Well, hello there guys! Long time no see. It's been over 2 months hasn't it? I'm sincerely sorry for that. I had some stuff going on which hindered my progress on this chapter.

If you've made it this far, you're a legend. Chapter 40 is the last chapter of Moving Shadows and thus the end of Part II of Nightfall. I was (as always) disappointed with this chapter but I didn't feel I could do much more to this without taking another month. I was a little rusty from not writing for about a month and a half so forgive me if this isn't up to my usual standards.

I'm not going to say much more as I'm sure you'd all rather read this chapter but I wanted to say as compensation for my late update, I will also be publishing Part III, Nightfall: Weeping Moonlight in less than 24 hours. So be sure to look out for that.

Anyway, I'll see you over on PART 3! And please, leave me a review. I need them now, more than ever!

Drawing The Line

.'.

The agents of night do observe—

Sole witnesses to silent crimes;

And fallen angels do reserve,

Desperate measures for desperate times.

'.'

Ema tiptoed through the room, having seen Raoul's sleeping form on the sofa. She glanced his way as she passed and felt a twinge of pity at the tiredness evident in his face. The dark shadows under his eyes and unkempt hair framing his face was uncharacteristic of him but he wasn't the only one; Klavier and Seren had also been more haggard than she'd ever seen them.

Raoul stirred suddenly and Ema's head turned sharply to look at him but he was still asleep. Thankful she hadn't woken him, Ema continued on until she was at another door and, as quietly as she could, knocked. She waited for a split second before wrapping her fingers around the doorknob and twisting it.

"Deston?" she called softly, peeking into the room.

The floors had been cleaned up and the clutter of mess that had been there two nights ago was gone. Ema closed the door behind her quietly and moved further in, passing under the archway that led to his bedroom and there she found Deston; he was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head bowed into his hands defeatedly. Her heart sank at the sight and she tried to control the sorrow that was constantly at the back of her throat these days.

Hearing her footsteps, Deston's head rose from his hands and he looked at her, tired and surprised. "Ema."

"Hey," she said with a smile. "Thought I'd pop in and see how you're doing."

There was a stretch of silence in which the events of the past week flashed like an awkward memory and both of them glanced down at his arm where, under the white bandage, he'd carved in those two initials that had scared them all. After cleaning his wound, they'd discovered those damning initials that had alarmed them all: R.R.

For a while they'd believed Irina was responsible, that the move had been made to tip him over the edge of an already precarious cliff… until Deston had admitted the truth.

He'd done it to himself.

Of course, the first response to his admission had been "why?" and though he hadn't replied straight away, the answer became clear as each day passed by — Ema saw the flash of furious determination whenever he glanced at his arm. They all saw the rage that filled his eyes and they knew who he was thinking of, what he wanted… and it worried her. It worried all of them.

He'd told them it was okay, he'd had a lapse and that he was strong enough to do this now. He told them he understood that Raina was gone and it wasn't revenge he wanted — it was justice.

The problem, as Seren had quietly pointed out in private, was that there was a very fine line between the two.

"Where are the guys?" Deston asked now, breaking the silence.

Ema glanced at him before gesturing towards the archway vaguely. "Raoul's asleep downstairs and Seren's in the kitchen. Klavier's gone to see Daryan."

He ran a hand through his hair almost guiltily. "How's Tess doing?"

Ema paused for a moment before answering, distracted by the dark shadows under his eyes. "She's much better, thanks to you. The doctors say she's recovering steadily."

The shadows on Deston's face dissipated momentarily as his cheeks lifted in a slight smile. "Finally," he said, exhaling deeply. "Some good news."

"How did you get hold of a cocoon so fast?" It wasn't the question she wanted to ask but it would do for now.

A sigh escaped him and the shadows returned with vengeance under the force of his scowl. "The Chief Justice managed to procure some from the Borginian government."

"The same one that was brought up in Daryan's trial?"

He nodded. "I went to him on the off-chance he still had some of the cure left. He did."

"Wait, how did he get it?" Ema interrupted, puzzled. "They've banned the exportation of cocoons."

Deston let out a harsh laugh. "He's the Chief Justice, Ema," he answered, his eyes hard. "He can pull a few strings and make anything happen."

Ema might have joined in with his outrage at this blatant imbalance of fairness but, in all honesty, that was nothing compared to the hard set of his jaw, the sharp lines around his mouth. She had glimpsed this side of her friend's personality even before his explosion at Rafael but it was surfacing with an increasing regularity that left her severely uncomfortable. Yet, even though she was unsettled by Deston's hidden sarcasm and simmering anger, Ema felt not the slightest bit compelled to distance herself from him.

"So he simply had some of the cure left over?" Ema continued. "And he just gave it to you?"

"Like hell he just gave it to me," Deston snorted. "He didn't care about saving Tessa. He wanted to keep it for himself — just in case."

"How did you get it then?"

Deston must have heard the wariness in her voice because he looked at her then, ghostly amusement in his eyes. "I threatened to beat him up with my drumsticks."

Though his expression brought relief to her concerned mind, Ema scowled. "The truth would be nice."

The merriment in his face heightened. "That is the truth," he said with a smile. "I threatened to beat him up with my drumsticks."

Ema felt her eyes widen. "You threatened the Chief Justice?"

Deston shrugged and leaned back against the wall, lifting on leg onto the bed and throwing an arm over it. "It's possible to hurt a man without leaving marks and he knew that if I made good on that threat, he wouldn't have any proof against me."

"You were going to torture the Chief Justice?" she gasped.

He laughed then, obviously amused by her expression and even amidst her shock, Ema felt absurdly pleased to be the reason for it.

"Relax, Ema," he told her gently. "I wouldn't have hurt him. Just used the threat of violence. Besides," he added, leaning forward again, "the old man's a selfish bastard. He doesn't deserve any sympathy."

Ema quietened seeing the gaiety fade from his features. She'd learnt that Deston's moods were unstable when he was like this: he could easily switch from regaling conversation to dark riddles. They'd warned her, told her to be ready for it.

And after learning about his past, she couldn't blame Deston for it.

"You can talk to me about it, Ema," he said suddenly, as if he'd read her mind. The detective glanced at him and found his stormy eyes fixed on her with inviting intensity. "I'm pretty sure they told you about… us."

Ema bit her lip, unable to deny it. "Did you not want me to know?"

"Why wouldn't I want you to know?" he said quietly, with a tired smile.

She shrugged. "Maybe because it hurts too much."

"Maybe…" Deston said, slowly nodding his head and turning to look out of the window beside his bed. "But trying to forget it all as if it never happened… that's worse."

"She'll never be forgotten, Des," Ema said and winced almost straight away when she realised what the nickname would remind him of — but instead of looking pained, his face softened.

