"What the fuck?!"

Dylan's fingers tightened around my wrists, and I winced. Seeing this, he released them immediately. He jumped to his feet and walked a few steps away. He stopped with his back facing me and clenched his fists.

I fell silent, glancing at him carefully, but still keeping my head down.

"Fucking trash," my brother hissed to himself, but loud enough for me to hear him well.

"Dylan," I said quietly. Not because he insulted my attacker, but because I was afraid of his impulsiveness. I wished that Will or Shane had come to pick me up instead... Vince would've been better too because at least he could perfectly control his emotions, what could not be said about this man standing here in front of me.

I just told him how Mona and I went for donuts, how we met a friend from school, and then some guys invaded the bakery and one of them hit me. I didn't admit that it was all planned. Also, I haven't yet informed him about the most important fact.

"Dylan," I repeated a bit louder to get his attention. "Those... men, I don't know, they... I think they work for Vince? They mentioned him. They took money from the owner and they were... terrible, really..."

I paused when Dylan quickly turned back towards me.

"What?" he gasped, his eyes razor-sharp.

I looked back down. Talking to him wasn't easy.

In the blink of an eye, Dylan crouched in front of me again, and his fingers once more closed on my wrists, this time very gently as if he was doing his best to control himself.

"Tell me, Hailie. I need to know everything."

"Just don't get angry," I asked completely unnecessarily because he was already so mad. I described him the redhead and the giant, I told him that one of them had a gun, how we all got scared, and that Vincent's name was brought up.

Halfway through my speech, Dylan turned his head aside and began to shake it slowly with silent disdain and disbelief.

"Do you know them?" I asked timidly when I finished telling him about a rather characteristic tattoo of the redhead guy.

"No," Dylan muttered thoughtfully.

"So they don't work for you?" I asked, and a balloon of hope formed in my heart at the thought that those thugs had nothing to do with my brothers. Dylan, unfortunately, quickly pierced it.

"If they said they work for Vince, then they probably do. They'd be idiots if they were faking it. At least bigger ones than they already are," he muttered and then focused back on my face. His right hand released my wrist and brushed my hair back. He looked at the bruise on my cheek again.

Suddenly he stood up, and the fingers of his left hand got entangled with mines as he pulled me lightly so I get up. I obediently did and let him lead me. However, we didn't go straight to his red car and before I could ask what was going on, we stopped in front of a black minivan with darkened windows that was parked nearby, on the same street. Dylan raised his fist and slammed it against a side window much more aggressively than he should.

The window dropped down at the call. A guy's bald head leaned out and he stared up at Dylan, frowning.

I froze. Was this my bodyguard? He's not the same guy who tried to save me from Jerry months ago.

"Yes?" he asked politely.

"Care to explain it to me?" Dylan growled at him, pulling me closer. With a gentle movement that didn't match his tone, he once again brushed my hair that covered half of my face. I looked down as the bodyguard's careful gaze scanned my face.

"Oh. But I-I don't understand..." the man stuttered in confusion.

"Some asshole hit her in a bakery. Tell me, how the fuck did you miss that?"

Yes, he definitely had to be my bodyguard. Oh God, I just felt remorse. He became a victim of my intrigue.

"In what bakery?" he asked, now seriously nervous. Dylan gave him a look that certainly would have enough power to pull him out of the car, choke him, and even bury him.

The guard's hand was shaking when he reached for his phone, one of those where a screen was so big that it almost matched the size of a small tablet and started clicking something hastily.

"According to the GPS, she was in the apartment all the time, I swear," he finally opened an app and put the screen right under Dylan's nose. A second later my brother was looking at me questioningly.

"I left my phone to charge, the battery was low..." I explained quietly, not sure if it would get me in trouble. I think Dylan didn't like my answer much, but when he spoke, he was turning to the guard again.

"Haven't you seen her coming out of the building?"

