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The Champion

By Cris Fireheart / Ken Anderson

Chapter 9 – Merger / Betrayal

Author's note: This story contains scenes of extreme violence, profanity, drug and alcohol use, sale, and abuse, and some sexual situations. Reader discretion is DEFINITELY advised. That being said, if none of that bothers you, then enjoy!

As ever, any comments, watches, faves or votes are well appreciated!

The celebration at the Clayton Estate is in full swing... But there's a shadow on the horizon for this little shindig... What's going to happen next, now that Henry and the Pride are sure to become involved?

Let's get on with the drama. This is another one of my build-up chapters, but trust me, the ending surprise might be worth the read...

--C.

“I don't think I could ever go as far as you did..."

Henry's words rang in his older brother's ears, setting off alarm bells that he'd hoped to never hear.

“How do you mean?" he asked, “From what I hear, you've been doing pretty well--"

The older lion's words were suddenly interrupted as his brother pulled a small, rectangular piece of paper out from one of his pockets, before thrusting it forwards into Lenny's paws. Looking down, Lenny could tell that it was a recently-taken photograph. The subject? Jimmy Ray Edwards; Jimmy Fender. The old weasel who was more than well-known in the underworld for his connections and information brokering, and the once-owner of the infamous Fender's Pub. The older weasel who was also currently seated comfortably in front of a table outside, next to his son, smoking and likely preparing himself to enjoy the food that Connor and Rick had brought.

It was a target photo. It meant that the subject was the target of a contract killing.

“...You're SERIOUS?!" Snarling, his fangs in full view, Lenny grabbed his younger brother by the throat, pulling him through the entrance, before slamming the doors shut and shoving his smaller body up against the heavy oak wood.

“HERE?! NOW?! WHY?! You have NO idea what's supposed to be happening here today, DO YOU?!"

Henry could only shake his head frantically as his brother lifted him off of his feet with ease.

“We're going outside, right now. The fact that you even have that shot means that the Pride knows you're here, don't they? They want YOU to take out Fender... Does HE know?"

Whimpering slightly as he struggled to breathe, Henry barely managed to nod his head. Heaving a sigh, Lenny released his grip, allowing his younger brother to fall to the floor, coughing loudly and gasping for air.

“FUCK! And we were JUST talking about trying to find a way to keep you from going too far..." Lenny let his sentence end as he suddenly bent over and gripped the collar of his brother's shirt in his good paw, pulling him forcefully to his feet so that their muzzles nearly met.

“IT'S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. We're going out back, right now, and you're gonna tell James, Jake, Marco, Ricky, Connor, Ted, and his dad JIMMY, who you were supposed to KILL, exactly what's going on here. Gods damn it; I WAS ABOUT TO BECOME A PART OF THE BIGGEST MERGER in the history of this CITY! And NOW, of course, the old cat STILL finds a way to fuck it all up for me!"

“...I don't know if you knew about it, little brother..." Lenny continued, “But you bet your ass I'll be finding out. Now, give me the gun."

Henry hesitated for a second, drawing in a sharp breath as he slowly reached his left paw towards his waistband. Using his first two fingers, he pulled out a shiny, new 9mm Glock pistol, handing it out towards Lenny, who immediately snatched it from his brother's paw, before checking to see that the gun was, indeed, loaded.

“Straight through the den. Then out, through the back doors," the elder lion growled, causing Henry to shrink back slightly.

“What?!" Lenny exclaimed, his grip on the pistol tightening. “You're telling me you wanted to be a part of this life, right? At least some part of you did. Well, this? KILLING? This is a part of that world, too. Do you know how old I was when dad first made me pull a trigger?"

Henry, speechless, simply shook his head 'no.'

“I was FIFTEEN. And I never wanted you to have that fuckin' experience... Now... PLEASE... Before I lose my shit any further, get off the floor and get moving, we've gotta go and warn the Family."

“The Family?" Henry repeated, confused.

“Me, Marco, Jake, Rick, and Mr. Clayton were supposed to be having a round-table discussion to see if we could merge some of our businesses together. I was actually going to recommend that you be given a seat at that table. But after this shit..."

“-- What do you think they'll do to me?"

“To YOU? Nothing. But I feel bad for the backup team that I KNOW dad would've sent to keep an eye on you; hell it wouldn't surprise me if the old bastard was somewhere out here, himself... Now, come on." Nodding his head solemnly, Henry began to walk in the direction that his brother pointed out, knowing that his fate now lay in the hands of a majority of the most powerful people in Harbor City.