"You're a lot like her, you know," he said, startling her.

"Like her?" Ema laughed incredulously. "She makes my Snackoo attacks look tame."

Deston laughed. "She was mad that day."

Ema frowned. "Huh?"

He waved a hand at his desk where his laptop lay shut. "The video, the one you found me watching."

"Oh." She paused. "Why was she mad?"

"I told her there was no point sparring because she would kick my ass."

"And that made her mad?" Ema asked, bewildered.

"Well, Raina always said that I never gave the fight my all," he explained, smiling slightly. "The thought that I was holding back riled her up."

"Did you?"

There was a moment of pause in which he shifted again; his leg dropped back to the ground and he leaned forward, his elbows resting against his knees. The smile was still on his face. "To tell the truth," he said, turning his face to the side and looking up at Ema, "I didn't really need to. She was quite capable of kicking my ass."

"That's not really an answer." Ema smiled.

He laughed again. "Another similarity: both tenacious as hell."

"Did you hold back?"

Another pause followed her question and they both stared at one another. Deston was sweeping her features, his own pulled together soulfully. And then—

"Yes."

"I don't blame her for being annoyed," she said, her expression turning snooty.

"Ema," he laughed quietly. "I didn't doubt her ability — just her strength."

"Excuse me?" she said, feeling affronted for Raina. "Her strength? Didn't she kill a bazillion men?"

"They weren't trained to her level, babe. I was."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," he explained patiently, "that I possessed the same skills as her. She always had the advantage over others because she was trained in a way they weren't. But," he enunciated when Ema looked ready to interrupt, "Rain and I were equal on all grounds except one — strength. My biological make-up meant I was always at an advantage."

Ema bristled. "She could have worked her way around that," she argued. "She could have surprised you."

"No doubt about that," Deston said with another, softer laugh. "But I didn't want to take the chance."

"Arrogant berk," Ema muttered. "I don't believe you could have landed even a single blow."

"Hang on," Deston argued, his back now ramrod straight. "I'm not being arrogant, I'm just being honest. I didn't want to risk hurting my girlfriend."

She knew exactly what he was saying but arched an eyebrow at him if only because she know it would keep him talking. His silence had been deafening and seeing him talk again after so many days was a relief beyond what she could have imagined. Ema wasn't going to give it up so easily.

"C'mon," he protested. "If Klavier was in my position, he'd do the same. It's not because he doubts you, it's because he treasures you. He worships every inch of you. He loves you."

She would have argued that point as Klavier had said no such thing but the look on Deston's face stopped her. His features were falling under the shadow of grief again and she reached out to cover his hand with hers. Maybe she should have said something to comfort him but the truth was Ema could think of nothing that might have made him feel any better. So, she just sat next to him silently, keeping quiet when he squeezed her hand back and dropped his head.

"She was like that for me, Em," he said quietly. "I loved her with every breath."

"I'm sorry, Deston," she said and the words sounded so mechanically conjured that she winced and laced her fingers through his in compensation. If he noticed her reaction, he didn't say anything. "I can't even imagine what that must have been like."

Still Deston was motionless. His eyes moved under closed lids and she could do nothing but watch him helplessly. A physical wound she could have tended but how did one reach into the soul and heal the scars sliced there? It was the worst thing, Ema decided, having to sit right next to a loved one and feel so far apart, so helpless. She would have given anything to be able to take away the broken expression in Deston's eyes, the hollowness of his voice.

"It was the letter."

Ema blinked amidst the frown that gathered between her eyes. "The letter?"

"I thought I understood her, Ema," he said softly. "When she told me she didn't want to be with me, I was a little confused but even then I allowed her her space because I thought she would be back." Deston rubbed the bridge of his nose, his fingers harshly digging into the skin there. "But that letter… that damned letter…"

He stood up suddenly, his body shivering uncontrollably and Ema patiently waited as he paced. There was an urgency in his movements that told her something was fighting to escape him, had perhaps been fighting a long, hard battle and was finally rising to the surface.

"It showed me how little I knew her," he said, his voice growing gravelly. "Like someone had finally lifted a mask and I was seeing things so much clearer than I ever had before except they were… out of my reach. How could I have loved her so deeply and failed to see who she really was?"

Ema felt her stomach flip when she realised what Deston was trying to say. She was at his shoulder instantly, her hand on his arm. "Deston," she said, her voice low and urgent. "Don't think like that. It doesn't mean you didn't know her."

"Doesn't it?" he said hoarsely.

"No, it doesn't." Ema held his gaze. "No matter how much we know somebody loves us and no matter how many times somebody tells us they will die for us, it doesn't mean we'll ever be ready for the sacrifice."

He simply continued watching her with his intent eyes and suddenly, the one thing she had always found so difficult to talk about, suddenly became the easiest.

"Lana told you about Gant, didn't she?" Ema paused and took a deep breath. "When you first mentioned it, I ignored you because I didn't want to talk about it. It was a rough time for loads of reasons but the worst thing was the fact that, even though I was aware of how much Lana loved me, how she'd brought me up like a parent, I never considered that everything she did for me might have something to do with saving me. Despite being certain she hadn't murdered anyone, I never thought I could be the missing link in the mystery. It just never occurred to me and I felt guilty for a long time after that. I felt horrible for not realising how much she loved me."

"That wasn't your fault, Ema," Deston said softly.

"Exactly," she answered firmly. "Although it took me forever to realise it, it wasn't my fault she decided to do things the way she did. It was her choice to love me the way she does. I never imagined the lengths she would go to because it's not in me to expect that much of her. It doesn't mean I don't know my sister or that I'm insulting her by not expecting it of her. It just means I wouldn't want anyone to go that far for me."

She saw the comprehension rise in his eyes and Ema's sadness grew at the way he turned away then but she wasn't going to be deterred. Her hand went to his shoulder and she pulled at it lightly.

"Just because you didn't expect her to die for you doesn't mean you didn't know her, Des," she went on gently. "Don't feed your grief like this. It will destroy everything in you that she died to protect."

He jerked under her touch at the words but Ema held on, knowing to let him go would be letting him sink into himself again and she wasn't going to let that happen.

"Whatever she was to you then doesn't mean she still isn't now. It's in your power to keep her memory alive the way you saw her. It doesn't matter what she did or how she tried to save you. All that's important is what she was to you and what you were together."

Deston looked at her then, his eyes settling on her face, inscrutable and heavy. They searched her face questioningly, as if he was trying to ascertain whether or not she believed in what she was saying and Ema stared back unflinchingly, meeting his gaze head on. She felt herself stripped bare beneath his scrutiny yet, for once in her life, she was entirely comfortable. It wasn't just that she had nothing to hide, that she was telling the truth and it wasn't because she was in the company of a friend. No — the comfort was in who he was. It was because she knew Deston would see the truth exactly as it was, without being marred by his own assumptions and opinions, without prejudice and expectation. He would look into her face and see what she was thinking, what she was feeling and he would understand.

