, with this (late, I'm sorryyy!) update.

Without further ado, please enjoy!

"Come with me," Brandon spoke by my ear, taking my hand in his, and ushering me away from the others.

We walked down the wooden hallway, old photographs decorating the walls on both sides. Some had wooden frames, others metallic silvers and gold, all partaking to the older feeling of the events captured in the pictures. Trying to absorb it all, I kept glancing right and left, not knowing which photo to see and which memory to leave for later.

Already deep in the web of thoughts I created for myself, I was oblivious to the new room we entered. When Brandon closed the door behind us, it was finally quiet, all the commotion in the living room like a faraway memory.

Before I could react, he freed the lip trapped between my teeth, only to claim it with his own. He kissed me deeply, portraying all the accumulated feelings we were both starved from during lunch.

My emotional turmoil didn't go unnoticed by him; he was watching me this whole time.

His right hand held my cheek, the other pulled me closer to him, as he angled my body to fit his perfectly. It wasn't difficult to forget how anxious I was mere minutes ago.

It wasn't difficult to forget how to breathe, when he was all the air I needed.

We pulled away eventually, and I gulped in lungfuls of air; my body seemed to disagree with my way of thought.

After a couple of breaths, I felt more like myself again. Taking the chance to look around, I explored the tidy room we found refuge in.

"Is this yours?" I asked him, looking at the shelves holding old toys and dust.

"Kind of... my dad grew up in here, before he moved to the city. Pops left it just as it was. And when we came along, I declared it as mine."

My lips turned upwards at the warm images he created, as I turned my face to find his expression calm and content.

"This is so like you. Claiming what you want as yours."

"Even when all the circumstances are against me," he said taking a step closer to me, his arms pulling me towards him, my back colliding with his torso. "No-one can keep me from what I want, Angel."

Comfortable silence enveloped us, as we breathed quiet breaths in each other's embrace.

My fingers caressed the spines of books on the lower shelf, a way to ground myself at the current torment of his slow kisses on my neck.

"I love it up here," I said quietly, not wanting to disrupt our moment.

There was something different about this place. It was still Chicago, but everything seemed clearer. Away from the rush of the city and the lurking dangers waiting to harm him, I felt safe.

"Next time, I promise, we'll stay the night."

Or maybe it was this exact moment. Surrounded by his strong body, memories he still cherished, that were left pure.

"You promise?"

I turned around in his arms, needing to see him.

"Promise!"

Or maybe it was just him. He was the only haven I needed.

He sealed his words with another kiss, telling me all that I needed to hear.

If it was possible, I knew, we'd stay the night. But Mondays came with many responsibilities, which needed both of our presence in the city.

With reluctant movements, we managed to pull away from each other.

By the time we returned to the living room, Brandon was talking to Liam and Malcolm about work, while Mia argued with pops, about who would keep the rest of the ciambella. It was an easy win for Mia, when she showcased her doe-like-eyes, on the condition that I'd bake two next time.

Seeing as that argument was solved, I waited for Brandon by the car, when his mom joined me. She stood a few feet away from me, calculating me with her gaze; like she did the whole day.

"It was nice meeting you, Mrs. King," I said, feeling uncomfortable with the silence between us.

"You're not good enough for him."

Her words held finality.

"Excuse me?"

"Exactly what I said." She sighed, her expression morphing to one of nostalgia. "You're not strong enough to be part of this. And things will only get worse from here."

My brain stopped working. For the first time, I stopped thinking. I was unable to find an answer, any answer, sufficient enough.

I was angry, overwhelmed, disappointed. Dumbfounded beyond belief.

How could she?

I had so many things I wanted to tell her, argue my case, but my words fell short.

Just then, Brandon came towards us. He hugged his mom, before he returned to my side.

"Are you staying in Chicago for long?"

Her eyes were still watching me, that nostalgia still there, before her saccharine mask was back on her face, and she turned her gaze towards Brandon.

"I'll be staying for a little while. Besides, I heard the boys talk about a red-carpet party? Wouldn't want to miss it, when my son's the star of the night."

"I'm not going to that."

"Nonsense. You're just like your father... At least think of the good time you can have with all your friends. And your sister."

"Mia's not coming," he said sternly.

"Of course, I am. With or without you," she retorted sharply, when she heard their conversation.

They stared each other for a little while, before her façade melted to that of a bambi.

"Fine," Brandon said with exasperation.

Oh, she was good.

"But you'll be with one of us, at all times," he said, pointing towards himself, Malcolm and Liam.

"Yeah, no... I'm coming with my own friends."

"Mia!"

"Fine. Fine! Jeez! If I have a choice in the matter, then I choose Malcolm. He's the only level-headed of the group and his jokes don't suck... sometimes."

"Malcolm will be with his girlfriend," Liam said, breaking the silence.

"Well then it's settled." Brandon nodded towards his sister, sharing a knowing look with Liam, before I was ushered to the car after our last goodbyes.

