"Sometimes quiet is violent."

➳ ➳ ➳

Four Days Later

The woman in front of him continued swaying her hips to the beat of the music, running her hands over her slim, exposed body. Ethan looked at her with a sly smirk on his face as he took small sips from his drink and rested his back on the chair, admiring her. One of the perks of living in a place like the Dollhouse was having beautiful young women keep you entertained without having to pay for it. After everything he did for Alexander, he deserved some time to himself to relax, and the redhead who was grinding her hips on him was the perfect form of distraction for him.

The girl sat on his lap slowly, smiling down at him seductively and placed her hands on his thighs. Ethan exhaled deeply, closing his eyes as her hands started going higher and brushed over the growing bulge under his pants. Soft, unnoticeable kisses were placed all over his jawline and neck.

That's what he needed.

It felt like forever since the last time he touched a woman.

"Ethan. We need-" someone said, but soon stopped when he saw the scene in front of him. Ethan growled in anger and opened his eyes to look at the person who had interrupted his fun time. The girl on his lap hadn't stopped and was still moving against him, like the professional she was.

"What do you want?" He asked the shocked man in front of him. Steve rubbed the back of his neck, nervously and parted his lips to speak.

"I'm sorry for... interrupting you, Ethan," he apologized, clearing his throat. Ethan rolled his eyes and slowly motioned for the girl to stand up. He knew that his only chance to relax was ruined, whatever Steve wanted had to be necessary, and those idiots couldn't do a thing without him. The redhead beauty obliged and walked away before blowing a kiss towards his direction.

"Speak!" Ethan demanded, his blue eyes staring intensely at Steve. He was growing impatient by his lack of response.

"He still refuses to say anything," Steve informed him, looking down at his feet. Ethan frowned, slamming his hand on the table. He stood up and walked in front of the other man, folding his arms over his chest.

"Fine then. Where is he?" He asked him.

"He's in the room with the others," Steve told him, and before he could say anything else, Ethan had already walked away. He stormed out of the main room where the Dolls were and made his way towards the back of Dollhouse, where the men's room was. All the men that worked for Alexander meet there, but Ethan never liked their company. Their stupid remarks angered him. They hated him because he was Alexander's favorite and always got more money than them, but Ethan didn't give a shit about what they thought.

Once he reached the room, he pushed open the large door and stepped inside the dim room. The blue lights made it slightly difficult for him to make out the faces of the men inside it. Music was playing in the background, and a few men were gathered around a table in the middle playing cards, whereas others played pool. Some of them stopped and looked at him, giving him dirty looks, but Ethan simply smirked, ignoring them completely. Steve followed him from behind and pointed with his finger to the blond, beaten man standing against the wall with his head down.

Ethan took a few steps, and once he was standing in front of him, cleared his throat, causing the man to lift his head and look at him with his blue eyes.

He was terrified.

Ethan smiled, turning the corner of his lips upwards and looked down at him with a disapproving look.

"You are making this harder for you, Blondie." He stated. "Answer the questions that you are asked, and we'll let you go. Simple as that."

Henry Pichot stood up straight, hissing as the damaged parts of his body burnt. He was in pain. Tortured and beaten every single day for seven days. That's how long he had been there.

"And how do I know that you are not lying? If I tell you what you want, you might kill me. I know better than to trust someone like you." Henry responded.

Ethan gasped, placing his hand over his chest in a mocking way. "You wounded me, Mr. Pichot." He said jokingly, approaching him more and more. When they were just inches apart, he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall with force, leaving him breathless. Henry shut his eyes, welcoming yet again the unbearable pain and bit his tongue. He wasn't going to talk.

No. I'm no snitch. He thought to himself.

"Listen here, you piece of shit. You are in no place to negotiate with me, so I suggest you keep your smart mouth shut. Here we play by my rules." Ethan growled in his ear and pulled away, turning his back to him.

"Steve, give me the arrows," Ethan ordered. Steve quickly obeyed and grabbed the three small arrows from the table and handed them to him. Ethan smirked as he observed them and turned around, standing again a few feet away from Henry. Everyone was looking at them, and whispers filled the room.

"This is how it's going to work, Mr. Pichot. I will ask you questions, and you will give me answers." Ethan started explaining.

Henry gulped, looking around him panicked.

"Every time you hesitate to answer, or you lie, I will throw one of these arrows at you. Each time, closer and closer. I have a good aim so that you know, don't test me." Ethan told him. Henry clenched his fists, keeping his head high as he glared at Ethan. He was scared, but he didn't want to show it, so he said nothing. Sweat was forming on his forehead, and his legs were shaking. He knew that Ethan wasn't an entirely sane man; he had done his research on him.

He was deadly.

