*Rose's POV*

It's been a week

A full week in Paris

Don't get me wrong. I understand that this is an amazing opportunity and France is truly beautiful, but I'm tired. I haven't been out of the hotel since the dinner the first night we arrived.

Cole says it's for my protection. He says the problem was a bit bigger than he expected. I recognize his reasoning, nevertheless, it still sucks.

It doesn't help that I've barely seen him. He slides into bed late at night and gets up before I'm awake. I'm trying to keep my feelings at bay. This is the lifestyle I chose and it comes with long nights.

"I'm bored," I whine to Angel.

We were sitting out on the hotel balcony. Just listening to the people of Paris. It's cute how there's always music to be heard in the streets. Whether it's a struggling musician performing for tips or a corner cafe's drowned speakers.

Paris is everything but quiet, yet it is peaceful.

My coffee is running low and I've read this dumbass french dictionary two times already. May I mention that I'm still not fluent in French?

"I want a tattoo," I stare into the busy scene below me.

"What?"

Angel laughs looking up from some romance novel she picked up at a local bookstore.

"Yeah, I'm getting a tattoo," I stand up. "You're welcome to come along, but I'm going,"

"Rose, this is so impulsive," She pauses, but soon stands up. "I love it!"

"How are we gonna get past the guards in front of the door?" I ask grabbing my gun.

Two guards are stationed at the door. I can think of one way to get past them, but I'd prefer not to kill such nice people.

Angel pauses, looking around the room. The thought of jumping off the balcony crossed my mind. We'll mark that as a last resort though. Her eyes stop on the escape ladder that was linked to the neighboring balcony.

"Climb up the ladder and there should be an elevator or stairs on the roof. Then we'll be able to go to the lobby and head out." She states calmly.

I look at the ladder, then back at her.

"You first."

***

"I can't believe that fucking worked!" Angel laughs linking arms with me as we cruise the stone sidewalk.

"That was amazing," I enthuse, "But how will we get back to the roof without people asking questions?"

"Around here, people don't really ask questions," She answers, "Chances are you might hear an answer that you don't like."

I can see that

"This one right here," I gesture at a pretty stone shop with a yellow neon light sign displayed on the front reading Bonjour encased in a heart.

"Why?"

"It's cute and it looks touristy."

The tattoo parlor smells of medical soap, a very unique smell. It's not bad. It's just different.

"Bonjour Mesdames, how can I help you?" The clerk speaks English very well but the French accent is very heavy.

"Yes ma'am, do you take walk-ins?"

The very nice tattoo people allowed us to get a tattoo at the same time. They said they were free right now considering all appointments were scheduled later in the day. Angel sat next to me taking it like a straight pro and I cried a little on the inside.

Maybe a bit on the outside as well

"Fini!" The nice French man backs away from me with a smile prominent on his face.

(French: Done)

He brings me over to the mirror. My excitement overpowers the burning sensation on my ribs. Black cursive lettering dances skillfully across my reddened skin.

"Oh mon Dieu," I breathe.

(French: Oh my God)

I got that from my french dictionary

" Vita non est vivere sed valere vita est," Angel reads it off.

"There is more to life than merely living," I translate, "Turn around let me see yours."

At the base of the back of her neck, litters the words:

We're all mad here

"Ooh," I coo, "I like this one."

Angel turns around, smiling big. She gave both tattoo artists two-hundred dollars each, muttering pleasantries in french, then goes on to pay the clerk. The sun somehow makes the burning sensation of my tattoo increase. If the plastic wrap wasn't on I'd scratch the tattoo right off.

The rest of the morning was spent purely with fun. We stole some bikes and toured the Eiffel Tower. Then snuck onto the metro to go see the Louver Museum and Notre Dame. It feels good to do crazy things and not worry about whos watching or who wants to kill me.

I fell in love with that lifestyle, but it still feels nice to be normal again.

"Despite all that french food, I could really go for an American hamburger right now," I comment.

French cuisine is very heavy. Don't get me wrong American food is heavy as well, but it's heavy in a different way. French food has my stomach talking to me.

And it's cussing me out

"I agree-" Angel trails off as we make it inside the hotel.