As if in confirmation of her belief, Deston's face broke into a tender smile and she was suddenly engulfed; his arms bundled her into his embrace and he buried his face into her hair. Ema's mouth was hit by a trembling smile even as her hands made their way around his neck and she laughed gently at his response, both relieved and touched.

"You're a blessing, Em," he said quietly, pulling back to look into her face. "I don't know how we managed without you all these years."

Ema's eyebrows shot up at that. "Yeah, you're right," she said with a hint of sarcasm to her tone. "You were all positively in ruins until I came along."

"You know what I mean," he said.

"No," she said slowly. "I don't."

Ema's scepticism stayed firmly in place and Deston sighed exasperatedly. "You really have no idea of your own worth, do you?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you," Ema said somewhat waspishly. "This isn't about me."

"I know," he said but the increasing cheekiness of his smile made her wary. "This is about me."

"Yes it is," she agreed swiftly. "Now come downstairs. You haven't eaten anything today. We—"

"Ema," he interrupted. "You really need to learn to listen."

"I'm not the one interrupting someone in the middle of a sentence," she pointed out archly.

"Thanks, Em," Deston said affectionately, taking her by surprise. "You've been a comfort to me."

Ema, still taken aback, shook her head. "I haven't done anything."

He laughed. "You've done more than you know, babe," he said but before she could quiz him on that remark, he threw an arm around her shoulders and spun her around. "Now didn't you say something about food? I do need some breakfast."

She was perturbed by his behaviour and not knowing whether this was another facade, Ema stopped him with a hand on the arm. "Deston," she said unobtrusively, looking up into his face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She saw his features flicker. "Yeah, why do you ask?"

There was no helping the way her eyes narrowed dubiously as if to say she didn't believe a word he said and Deston, who she had expected to laugh off her concern, shook his head.

"I'm fine, babe," he said calmly, looking her in the eye. "I had my moment of madness. It's over. Besides," he added, his features turning momentarily grim, "I have a job to do. I can't find justice for Raina if I can't function right."

"I'll help you."

For the first time, Deston looked surprised. "Help me?" he echoed.

"Yes," she said firmly. "I'm going to help you find the people who did this to her. And don't bother telling me no," Ema interrupted when he opened his mouth. "I won't listen. Just accept the fact and let's be done with it."

For a moment, it looked as though he might object; his brow was furrowed and his mouth pursed as he stared at her but then, unexpectedly, his features cleared up. The frown smoothed out and he smiled, the first real smile he'd raised in days, and Ema felt the last trickle of dread in her stomach dry up and disappear.

"Detective Skye," he said, holding an arm out to her, "I would be honoured to accept your help."

Ema grinned and slipped her arm through his, her insides thrilling with relief and happiness at seeing the old Deston beginning to return.

"But first, Agent Cavatin," she countered, composing her expression into a more business-like one, "we need to get us some breakfast!"

.'.

"You've never had olives?" Seren asked incredulously eyeing Ema.

Ema, who was perching on the edge of her tool, rolled her eyes. "On pizzas and salads. Never on their own."

Deston glanced at her sideways, his mouth stuffed with toast and eggs. His ravenous eating, while somewhat gross to her, was a relief — a returned appetite was a good sign. "Try one, Em," he said in between mouthfuls.

Ema threw him an irate look. "Don't eat with your mouth full."

He stopped chewing and looked at her in surprise. "What did you say?"

Ema blinked at him, not understanding why he looked so taken aback by such a simple remark but then Seren jumped in to ease her confusion; "She said don't eat with your mouth full," he chuckled.

Deston laughed with him and Ema flushed, realising her error. "Shut up!" she snapped. "You know what I meant!"

"We're teasing, Em," Seren said soothingly.

"Yeah," Deston agreed with a suspiciously complacent look. "I know what you really meant was I should eat with mouth only half full."

They started laughing again and Ema glared at them for a few seconds, torn by the variety of weapons she could use to hurt them but, just then, she caught Seren's eye. He was smiling at her gratefully and he didn't need to explain why — she resisted the urge to nod at him in a silent acceptance of his thanks because Deston was staring at her again.

"What now?" Ema said waspishly seeing the look on his face.

"Will you feed me?" he asked in a voice so innocent that her eyes narrowed.

"Why can't you feed yourself?" she asked suspiciously.

"I might put too much in my mouth," he replied.

Ema rolled her eyes at the cheeky look on his face. "Getting old, canary-face."

"Ema," Seren said, grabbing her attention; he was holding the jar of olives up to her. "Try one."

Without a word, Ema dipped two fingers into the liquid and picked one out. She eyed it critically, squeezing it and glancing down the centre like a child scrutinising a piece of suspicious vegetable. Seren, who was watching her, laughed.

"They're plain," he reassured her.

"There are others in the refrigerator, Em," Deston told her, pointing towards the appliance over his shoulder. "Some—"

"Let me try this one first," Ema cut him off , waving the olive in her hand threateningly. Deston eyed the motion with amusement and gestured apologetically.

"Go for it, babe."

Trying to ignore the two fops watching her, she drew the olive to her mouth and took a small bite. In that moment when her teeth descended into the plush, green skin, Ema realised two things: (a) she was an idiot for not telling the guys to stop watching her and (b) she was going to be the object of their teasing — again. Because just as she bit into it, the hollow of the olive rebelled against the pressure, squirting out some juice that had somehow managed to stay in place.

There was a moment of silence as the liquid trickled down her chin and onto her leg. Ema closed her eyes in protest of the situation, knowing she was absolutely doomed. Seren might have let it pass but Deston never would; his foppishness had returned with vengeance.

She was wrong.

Approximately five seconds later, she heard them both. It started off in a mingle of titters when she wiped at her mouth, that slowly crescendoed into gales of hearty laughter. Ema scowled at them, glaring at their shaking forms; Seren was leaning against the unit, his head dropping between his shoulders, and Deston had thrown his head back, his fist punching the surface as if he couldn't quite bear the hilarity of the situation.

"Oh get over it," Ema said loudly (and quite redundantly because they only laughed harder).

"Now that's what you call not eating with your mouth full!" Seren exclaimed.

"No," Deston disagreed, "it's called dribbling juice down your— hey, now, calm dow—"

But Ema had already picked up the jar of olives and thrown it at Deston, supremely confident in his reflexes. He didn't disappoint; it went flying over his ducking form right at—

"Watch out!" Seren shouted.

"Mother of—!"