Outside, the large group had gathered around the table to examine the food and drinks that Rick, Connor, and Henry had generously donated. Plates were being filled; glasses were being splashed with liberal amounts of very expensive Japanese whiskey, when a sudden shout of pain came from inside the mansion. All focus immediately turned towards the sound, as everyone turned around just in time to see Lenny shoving Henry through the open doors and down onto the grass in front of the table, a pistol in his good paw and what appeared to be a piece of paper in the other.

“Henry?! What the fuck?! Lenny, you want to tell me what the hell's going on here?!" James demanded as he set his plate and glass back down on the table.

Marching up to the table, his gaze lowered to the grass beneath his feet, Lenny slammed the pistol down onto the wood, and set the photograph in the center, so everyone could see it.

“We were too late," he growled through gritted teeth. “The Pride found out about this little get-together. Fender is a target, no idea why, but that tells me that there's a kill-team spread out through the neighborhood."

“Oh, is that all?" James responded with a smile and a slight tilt of his head. Turning to face Marco, he gave the wolf a single nod.

“Go ahead and call in your Pack. Have them brought in through the side gate."

Turning to face Lenny, James offered a slight smile and a short bow in apology. “Rory actually called ahead to warn me about your dad's plan, after Rick called to tell me that your brother would be coming along. That's why I told you to take it easy on your brother when you saw him. I'm sorry, cub, but I had to be sure."

“Don't worry," he continued, casually lifting his whiskey glass from the table and taking a sip. “Your brother's gonna be fine, and so are you. You, Marco, Ricky, Jake, and I are still gonna have a serious conversation. But first, I need to talk to an old friend of mine. You might remember him..."

The sounds of struggling and muffled cursing could be heard from across the massive yard, as the large side gate was unlatched and pushed open, before a half-dozen heavily-restrained lions were led unceremoniously onto the property. They were being headed by a tall, red wolf and at least five of his cohorts, including Danny and Carlos, the two gray wolves who had the common sense to divert their gazes from Ted and Connor as they ushered their prisoners closer to the table.

Filling a fresh glass with the expensive whiskey, James took the time to calmly pour a refill for himself, before walking casually up to the lion at the head of the line, whose thick mane had long-ago began to turn gray with age. Nodding to the wolf, James gave his silent permission for the canine to remove the cloth gag which had been tied between the lion's jaws, before using a knife to cut away the thick zip-ties which had been binding his arms behind his back.

“Damien. It's been way too long, old friend," James smiled, holding out one of the glasses.

“Damn it, that's not my name anymore, James, and you know that," the elder lion spat back in response, as he reached out a tentative paw to retrieve the glass, before raising it to his muzzle and taking a cautious sip.

“Yeah... You go by Iggy these days, after your older brother died; I know. Still... What happened to the cool cat who always used to show up at Harbor Hills High with a new strain everyday for us to try out at Hoover's during lunch? I miss that guy."

“He had to grow up, and found out how fucked the real world actually is."

“You think I didn't have to go through that, too?! Yeah; and you were ALSO the first person I actually came out to, remember? You were fine with it back then; hell, you even let me sleep on your couch when my parents threw me out on the street! And then, I heard about what you did to Lenny..."

“Leonardo," the older lion corrected.

“NO. YOU changed your name to honor your older brother when he was killed in the streets; Lenny changed his to distance himself from you. Was it really any surprise that after what happened to my mate, he nearly jumped at the chance to join Marco and Jake overseas in the Marines? He was trying to get AWAY from you... And what I heard you did to him, when he managed to survive that hell, and should've come home to a hero's fuckin' welcome?! That was unforgivable."

“Well, you can keep that disgraced seed of mine, 'old friend.' Obviously, this operation was a failure. You may have had a hand in corrupting one of my sons, but I will NOT be letting you have the other. HENRY! Get on your paws!"

“Henry, it's okay. Stay right where you are," James calmly intoned, turning to give the younger lion a smile.

“Damien, if anybody corrupted your sons, it was YOU. You and your 'Pride Laws.' Was it really so important for you to keep your family 'pure' that you had to physically and mentally destroy the ONLY son you had who actually respected you? Hey, Lenny?"

“Yeah, Mr. Clayton?"

“We have twenty-seven bedrooms in this house. Get your brother on his paws, and go get him settled into one of them. We'll be talking more later."

