that familiar pistol back to Virgil. V accepts it, checks the chamber then cocks the gun. He points the weapon and fires two rounds. Phoebe screams. Two men fall to the ground.
“V… for fuck’s sake…”Joe rolls his eyes in annoyance.
“They were incompetent.” He says simply before walking off. Phoebe stares at the men she lied to earlier to leave the apartment.
“Aww, that was Kolya and…. for the life of me I can’t ever remember that other one's name.” Cas says with a frown.
“Max. Kolya and Max. Maksim is going to bitch about this all night.” Joe mutters bitterly.
They speak about the incident as more of an inconvenience while Phoebe feels like taking her brain out so it doesn’t collapse in on itself.
They find Rocco alone at his club like his informants said they would. The man is seated by the bar, surrounded by dozens of Italian dead men. He downs the rest of his liquor in one go when he notices their presence.
“Ah, come drink. I have plenty to spare.” He gestures towards the fully stocked shelves. His smile is lopsided and his movements a little uncoordinated. However, when his eyes find hers, the man almost seems to sober up.
She just stares. She can’t remember the last time he called her by her actual name.
“I thought Santiago…” he trails off, eyes narrowing at her hand clutching to Cas’ desperately.
Rocco chuckles bitterly; “I visited Dr. Lopez’s wife. Turns out, the description of the man who sought her out and told you about Santiago’s deeds was in fact my very own Lorenzo; now, I’m realizing that my nightingale has long abandoned me too. Did you tell him?” He directs the question at her.
She doesn’t respond but he continues anyway;
“Oh boy, let me guess, you fell in love with him?” Rocco rolls his eyes in disgust.
“I hate you. I want you to know that. I’ve always hated you.” She whispers the words like a secret. But it’s audible. They all hear it.
Rocco sneers at her before turning to stare up at V; “Ah, you smug fucker. You don’t even have to try and you win. I lost everything in a blink just like that. News spread to the other families from the others I brought to dinner and there was nothing I could do to stop them. They started firing on every cartel man they saw. I wanted that fucker Santiago for myself, I’m guessing he’s dead already?” None of them offer him confirmation.
“You lucky bastard; you get the city, the respect, the girl-”
“Fuck this.” Joe interrupts his ranting with a single shot to the head.
“Now why did you do that? You know V loves a good ego stroke, you interrupted his nut.” Cas says with a shake of his head.
Despite everything, Phoebe giggles.
“I’ve never been one for all the theatrics.” Joe says coolly.
“You’re on your final strike by the way.” Virgil addresses his cousin calmly. Phoebe holds her breath as V moves in Rocco’s direction. He pulls out his pistol and she buries her face in Cas’ neck as he empties the clip in the already dead man’s face.
“That’s a closed casket for sure. Tragic.” Cas mutters nonchalantly.
Phoebe promptly gags twice in warning before throwing up all over Cas’ designer shirt.
The car ride back to the apartment is tense. Joe sits up front with V in the driver’s seat. Cas cuddles Phoebe in the back though he eyes her warily every so often.
“So… what now?” It’s meant only for Cas to hear but the car is so quiet that her words carry. She feels Cas shrug against her cheek, but her eyes focus on Virgil’s in the overhead mirror. He doesn’t respond but he communicates without words. He already has his mind made up something, and Phoebe can only hope those plans don’t involve her being dead in a ditch before the sun comes up. She swallows thickly, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks.