Raoul barely managed to move out of the way in time, disappearing behind the frame lightning-fast, and the container flew through the doorway, smashing spectacularly on the marble flooring just beyond the threshold. Ema, who had clasped her mouth the moment she saw the Italian almost become the unintended victim of her attack, was oblivious to the fresh howls of laughter coming from Seren and Deston.

"Are you okay?" she shrieked out in between stiff fingers.

Raoul popped his head around the door, his expression pulled into a wary scowl, and when he was certain there were no more missiles headed his way, the rest of him followed. Stepping into the kitchen, he raked a hand through his messy hair as he glanced back at the shattered glass and scattered olives.

"What the hell kinda greeting's that?" he demanded, turning to Ema who met his gaze with her own horrified one.

"I'm sorry!"

Raoul raised an eyebrow. "You wanna try movin' your hands off your mouth?"

Ema complied almost instantly, pointing at the mess behind him. "I'm sorry! I-didn't-mean-to-throw-it-at-you-it-was-meant-for-him!"

Her finger turned to Deston, who was now holding on to the table to keep himself from falling off his stool because he was laughing so hard. Beside him, Seren was trying to stand still, his hand tightly rubbing his mouth in a highly suspicious manner.

"What's got them in a fit?" Raoul asked.

The question seemed to break Seren's control because he let out an uncharacteristic hoot and joined Deston's laughing binge. Ema's horror quickly melted into flushed anger when she remembered their reason for such vocal amusement.

"Shut UP!" she shouted. "It's. Not. Funny! He could have got hurt!"

Raoul's expression quirked and his mouth twitched foppishly. "I didn't know you cared."

"You need to shut up too!" Ema snapped, her momentary remorse going up in smoke. "I just don't want to be responsible for your death!"

"Aren't you sweet."

Ema ignored him, her attention already having turned to the other two who, much to their disgrace, were still laughing. Unable to help herself, and so utterly frustrated was she, that Ema reached across to grab a handful of eggs in one hand and threw it into Deston's face ("Shut—") while with the other, she picked up a slice of toast and flung it at Seren ("—UP!").

"Girl's got a point," Raoul called out in an annoyed voice. "Get a grip on yourselves."

Seren had sobered up and he flashed a grin at Raoul who, still standing behind Deston, glanced at the still-laughing drummer and cocked his head as if to say 'what's got into him?' Seren, in turn, nodded towards Ema (who had seen the exchange and immediately understood Raoul's surprise). The Italian looked to her and, for the first time, saw something akin to a genuine smile form on his lips. There was no smirk, no mockery or teasing in the gesture — it was one of pure appreciation.

"Quit with the hyena act, wonder-boy," Raoul instructed, turning to Deston although the drummer had already calmed down and was now wiping the eggs off his lap. "We have work to do."

"You know what they say about all work and no play," was Deston's reply as he winked at Ema.

She scowled.

"Is Klavier back yet?" Seren asked, looking at Raoul who shrugged.

"I just woke up, man. If anyone should know, it's you."

"Ema said he went to see Daryan." Deston asked, turning around to face the boys. "Everything cool?"

With a jolt, Ema remembered Deston had no idea of the decision Klavier had come to the day before.

"He's gone to see what he can do about Daryan's situation," Seren answered.

Deston's eyebrows shot up and he looked to Raoul and Ema as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"Yeah," Raoul confirmed. "It's true."

Deston let out a deep breath and shook his head, a smile forming on his face. "I knew he'd come around."

"Makes you want to strangle Daryan, doesn't it?" Seren said with a smile.

"Pretty much," Deston agreed.

"Why?" Ema asked, confused.

"Daryan hid Tessa from us before his trial," Raoul explained with the hint of a glower. "And when we found out, he wouldn't let us tell Klavier."

"Why was he okay with you guys knowing but not Klavier?" Ema asked, annoyed.

"Remember that I only found out about her because I did some investigating," Deston reminded her. "And I told these two."

"But he still wouldn't let you tell Klavier."

"That's right."

Ema's frown deepened. "Why?"

"Because he didn't think Klavier would tolerate it," Seren explained.

"But he did," Ema argued. "He didn't lose his temper."

"Because he has you," Deston said.

"What do I have to do with anything?"

"Klavier can empathise with Daryan now because of the way he feels about you, Ema," Raoul answered, drawing a stool out next to Deston and sitting on it.

"Before you, K might have had a hard time understanding Daryan's motivation," Seren expounded.

Ema flushed for the second time that day but ploughed on, unwilling to let the turn of the conversation throw her. "I think you're wrong," she told them. "Regardless of his own romantic situation, I think Klavier would have surprised you all. You shouldn't underestimate him."

They didn't respond to her reprimand but she could tell they weren't convinced. All of them looked away; Seren picked up the toast that had fallen to the floor earlier and Deston appeared to follow suit because he started wiping at his shirt where some of the egg was still sticking. Raoul glanced away and ran a hand through his hair tiredly.

"Hey," he said, nodding at Deston. "We should go see Daryan too."

"I don't even need to ask, do I?" Deston replied, rolling his eyes. "You guys told him I turned into a nutcase."

"That wasn't our precise wording," Seren said.

"No," Raoul agreed with a smirk. "It was more 'Cavatin flipped a lid and lost his marbles.'"

"Thanks, boys," Deston said dryly. "I'm touched by your concern."

"What do you think Klavier will try to do for Daryan?" Ema asked.

"He's going to try and see if Criminal Affairs will negotiate on a waiver of Daryan's sentence," Seren answered.

"But he committed murder," Ema said with a frown. "How will they allow him out?"

"It wouldn't be for nothing," Raoul cut in. "Daryan was the best detective CA had. If Klavier can put a strong enough case forward, explain Daryan's motivation, they might consider the offer."

"What Ray means," Seren added, seeing her baffled expression, "is that they would have certain terms Daryan would be required to meet. He might have to undergo severe counselling and work for the department wherever they assign him."

"I didn't know you could do that," Ema said.

"Usually the waivers are for hackers, frauds, people whose skills the department can use," Deston said.

"But his credibility is such," Seren continued, "that if Klavier is able to convince the powers that be Daryan only did what he did for Tess—"

"—and that he's not a danger to anyone else—" Deston chipped in.

"—they might consider converting his sentence," Seren finished.

Ema digested this information; her thoughts went to Tessa who had battled with a terminal illness without her partner by her side. She didn't know how Tess had done it; she couldn't imagine having to deal with the knowledge she was going to die without Klavier to at least hold her hand.

"So Tess will be able to live normally with Daryan?" she asked hopefully.

The Gavinners glanced at each other and when Raoul answered, he looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, that's right."

Ema instantly noticed the hesitancy in his voice. "But?"

"The chances of success are slim, Em," Deston said quietly. "Homicide is bad enough on its own but for the victim to be an Interpol agent…"

Her heart sank when his meaning registered. "That makes it harder." Deston nodded gravely. "But then what?" she said, looking around at them. "What will Klavier do?"