“Take the one on the second floor. White door, number 22," Jake offered as he walked up to take his place at his father's side. “Talk to your brother. I'll be up there, along with the rest of the guys in a little while."

Lenny said nothing, but gave a solemn nod of his head, before retrieving the pistol from the table and tucking it into his waistband, before reaching an open paw down towards Henry, who still lay on his back on the wet grass, a slackjawed look drawn across his muzzle.

“Come on. Let's go inside. You and me need to talk for a bit. After that, or maybe in the morning, we'll be meeting with the bosses to talk over the next steps. Right now, we need to leave until they're done here."

“--But what about--"

“--Dad will be FINE, cub. He's too valuable to just waste, and believe me, I considered doing it myself for more than a few years. But right now? You should be more concerned about yourself. Now, TAKE MY PAW, and get on your feet. We're going inside."

James turned to face the red wolf, offering a smile and a nod of his head in approval. “Thank you for your help, Giancarlo. Put the rest of them out in the open on the lawn; search them for blades first. Then, you and yours should come over and help us enjoy this feast while it's still warm; the whiskey perfectly compliments Benny's fajitas! Oh, and DAMIEN? You're invited as well. Now SIT DOWN."

One Hour Later....

After a lengthy meal and heated conversation between James, Iggy, Marco, and the others present, punctuated by calls for more liquor, and Iggy constantly rolling joints from the tray that was on the table, the atmosphere surrounding the events which had occurred that evening had finally seemed to die down.

“Look, Iggy, I'm gonna be honest with you," James began, before taking a deep inhalation from the joint he held between his fingers, which he then held out towards the older lion, who took it solemnly into his claws. “Henry isn't innocent; hell, none of us are. But right now, as things stand, Not only I, but his older brother, Jake, Marco, and Ricky, would all appreciate if he could keep his paws clean. As far as I'm concerned, he can still work with Jake and Rick; you know they'd never let anything happen to the kid, but... Then, there's the issue of your so-called 'Pride Laws.'"

The older lion heaved a sigh as he took a draw from the joint. Meeting his old friend's gaze, he exhaled through his nostrils, before clearing his throat to speak. “...Can I talk to you honestly? In front of everyone?"

A half-dozen heads nodded in silence as they all waited for him to begin.

“I never wanted this life for Henry... Leonardo – Lenny, was always the one that I thought would eventually take my place upon the 'throne...' But I couldn't; It wouldn't have--"

“--Looked right?" Came Ricky's response from across the table.

“To who? To YOU? Naw; I know you mobster types have always been set in your ways, but to say that you couldn't look over ONE SIMPLE FACT is just bullshit! Look at Marco! Do you honestly think his pack gives a single fuck who he chooses to be with?!"

The silence that followed Ricky's outburst was telling in and of itself.

“If you want MY advice, Mr. Rhah, I think it's time for you to update your 'laws.' Now, with ALL DUE RESPECT, and believe me, after Scars, that's not much at all, finish your meal. Finish your drink. And then, GET THE HELL OFF OF THIS PROPERTY. I MIGHT drive Henry home myself in the morning, once we've all had a chance to talk and cool off, and that's IF he wants to go back... Oh, and DAMIEN?"

The elder lion's mane flared up at the mention of his given name.

“Talk to Lenny. After four years, and the shit you put him through, he deserves at least THAT much from you, you old prick... Oh, and by the way? If you and your Pride try to pull something like this again, you won't have to look too far to find us. You do NOT FUCK WITH CONVICT UNIT. At home, OR abroad." With that, Ricky rose up from his seat and headed towards the house, with Jake, Connor and Marco trailing at his heels.

“... On that note, perhaps I SHOULD be taking my leave," Iggy muttered under his breath, as he rose unsteadily from his seat. James was quick to grab his arm and steady him, before offering a sorrowful grin.

“It really was good to see you again... Damien. I just wish it'd been under better circumstances. We'll talk soon; there's a card with my private number in your left pants pocket. Hey, Giancarlo?"

The red wolf gave a curt nod in response.

“Cut em' all loose, and make sure that Iggy here rides in the BACK seat, and not the driver's seat, will ya? Make sure his whole crew heads out alright; then, I want you to dismiss the others. You should go home, too. I'm going to be needing the time and privacy to have a few serious conversations with your Alpha, along with my friends and my son..."

“Understood. And... Thank you, Mr. Clayton."

“For?"

