Chapter Twelve

Bekah

Bekah regretted being so hard on her brother, but she felt it was the right thing to do. Honestly, she felt a great sense of relief when Vito chose to spare the old man despite his aiding their enemy. It showed that his new authority hadn't fully corrupted him, as Bekah was beginning to suspect. There was still some of her little brother who tried to see a path outside of bloodshed.

However, that was also dangerous in itself. It felt like a war was going on in her head; her logical side knew it was important for Vito to be ruthless every once in a while, but her emotional side couldn't help seeing the boy she watched grow up sticking to his books and frowning on the harming of other people. She felt like she'd listened to the right side to prepare him mentally for his meeting with Lafon, but it didn't weigh on her any less.

She found herself drifting to their father's office...Vito's office, as she often did when she found herself left behind. It had been a surprise when Vito had included her in his plans to orchestrate a meeting aimed at stalling and distracting Zliksay while Vito took out District 31's scouting group. It was unusual for Bekah to join the boys on their missions, but she couldn't say she disliked the experience.

She sat in Vito's chair behind his office and swivelled to face the portraits hanging up on the wall behind the chair. This was the section for past Crimson Tides leaders. Naturally, Bekah's focus was drawn to her father. Shalkes Vinbuton. He always looked a bit unfamiliar in pictures; his lips set in a thin line and his eyes set in a daring glare toward the camera. Perhaps it was a more familiar look for her brothers, but her father had always been soft with her.

It was possible that's why she rarely ended up tagging along with the boys on their joint missions growing up, and it would probably continue to be so now that Vito was the Boss. She had grown up much different from them and Bekah often sensed a certain protectiveness from her brothers.

Bekah's thoughts travelled to their current task. She felt like she should be out there with them, if only to provide moral support. However, Vito had made it clear that one of them needed to stay behind in case the others took longer than expected to return.

She knew exactly what he meant by longer than expected.

The thought haunted her. She still hadn't gotten over the untimely death of her father, and truth be told - she wondered if she ever would. Perhaps it was their different upbringing that allowed her brothers to lock away their pain in a deep chest and focus on moving forward, while she was stuck in the quicksand of her pain, unable to climb out.

It was as she mused over this that she heard the office door creak open. Not expecting anyone to be here, she turned quickly, her nerves suddenly aflame. The familiar face of Vito's secretary, Rosia, peeked through. For a brief second there was an unfamiliar expression on her face, then her familiar rosy smile flashed at Bekah.

Bekah was taken aback. Her first thought was she might've expected Vito to be here and there had a secret romance brewing, after all, she wasn't much older than the siblings, but that was heavily influenced by the books she read. Vito usually had no space in his head for women, but especially now, she had a feeling he viewed them as either allies or foes; nothing more. Not to mention, Vito would've announced his departure to her.

So why was she here when she usually practically lived in that office?

She felt dormant suspicion flaring up, but Bekah knew she frequently worried too much and she summed it up to that. After all, even though Vito had said to be wary of shapeshifters, it was understood that he would probably be the target. With him meeting Lafon directly, there was no reason for a shapeshifter to make a move at the moment.

Besides, how would one get to Rosia?

Rosia entered after the awkward silence lengthened. "Uh, I'm sorry, Miss...I just came to drop these off for Vito," she said timidly, waving a stack of papers in her hand.

"Well, don't let me stop you," Bekah offered with a smile. "And what did I tell you about calling me Miss? Makes me feel old; Bekah is fine."

"Right, sorry. Alot of things are slipping my mind recently," Rosia said as she advanced to the table.

"I'm not surprised. All that paperwork Vito has you doing. I bet he's having you deal with the majority and only printing his signature after checking over your work, his hate for paper work is.."

Bekah trailed off. The sound of Rosia's walk was off. She had spent enough time around the woman to know she walked with a slight shuffle because of an old injury. As the story went, she had been on the wrong side of town and got caught in the crossfire of a rival gang and the Crimson Tides. Shalkes, their father, a believer in minimizing civilian casualties, had visited her personally in the hospital and offered her the job.

This 'Rosia' had no shuffle. Unless she could heal a bum leg after six years, she was not who she claimed to be.

Bekah looked to the mirror her father had kept in his office, now, his assistance from beyond the grave proving crucial, as she saw 'Rosia' raise her hand, which contained a cylindrical object, to her mouth.

Her physical prowess couldn't be compared to Jekio's nor Vito's, but she was no slouch. Despite her father's tendency to keep women out of dangerous business, he had made it clear that Bekah would engage in training so she could defend herself if needed.

Stolen novel; please report.

Almost on pure instinct, Bekah ducked and a dart, likely a sedative, flew harmlessly past above. There was a startled cry at her sudden dodge and Bekah frantically pulled out the bottom drawer in Vito's office table. She knew he kept a pistol behind the drawer itself; however, all she felt was an empty space.

"You won't find the pistol there," Rosia's impersonator announced. "The secretary was forthcoming with any hidden weapons...with a little prodding."

Bekah felt sick imagining the pleasant Rosia being tortured. She removed a knife from her shoe; usually, she kept a gun on her body at all times, as Vito had requested for Jekio and her, but there were times inside the mansion where she felt comfortable enough to remove it. She cursed herself internally for even beginning to think the mansion was some impenetrable safe space.

She looked back in the long mirror just in time to see the shapeshifter hurl an object at it, resulting in a loud clang as the mirror shattered, causing shards to fall loudly to the floor. Bekah froze. Her father's prized possession was carelessly broken so casually.

