With A Twist

TWENTY ONE (HAZEL)

"You've done therapy," I blink at him in shock. 

He's the most intimidating of them all, and he's telling me he has voluntarily gone into a room to talk through his feelings?

"Yeah," he shrugs, nonchalantly, "we all have."

"Not like couples therapy, though," Andros is quick to clear up, making me smile. 

"I don't feel worth it," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I keep my gaze lowered, hating myself for being so vulnerable. 

"What do you mean, principessa?" Atlas asks me, moving a strand of hair from my face as he lifts my chin to look at him. His eyes are piercing into me, worry etched into his pupils. 

I take a shaky breath, trying to gather myself as the emotions threaten again with a lump in my throat. 

"I don't deserve therapy when others have actual problems," I say quietly, mu face flushing as I say it. 

The room falls quiet for a few moments. 

"I'd say being abused and kidnapped by your dad would constitute an 'actual problem', Spitfire," Dawson shrugs, earning murderous glares from the other three. 

"Out," Theo points to the door, kicking Dawson with his foot. 

Dawson gets up and hesitantly starts to walk out but stops when he hears me starting to laugh. 

A fit of giggles bursts through me as I realise he's right and I have been so stupid to not see it. 

They all stare at me with concern etched on their faces, making me only laugh harder. My breathing becomes laboured as I try to breathe through the laughter.

"You okay, Angel?" Andros half-chuckles with worry still on his face. I nod my head, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. 

"He's right," I  hiccup, watching as Dawson sits down again and winks at me. 

"I'll do it," I add seriously. 

"I'll go set it up," Andros nods and stands up, walking over to me. He kisses me passionately, nibbling on my lower lip before letting me go. I watch as he walks out, my heart full at having all of them back again.

"You need food," Dawson stands again and kisses me before leaving the room, too. 

As soon as the door shuts, I snuggle into Atlas's chest, reaching behind with my hand to pull Theo closer to me. He wraps his arm around my waist, spooning me from the back and I close my eyes, feeling completely safe between the two of them. 

"How has your weeks been?" I ask them, feeling instantly stupid. 

I literally live with them but don't know how their life has been for the past week.

"Good," Atlas clears his throat, "Andros has been tracking the Russian movements, whilst Dawson has been working on solidifying a few new businesses for us to launder through. I've been in back-to-back meetings with capos and Theo... well... Theo decided to go on a killing spree."

A gasp instantly leaves my lips and I try to sit up, only to be kept in place by Theo's arm. 

"It's not a big deal," he says from behind me, making me roll my eyes. 

"Don't roll your eyes, bellissima," Atlas warns, making me shudder at the dominance in his voice. 

"Why did you go on a killing spree, Theo?" I ask, redirecting the attention to Theo's slightly psychotic side. 

"Well... I didn't see you for a week and needed to let go of some of the energy. Boxing just didn't cut it. I needed living targets," he explains calmly as if explaining the recipe to his favourite dish. 

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply as I try to not react to the fact that one of my boyfriends killed people because he didn't get to see me. 

"Okay," I say after a while, deciding not to even go into it. 

Atlas gives me a knowing look and I relax, realising he's dealing with Theo's anger problems. 

I close my eyes, feeling sleepy as Atlas strokes my hair and Theo runs his hand up and down my hip. 

"Sleep, little one," Theo soothes to me, extinguishing my last grasp at trying to stay awake. 

I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

By the time I wake up, it's mid-morning and a note has been left on the pillow next to me to say they have all gone to work. They reassure me there are plenty of guards around so I let myself slowly wake up. I slip into the shower before dressing in a pair of blue mom jeans and a black knitted jumper. I let my hair air-dry, brushing through it first and letting it hang down my back. 

As soon as I start walking downstairs, the intense smell of baked goods floods my senses, my mouth practically salivating. I walk into the kitchen to see a box of fresh pastries on the kitchen island. 

I look for a note attached to them but there is nothing so I just assume the guys (probably Dawson) have left it for me. I grab a croissant from the box and put it on a plate, heading out to the back garden patio to eat it. 

I sit on the outdoor sofa and stretch my legs out as I look out at the view of endless fields. 

Taking a bite of the pastry, the buttery, flaky taste has me closing my eyes in pure bliss as I chew it. 

Fuck, I want to marry whoever made this. 

I finish the croissant and set the plate on the table, leaning back and listening to the relaxing birdsongs. As I start to relax again, I find myself struggling for breath. I reach my hand to clasp at my throat, trying desperately to get air to my lungs but it's no use. 

I try to scream for help but nothing comes out. Black spots start to surround my vision as I double over with a sharp pain in my stomach. 

With one last gasp for breath, I collapse, too weak to keep myself consciousness. I slip into a black hole, completely alone and helpless. 

I'm so fucking tired but wanted to give you guys a chapter because I feel guilty for not writing one in 2 days <33