When Nickola and I walked back into the study, they were still at it.

"Okay, just because these five are known to the police doesn't mean they're the ones that shot at the casino or that there isn't more of them," Patrick stated, pacing as he thought.

"No, but it wouldn't be hard to find one and question them," Garrick told him.

Patrick nodded, rubbing his lip. I loved to watch him think. The way his brows came together and his eyes became dark with concentration. He became hidden in a shadow, in a world where no one could touch him.

"Is there any possibility that all they wanted to do was shoot at the casino?" Nickola asked, moving closer to the boys that surrounded the desk, watching their boss think.

The boys talked about it being a possibility but my gut wouldn't settle. All I kept thinking about was that one name that sent shivers down my spine.

Drago thought there should be one Mafia in New York, our Mafia. It was the strongest, the biggest and the most powerful. He had Harald Balboni on board and Paige Caivano was on the fence. My father was dead against it. He knew the importance of the other Mafias for our business and that taking them down would be starting World War lll

What about my father?

Your father was against it too. He worked hard to try and get the other families on board. He even spoke to the other Mafias, telling them about Drago's plan

How did they get rid of them? If this guy was as powerful as you say he was, he was clearly not going to go down without a fight. How did they get rid of him?

You still aren't getting it. Our marriage. The very idea of our families uniting was enough to send Drago underground. No one has heard for him since -

What if Oscar's plan didn't work? Drago had fifteen years to plan an attack on us. And what better way than to wait fifteen years and let Oscar and Pappa think that they had succeeded.

"Is there any chance that this could be related to Sebastian Drago?"

Patrick froze, his eyes darkening. I could feel his fury as if it was my own.

"No," he growled, angry that I had brought it up, "Drago has disappeared."

"Exactly, he's had fifteen years to plan something," I argued.

He shook his head not willingly to hear it. But the more I thought of it, the more it made sense.

"I mean, we were only married a few days before we were shot at. You said so yourself that our marriage threatened his plan over world domination."

"Eliza, enough," he ordered, taking two steps towards me.

The boys watched like hawks, remaining silent so not to provoke the beast more.

"It makes sense. My father had enemies, sure. But none that would profit from his death. Drago would."

"Eliza, enough!" He shouted this time, "everything that the two of us sacrificed couldn't have been for nothing."

"I'm not saying that, but we can't rule it out completely. It would make sense why all the other mercenaries aren't connected. You keep killing them all."

That won me a few snickers, none from Patrick. He turned around and started to pace, trying to stay in denial as long as possible.

First a click before the door to the study swung opened, almost hitting me in the process. I stumbled, almost loosing my footing before Nickola took ahold of my arm.

"What the hell?" Nickola snapped as Oscar stormed into the room.

"Tell me it isn't true?" Oscar growled, looking straight at Patrick.

"I'm sorry, Mr Patrick," Mrs Philips cried, running into the room, "I tried to tell him you were busy but he -."

"It's okay, Mrs Philips," Patrick reassured her before looking back at his father in a cold hard stare, "you can go now."

Mrs Philips smile at him before glaring at the back of Oscar's head and making her way out of the study. I was frozen, now that two bulls were in the room.

"Out," Patrick ordered, clicking his fingers.

He didn't have to ask them twice. Piero, Alberto and Antonio were particularly shoving each other out of the way to get to the door.

Nickola hesitated before finally letting go of me and making his way out of the room. Garrick looked between Oscar and Patrick remaining at his post behind the desk. The look Patrick and Garrick gave each other said it all. Garrick didn't want to leave Patrick with the snake but Patrick gave the orders and he was meant to follow them. With a frustrated nod, he left too.

I was still, not sure if I should leave or stay.

"Not going to shoo your wife away," Oscar growled, narrowing his eyes at Patrick.

"Eliza's her own boss, she can do what she likes," Patrick argued, keeping his voice low and stable.

Honestly, I would have preferred it if he was yelling at Oscar.