“I may only be the current Binetti Beta, but it is clear to me that our Alpha values your counsel just as much, if not more than my own. As his Beta, thank you for taking care of my Alpha. And if it's all the same to you, sir, I would prefer it if you would call me 'Gianni,' just as you also call our Alpha by his name, Marco."

“You've got it, Gianni," James let out with a buzzed smirk. “But in return? Pull the stick outta your ass; you're the only one here who hasn't had a drink or some smoke all night! And also, if you want your advice heard... Maybe you should talk more often."

The red wolf let out heavy chuff of laughter, actually allowing himself to loosen his posture slightly. Turning to face his henchmen, he gave a simple nod, and the wolves began to set the lions free of their bindings.

“Perhaps one day, Mr. Clayton," Giancarlo retorted with a smirk as he turned away to carry out the orders he'd been given. James couldn't help but shake his head in disappointment as he watched the older wolf leave. Turning back to face his remaining friends at the table, he heaved a sigh and sauntered up to one of the empty chairs, before falling onto it, and reaching his hand out for one of the glasses of whiskey.

“Well; shit... At least we managed to avoid ONE major catastrophe today... But now there's more to come."

“Next time, kid, try to find out if someone's tryin' to kill me sooner," Jimmy muttered as he reached for one of the open whiskey bottles, which he then tipped over his muzzle and drained a healthy portion of.

“I swear, Fender, I HAD NO IDEA that you were being targeted," James replied, reaching out to grab one of the unopened bottles for himself. “We got lucky that Rory called to warn us that they were after you. Now, I don't know why they wanted you gone, and you know I hate to say it, but I'm sorry, guys. I'm gonna need you both to take off... I need to go inside and have a few serious conversations..."

“Hey, you don't gotta tell ME twice, kid," Jimmy sneered as he shrugged his shoulders. “I WILL be taking a couple of these bottles for my trouble, though."

“You go right ahead, old fuzz... Hey, Ted?"

“Yeah-- I mean, yes sir?"

“Loosen up, kid. You've been challenged to a fight for next Thursday; I don't know if Ricky told you about it yet. I'll get you both more details soon, but until then, I want you and your dad to go at it for the kill during the next few days."

“I can do that. Who am I gonna be fighting?"

“I'll let you both know tomorrow. I need to talk to Jake, Ricky, Marco, and Lenny first before I can get into the details. Needless to say, you HAVE to win this one. It's important. Now, go ahead and grab a couple of those bottles each. Drive home safely. And Jimmy?"

“Yeah, kid?"

“I'll call you in the morning. Crash course. Be ready."

The two weasels gave nods of understanding, before happily helping themselves to the bottles of whiskey they'd been promised, as they got up from their seats and proceeded to follow the wolves and lions out of the side gate, with Ted taking the time to close and lock them behind him.

Now standing alone, James let out a heavy sigh. Grabbing the unopened bottle once again, he also reached out for a pack of Marlboros which had been left on the table, likely belonging to Ricky, and began to make his way slowly towards the mansion, taking the time to close the French Doors behind him. Upstairs, he could hear the mixed voices of Marco, Ricky, Lenny, and Jake talking together in hushed tones. Raising the bottle in his hand, he approached the staircase and knocked it twice against the wall, causing all conversation above him to suddenly stop.

“Downstairs, in the den," he spoke calmly. To any other human, it would've seemed as a whisper, but he knew that their ears were more than capable of picking up his speech. As expected, a few seconds later he could hear the sound of soft foot paws moving across the wooden floorboards and descending the staircase as he made his way into the den, where he retrieved five clean glasses from a bar in one corner, which he then placed onto the small table in front of the antique furniture near the fireplace. Removing the cork from the bottle, he filled each glass with three fingers worth of whiskey.

Then, filling his mouth with the potent liquor, he removed a cigarette lighter from his pocket. Sparking the flame to life, he aimed towards the fireplace, and blew out a burst of cask-strength whiskey, which immediately caused the starter logs which had been stacked in the fireplace to catch alight, an audible 'whoosh' filling the air as James chuckled slightly and backed away, satisfied at his handiwork.

“Damn, old man! I never knew you could do that," came Jake's voice from behind him. Not bothering to turn around, James motioned with one hand towards the glasses on the table.

“All of you, take a drink, and sit down. After everything that happened here today, there are currently THREE conversations that I need to have with you all, and I'd rather do it sitting than standing up. First off, Henry. How is he?"