"Let's start with, who are you working for?" Ethan asked, bringing his hand up and aiming the arrow at Henry, ready to throw it. Henry parted his lips, prepared to say something, but stopped himself. That made Ethan let go of the arrow. The small sharp object flew through the air and landed just next to Henry's cheek, creating a little cut there. Henry flinched slightly as blood immediately started coming out of the wound.

"Answer me!" Ethan screamed. "Or else the next one is going directly to your eye. I'm sure you don't need it anyway." He raised his hand again, clenching his jaw as he waited for any kind of response from him. Henry's eyes widened, and his heart was beating fast.

"Nicholas Snow. I- I work for Nicholas Snow." Henry confessed with a trembling voice as Ethan threw the arrow on the wall right beside his torso. Henry sucked in a breath, relief washing over him. He had just broken the rules; he had revealed the name he was working for.

"Why?" Ethan asked.

"H-he wants me to find who killed his sister. That's all, I swear. I'm not lying." Henry was quick to reply this time.

A frown took over Ethan's features, and he stared at the floor for a couple of minutes, anger consuming him at the mention of his beloved Nina. He groaned loudly and threw the last dagger with force on Henry's leg. A cry left Henry's lips as the sharp edge entered and cut his flesh, making him fall to the ground as unwanted tears slipped from his eyes due to the pain.

"Take him! Lock him in the basement! Now!" Ethan yelled at Steve and ran out of the room, cursing under his breath, only to bump into Alexander, who was standing right outside the door. His eyes widened when he saw him, but he was quick to cover his shock.

"Alexander. Do you need anything?" Ethan asked him as they both started walking towards Alexander's office. Alexander never left his room and office, and he always preferred to be alone and away from everyone, so to see him there surprised him.

He must have been looking for me, Ethan thought as they entered his office. Alexander motioned for him to sit down, and he walked over his desk to go and sit on his chair as well. Ethan observed him nervously as he intertwined his fingers and placed his hands on top of the desk.

"Did he speak?" Alexander asked. Ethan knew that he was referring to Henry, so he immediately nodded his head.

"Yes, he works for Nick." He informed him. Alexander let out a dry laugh shaking his head.

"That boy will never learn."

"We're talking about Nick here, you know him. He's stubborn." Ethan told him. He wet his lips hesitating before he asked his next question. "He is searching for Nina's killers. It doesn't make sense. Why would he do that? Do you know something that I don't?"

Alexander pursed his lips together, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't expecting that.

How does Nick know?

He made sure to hide any trace back then.

"No, I don't. I don't know why Nick is searching for her killers, which don't exist. Nina committed suicide, Ethan. You read her letter. You were the one that found her cold and lifeless body lying on the floor. You saw her cut wrists and blood." Alexander told him, raising his voice a bit. Ethan's eyes drifted to his feet, and he placed his hands over his face, sighing deeply. Alexander is right; he reminded himself.

"I know, I remember. Everything. I was just surprised." He confessed.

"Don't let anything distract you, Ethan. We are close, soon enough we will have everything. Angelina is forced to do whatever I tell her to do. She cares too much to do otherwise. Poor Nicky. This is his end." Alexander said, smiling in triumph.

"Speaking of Nick. Do you remember when you sent me to go to the orphanage where they took him from?" Ethan asked him. It was time to finally tell Alexander what he had found because maybe that piece of information would change everything.

"Yes, I do. I have forgotten to ask you about it. Did you find anything?"

"I did, and it concerns you too. I found the adoption papers, and it had his mother's name written on it. I gave you the papers, but as it seems, you haven't seen them yet." Ethan told him, exhaling deeply. He didn't know what reaction to expect from Alexander.

"So, what's the problem? Why does it concern me?" Alexander asked, furrowing his eyebrows together as he stared at Ethan with curiosity.

"Nick's mother's name is Paulina Cox," Ethan said and paused, waiting for him to say something. Alexander jaw clenched, and he gripped the edges of his chair tightly as he tried to control his breathing. Just the mention of that name made his blood boil, and anger started consuming him.

Betrayal.

She was the woman that betrayed him and crushed his heart. She was Nick's mother. He was the son of a prostitute, a Doll.

"Alexander. Did you hear me?"

"Are you sure about that?" Alexander asked him, coming out of his trace.

"Yes, you can see the papers yourself. Listen, Alexander, I know who she was, you have talked to me about her. Nick-"

"Nicholas Snow is not my son!" Alexander yelled, hitting his fist on the wooden desk. "She was a Doll; she fucked for a living. Nick is not my son! He can't be."

Ethan didn't say anything. There was no reason for him to argue with Alexander; it wasn't his concern. Alexander could deny or accept the truth; it was up to him. The room fell silent. Alexander was lost in his own world. Memories flashed through his eyes, and he recalled the day that Paulina had come to his house, telling him that she was pregnant with his child and cried on his doorstep. She swore that he was the father, but he didn't believe her, and he still didn't. Nick wasn't his son.

He would never admit that.