They both turned to me, waiting for my decision. A part of me wanted to run before I was caught in the cross fire. Another part, the part I listened to, needed me to stay by Patrick's side and protect him from the bomb.

When it was clear that I wasn't going anywhere, Patrick cleared his throat, "so, what brings you here, in my house, uninvited?"

"Is it true? Were you at that bloody casino last night?" Oscar demanded.

Patrick's silent and solid stare, gave him his answer.

Oscar huffed in disbelief, "how could you be so stupid? How could you put Eliza in harms way like that?"

"I am getting really sick of people coming into my home and telling me how I should be keeping my wife safe. She's alive isn't she?" He snapped, a fire burning in his eyes, "and don't you dare come in here and pretend that you care at all for Eliza's wellbeing."

"Excuse me?" Oscar spat, "she's my daughter-in-law -."

"She's your investment!" Patrick spat.

His, what? Investment? That's a new insult.

"You watch your -."

"Don't deny it! I know you, I know how your mind works," he growled, taking two quick steps forward and pointed his finger at Oscar, "the only reason your here is to make sure that she's still alive because it would look bad on the Maestri name if she had died."

Patrick backed away, rubbing his chin to release the anger. I, however, was frozen stiff. I was in a room with two angry beasts.

"You ungrateful bastard. How dare you speak to me like that? Show me some respect," Oscar demanded.

"Respect? Respect? I have more respect for the homeless on the street than I do you," Patrick barked.

Oh crap.

"I beg your pardon."

"Your a snake," he growled, "you sold your own flesh and blood for a bit of profit."

Oscar scoffed, flicking his gaze to me before turning back to Patrick.

"And I bet your life is so unbearable. Curled up to her at night. Some should be so lucky."

Patrick's jaw twitched, his eyes turning dark with hatred.

"Hopefully she might bare a son that isn't such a disappointment."

My jaw dropped. How could he speak to him like that? How could he -

Thud!

A yelp escaped my lip when Patrick swung his fist at Oscar. I jumped at the sight of Oscar's head snapping unnaturally sideways. Oh my god. Patrick just hit his father. Holy cow!

"Don't you ever speak to me like that?" Patrick growled, spitting on him in the process.

Oscar was still for a moment, massaging his reddening cheek. In a blink of an eye, he swung his fist at Patrick, almost hitting him before Patrick lunged for him.

"Do that again? And see what happens," He spat.

"Remember who taught you how to kill," Oscar warned.

Oh my God. They were going to kill each other.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I was trying to spilt them up.

"Let go!" I screamed at Patrick, hitting his arms and back, "let go!"

He ignored me, staring dead in Oscar's eyes. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he was clutching Oscar's jacket.

"He's not worth it!" I screamed in his ear, hoping he would listen.

I could see it in his face. The anger boiling up inside of him but the strength to let go as well. He pushed Oscar away, keeping his gaze.

"He's not worth the bullet," I yelled at him, clutching his arm.

Oh God. What was the family that I had married into? They hated each other. They were family but they hated each other.

Thud!

I had only turned my back for a second. But a second was all Patrick needed to pin the bastard to the ground.

"Patrick!" I screamed.

My heart leaped into my throat when I spotted the death grip he had on Oscar's throat.

"Patrick!" I screamed, even louder taking a hold of his shoulders.

Oscar choked for air under him, his face swollen and turning red. I pulled and pulled, but Patrick's strong build wouldn't give.

The world went black. My lip became numb. My head ached and pounded. All I could taste was blood on my tongue.

"Eliza!" I heard Patrick cry.

My eyes fluttered opened to the ceiling before I felt his arms and his warm around me, lifting me up. My lip felt swollen and made tears fill my eyes. My fingertips touched my lip, causing me to flinch.

Blood? I was bleeding?

Click

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pull the trigger?" Patrick growled.