“I gave him a couple of Xanax once we got up to the room," Lenny explained, “Those of us who were up there all talked for about an hour; you were half right. He's in for the life, but not 'that' part of it. He's out like a light now, though, and Connor is up there sitting and watching over him. Gave him a couple, too." James watched as the tall lion leaned over to retrieve a glass from the table. Jake, Ricky, and Marco also retrieved their glasses as well, before seating themselves on the purple-velvet cushioned furniture.

“Good," James nodded, “Then we'll fill them both in in the morning... Got any of those left?"

A small, brown glass bottle came flying in his general direction, which James managed to catch easily, before raising it to have a look at its label. “Farmapram, huh? Mexi-Bars. Yeah, whatever; that'll work." They all watched as James unscrewed the small bottle, before tossing back two of the ladder-like tablets,before using his whiskey to wash them down. Handing the bottle back to Lenny, he heaved a sigh and took a seat on one of the empty velvet-covered chairs.

“Right, so after that little conversation with Iggy, not to mention some other things I've been privy to hearing... I honestly don't even know where to start. So... Which do you all want to hear first? The good news, the bad news, or the worse news?"

Four heads turned and scrutinized one another's expressions. In the end, Marco was the one to speak up.

“Give us the hell first, sir."

“Okay. First off, Ricky? Nice power play back there. To tell the truth, I was trying my hardest not to punch my old best friend right in his fuckin' face. So seriously, thanks for that move."

“Shit," Ricky retorted, “You seemed to have the 'power' thing well in hand yourself, sir," he sneered, before raising his glass for a sip. “You had Rhah and his goons all trussed up and gift-wrapped before we even knew about it!"

“Yes, and THAT brings us to major issue number one: Rory Tebota."

“My Uncle?!" Lenny blurted out, suddenly sitting up in his seat.

“It's only a matter of time before Iggy, no, DAMIEN, finds out who betrayed him to me. Rory will have to be snatched and brought into the fold before your father orders a hit on him. But don't worry; I have a plan for that. It involves Henry and possibly the twins, whom you might've noticed didn't actually show up tonight. They're currently on overwatch, keeping an eye on your uncle as we speak. That's something we'll have to handle tomorrow, once we've gotten your brother up to speed. And now, onto the SECOND problem I've encountered tonight," James leaned over in his chair and locked eyes with Ricky.

“You set Ted up for a fight next Thursday night, didn't you?"

“Umm... Yeah?" The younger man answered with a nod. “After beating down Marco's man, Danny, he asked me if I could find him a fight with a stronger opponent. I'd heard about this guy who'd just come into town; apparently he'd been fighting his way across the states for a few years. I figured it'd be good for the kid; why do you ask? And how do you even know about that?!"

“Because of another piece of information that I heard..." The older man rose from his chair and marched over to the fireplace, where he pulled away the laminated photo of 'Convict Unit.' Turning around, he laid it down upon the table between them, before pressing a bony finger down upon the image of the skinny rat on the far right, who appeared as if he didn't want his photo taken by the camera.

“THAT'S his opponent for next Thursday. Kenneth Markus. I'm pretty sure you all know him fairly well... Say hello to the THIRD problem..."

The sound of glass shattering upon the hardwood floor suddenly cut through the conversation, as Marco's paws had twitched, allowing the glass to fall from his grip. Jake, Rick, and Lenny had all risen from their seats as well, awaiting an explanation.

“'Rats' Markus?! Nobody's seen him since we were in North Africa!" Jake exclaimed, drawing nods from the others.

“Yeah; he basically disappeared from base not too long after Pfc. Sargent, the Hyena, went missing. Hell, a lot of the entire battalion even thought that Bobby had deserted with Rats, but then... We found his body."

James took a moment to let the unspoken news and words he'd had to say sink in, before retrieving the pack of Marlboros from his pocket and sticking one between his teeth, lighting it up, before tossing the pack onto the table.

“Victor? Are you here?" he called out into the flickering shadows given off by the firelight. A few seconds later, a tall, older athletically-built Gray Fox dressed in a butler's uniform appeared to materialize from one corner of the room. In his black-gloved paws, he held a thick folder.

“Mr. Markus's movements for the past year, as we could track him," the fox explained, his heavy British accent a surprise to the others in the den. “It wasn't easy... And as you requested, Mr. Clayton, a rather gory series of still photographs, as recorded by a security camera on Fire Base Badger in Kenya, on the third day of April, 2019. I hope you know what I had to go through to get ahold of them. Personally, I'd advise all of you who were there that day to have another drink before you take a look at those photos..."