"This doesn't change anything, Ethan. Learning that he is the son of the woman I loved and now hate only made me want to ruin him worse, sicker..."

He isn't mine.

~ ~ ~

[Nicholas]

"Do you have what I asked for? Perfect. Wait for me there. Yes, I'll be there soon." I hung up and placed my phone in my pocket, standing up from my chair. I organized the papers on top of my desk and glanced one more time at the article on my computer screen. It was Bianca's article, the one she wanted to interview me for. Her comments about me or the company weren't the best, but I wasn't expecting anything more from her. I'm sure she was still angry with what happened in New York. Arrogant and rude were some of the words she used to describe my personality.

I shut the screen off and took my suitcase in my hand, making my way out of the office. It was past working time, so everyone was gone, everyone except Enrique and another employee who still had some work to do. I waved at them as I passed his office, but Enrique stood up quickly and motioned for me to wait.

"Hey, I haven't seen you recently. Your secretary always tells me that you don't want to see anyone. How have you been?" He asked me. This was exactly why I didn't want to see anyone. To avoid a stupid and pointless conversation. I'm in a hurry.

"I'm fine." I lied, glancing at my watch.

"Stop doing this, Nick. Don't push people away from you. For you to recover, you need to let us help you. We care about you; we're your friends." Enrique said, placing his hand on my shoulder. I pursed my lips together, looking at him with a hard expression. They are not my friends, and surely, they don't care. No one fucking understands how I feel right now.

"Nobody understands me, 'Rique. My sister did, and she died, Anges did, and now she died too. Everyone I ever cared about is now dead, and no one can help me recover from this. I just want to be alone. I can take care of myself." I told him, raising my voice.

"I just want you to know that you can talk to me if you want. I know how easy it is for someone to fall apart. Don't do anything you will regret, don't ruin yourself." He said. I nodded my head. I just wanted this conversation done and over with, the last thing I needed was someone to lecture me about what I should and shouldn't do.

"I won't, Enrique," I reassured him. He nodded his head and looked back at his office, where Emilia was sitting writing on the computer and then back at me, smiling widely. I didn't have to think much to realize that something was going on with them.

"So, you're just working, right?" I asked him smirking.

"Yes. I will take her on a date tomorrow. I'm a gentleman, Nick, something that, according to Bianca's article, you are not." Enrique said and started laughing.

"Don't remind me of her."

"What did you do, Snow?" He asked me. I rolled my eyes at his amused expression but eventually smiled. Damn it.

"I said the wrong name while we were having sex," I confessed, causing a loud gasp to escape Enrique's mouth before he started laughing.

"No, you didn't. Oh my God, you cheeky bastard."

"Yes, I did, but she forgot to write about that in her article," I told him, feeling annoyed again by the stupid way she decided to take revenge on me. "I have to go now, Enrique. I must go somewhere."

"Okay. Oh, and I searched about Maxwell Starr as you had asked me to do. You won't believe what I found." He exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

Believe me, Enrique, I know exactly what you found.

"You will show me another time. Goodnight, Enrique." I said and turned my back to him, walking fast towards the exit. I was already late enough. My phone keeps vibrating, and I knew that it was him and that he was probably getting impatient of waiting for me, so I had to be fast and get to the address he had told me.

As I entered the narrow and dark streets of the abandoned neighborhood, I slowed down my speed and moved forward, narrowing my eyes as I tried to make out any movement in the alleys. I had been in this place many times before when I was in Ethan's gang, and I knew what kind of people lived here. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to come here and do what I had in mind, but there was no turning back now. I wouldn't let Enrique's words change my mind. This was my life, and I could do whatever I wanted with it, even ruin it.

I got out of my car and approached the small figure standing at the end of the alley. It was a boy much younger than me, probably sixteen years old. He was nervous; I could see it in his eyes when he saw me coming closer. It was clearly his first time doing this thing, but for me, it wasn't.

"Do you have it?" I asked him. He nodded, pulling a small bag out of his pocket. I took it from him immediately and handed him the money I promised. The boy looked at me with wide eyes. His face was bruised, and marks covered his neck, they were signs of many years of abuse. He parted his lips and whispered a small thank you. Then he ran away, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

I was once again left alone. I gulped, bringing the small packet in front of my face and observing it cautiously. I pressed my back against the brick wall and slipped down until my knees touched the dirty ground. It was a stupid thing to do, and I knew it better than anyone. I had done this before when I was younger when Nina died, and I knew how good it could make you feel, but once the effect was gone, everything came crashing down a million times harder.

I didn't want to feel the pain that came along with Agnes' death. I didn't want the mixed emotions that Angelina made me feel. I didn't want to feel love. I cared about her, probably too much for my own good. One kiss and I was addicted to her. She was an addiction, but so was the coke in my hand. If I did take it, I would get addicted again.

Which addiction is better?