young god I marquis du gramont

the bookshelf

ok ok so sorry for the hiatus but its here! thank u all for the reminders to actually continue to write and again am so sorry! enjoy!! xx 

- chxxxxxxr

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what i'm becoming - cage the elephant

i'm so sorry, honey, for what i'm becoming
everything you wanted seems so far from me
never meant to hurt you, no, never meant to make you cry

/

'death is a leap into the dark'- thomas browne

- 

francesca

Francesca paced around the room, anxious and gun in hand. It had been a week since her last conversation with the marquess and in that short time, he had advanced far in the game. His henchmen had subtly surrounded the Instanbul Continental and had been monitoring them for weeks. Francesca saw men in grey suits watching her from the stairs, from the corridors and even next to her own office. They knew that she knew. But they didn't care. They were protected by something much more powerful than the Table; they were under the care of the Bisset family. That was a protection that was worth more than the Table's.

Her security team had requested many times that she be more cautious, ask for more backup but Francesca had refused. She couldn't let the Marquess know she was afraid. But he did. He could smell her fear even from across the globe; Vincent knew that she had a weakness. Her love for John made her plans half-hearted and her façade fragile.

Vincent saw Francesca's fear even before he had made his move. Before he hired assassins and guards to take their mark. He sent her a note, a beautiful hand written piece wrapped in a crimson ribbon. Francesca knew who had sent it just from Cat's expression as she entered the room. The blonde tossed the note onto the mahogany desk, face crumpling into a frown.

'It's from him'

It bore one sentence: I am giving you a week to run, señorita.

It was a threat that she has expected. Francesca pulled out her gun and started shooting the windows. A bullet through each but the glass didn't shatter. Cat had them reinforced a year ago when Francesca's aggression started to worsen. It was the stress, Cat knew, but it shouldn't excuse Ces's behaviour. Francesca had started spiralling again, like she did after John left. She drank a lot, alone, sipping whiskey at the bar staring blankly at the painted wall of her apartment. At night, she would come back with a new boy, only to leave them in the lobby of the hotel, drunk and confused.

He had gotten to her. Badly. Cat knew the look Ces had when she saw the letter in the blonde's hands, eyeing it with fierce passion. She pounced on it as soon as she recognised the handwriting. It was abnormal for Ces, she thought, Ces never threw herself at men; Francesca was many things but the one thing she wasn't was sentimental. She was emotional, yes, prone to burst of intense emotions but she had always been rational in her thoughts. That didn't seem to be the case. Vincent either had something on her or he had promised her something grand. To Ces, that could only be one thing. John's freedom. Cat knew that that was the only thing that her best friend had ever wanted in the world; to see John happy. It killed her when Helen died; she saw a side of John that she thought he had left behind and under all the bravado, Cat knew she was scared she was going to lose him to his own demons.

'Tonto del culo'

(Asshole)

Ces threw the letter on the floor and fired two more rounds. She must have been aiming, one of the bullets found its way into a hole on the wall, big cracks creeping up the double glazed window like a web. It was a beautiful sight, one could even call it ironic. A facade of glass, shattered by two bullets that just happened to end up in the same place. Francesca and the marquis's tiny, poisonous words.

'He's fucking with your head and your letting him'

They had suggested that John go to Osaka; Koji and Akira were there. At least he would be safe for the time being. Francesca understood that the bond between the two friends ran deeper than any blood ties; they were and have always been brothers.

Chess hears a click. An all to familiar one. Polished metal scrapping in the floor. It seemed to reverberate around the room. Cat continued talking, undoubtedly about how Ces should take care of the furniture. Unimportant bullshit. The brunette snapped her attention towards the cabinet on the right; it was a large hand carved beauty, hosting her collection of poetry and George Orwell novels. Francesca was a particular fan of Animal Farm.

'Deja'

(Leave)

Cat blinked in surprise.

'Qué dices?'

(What did you say?)

'Déjame'

(Leave me)

Her best friend bowed and left without another word, shutting the door softly behind her. She would be confused, asking questions but she knew better than to question Ces.

The tapping was rhythmical now. Ces walked over to the bookshelf, gun in hand. The shelf was a secret so well kept that bot even Cat knew. It was Francesca's safe place; she trusted it only to those who she was sure she could trust with her life. And with her blackmail. Cat was too gullible, too easily swayed by how others thought of her. She would break down easily under questioning. The information Francesca kept could start wars. She only trusted three people with that information.

She cocked the gun softly into her leather glove; she kept a pair in her drawer in case of unwanted visitors. There wad a button in one of the books; only Francesca knew which one. She reached for Neruda's poetry collection and felt around until her fingers dipped into a small opening. She prayed that the person behind the door was who she thought it was.

The door opened so slowly Francesca wondered if she was being delirious.

'How many times have I told you to put a window in that room?'

She sighed in relief, lowering her gun.

'Well, its nice to see you again too'

'You should get better guards for your doors, you know?'

'I didn't want to look inconspicuous. Nobody knew about that door'

'You put people by that door to specifically stop me coming in?'

'No but...'

'It wasn't going to work'

'Better than not having tried, right?'

Caine chuckled and leant against the door frame. The expression on his face remained serious despite the sarcasm.

'We need to talk, Chess'

She had a haunting feeling what he was about to say.

'If that's the case, I suggest a more discrete location'

Caine nodded and retreated back into the darkness. Francesca took a worried glance around the room and followed him, pushing the button behind her. They stood in silence as the door swung close, hinges creaking with the effort.

Caine fell so suddenly that Francesca almost didn't have time to catch him. His sunglasses clattered to the floor. The closer she looked, the more she could see the burden behind his glassy eyes. He looked defeated and that scared her. She had never seen him look so beat. Her mind was running with questions about what he had to say but she knew. In her gut, she knew what was coming. She knew the shit they were about to get themselves into. So, she sat in the dark, cradling a killer, too scared to hear what he had to say. His eyes were closed when he eventually summoned the courage to confirm Francesca's worst fears.

'He gave me John's name'

In the darkness, Francesca allowed a single tear to slip out of her eye.

'I know'