"My guess is he'll appeal to the system on behalf of Daryan. Try and have his sentence reduced."

"From what?" Ema asked, almost dreading the answer. Again the Gavinners looked at each other and this time, the discomfort in their faces was blatant. They turned to her silently and Ema's eyes widened in realisation at the gravity of their expression. "The death penalty?" she whispered.

"Even if K's unsuccessful, there's still the Jurist System," Deston said comfortingly. "If Phoenix succeeds, the death penalty will be abolished."

"And if he doesn't?" she said faintly, her wide eyes fixed on his face.

Raoul and Seren shifted simultaneously but Deston's expression was firm. "Ema," he said with an indulgent smile and suddenly, as she stared back into his confident eyes, she felt her worry subside. "When has Phoenix ever failed?"

.'.

It was three phone calls later they were able to discover that Klavier was still with Daryan and an hour later that they pulled up outside the state penitentiary (with Raoul claiming Ema had taken forever to get ready and Ema blaming it on the humongous head they had difficulty getting into the car). The guards watched bemusedly, clearly taken aback by the familiarity of Ema's banter with the Gavinners; they had seen her accompany Deston on a few occasions (and of course they knew of her 'relationship' with the drummer) but the full-on fop-rain she poured on them was surprising. They stared at her for several moments as the group passed and then resumes their blank, meant-to-be intimidating stances. It was her business how many rock-stars she verbally abused.

"I feel so self-conscious without my lab coat," Ema complained, tugging at her jacket as they walked through the gates to the deserted courtyard.

Seren looked at curiously. "Why?"

"I feel exposed," she answered vaguely.

"Exposed?" Deston echoed, amused.

"Meaning we can see the shape of her ass," Raoul interpreted bluntly, eliciting a gasp from Ema which he ignored. "I seen exposed and you ain't exposed."

"YOU PERVERTED LITTLE—"

"Ema," Seren interrupted, putting a hand on her arm.

Before she could snap at him for stopping her tirade, Seren had reached around her and swung at Raoul, catching him round the back of his head. Raoul half-formed swear was cut off when Ema reached up and flicked at his nose; the Italian jerked back in surprise.

"That's for your potty mouth," Ema said with a glare.

In response, Raoul spun around her and thumped Seren who laughed. "That," he snapped, "is for rubbing off on her."

"I don't need Seren to tell me you have a foul mouth on you." Ema turned away in a huff.

"Aded," Raoul said in a threatening voice. "One of these days, I'm going to—"

"Swear at me?" Seren laughed. "Come off it, mate. You heard her. I haven't done anything."

Exasperated, she turned to Deston in the hopes he would help her to shut the Italian up but was confronted by emptiness. With a frown, she looked around but found nothing except an empty courtyard and a gate that was occupied by the guards they'd just passed.

"Hey," Ema interrupted the Gavinners, looking around. "Where's Deston gone?"

They stopped bickering and followed her cue. She glanced at them, their serious eyes sweeping their surroundings, and her frown deepened when Raoul scowled again, his eyes rolling in annoyance.

"I hate it when he does that."

Ema was surprised. "He's never done this with me."

"He wouldn't unless there was someone else around to keep you company — which we are," Seren said before he turned to Raoul. "Do you think he went back to his car?"

Ema saw the sprinkle of apprehension in the annoyance filling the Italian's gaze. "Probably. Or he could have just gone on ahead."

"Shouldn't we go back to check just in case?" Ema said, growing worried.

"He'll be all right, Ema," Raoul reassured her. "Dude's a big boy."

"He's not exactly in the best shape," she pointed out.

"No," Seren agreed. "But he's doing a lot better thanks to you. I'm sure he's fine."

"Going after him like he's a kid ain't gonna make him happy," Raoul added, seeing the look on her face. "He needs some space."

"But if it makes you feel better," Seren said pacifyingly when he saw her expression, "we'll wait a few minutes to see if he comes along. If not, it's probably because he's gone on ahead."

Ema looked between the two, uncertain of how honest they were being with her about their own worries but found nothing besides patience. She knew Seren would downplay his concern for her sake. Raoul, on the other hand, had proven he could be frank with her the day they'd decided to go find Deston — he'd trusted in her strength even when the boys were trying to leave her behind. He'd stuck by her side, and the fact that the Italian was watching her calmly, his eyebrow arched and a smirk beginning to creep on his suspicious lips made her feel better about Deston's sudden disappearance.

"I wonder if you'd worry about me this much if I went missing."

A memory of Sloan attacking Raoul crossed through her mind and judging by the look on Seren's face when she glanced at him, he was thinking the same. Nevertheless, she waved a hand carelessly and looked away. "I only wish you would disappear," she said glibly.

"What about me?" Seren asked with a smile.

"Not after what you did to me today," Ema retorted, turning a glare on the keyboardist.

Seren looked startled. "What did I do?"

"You offered me the olive of doom."

The boys blinked as if they were taking a second to process the meaning of her words. Ema watched them expectantly, waiting for their reaction, and when it came she bit back the smile fighting its way to her lips; they both burst into laughter, Seren's slightly (and uncharacteristically) louder than Raoul's.

"The olive of doom!" Seren exclaimed in between bouts of laughter. "You sure have a way with words, Ema."

"Kind of perfect," Ema replied and when he looked at her quizzically, she pointed at the green of his rumpled clothes. "Celery stick."

Seren pretended to be affronted and the expression was so odd on him that Ema's eyes narrowed in distrust. "Oi! It wasn't my fault the juice trickled down your chin!"

Raoul fell right into character at that one, his wild laughter echoing around the courtyard while Ema glared at him angrily. "I'd have paid good money to see that," he said wistfully.

"Man, it was priceless," Seren chortled. "After the lecture she gave Des about the way he was eating…"

"Alright!" Ema cut across him loudly, a pout on her face as she stepped around them and headed towards the prison entrance. "That's quite enough out of you. I'm going inside; Deston would never leave me alone with you fops for this long."

"I don't think we've nearly had enough, love," Seren disagreed, he and Raoul falling into step behind her.

"I thought you were the nice one!" Ema said, her eyes accusing.

"I am the nice one," he confirmed with a smile. "If I wasn't nice, you'd hear something else coming from my mouth."

Ema's response was cut off by the fingers that suddenly crept around her forearm, startling her. She looked back to see Raoul standing there and was even more surprised by the look on his face: the hilarity that had been evident there only moments ago was replaced by a grim wariness. Seren was also staring at Raoul, clearly as puzzled as she was, but then the Brit's eyes followed his gaze and Ema followed suit, wondering what it was that had caught the red-head's attention. She didn't see anything at first. The courtyard seemed as empty as it had been before but then, just as she was about to enquire as to Raoul's sudden change in demeanour, she found the object of his displeasure.