With that said, the old Fox set the file on the table, gave a slight bow at the waist, and backed away.

“I really WOULD take Victor's advice, and have another drink before you look at what's in there," James suggested with a hint of seriousness in his tone, “I promise you, you are NOT going to like what you find in that file. I only saw it a few hours ago, and it turned my stomach. As for me, I'm going to head upstairs to my room for a minute; There's something I have to get. I'll leave you four here to, well... think it over."

With those words, James drained his glass and set it down upon the table, before turning to make his way to the ornate staircase near the front entrance. As they all watched the older man depart, Victor, the butler, took the time to refill their glasses, before backing away into the shadows once again.

“Following him wasn't easy," the old fox commented, drawing their attention. “But what's in that folder is far more than just what I saw. For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your friend. Good luck. You'll need it."

Without giving them a chance to voice any questions, the old fox gave another slight bow, before quickly taking his leave through a well-hidden servant's door which was set in almost flush with a nearby wall. He obviously didn't want to answer their questions; in his mind, he'd given them all the answers they would need.

“So..." Jake muttered under his breath.

“Yeah..." Marco echoed.

“Do we even want to know?" Ricky questioned, as Lenny suddenly lunged forward and took the file into his paw.

“Fuckin' right, I wanna know. Bobby Sargent was a good kid; a good Marine. If that sleazy fuck Rats had anything to do with how we found him..."

“Then open the file," Marco spoke hesitantly. “Ted's supposed to be fighting him in four days. Let's find out exactly what he's done during the time he's been 'missing.' And then, we make sure that Ted wins."

“How would we do that?" Jake questioned.

“The same way we were all taught, pup," came Lenny's response, as he nodded his head in understanding. “Ted's already a champion street brawler; he can take what we've got to dish out. Just a couple of days to get him prepped, and he'd at least have a chance. By the way, WHO the fuck decided to set up this fight anyway?!"

“Your father," came the smooth baritone of James as he descended the staircase and made his way back towards the den to join them. “One of his men gave Rory the order to set it up; personally, I think it sounds like a backup plan, in case what they were gonna do today failed. Anyway, your Uncle gave us the date and time; the location is up to US, so we're gonna have a little home-field advantage. However, not even Rory knew who Ted's opponent would be, so I had Victor, whom you've just met, use some of his contacts and do a little digging. Rick, this challenge wasn't done in person, like usual, wasn't it?"

“Well, no; I got it by phone call," Rick confirmed, “But even so, how do you know that it was Iggy who set this up?"

Pointing a thin finger towards the large file on the table, James simply nodded his head. “It's all in there. Including audio and video on SIM cards. The four of you should definitely have a look at it before we decide what we're gonna do. But right now, if you don't mind, I need to have a quick word with my sons."

Marco and Jake's ears perked up as if they'd misheard him. Smiling, James approached the two of them. In his hand he held a dusty, black-velvet coated box. Holding it out towards Marco, he met the wolf's confused gaze with his own.

“Avete il mio permesso, Don Binetti. They might need to be resized, but I'm certain that they'll fit their purpose quite well. And always remember, who is the paterfamilias. Welcome to the Family."

Marco and Jake exchanged surprised glances. Taking the small box into his paws, the coyote flipped it open. Upon seeing the familiar pair of platinum bands contained within, his jaw nearly dropped in surprise.

“Dad?! These rings, they're--"

“--Mine and Charlie's, from when he first proposed to me. And now, they belong to you, pup, Gods know, you two have been together long enough. I KNOW Charlie would approve."

“Wait... You knew?!"

“Yeah... He knew." Marco nodded, taking Jake's arms in his own. “After what happened to you at Benny's he made it perfectly clear that I could never call you MINE... Unless I sent the kind of message that he wanted to be heard..."

“Scars..."

“Yeah. You know I'd do anything for you, and that was no exception. Ti amo, Jakob. E non c'è niente che non farei per te."

“I'm gonna have to take Italian lessons now, aren't I?" Jake sighed, his ears cocking to one side.

“He said, 'I love you, Jakob, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you.'" James translated. “So... There it is," he let out with a sigh. “The good news, the bad news, and the worse news. Question now is, what are we gonna do about it?"

----End Chapter 9----

Well, things are about to heat up once again. I hope that those of you who enjoy it, enjoy it. For those of you who enjoy the romance, don't worry, there's plenty of that coming along soon, too.

Til next time,

--C.