James Arthur - Car's Outside

"Yeah let's go home."

"Seriously?"

Rory glanced down at the little girl, nodding, and said "Seriously, but we need to figure out how to open this door."

She rattled the handle of the French doors - their first obstacle was practically impossible to get over.

"They're the same as the one in my room." Cielo chirped, "it has a key here." she said pointing at the keyhole.

"I don't think they're the same." She swallowed. Cielo was 4 years old, what did she know?

"I'll get then I'll prove it." Her little brows pulled together with determined.

Before she could run off, Rory latched onto Cielo's tiny figure.

"We have to be quiet." She stressed, "so the bad men and women don't know what we're doing. If they do," she gulped, "we will be in trouble. Do you understand?"

The four year old nodded vigorously - she understood because she witnessed her mother's rage too.

Cielo calmly trudged out the room, making up an excuse to the guards about her playhouses and how she wanted to bring a doll to play with.

The moment the door closed behind her, Rory pulled removed the bedsheets, duvet cover and pillow cases. She began assembling a rope she saw several characters in movies make. It was a dumb but this was the only option she had.

As she tried the last sheets securely together, Cielo ran back into the room with a small key tightly fisted in her palm. Taking the key, she prepared herself for the disappointment when the doors didn't open.

However, she released a shudder breathe as the key fitted the lock like a piece of a puzzle. She turned her wrist and the door clicked open. Rory clasped a hand over her mouth as tears - joyous tears - blurred her vision. She grabbed Cielo, holding her tightly against her body as she held in a squeal.

They were getting out of here thanks to the little girl and the badly designed mansion.

Rory picked up the pace. Moving quickly as she piled on clothes on herself and Cielo. The weather was bad and they weren't provided with warm clothes.

She took her makeshift rope and observed the outside from the balcony. She had years of experience of jumping down from balconies on second storeys - this would be nothing. She observed the walls, the ivies hiding a ladder like structure that she could easily climb down.

"Cielo," she said, kneeling in front of the girl. "Promise me you're hold onto me tightly."

Cielo nodded, climbing onto Rory's back and fastening her little arms around Rory's shoulders.

"You have to hold onto me tightly." She repeated as she tied one end of the rope to the railings and the other end around them both.

"Okay," came the timid response.

Taking a deep breathe, she climbed over the railings; hands and feet reaching for the ladder like structure. She used it to climb down and if she slipped, her makeshift rope would keep them up - hopefully.

The closer to the ground they got, the quicker her heart raced. A little but more, she told herself as she stared up at the bottom of the bedroom balcony.

A rush of adrenaline coursed through her body as her bare foot touched the damp ground. Rory unfastened the rope and she took Cielo's hands in her own.

They ran, dashing through the night and by some miracle, the gates were wide open.

They made it a few metres from the property until she spotted multiple headlights in the distance. Grabbing Cielo, she quickly tucked them behind a bush as a dozen vehicle raced towards the mansion. She swallowed, they had to run fast before they were found missing; before whoever or whatever that went into the mansion came looking for them.

Once the last vehicle disappeared into the distance, they emerged from the bushes and continued to run down the street towards home.

~*~

As Gideon's entourage passed through the gates, no one stopped them. His vehicles pulled up in front of the Herrera's home and he marched to the door, bursting through as if he were the owner.

He walked with swagger to one of his soldiers. Gideon had the update on the whereabouts of Cristian and he was aware Luci had arrived in Bogotá with no issues. He was far more interested in laying his eyes on his wife.

In several long strides, he reached the bedroom furtherest from the hallway and guarded by two of his soldiers. He parted for him and he entered the room, stoned face.

She had to see him emotionless - it was a warning to her and sign that something far worst was coming.

But as he stepped beside, he was met with a mess - no sheets covering the bed, the carpets dripping wet from the raining blown into the room from the open balcony door. The closets were emptied; rackets, shirts and trousers were spread out on the floor. The whole room looked completely trashed.

"Where is my wife?!" He roared, his voice thundering through the mansion; shaking its core. "Where is she?"

"Sh-she was in here a moment ago with the Cielo." The guards stuttered stunned at the mess before them.

He grabbed one of them by the throat, his fingers digging into the soft tissue of his skin.

"Take a look again." He growled, "she isn't here!"

In a flash, the back of his gun made contact with the guard's face and he stumbled to the ground, clutching his face.