Everything was so busy contrary to its normal calm state. Guards had guns up running past us. Yelling can be heard from all around. I look at Angel, Angel looks at me.

"Someone want to tell me what's going all?" I ask, not loud enough though as I'm completely ignored.

"Hey!" Angel fires a shot into the ground, halting everyone, "What the fuck?"

"You have 30 fucking seconds to find them before I start shooting!"

The familiar voice booms from behind the chaos. I finally understand what's happening.

Guards start to clear a path, down the path walks an angry Cole. Once he makes eye contact with me his eyes soften but his body visibly becomes tenser. A pissed off Elijah follows right after him. However, when Elijah makes eye contact with me his eyes don't soften, they flare-up.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" Elijah yells as he pushes me in my hotel room. "Do you know how dangerous it is for you to stroll the streets right now?"

"No!" I scream back, "I don't know because you haven't told me shit. In case you fucking forgotten, I've been stuck in the hotel room for 7 days!"

"Have I not proven myself?" I spin around to face everyone in the room.

Angel stands in the corner, Cole stands against the kitchen counter, and Elijah stands in front of me with his dumbass face contorted in anger.

"That's not the point! Not everything is fun games, Lorena!"

Flinch at the tone of which he used my real name. It's not something I can help. It remember me too much of how I'm used to being spoken too. Involuntary hatred flared at my chest, pumped in my veins.

"Who's fucking laughing, Elijah?" I shove him back. "I wanted to get out, have some fresh air. Is that a crime?"

"All of you have obviously forgotten what I've come from. I will not sit in a room and wait like a sitting duck. If you would've told me this is what Paris would be like I'd be home.

I jab at my brother's chest, "I kick ass on a daily basis if you're not going to take me with you, then at least tell me what the hell is going on!"

I can see in Elijah's face, his growing anger. I want him to blow up. I want him to say some shit just so I can knock him on his ass. They've all got me fucked up.

"Just because you fuck a gang leader doesn't mean you kick ass-"

My hand connecting to his face cuts him off. My hand stings from the impact. I can feel the blood rushing to my palm. My handprint is stained on the side of Elijah's face.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that again."

Elijah's nostrils flare, Cole is now off the wall and Angel is pulling at Elijah to leave. A prominent vein appears on his forehead. I've seen it once before when a boy pushed me down at the playground. I cried for Elijah. That was the angriest I've ever seen him.

Until now

I don't give a single fuck. I want him to hit me. Let's just call it even. I want him to give me a reason to release eleven years' worth of pain on him. It's not like we're much of siblings anyway.

He glares at me before bitterly stomping out of the door. Angel shoots me a sympathetic smile before running after him. I can't even stand still, I'm so irritated. My breathing is ragged as tears form in my eyes.

All out of anger.

A cool hand grasps my reddened one. My burning ribs decide to flare up at the increase of blood flow. My whole body is tingling.

"Cálmate, Princesa," He soothes in my ear.

(Spanish: Calm down, Princess)

"Sit down," He gestures to the bed, I wave him off.

"I don't want to sit down," I mutter.

"Then don't."

Cole is wildly calm, it makes my heart start to slow slightly.

"You're not mad?" I ask, coming to a stop in front of where he sits on the bed.

"Not anymore," He states simply, "We got a call saying that the guards couldn't locate you when it was time for lunch. Elijah and I sped to the hotel. We couldn't find you two and we thought of the worst, that's all,"

I keep quiet, nothing to say.

"I'm actually quite impressed with what I saw on the cameras. Who knew my baby was such a badass?" He smirks.

I blush slightly, I am kind of badass.

"So," He pries, "What did you do after sneaking out of a high-security hotel?"

"We went to Notre Dame, Louvre Museum. We ate French food," I quiet down, "We got tattoos."

"You what?"

"...We got tattoos,"

"Angelina too?"

I nod, "But I really like it,"

"Let's see it," Cole leans back on the bed, held up by his elbows.

I pull up my shirt, showing him the letters on my rib cage. His eyes glaze over the spot, mouthing the words to himself.

"Do you like it?" I ask after a while of him just looking at it.

"I love anything on you, Princesa," He answers, "But this especially,"

(Princess)

"Well said," He comments on the quote.

Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulls me to his lips.

"We'll just have to be careful with it later tonight."