The man was normally dressed, his walk casual and his expression genial. He was a good-looking man, his face handsomely sculpted and his features soft, made all the softer by the golden mane around his head. There was nothing threatening about him.

However, despite the ordinariness of this man's presence, Ema instantly understood her friend's reaction. Even despite his geniality of his appearance, the man looked chillingly familiar — she couldn't tell if it was the structure of his face or something in his expression but he reminded her of someone she had seen hang a mere week ago.

And yet, it wasn't that which made her stomach knot up, her skin feel like something had sunk its claws in her… It was the way he was staring straight at her as he approached them, his large eyes boring holes into her face and there was something about the way he walked… his every step filled her with unnatural dread.

"Do you have your gun?" she heard Seren mutter.

Beside her, Raoul's answer came stiff and quiet. "Yeah."

My gun… Where's my gun?

It didn't matter though. She could feel both of them shift, both their arms simultaneously move to the guns lodged discreetly in their waistbands as the man moved closer. They were still except for the heightening tension in the air and when he was less than a few feet away, he stopped. Blue eyes flickered back and forth between them, the expression in them simply amused, but it was enough: Raoul and Seren both drew her behind them, moving forward to shield her with their bodies.

"Afternoon, boys," he said, looking between them both with a smile. "How are you doing?"

"Do we know you?" Seren asked bluntly.

"No," came the reply, still amiable. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of being formally introduced, Mr Aded."

"Then by all means, don't let us keep you."

"Nothing could keep me except sheer interest," he said and, quite unexpectedly, turned his attention to her, his eyes seeking her out sharply. His gaze swept up and down her frame leisurely. "Although I've wanted to meet you for a while now, Ema. I must say, though…" he added, cocking his head to the side as he considered her, "considering what I heard Irina did to you, you're looking pretty good."

A thrill of dread hit through her at those words, made all the more intense by Raoul and Seren's reaction; their features grew dark and both of them had their weapons out instantly, the barrels trained on him with acute precision.

He eyed their guns with a smile. "Come now," he said, his tone diplomatic. "You don't even know my name, yet."

"I know what you are," Seren answered, his voice hard, "and I know what you've done. The only thing I'm lacking is a reason not to put a bullet hole in your face."

Another tilt of the head. Another smile. And once again, his eyes turned to Ema with deceptive friendliness. "My name is Leonardo Rainsford," he said despite Seren's rebuff. One arm extended towards the building behind him. "I was here for my dad."

Ema was speechless. The nonchalance of his announcement was so alien to her, so at odds with the rigidity of the situation, that she didn't know what to do except continue staring at him. The pleasantness of his expression was stark against the dark flicks in his eyes that were still fixed on her face.

"I'm glad I ran into you, Ema," he continued. His hand lifted and for the first time, she noticed that he was holding a slightly bulky envelope. He held it out for her but both Gavinners only moved tighter until Leonardo was almost eclipsed by their combined forms.

"You don't talk to her," Raoul snarled, lifting his gun threateningly.

Leonardo glanced down at the gun again and Ema shivered at the contempt that suddenly twisted his features. "You've just executed my father," he said in a low voice, his narrowed eyes fixing on Raoul with frightening intensity. "I'd say you're in enough trouble as it is without pointing a gun at me, Italian."

Raoul sneered. "Can ya see me quakin' in my boots?"

The young Rainsford tilted his head to the side and examined Raoul's face, his black expression melting into interest. Raoul met his stare head on, the shadow over his green eyes darkening with each second that passed.

"Shocking crassness in the face of such eloquence," he said. "Your father would not be impressed, Mr Adagio."

It was said with the same provocative amusement that Rafael had used but Raoul's response was different this time — he remained silent and unmoving and for some reason, seeing him like that spurred Ema to speak up.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"Ema, stay behind me," Raoul instructed her firmly, holding an arm out as if to keep her back.

"He's not going to attack me here," she said and was surprised by how confident she sounded in spite of her knotted stomach.

"No," Seren intoned, pushing Ema back again. "He can't be trusted."

"She's right," Leonardo interrupted. "I'm not here for her."

Seren's aim didn't waver. "Then what the hell are you here for?"

"I told you," he said calmly. "I was here for my dad."

Ema felt the cold inside grow; even though Leonardo Rainsford sounded composed, there was something in the way he said that that rang of a threat. She had known there would be retribution to the way they'd got rid of Rafael but now that one of his family was here, standing right before them with deafening calm, she was more frightened of the reaction than she could have imagined. Who were these people? What planned madness allowed Leonardo to look them in the eye… and smile at them?

"I know Herr Gavin is inside — no, don't worry, Ema—" Leonardo said reassuringly when he saw her expression. "He's safe. He didn't even know I was there. I was hoping to find Mr Cavatin."

"Well, I'm here now."

If it hadn't been for the hold Raoul still had on her, she would have probably fallen over; her whole body jerked around to look at her friend; Deston's expression was cool save for the slight raise of the brow that gave him an arched look. Unlike the other two, his arms were crossed and there was no gun in sight.

"How can I help you?"

Leonardo shifted and Raoul stiffened, his hold on Ema tightening again. When the young Rainsford took a step to the side, Seren's gun cocked. Leonardo raised an eyebrow at him before looking at Deston with enjoyment.

"How dramatic. Did you all ever consider a career in acting?"

None of them answered and the only reaction Ema saw was in Deston's face — he smirked, his shoulder rising in a semi-shrug. Leonardo resumed his walk around the fortress Raoul and Seren had created and the Italian turned, moving Ema behind him with each step the other took, his body shielding her. Leonardo smiled.

"I'm not going to hurt her," he repeated. "Put your gun away, Mr Adagio. Relax."

"What makes you think I ain't relaxed?" Raoul said with whimsical amusement. "Free therapy right here."

"It's not every day we get to point our guns at an arsehole," Seren agreed. "Especially one who deserves it."

Ema resisted the urge to look away when Leonardo's eyes moved to her again, travelling down her frame as if he was considering her value. She didn't want to show any fear but the sight of his perusal made her skin crawl and it was that, more than anything else, that made her do what she did next: her fingers dug into Raoul's arm and she buried her face into his back as her stomach churned in disgust.

She felt worthless, like a piece of meat being considered for purchase.

She never expected her behaviour to affect Raoul the way it did: if possible, he stiffened even more, and she almost felt the growl that vibrated in his chest. Ema knew the reason for it straightaway, knew that her obvious fear had angered him, and she clenched him tighter, afraid he would do something stupid.

"Please don't," she whispered, her voice so inaudible that it was only the following silence which reassured her he'd heard the plea.