"No. She didn't leave it. She couldn't. I wouldn't miss it," the man replied quickly, and I began to chew on the inside of my cheek (on the side that didn't hurt) when I felt Dylan's eyes on me again.

I sighed.

"It's possible that... that we could use maybe another exit? Mona showed me their roof terrace. Sorry, I wasn't thinking..." I started, but Dylan raised his hand, silencing me, and pointed his finger at the bodyguard.

"You're here to know how many fucking exits this building has, and you have to watch them all. If you are unable to do it by yourself and need help, you inform us. But you don't fucking sit in this car for hours, eating sandwiches, just to check from time to time the fucking app on your phone. What the hell?!"

I didn't feel comfortable knowing that the guy was getting yelled at because of me, so I focused on admiring my black moccasins, which perfectly matched my school uniform.

"Sure. I understand. I'm sorry," the bodyguard said, and his throat had to be dry as his voice suddenly sounded hoarse.

"You'll apologize to Vincent. I am sure he'll contact you," Dylan said curtly, sending shivers through even my body. Then, still holding tightly my hand, my brother headed towards his car, and I heard only the serious and weak "Sure, of course", which the bodyguard said to us as a goodbye.

While we were taking our seats, Dylan asked me to name the place where the incident happened. I understood that he wanted to go there and I couldn't say anything that would change his mind, so with another sigh, I gave him the name of Mrs. Hardy's bakery, which he tapped into the map application. I was worried because I didn't want to bother her nor Leo, especially in the company of very annoyed Dylan. He, however, told me to be quiet and I recognized that it was his mean side speaking that couldn't be argued with.

"If these men work for you, how can you not even associate them?" I asked quietly, staring at my hands. Well, because how many red men with tattoos on their faces were employed by my brothers?

"Lots of people work for us, but just a few of them contact us directly. Most of them report to someone who's responsible for them to Vincent. This fucke... idiot must be a small-timer that went too far," Dylan answered me following the instructions given by the GPS. In less than three minutes he parked in front of a bakery with a "closed" label hanging on the door.

Dylan got out of the car and immediately raised his head. He knew that business owners in such buildings usually had their own flats above their shops. The light was on in one of the windows, so my brother headed for the door of the bakery and pulled the handle first. When it did nothing, he began to bang at the glass.

I didn't want to face Mrs. Hardy. I felt sorry for her after what had happened and I knew the last thing she needed right now was to have to deal with Dylan. However, I left the car and stood right behind him, not having much choice.

He noticed a small button on the wall next to the door, and it could've been a bell, so now he was alternately also pressing it. When I thought the glassy door would break, we noticed some movement inside, and after a moment my brother's hand hung in the air because it finally opened and Mrs. Hardy stood at the threshold.

She looked a little different because she no longer had clips in her hair and she tied them into a messy bun. She also took off her earrings and changed into a black tank top and tracksuits. This time she had a deeper neckline and another tattoo that covered a piece of her right breast could be seen. She also still had makeup on her face that however didn't manage to cover visible tiredness.

She looked at Dylan first, with undisguised reluctance, and then, without surprise, she noticed me hiding behind him.

"What the hell are you doing? Don't I have enough problems because of you? Do you also need to fuck up my door?" she snapped at Dylan, clearly not in the mood for hosting guests.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yeah, well, watch me because I'll fuck up this whole pathetic little shop in a moment," Dylan replied. He, on the other hand, was in the perfect mood for a quarrel, even with a woman twice his age.

I didn't like him being so rude. I knew that my brothers didn't always treat others with respect, but I didn't like it when they were like that in front of me.

"What do you want?" Mrs. Hardy snapped.

"Camera recording."

"There is no recording."

My brother clicked his tongue impatiently.

"Of course, there is. Give it to me right now."

I was desperate to add some "please" on his behalf, but I stayed quiet.

Leo's mom didn't move, so Dylan unceremoniously pushed himself inside, passing by her. I appreciated that he wasn't mean enough to shove her, but it was obvious she didn't try to stop him either. She was quite petite and had no chance with his muscles, which she knew well.

