I woke up with a headache, my hand immediately going to my temple. My eyes were blurry at first and took a moment to adjust, but once they did, confusion filled me. 

Why am I in the hospital?

"You're awake Ms. Gomez!" A doctor smiled at me while entering, her voice making me wince at first. 

She apologized before speaking quieter, "I'm sorry. You have a slight concussion, so noise and light will bother you. You may feel a little confused and tired also, but as long as you rest you'll be fine."

My head was in too much pain to think about why I was here. 

A different doctor's voice yelled in the hallway, "Sir, you can't go in there!"

Miles was immediately in the doorway after this, staring down at the doctor in my room who was now blocking him from coming in. She looked up at him, "Sir-"

"You and nobody else is going to keep me from coming into this room. So get the fuck out of my way," Miles nearly spat, and my eyebrows lowered when I looked at his arm. His arm had a white wrapping around it, making me even more curious about what happened.

After a staredown that Miles clearly wasn't backing down from, the doctor told him to be quiet in here and left. As my eyes met his they were soft and worried, his voice also showing that, "Hey. How are you feeling?"

His hand started to run through my hair and he was quiet - nearly whispering to not hurt my head. I replied, "I feel like shit."

A small laugh escaped his lips and I moved over in the bed, giving him enough room to sit beside me. Once my eyes fell back onto his arm I asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing, don't worry. I'll explain everything to you once you feel better. The doctors said earlier that you should feel better in a few days," He spoke softly.

He suddenly moved something to be in front of me, which was in his right hand. It was a slurpee from 7-Eleven and I smiled at him, "Did you get this for me?"

"Mhm. But let me hold it so your hand doesn't freeze," He replied, putting the straw to my lips so that I could drink it. 

I took a sip of it, my dry mouth appreciating it. As he continued to hold it for me and I continued to drink it, memories started to find their way back into my brain.

The shooting.

Gorge.

Charolette.

I abruptly pulled away from the drink, "Is Sera okay? How many people died? I'll pay for all of their funerals. Christian killed Charlotte, is he in trouble?"

"Shhh," Miles said quietly, rubbing his thumb against my cheek, "I don't want you to worry about anything right now. Sera is okay and she's at home, but you need rest."

His words didn't stop my head from racing with thoughts. Why would Gorge want me? And why would he be willing to shoot people to get me?

I started to push myself to stand up when Miles held onto me to stop me, "You aren't supposed to be getting up."

"And people aren't supposed to get killed at birthday parties."

He let out a small sigh, "It's not your fault, Alissa. I promise."

"Then whose fault is it?" I asked with tears coating my eyes.

"Alissa, you have a concussion-"

I cut him off, "I don't fucking care!"

He looked at me sympathetically, moving some hair out of my face. He pulled me closer to him as he started to explain, "Your father promised Gorge your hand in marriage. They signed a contract and once your dad returns to America, you're supposed to get married to him. But it seems like Gorge isn't very patient. But don't worry, okay? Gorge might have gotten away but he's going to be found soon, and I'm going to deal with your father."

My heart dropped. How terrible of a father do you have to be to just be willing to force your daughter into a marriage that she doesn't want to be in?

"What about Charlotte?"

"I'm assuming Charlotte was in on the plan with Gorge, but she was actually playing him. She wasn't helping him get you, she went there to kill you. The don doesn't know that Christian is the one who killed her because I burned all of the security tapes."

My brain processed all of the words he was telling me. I dropped my head onto his chest, taking all of what he was telling me in. He played with my hair as I laid there, feeling sick that my father would do this. 

I asked Miles, "What do you mean by 'deal with my father'?"

His hands paused for a second. He continued while saying gently, "Alissa, he deserves to die."

He probably expected me to disagree, argue, try and convince him not to. But now, I agreed.

"Can we go home?" I asked him quietly, playing with the hospital band around my wrist.

"I'll go ask the doctor," He said before pushing himself up, walking out of the white hospital room.

I stared up at the ceiling, feeling so much guilt for what happened. Miles could've died because of me. Until Gorge is dead he's never going to stop trying to get me. That means more writing on my windows, more shootings, and more times people I care about being at risk. 

Maybe I'd be better off handing myself over to Gorge. 

If I handed myself over, nobody else that I care about would get hurt. Miles would be safe. Christian would be safe. Sera would be safe. 

Everybody would be safe. All I have to do is hand myself over. 