"Obviously you won't believe me unless I tell you why you don't need to worry," Leonardo said, "and seeing as you're distracted at a time I need your attention, I'll tell you. I have no interest in Ema. That's my sister — and she wants Miss Skye all to herself."

Raoul snarled again, his muscles contracting under her touch while Seren's voice retaliated, anger evident for the first time. "You can tell your bitch of a sister that's not happening."

Ema's eyes popped open in surprise at the profanity and she peered around Raoul in time to see Leonardo glance sideways at Seren.

"For someone who's just lost her father, you show an alarming lack of respect for my sister, Mr Aded," he said quietly. "I would be careful what you say."

"My condolences, you son of a bitch," Raoul snarled, "but unless you start talkin' I'm gonna give your sister another body to mourn."

"Though I risk offending you boys, I have to say I'm getting tired of all your threats," he replied with a long-suffering sigh. "What valid reason do you have to shoot me? And we all know you can't take me in otherwise you'd have done it already. You have no proof."

Deston exhaled heavily — so heavily in fact, that it almost sounded exaggerated. And, if Raoul's body language was anything to go by, he had noticed the oddness of the sound too. "I suppose you're right," he said in a mock-defeated tone. "We have no choice but listen to what you have to say."

If Leonardo heard the ridicule in Deston's voice, he didn't show it. He threw the package he'd been holding at Deston, smiling appreciatively when the other caught it. "It's a gift from Irina," he explained. "Two gifts actually. She wants you to enjoy them as much as possible."

Ema's heart plummeted, her eyes fixed on the bundle now in Deston's hand. She didn't need to focus on the seeming irony in Leonardo's voice to know there could be nothing good in that envelope. Her friend's fingers were steady as they pulled at paper but still she willed him not to open it; he'd just pulled himself together…

Please don't open it here, Deston… Don't let the bastard see it get to you…

Her dread increased when he upended the package and a disk fell from it, housed in a slim case but when there was a click and something else dropped into his palm, glinting in the sunlight, Ema almost stopped breathing. The very air seemed to stand still around them as he took the ring in his fingers and turned it over expressionlessly. She didn't know how it had come into their possession but somehow she knew what it was and who it had belonged to; Ema looked at Seren and the trepidation in his eyes only confirmed her fear.

How did Leonardo get hold of that?

Deston was turning the ring over and over endlessly now, his gaze locked on it disquietly. Ema felt the shivers on her spine cease, felt the fear give way under anger.

Wasn't it enough they had killed Raina? How dare they play games?

She let go of Raoul and even as she took a step toward Deston, Raoul grabbed her and pulled her behind him again without a word. Before she could push him away, however, Leonardo moved — and everyone froze. He was watching Deston, who was still circling the ring, but didn't say anything, showed no fear as he walked right past the Gavinner.

Ema's anger bubbled again, rising in her throat like acid and she was ready to scream at the scum, to tell him what she thought of him as he walked away, so callous and uncaring of the pain he was leaving behind but then—

"Hey, Leonardo," Deston called out suddenly, his voice so steady that she didn't know what to make of it. He was still looking down, visually tracing his finger as it ran gingerly over the stones set in the band.

Rainsford turned around and looked at him, his questioning gaze boring into Deston's back. They watched as his hand closed around Raina's ring and he turned to meet Leonardo's eyes, his own lighting up with an unexpected smile.

"Tell your sister I said thanks," he said, waving the CD.

Leonardo's expression melted into a reflection of Deston's and he cocked his head to the side, surveying him as if he were impressed. "I will, Deston." He paused, as if a thought had occurred to him. "And when you release Sloan, we'll be there to claim him."

Raoul's reaction was instant: "You are Rafael's son, ain't ya?" he snorted. "Aren't you supposed to be intelligent?"

"Klavier will put your man away for so long, he won't see the light of day," Seren confirmed.

"There's no need for that," Leonardo said quietly and though the boys didn't seem to notice it, there was something in his expression that didn't sit well with Ema.

"I think Rainsford's death has addled his brain," Raoul sneered.

"You're assuming he had one in the first place, Ray," Seren chuckled.

However, the guitarist's silence in the conversation was almost deafening to Ema who couldn't help but notice the way he was observing Leonardo, as if he was using his friend's distracting taunts to read the man. His entire stance was relaxed but she recognised the arch of his back — Deston was ready for a fight.

"Just drop him off where you arrested him, boys," Leonardo continued in his smooth voice, condescendingly ignoring Seren and Raoul. "We'll do the rest."

"Will you be alive when we're done with him?" Seren asked conversationally. "Don't get me wrong, it's just that after my friend is done prosecuting him, the only one with the authority to release him will be the good ol' grim reaper."

Leonardo smirked and another sickening blow hit Ema in the chest when she saw the resemblance to Rafael; there it was, that taunting, evil provocation thinly veiled behind the curtain of a smile…

"You'll find you can't prosecute him now, Seren," he said, hands slipping into the confines of his crossed arms. "And while I'm feeling nice, I should probably give you a warning."

"I'm aquiver with anticipation."

"You don't want Irina to become interested in Maralie the way she has with Ema." He shrugged. "There's no need for her to suffer too."

Ema felt her heart skip a beat and she looked at Seren but his expression was blank. "She won't."

"One last thing," Leonardo added, his suddenly cold eyes sweeping all of them deliberately. "We're pleased Uncle David's still alive. Tell him Irina and I look forward to meeting him."

Rafael's son didn't wait for a reply this time: he spun on his heel, his eyes lingering on Deston for a moment as he turned, and then he was walking away.

Ema watched him go, her skin crawling despite the distance each step brought between them. Her fingers were still loosely hanging off Raoul's arm and even now she was half shielded by his body, and it was only when Seren was suddenly by her side, his voice in her ear, that she looked away from Leornado's retreating figure.

"Ema," he said in a low voice. "Are you okay?"

"She's fine," Raoul answered for her, his jaw hard when he looked down at her. "Quit coddling her, Aded. She's a tough girl."

It was odd, however, that even as he said that, his hands were rubbing her arms, but Ema wasn't paying enough attention to comment on that fact. Her focus had shifted to Deston whose gaze never wavered from Leonardo until the man had gone through the gates and disappeared. He looked at them now, his face a mask of serious contemplation with none of the anguish that she — and the boys if their silence was anything to go by — had expected. His hands immediately stowed away the ring and disc in his jacket even as he pierced Ema with his silver gaze.

"You all right, babe?"

"I'm fine. What—?"

"Let's get inside," he said and the urgency in his tone was evident now.

"I'm gonna go check on Sloan," Raoul cut in abruptly.

The drummer considered him for a split second before nodding in agreement and the Italian took off straight away, his long legs carrying him across the grounds at a startling speed. She didn't get to watch where he went however because she was distracted by the other two when they started talking again.