For a brief moment our eyes met, but she quickly turned her head away because Dylan turned on the light and began looking around the walls. I also entered the bakery and closed the door behind me politely. I stopped next to it and wrapped my arms around me.

"Why would I need cameras here? To show the recordings of your people stealing from me to the police that you obviously have in your pocket?" Mrs. Hardy spat.

"Yes, you're right, it doesn't make sense," Dylan admitted, looking from the wall at her. "But people like you always have a camera hidden somewhere, just in case. Am I wrong?"

Mrs. Hardy stared at him for a moment, then rolled her eyes.

"I have a computer in the back," she murmured and moved behind the counter. Dylan immediately followed her. He also waved a hand at me to go with them.

When we went through the door behind the counter, we found ourselves in a very narrow corridor. There were stairs up there, probably leading to the living area and two other doors. Mrs. Hardy opened one of them and we all entered into a small office. There was one big mess here. Folders and files piled up on the shelves, and a lot of space was taken by boxes of various sizes. The simple metal desk was full of papers, but there was also a flat, square monitor, one of the old ones. Mrs. Hardy pushed some pages aside and dug out a mouse. The screen lightened up, and a few clicks later the right recording was loading.

"Hey, what's going on here?" a voice called from behind us, causing us all to turn in that direction.

Leo was standing in the door to Mrs. Hardy's office. His eyebrow was swollen and with a plaster on it. His cheek bruised, much more than mine, his hair tousled and he was barefoot. He was wearing gray sweatpants, but the most important was the fact that he wasn't wearing a T-shirt and I blushed. I completely didn't expect that under the white shirt of the uniform in which I usually saw him, there was such a perfect body. To be clear, he didn't look anything like Dylan. I doubted that Leo spent at the gym, at least half the time that my brother had, but he just had such a natural, slightly outlined six-pack and perfectly smooth skin...

Ashamed, I immediately looked away, praying that Leo wouldn't read my thoughts. Or worse, that Dylan wouldn't do it.

"Why didn't you call me?" Leo asked, turning to his mother, noticing my brother first, and then me.

"Because I don't need you here, I can handle it," she replied.

He just shook his head with traces of irritation in his eyes. Dylan glanced at him and examined his battered face, then turned his attention back to the computer, eventually deciding to ignore his presence.

"How are you? Everything ok?" Leo whispered as he approached me a little closer.

I nodded nervously, trying not to look at him. I was afraid that Dylan'd notice something and this boy didn't need any more bruises.

"And with you?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah," he muttered and cut our little chat, probably seeing my tension.

After a while, the video finally began to play. Mrs. Hardy started it from the moment I sat with Mona at the table, and Leo served us. I was relieved that the camera was not catching the sound. Dylan didn't need to know what we were talking about. Then Mrs. Hardy sped it up until the three men entered. My brother immediately told her to pause it and he looked at the black and white faces of each of them. Then we watched the redhead demand more money from Mrs. Hardy, how Leo stood up for her, and then as I stood up for Leo.

Dylan watched me falling down like a puppet, and then Leo lunging at the redhead. I registered the short look my brother gave to my friend and I was surprised to see that it had a noticeable shadow of appreciation. As if he recognized that he had interceded for me. It jolted me completely.

Just as I was surprised when we were leaving the bakery after Mrs. Hardy shared the recording with Dylan and he looked at Leo once again.

"You ok?" he asked, pointing with his chin at my friend's face.

I saw Mrs. Hardy raise her eyebrows. My eyes widened. And Leo stared at him but quickly controlled his shock and nodded quickly.

We finally left the bakery and returned home. We didn't speak much on the way. I didn't know what to expect from Dylan, so I preferred to stay quiet. Besides, I didn't feel like talking. All I wanted at the moment was rest.