Trigger? What trigger? Oh my god. I became paralysed at the sight of the gun in Patrick's hand. And he was pointing it at Oscar.

"Because you never could before," Oscar scoffed, struggling to get to his feet.

His cheek was already starting to swell and his hand massaged his neck where Patrick had squeezed.

"Things are different now," Patrick told him, squeezing me tighter in his arms.

"Yes, you have a wife to protect. Go on. Kill me. Let's see it make you into the man you want to be. Not the weak one I see in front of me," Oscar croaked, his voice still returning.

Don't do it! I wanted to scream, he's not worth it.

My head tilted up, praying that he would look down at me and see something in my eyes that told him that he didn't have to do this. That all he needed to do was drop the gun and be with me. His father wasn't worth the last piece of his soul.

"Please," I whispered, my voice so quiet that I wasn't even sure if I had said it.

Patrick was still but eventually he lowered the gun.

Oh thank god. My love for him only grew in that moment.

"I'm strong enough to let you live," Patrick growled, tightening his grip on me, "but I'm done with you."

"Your done with me?" Oscar questioned, narrowing his eyes, "you fool. Now more than ever, we need to be united."

"On the surface," Patrick told him, his voice more his own than filled with rage, "I'll be your business associate. But other than that, let's not pretend. I want nothing to do with you and I want you to stay away from me and Eliza."

"I'm your father, Patrick," he snapped, almost hurt.

"Maybe once," Patrick corrected, breaking my heart, "but your not him."

"Boss?" Garrick called, poking his head through the door.

His brows soon draw together as soon as he saw the sight.

"What the -?"

"Garrick can you please escort Mr Maestri out of the house. He's not coming back," Patrick asked.

Garrick eyes widened with shock as Oscar's boiled with fury.

"You'll regret this, boy," he spat, "you have no idea what your getting yourself into."

"Well, that will be my problem, won't it? Mine and my wife's," he argued, his chest grumbling, "now, get out."

Oscar still remained, his eyes flicking between Patrick and me and wondering where it all went wrong. When did his son started to hate him? When did he became so dark that nothing seemed to matter to him?

Garrick got annoyed by waiting and reached out for Oscar's arm. He shook it away with a grumble before storming out the door himself. My body relaxed once he had and I felt like I could breathe again now that the threat was gone.

"Can you ask Mrs Philips for a wet cloth too, please," Patrick asked him just before he left.

"Yeah, no worries. But your telling me exactly what happened, got it?" Garrick ordered before leaving us alone.

I suddenly had this need to get up and try to take control of this situation.

"Hey, hey," Patrick stopped me, taking a hold of my arms, "easy."

I shook my head, my lip burning from even the thought of speaking. Patrick supported me and help me on my feet.

"Come to the lounge," Patrick ordered, leading me over to the leather lounge.

I flopped down on the cushion, touching my lip again.

"Never, ever do that again, do you hear?" Patrick snapped, kneeling in front of me and cupping my cheeks in his hands.

"I couldn't let you kill him," I croaked, shifting on the lounge.

"It's only because of you that I didn't. But never, never get between a fight again. Your lucky a spilt lip was all that happened," he told me.

I heard the hint of fear in his voice as I realized how stupid it was. If we had been in front of a night club and I had been hit, there would have been some serious damage than a spilt lip. But Patrick's soul was worth the fight.

"I'm so sorry," he confessed, one of the most truthful things he had ever said to me, "I should have told you to leave like the others."

"I'm glad that you didn't," I sighed, my eye lids feeling heavy, "did you, did you mean what you said? A-about me being my own boss."

"That was only for his benefit," he admitted, making me shake my head and manage a painful smile, "but, some times, you can be your own boss. When your not trying to get yourself killed."

That was good enough for me.

Knock, knock

"Come in," Patrick called.

Mrs Philips came through in a huff, less formal than she was before.

"Your father's gone. He looked as if he was going to kill someone," she gasped, handing him a wet cloth.