"Find her and you keep your eyes."

Gideon stormed out the room. She won't have gone far, not in the condition she's in and not in this weather especially with a child.

"I want all lights out." He ordered. "And anyone loyal to the Herrera is to be killed, no mercy."

At his command, gun fires painted the night. One, two, three...seven, eight then the only sound remaining was the droplets of rain splattering against the glass.

While his men cleared the mansion of the bodies, he set his trapped for Herrera. He perched on an armchair, leaning back with his eyes closed, breathing slow. He looked calm but his muscles were trembling and the loud pounding of his heartbeat thundered like the storm outside.

Gideon waited, his men hidden in the shadows, blending in as the staff hired to take care of the mansion.

It was 1am by the time, the front door swung open and Cristian, in his drunk state, tumbled into the hall with 2 giggling girls on either side of him. Dark hair, olive skin and fresh out of college - they were his exact type. Young, beautiful and naive girls.

"Why are all the lights off?" He slurred, "I can't see shit."

He shrugged the two girls off him and paddled through the darkness using the furniture as a guide. Though he found no source of light and stumbled onto the couch with a coughing fit. He wheezed, patting his chest and he laid stretched out.

"Ladies," he whistled in delight. "Let's continued what we started in the car!"

Cristian waited for a response, expecting high pitch squeals of excitement but nothing except an eerie silence. It was so loud that it woke him from his drunk state. The hair on his arms rose, standing alert. Something was in here with him, something feral.

"Who's there?" He roared, fumbling for the gun strapped to his upper body. His hands trembled and the cold metal slipped from his grasp.

A figure stood and a face was revealed for a split second from the lightning flashing through the window.

His heart leaped in his chest and frightful cry echoed in the dark. It was like something out of a horror, a ghost or a dead man coming to haunt him.

"You're not real." He nervously chuckled. "You died in that explosion."

"I'll show you how real I am." Gideon said, kicking the Cristian's fallen gun to the side.

Balling his fists, Gideon strike the left side of his face so hard that the sound of the pains cracking bounces of the walls of the mansion.

"You died in that explosion." He grunted, "I saw you died."

A wicked stretched into Gideon's face, "I switched places with your father and brothers." He said, tightening his fist. "They were all in that van."

The whites of Cristian eyes could be seen in the darkness. He froze in a state of horror and disbelief. They were dead; killed in a plot he helped set up. He had watched the van blasted into flames and he bowled with laughter.

Realisation sank in; no one has seen his father nor his brothers not since the explosion. It made sense, it must be true.

"My papa, my brothers." Cristian fell to his knees and tears streamed down his swollen face. "No, this can-"

Gideon strike him once more, not giving him a chance to utter another pathetic sound. His back hit the floor and he sprawled out; face still twisted in pain and eyes filled with disbelief. Tears covered his cheeks along with thick red bleed spilling from his mouth. It stained his teeth and the white shirt under his jacket.

Taking one last look at Cristian, he felt nothing for a friend - a brother - he had grown up with. All he saw was a traitor, liar and a cheat. Gideon flashed a crooked smirk and crawled atop of him; one hand holding his throat in a vice grip and the other beating down on one side of Cristian.

Again and again until the sound of crackling bones turned to mush flesh; until Cristian's grunts diminished; until Cristian's breath stopped. He lifted his fist and a voice broke through his feral trance.

"That's enough." Sebastian warned as if he was speaking to an uncontrolled dog.

"He's dead."

"I know." He replied after a moment. He had died a while back but Gideon stopped the comforting feeling of smashing his fists into something. It was addicting.

Slowly Gideon lifted his head and squinted at the light shining through the doorway. It took his eyes a moment to adjusted and in his peripheral vision he saw a child clinging onto Sebastian's neck; her face pushed aside, to hide her vision from the gory scene before them.

He stood, letting the light bathe him and revealing a sickening sight. Splattered blood dotting his skin - from his head to his lips; he was painted red.

Gideon titled his head, looking pass Sebastian where his eyes landed on a figure half hidden by the doorframe. Wet blonde curls, blushed skin and tear filled eyes. Her arms and legs were thinner yet she somehow managed to carry the baby they made together. His eyes zoomed in on her round belly then back up to meet those haunting green eyes.

He expected to feel his heart racing uncontrollably, for his skin to warm at her mere presence but nothing.

He felt nothing.

Not an ounce of emotions for her.