Unfortunately, I had to wait a little longer for complete relax. As soon as we parked in the garage and entered the house, we heard the twins' voices. Dylan immediately announced that I should go to the living room, but after a short exchange, he agreed that I'll change into some comfortable clothes first. I put on leggings and a longer sweatshirt. I also wanted to tie my hair, but I still didn't feel comfortable showing my bruised cheek, so in the end, I just combed it.

With a sigh, I headed for the living room, where Dylan'd already told the boys what had happened.

Tony was sitting in the armchair, staring in disbelief at his older brother. Shane immediately saw me when I came in and he reached out his hand for me. He was sitting on the couch and there was a place next to him that he apparently expected me to take.

"I'm fine," I murmured, already overwhelmed by this attention.

"Yeah, yeah, come here," Shane demanded.

With a sigh, I approached him, and in the meantime, Dylan left the room, which I didn't even notice at first.

With this hand that Shane waved at me, he now embraced me. I liked it because compared to Dylan he could give me a little comfort without scaring me with impulsiveness. His other hand brushed my hair from my face. Tony leaned forward to see better, and with the narrowed eyes he looked at the mark of the violence that I'd experienced.

"He didn't know who you are, right?" Shane asked me, but before I could even shake my head, his twin answered him.

"It's logical, isn't it? If he knew, he would sooner cut his hand off than even thought of raising it at her," Tony leaned back in his chair, shaking his head and looking at the TV screen, where the menu of the game they were playing was flashing.

"As you can see, he's clearly lacking in the intelligence department, so you never know," Shane shrugged, then glanced at me. "Did you punch him back at least?"

Tony snorted and I rolled my eyes.

"Come on, huh?" Shane chuckled and rubbed my arm with this hand that he held around me. "He got it worse, didn't he?"

"Sure," I murmured ironically, but I couldn't help smiling. Shane was funny and had the talent to make people laugh at every joke, even a bad one.

The twins discussed the incident for a while, and then returned to their game. Eugenie brought us sandwiches and I watched my brothers play for around an hour, sitting close to Shane's side and chewing.

Until Dylan appeared again and called me.

"Vince and Will are back," he told me and the boys. They nodded but didn't move from the couch, which convinced me that whatever my brothers intended to do, the older ones would take care of it.

"Dylan, do I have to go there?" I sighed as he led me up the stairs and I knew that he definitely wanted to take me to Vincent's office. "You have the recording, you don't need me there..."

"Vince wants to see you," he replied shortly.

Of course.

I didn't answer, I just followed Dylan to the forbidden corridor, and then we entered the familiar office. I took a deep breath because I expected to see Vincent there, but inside there was only the blond-haired bodyguard I had come across the other day here. We stood in the central part of the room and I listened as my brother exchanged a few sentences with him. According to the bodyguard, Vincent and Will were supposed to be here in a few minutes. As soon as he finished speaking, someone just came in and I thought it was my brothers who came here a little faster than expected.

But no, the two men who joined us were another bodyguard in a suit and with a receiver in his ear, and the red-haired guy who used his strength against me today.

My jaw almost dropped at the sight of him.

He entered Vince's office with an idiotic smile wandering on his lips. As if he'd come here expecting praise or promotion, and I quickly came to the conclusion that he really had to think so. Apparently no one told him the reason he was called here.

I turned my head to look at Dylan. His hostile gaze, but a generally controlled expression on his face made me sure that it was all part of a plan.

"Vincent will be here in a moment," the newly arrived security guard informed us. The arrival of my eldest brother was presented as some sublime event here, and it stimulated my nerves even more.

The redhead nodded in response, acknowledging this, and then nodded once more, this time at Dylan, as if he was greeting his buddy, but with kind of kindness and respect. His attitude no longer resembled the same lout that tormented Mrs. Hardy.

And then his eyes were about to land at me, and before it happened, I thought that I had nothing to lose and I put on a neutral, somewhat contemptuous expression on my face. I also raised my chin high, just as my brothers used to do when they tried, for example, to intimidate me with their confidence. For the first time today I didn't try to hide my bruise, but to show it off.