A doctor came back into the hospital room with Miles, telling us that we were free to go home. They gave me instructions on what to do for my concussion, and they gave Miles instructions on what to do for his arm. 

Miles carried me out to the car despite me telling him I could walk just fine. And then the same thing happened when he carried me up to his bedroom, shutting all of the blinds so that it was dark.

He whispered to me, "I'll be right back. I'm going to get you a glass of water."

☾ Miles ☾

I stood in the kitchen for a while, palms on the table and leaning forwards with my head down. 

She doesn't deserve this.

I know it's just a concussion. And I know she's going to be fine. But knowing that she got hurt makes my fucking boil blood in a way that only killing is able to soothe. Or, at least, it was.

Because now, the thought of holding her in my arms makes my blood pressure decrease. She calms me down, keeps me from losing my shit. 

Pulling out my phone, I called the same person that was going to kill her father before. Once he picked up I ordered him, "Kill Lincoln. No matter what I say after this phone call, kill him. Make him suffer."

Once they gave me a response, I hung up. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water before heading upstairs, seeing Alissa turning the TV on. I snatched the remote from her and her, "No light and no noises."

"Fun police over here," She muttered.

I rolled my eyes and handed her the water as she pushed herself up. I rubbed her back up and down while she drank, and once she removed her lips she asked me, "Is your arm okay?"

"It's fine. I said I'd never get fucking shot again but here we are," I shrugged, "But I'd take 10 bullets before I'd let you take 1."

She had such a shitty birthday yesterday. Fuck, I wish I could just take her to Hawaii and let her relax for the rest of her life and get to experience the lifelong happiness that she deserves. She deserves the fucking world.

"I'm gonna take you somewhere once your head feels better," I told her.

Not out of the country again. Or at least not yet. But there's somewhere in New York that I felt like she would love. I'd go there a lot as a kid, usually during nights when my mom and dad were fighting and I couldn't sleep.

It felt like a safe place to me. I'd go there to forget about life. And now, I want Alissa to have a place like that too.

"I should take a shower. I feel a little gross," She told me, "I don't want my hair touching me."

The corners of my mouth turned up as I repeated, "You don't want your hair touching you?"

"Nope," She replied, popping the 'p.'

I got out of bed, walking into the bathroom. I grabbed one of her hair ties and her brush before walking back out and telling her, "I'll put your hair in a braid for now, then you can take a shower tomorrow."

She scooted up and I sat behind her, brushing her hair softly so that it wouldn't hurt her. She has pretty thick hair, so it took me a while, but once I was done I put it into a braid. While tying the elastic at the bottom I asked her, "Does that feel any better?"

She nodded as I moved back to be sitting beside her, letting her lay down. She rested her head on the pillow and her eyes started to droop against her will. I ran my fingertips up and down her back, helping her fall asleep.

And once she was asleep, the soft sound of her breathing filled the silent room. How can such an amazing girl get dealt such a shitty home situation?

She and I both had terrible childhoods. But the part that makes her better than me, that shows she's admirable and strong, is how different the ways we turned out are. I became a killer, a monster, a cold-blooded assassin. But she stayed her. Bubbly, positive, sweet. Everything good in a person.

My phone buzzed with a text from Christian, so I quietly left the room. I walked down the hallway and into his room and saw him sitting on the side of his bed, slipping a pair of black boots on. He spoke quietly, "Nic needs help with a kill. You wanna come?"

"Alissa just fell asleep. I want to be here in case she needs anything."

He looked up at me while tying his shoe, "She okay? Did you tell her about Gorge?"

"I did, and she will be. I talked to Rodrigo and he's going to kill her father, and I'm going to find Gorge and make him die painfully," I promised out loud. 

Christian nodded, standing up to his full height. He crossed his arms while telling me, "We shouldn't underestimate Gorge. He was able to get to the party undetected, get into your backyard without anybody seeing him, and is hard as fuck to find. We need to have a real plan to catch him, and I hate to say it, but Nic's plan is our best chance."

I immediately shook my head, "Fuck no. Alissa isn't going anywhere near him."

"Just think about it, okay?" Christian told me, putting his hand on my shoulder for a moment before walking past me.

Not even a fucking chance I'll let that happen. 

I quietly entered my bedroom again, laying down in the bed slowly so that the shifting of the bed wouldn't wake her up. Once I was fully laying down, I put my hand over hers. 

I'd pick her over killing any day.