Light music accompanied our ride back home, my eyes taking in the purple hues of the sky, while a few stars appeared in the darker distance.

Our hands were intertwined over my lap as his warm thump caressed my colder skin. It was soothing, in a way nothing else could be in this moment.

I was thinking of the words Viviana told me. It was disheartening, maddening even, to have someone judge me without getting to know me, let alone Brandon's family.

Why was I not good enough? Had she spent more than five minutes in the room with us, watching both of us, instead of just me, she'd see how happy we were together.

I regretted a lot, but most of all I regretted all the things I could have said.

In the moment, I was so frozen at her blatant words, I didn't even utter a word. Instead, I now drowned in all the what ifs.

I could blame her for her absence all these years. I could make her see how incorrigible and blatantly rude she was. I could tell her she didn't deserve his love, let alone a second chance.

But what would be the gain?

I was enough for him, damn it. We were good together. Happy.

Her words shouldn't create turmoil in my mind.

If I was willing to be a part of this, then I'd prove my worth by staying by his side all the way.

All or nothing.

Just like Brandon was so prepared to give his all. No excuses.

With a lingering kiss, Brandon left me at the hospital for my night shift.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't," he said against my lips.

I met his eyes with my own, warning and worry clear in the pools of dark green.

"We both know, I'm the responsible one," I said with conviction, making him chuckle.

This right here was what I had to protect.; his happiness, as well as my own.

His fingers trailed my cheek, pulling the stray strands of hair behind my ear.

With one last kiss to my forehead, I reluctantly pulled myself away from his warmth, and into the chilly air, with only one destination in mind.

The minute I stepped foot into the hospital, I knew what I had to do. And after changing to my scrubs, I headed towards Dr. Marshall's office.

"Dr. Marshall, we need to talk."

I told him everything on my mind these past few days. I didn't want to be in the dark anymore. And since I was thrown into the sharks, I deserved to at least know what I was up against.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his stern façade melting into one of worry.

If I could turn back time, I'd change so much.

A hundred percent of doctors and medical professionals suffer from stress, with the suicidal rate more than double that of general population.

I didn't know this before throwing myself to the field, but if I came back victorious, then it wouldn't matter. Helping people, accompanying them through their recovery, it was fulfilling in its own way, but in recent weeks I buried the reality under all that, and now it was boiling back to the surface.

I couldn't continue like this, ignoring my subconscious mind any longer.

When Brandon fought in and out of the ring, he gave his all. So instead of hearing his advice, I decided to be my own fighter, and that meant getting even deeper to the case of the girl I met more than a week ago.

Anya.

This whole time I was wondering, how she was. How was her kid? Was she suffering?

Were they still alive?

A feeling of determination washed over me. I knew what I had to do to make his task just a little bit easier. Brandon told me about the women going missing and how he thought the same syndicate he was after, was behind it all. He also knew about my meeting with Anya at the hospital, which was why he warned me against this. But if he believed she had a connection to the people who were after him, then the least I could do was assist the only way I knew how.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?"

"There's no question about it," I told Dr. Marshall, clarity clear in my voice.

"Ricci, this is somethin' I never wanted to get you tangled in. It's more dangerous than you think. You shouldn't have been there in the first place."

"I know I shouldn't, but someone thought I had to see that woman. Which is reason enough to stay in the gynecology ward for another rotation. Maybe if I acquire enough evidence, then we'll have enough proof to open a case. Get the police, people we trust, to search who is doing this, without making the investigation known to anyone yet."

"Listen to me, Erika. What you saw that night wasn't the first victim of whatever circle is doing this. We need to be careful. These are powerful people. If they have enough leverage over those women, I can't imagine the power and resources in their hands."

I was skeptical. Dr. Marshall knew more, but the look in his eyes was different. He was scared.

"You think I don't want to help them? Build a case against those motherfuckers." It was the first time I saw my boss so frustrated. "I want to see whoever is responsible behind bars, even more than you do."

"Then there's no question about it. Leave me in the gynecology ward, let me assemble enough proof. For whatever reason, women like Anya come here of all places. I just need your guidance through this all."

He was silent for a moment, dragging his hands over his face, clearly frustrated.

When his eyes met mine again, the stern mask was back on his face, hiding the exhaustion behind his own conviction.

"Alright. Here's what we're going to do."

This took me longer to assemble. It had to be , before I put this chapter back together. I had to check the timeline, hoping I didn't mess that up, but here it was.

This week proved, that updates per week are than I thought, and since I and have at the same time, then seems more reasonable. Of course, when a chapter is ready to go, you'll get a , but for now I'm keeping it a week, on !

What are your thoughts about this chapter?

What do we think about Brandon's ????

about I'm signing a to kick her out.

The woman is... incorrigible, to put it lightly.

How do we feel about ? Justified, or that of a? Do we help people like Anya, or hide behind our own comfort, cause it can get too dangerous?

I wouldn't know.

I never take your and for granted.

Hope you liked this chapter, and hang on tight, cause the next ones... well... they're rough.

xo, Dear J