It took considerable effort to tear her eyes away from the destruction and try to focus on surviving the ordeal, while the beginning of tears stung at her eyes.

What would Vito do in this situation? she wondered. He wouldn't be in it in the first place. He wouldn't have brushed off his secretary's weird expression and even if he had, he would've had a reliable weapon on his body. Bekah shook away her self-loathing.

Vito would somehow find a way to view the situation as he did card games. He'd come up with some analysis to predict his opponent's play or, at the very least, give himself a chance at victory.

Bekah imagined the shapeshifter creeping toward the desk, likely with another sedative at the ready. It seemed the shapeshifter planned to capture her, rather than kill her. That could be advantageous.

She looked to both ends of the office table, and she found herself propped in the middle of. Which way would the shapeshifter choose to come? It was something completely up to chance, yet if she guessed wrong, it could be fatal.

As she looked to the right, her eyes fell on the broken mirror again and suddenly, it wasn't so useless after all. Some of the shards on the ground were at an angle where she could see slightly past the end of the office desk.

And it was clear.

She realized now why Vito relied so much on his instincts. Overanalyzing could be dangerous in itself. She wanted to wait for longer to make sure the shapeshifter hadn't simply yet to appear in the reflection, but every second was critical, and represented Rosia's impersonator drawing closer.

She had to go with her gut.

She dashed to the left, holding her knife at the ready. Her gamble proved worthwhile, as the shapeshifter had been mere meters from breaching the left side of the desk. The shapeshifter had changed back to his original form, a lofty male of average height. He had his blowgun at the ready, but his reflexes were simply not fast enough to evade Bekah's knife as she stabbed it into his knee with all her strength.

A chilling shiver wracked Bekah's body as she felt resistance from muscle before it gave way to a much harder resistance. A sinister crunch invaded the room as the cartilage gave way and Bekah's fingers involuntarily slipped from the knife in both disgust and fear at what she had done.

It was a grave mistake.

Although the man's knee immediately buckled and he fell in a screaming heap, Bekah's stepping back put her directly in the path of his body and in her shock, she didn't move in time.

Atleast two hundred and twenty pounds fell on her and despite the man's pained face, he took advantage of his luck, positioning his arms on her shoulders to pin her down. Had she removed the knife, there would've been significant blood flow that might've sapped the man's strength gradually, but that was not the case. And try as she might, with her short stature, she was no match for the man in a battle of physical strength.

As she struggled, the shapeshifter reared back a fist and punched her square in the nose. Her vision swam and the sharp, consistent pain indicated her nose might be broken. The shapeshifter took her moment of vulnerability to shift his hands from her shoulder to her neck.

Before he could apply serious pressure, Bekah reacted. Their father had always joked she would be a midget because of her small build as a kid, but he had been wise in investing in a jit-jutsu instructor who was passionate in her work, unafraid of being hard on Crimson Tides royalty. Even with blurry vision and a foggy head, Bekah transitioned into a triangle choke seamlessly.

Her legs shot up to form a triangle around the shapeshifter's neck and one of the arms he had been preparing to choke her with. Tightening it caused the shapeshifter to grunt in both surprise and pain as his carotid arteries were compressed, restricting proper blood flow to the brain. A frantic fight ensued from the shapeshifter as he tried his best to hammer Bekah's ribs with his fists, but he wasn't in good enough position to get enough power behind them.

Bekah could practically smell the desperation as the man attempted to lift her up and likely slam her back down. With Bekah's small frame, it wasn't an impossible task and it would become a battle of endurance and willpower if he was successful, but his knee buckled again.

Bekah's vision cleared enough that she could see the man's bulging eyes as his breaths became short, choking gasps.

There was no escape from this bloodless prison as Bekah's thighs suddenly became just as deadly a weapon as a gun. After a few more moments, the shapeshifter's body went slack. Bekah didn't dare release him for ten more seconds, after which she kicked him off her body.

Her nose was indeed dripping blood and her head still was not as clear as she would've liked. A sudden fatigue gripped her that seemed to be postponed by the burst of adrenaline that assisted her during the triangle choke. However, she resisted the urge to flop onto the ground and instead forced her legs to carry her to the door.

She couldn't risk the man waking up before her with his hands free, busted knee or not. Before her palm could wrap around the doorknob, it turned and the door swung open. A man appeared, this time completely unfamiliar.

The two stared at each other in surprise before Bekah retreated, raising her hands in a fighter's stance. The man calmly looked past her at the downed shapeshifter and shook his head. "Figures. Leave it to this idiot to be beaten by an unarmed woman." He then pulled a pistol from his hip and aimed it steadily at Bekah, who froze.

She cursed herself for not retrieving the blowdart now.

"Let's keep this civil now. It'll be best for both of us if I don't have to shoot you, but don't think I won't," the man warned. His eyes had a hungry gleam that indicated he planned to do more than simply capture her.

Bekah let out a frustrated whimper that she immediately regretted when she saw her aggressor's lips stretch into a greedy grin. He took one step toward her before a literal hole was blown in his chest.

The man's lifeless body fell to the ground with a thump and Bekah finally registered that he'd been shot. In the doorway stood a well-muscled man with a determined look on his face and a smoking shotgun.

Valko, if Bekah remembered correctly.

Her body finally gave in to a wave of exhaustion and she felt her legs give out. Thankfully, she didn't taste the unforgiving ground as strong hands caught her tightly. She never remembered being so thankful for the musk of a man's deodorant mixed with a healthy portion of sweat and alcohol.

"Thank you."