Patrick and I shared looks before he gently placed the cool cloth to my lip.

I winched and pulled back, not wanting it anymore.

"Ouch," I hissed, taking the cloth from his hands and doing it myself.

"So," Mrs Philips started, crossing her arms and staring at Patrick, "are you going to tell me what happened?"

Patrick sighed, looking a little annoyed before telling her, "I hit him."

"I know about that. You can see the dint in his face a mile away. I'm talking about Lizzy," she rephrased, narrowing her eyes at him.

Patrick sighed again, "she tried to break us up and I accidentally hit her - ow!"

I jumped when Mrs Philips hit him, surprised that she had the guts too.

"Don't you ever lay a finger on her again, do you hear me? I expect that from your evil father but I thought more of you," She yelled at him like he was no more than a school boy getting scolded for getting dirty.

"I didn't plan it. It's the last thing I want," He argued.

"You better hope so. Or I'll point that gun, on you."

I had forgotten about the gun that still lied on the floor. It made my skin crawl, like we were staring death in the face.

Patrick sighed but nodded.

"Now, is there anything else you need me to get. Water?" She asked.

I nodded, but couldn't say the word.

"Water, please," Patrick voiced for the two of us.

"Okay," she answered, smiling at me before glaring at him and making her way out of the study.

Taking the towel from my lip, seeing if there was still blood. Looking at Patrick there was nothing but sadness in his eyes. He was no longer angry about his father, now sad that he had hurt me.

Wanting to raise his spirits, I said, "I suppose I look like a mess, don't I?"

He managed a smile, rubbing my cheek, "yes."

I snorted, feeling a bit better myself. Though that moment was short lived when I remembered their argument. It wasn't the first time that I had been given an insight in their relationship with little context of what was really being said. It was time to know.

"Patrick, what did you mean by I'm Oscar's investment?" I questioned him.

He shrugged covering his uneasiness, "you said so yourself that our marriage was a way to get Oscar more money."

"I know, but you said once that this wasn't the first time he had tried something like this," I said, remembering their argument in my room, "has he tried marrying you off to other rich women before?"

Patrick shook his head, a little amused by my question, "no, he...he married my mother for her money."

Oh. My heart sunk once again. Patrick never really had a shot for a happy life, did he? There was no real love in his home.

"And the g-gun? He said that this wasn't the first time you pointed a gun at him," I asked.

"Eliza, my relationship with my father is complicated," he sighed, hoping I would drop the subject.

Boy, was he wrong.

"Please tell me," I begged him, squeezing his shoulder, "please."

He sighed, but nodded and jumped in the cushioned seat next to me.

Not looking me in the eyes, he started his story.

"There was a time where my father wasn't so dark. He would read books to me before bed and brought me anything I had asked for," he started, bringing up memories of my own childhood, "but then my mother died. And he became so damn cold."

I swallowed, taking a hold of his hand. He squeezed it back, but still couldn't look at me.

"I did everything he asked. I mean, I killed my own god damn dog because he asked me too. He made me into him and I lost my soul because of it."

I bit my lip, struggling to contain my tears.

"I was twenty-one," he sighed, "I got wasted on one of his bottle of scotches. Something about that day, I don't know, I just couldn't do it any more. I couldn't live under his shadow. So, I waited for him, with the gun in my hand."

My heart started to pound as I feared the end of his story.

"He wanted me too, he told me too. I knew it was a test but I didn't care. I wanted him dead," the words ran quickly off his tongue, as if he was back in the room again, "but I couldn't do it. For the first time, I couldn't pull the trigger."

"That's a good thing Patrick," I reassured him, brushing his cheek with the back of my fingers, "only monsters kill flesh and blood."

He nodded but didn't agree with me. Soon, my head suddenly felt heavy and I could barely keep my eyes opened.

"I love you, Patrick," I whispered drifting off to sleep.

"I -," he paused, "sleep tight, darling."