"Seren—"

"I know," Seren nodded at his bandmate. "I'll take Ray's car."

"I want a thorough search of his body," Deston instructed. "The cell he was in, the guards that watched over him after the PRA sanction Klavier set and the execution chamber — all of it!"

Seren touched Ema's arm and then he was off too, running in the other direction. His green-wrapped frame was sprinting through the gates when Deston put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him, his mouth dropping to her forehead in a startling but soothing kiss.

"Come on, Em," he said in a warm voice. "Let's go see where Klavier's got to. I bet Daryan's havi—"

"Where have they gone?" Ema interrupted, uninterested in the change of subject. "What's wrong?"

Deston took a moment to answer and when he did it was with a heavy sigh. "First, can you answer me one question?"

Ema nodded straightaway, her impatience at needing answers drowning out any wariness that might have arisen at the request. "What is it?"

"Are you scared?"

That surprised her: the eyebrows that had been hunched together in a frown now rose with surprise and she pulled back to look up into his face. "Why would I be…? Oh." She paused, her confusion ebbing when she understood why his silver eyes were so serious, why he was holding her so comfortingly.

Her first response was to deny it, to tell him that of course she wasn't scared (even if she was) but something stopped her. She remembered the honesty he always exercised with her, that it was because of her honesty she'd been able to look him in the eye and tell him he was not to blame for anything that happened to Raina. Ema trusted him and she wanted to give him the same courtesy, wanted him to always know she could be trusted to offer the truth and nothing else.

So she stopped and thought about her answer. Her eyes flickered towards where Seren had gone and back to where Raoul had raced off to before turning back to Deston; he was still staring at her as if he was trying to read her and she stared right back at him with a smile, pleased with the answer that fell from her lips:

"No," she said softly. "As long as you're all here, I'm not scared."

She expected him to be sceptical and stare at her for a while longer to ascertain whether or not she was being honest but his mouth stretched into a warm smile and he squeezed her shoulders. "Come on," he said, guiding her towards the entrance once more. "Let's go in."

"Are you going to tell me where Ray and Seren went?" Ema asked.

"You heard the way Leonardo was talking about Sloan," Deston explained. "He's gone to make sure he didn't do anything to him."

"That was him, wasn't it?" Ema said, perturbed. "The Leo we heard on those tapes we found in Meraktis' office."

"Probably," Deston said, nodding. "He acts just as self-satisfied as that bastard did."

Ema paused, hesitant to ask the question that had been lingering at the back of her mind for a while and she looked sideways at Deston, her eyes falling to the open front of his jacket. The Gavinner, having seen her line of sight, squeezed her shoulders again.

"Don't worry, Ema," he said steadily. "I'm fine."

"Why did—" She stopped, her lips compressing when she realised the inappropriateness of her question for the moment. Deston who was looking at her questioningly and she hesitated, not knowing if she should continue or not.

'Why did they have Raina's ring?'

Seriously? That can't wait?

"Why did he randomly threaten Maralie?" she said instead.

If Deston knew she'd changed her mind, he didn't show it. "Looks like Seren pissed him off," he guessed. "I imagine that was his reason."

"Where did Seren go?"

Deston was silent as he pulled the door to the building open for her, standing aside as she entered. His eyes flickered towards the guard standing just beyond the doorway and he gave the man an infinitesimal nod before taking Ema by the waist and continuing on forward, his attention fixed straight ahead.

"Do you remember Rafael's reaction when David stepped into the execution room, Ema?"

She nodded. She doubted she would ever forget that. "Yeah, he was angry."

"And surprised," he added.

"So?"

"He wasn't expecting David. Klavier lied to Rafael about David's death so that when he did see him, it would be an even bigger shock. It was also meant to stop him from searching for his brother."

"Okay…" Ema intoned, not quite certain where he was going with this.

"As far as I'm aware, there were only a few people in that room," he continued, now turning to look down at her with a thoughtful expression. "We were the only ones who knew about David. Even when he left, his presence at the site was kept secret."

Ema sensed the incomplete thought. "But there's something else?"

"The question here, Em," Deston said quietly, "is how did Leonardo know David's alive?"

Realisation struck with those words and she thought back on the instructions Deston had given Seren. Suddenly the latter's departure made a lot more sense to her detective's mind and she scowled. The idea that there might have been a camera in the execution room made her sick to the stomach: what kind of people would make a video of something like that? What kind of children would watch their father die like that? Surely Rafael hadn't had a hand in such a ploy. What could he gain from letting his daughter watch something like that…?

And suddenly the memory flooded her mind, the words echoing around her head tauntingly:

My dear, sweet Irina, I beg you! Don't betray your father. Irina… please don't forget me like Deston forgot Raina.

Her mouth dropped open.

No way.

It had seemed so strange to her when Rafael had uttered those words but she'd put it down to his psychotic mind, the last words of an angry man that wanted to frighten them all. She should have listened to the warning bells that had rung then, should have known nothing Rafael did was without a purpose. Each time he'd threatened one of them, Rafael had been sending a message to Irina, marking them and their friends, their families, one by one.

It hadn't been an act. It had been an instruction: destroy them all, is what he'd been saying.

Oh my God.

"Ema," Deston said, springing her out of her thoughts. She looked at him with horror-struck eyes but he was shaking his head, his hold on her firm. "Relax. Whether or not we're right, there's one thing I know for a fact. We're not going to lose this war."

"But—"

"Hey," he cut across her, like he always did when he wanted to stress a point. "You said you aren't scared as long as we're around."

"I'm not," Ema said though nobody could miss the desperation in her voice. "But you—"

"No buts, Em," Deston said resolutely. "Let's just wait and see what they both find. For now," he added, stopping at a door and knocking on it once, "let's just go see K and Daryan. Relax."

She didn't know where she found the strength that it took to take a deep breath and, despite the many questions that were swirling around in her chest, nod compliantly. Maybe it was the fact that she knew Deston was in worse shape than she was emotionally or maybe it was the mention of Klavier's name and the comfort that she was going to see him soon (or maybe it was a combination of all three) but Ema took another deep breath and smiled. "Okay."

"Good." He smiled a warm, heartening smile and it was almost as if the last week hadn't happened, as if he hadn't just been returned the ring of his dead lover. Deston was back: her best friend, the one who knew how to make everything alright. "Just relax. We're going to win this. You'll see. Everything's going to be fine."

Will we?

And just then, as if he'd sensed her need for a distraction from the doubt that hit her, the door flung open and Klavier stood there, his posture stiff, his hair dishevelled and his expression blank. But when he saw them both and his face broke into that delighted grin Ema had come to love, she felt the doubts fall away. She had the love of her life in front of her and her best friend by her side. How could she doubt their perseverance?

"Achtung! I thought you would never come."