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Tick-tock, tick-tock, Sebastian & Willow. 

Warning: Vivid descriptions of violence because it's Sebastian we're talking about. 




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


-8 hours


Juliette stirred awake with a groggy groan. She flinched at the bright light dangling overhead and took a sluggish gander of her surroundings. Immediately, she recognized she had been taken to a warehouse. A smile slit across her lips, her shoulders shaking as a laugh poured out of her.


“And you call me dramatic.” She pinpointed a shadowy figure beyond the blaring spotlight’s veils. “A warehouse, Nathaniel? Surely, you could’ve done better.”


“I apologize. It was all a bit on short notice,” he admitted coolly as he stepped into the circle of light, a gun glinting in his hand.


Juliette arched an eyebrow, homing in on the weapon. “I’m still alive which means you need something invaluable from me. Which means I’m priceless to you.”


Sebastian chuckled, the sound low and throaty. “Don’t think too highly of yourself, Juliette. You’ll plummet in value once I get what I need.”


She tilted her head, platinum tresses following suit. “And what exactly do you need, Nathaniel?”


“Your clearance code for the Authority Network.”


Juliette’s smile widened. “Oh, I see. You want out and you need insurance. Well, darling, you aren’t getting a golden egg from this g—ahhhh!”


Her body jerked and convulsed against her restraints and the chair as an electrical current traveled through her. Her quavering form slumped forward and she panted heavily.


Willow circled Juliette from behind with a taser in hand and joined Sebastian’s side. “You’re right, honey. It is easy to use.”


Juliette gritted her teeth. “What is she doing here?”


“She has a name, Juliette,” Willow reminded, the woman’s name flicking off her tongue with all the bite she could muster. “I’m sure you remember what it is, right? I mean you’re always in my damn business. So, say it. Say my name.”


Juliette eyed her wearily, attempting to recover. “You must feel all big and mighty with that in your hand, but if I weren’t tied to this chair, we both know who’d win.”


Willow wagged her head. “Actually, I already won. Sebastian chose me. Now, what’s my name?”


The woman narrowed her gaze, shifting her sights to a stoic Sebastian. “I’m not in the mood for games, Nathaniel.”


“And yet you always play like you’ve got nothing to lose, Juliette,” he returned. “If I were you, I’d answer my wife’s question. What’s her name?”


Juliette spat at their feet. “You can both go to Hell.”


An unhesitant Sebastian trained the gun on her, pulling the trigger. The gunshot rung out, ricocheting the walls and furthest corners. Willow flinched as the sound and an agonizing scream struck her eardrums furiously. The color of rubies oozed through Juliette’s dress from the bullet wound inflicted on her knee.


“You bastard,” his boss barked, spittle flying out her mouth.


“What’s her name, Juliette?” Sebastian queried evenly. Her teeth pinned her bottom lip, a hiss of air bleeding through as she formulated the sixth sound of the alphabet. He directed a shot at her other knee, slicing through her attempt at launching a profanity at them. She tossed her head back, a strangled cry tangling in her throat. 


Sebastian lowered his gun. “I’m sorry. You’re about seventeen letters off. Would you like to try again?”


Juliette squeezed her eyelids, breathing violently through her pain. He casted a sideways glance at his wife, clocking the sickened grimace on her face. He blocked her view of Juliette’s suffering and cupped her cheek, smoothing a thumb across a plump curve. As she leaned willingly into his palm, hints of uncertainty and fear clouded her doe-like eyes.


She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready to see the lengths he was willing to go to protect her—to protect the three of them. Though his religion of violence chipped away at her civilian innocence, she still possessed a softness he didn’t want sharpened or hardened. 


“Let me handle her,” he said. “You go wait in the car.”


“No, Sebastian. I’m staying. No matter what. I’m staying.” A quiet fire burned across her face, surprising him. His lips stamped a gentle seal of approval on her forehead and he breathed a very-well. He faced Juliette once more, but this time, Willow remained behind him, fisting his shirt.


She propped her head against his spine, anchoring herself to him. To this moment. To a role of a mercenary’s wife.


Juliette was too stubborn to utter Willow’s name, but carefully deposited bullets dented and demolished the integrity of her titanium-like disposition. As her resistance wept from her assortment of wounds, her will weakened as her desperation to live gained in strength. A gravelly whisper delivered the clearance code into a recorder app of a burner cellphone before she went limp.


“Is,” Willow paused, “she dead?”


Sebastian pocketed the device and pressed two fingers against Juliette’s neck artery, finding the faint rhythm of a pulse.


Unadulterated disappointment simmered in his tone. “She will be.”


“Good,” she said softly.


The comment drew him away from a dying Juliette and to her.


“After everything she’s done, this is what she deserves,” she continued, her nose crinkling in spite.


A blip of pride blinked to life in his chest at his wife’s vengeance. “Then let’s leave her to it then.”


He escorted her toward the exit, neither bothering to look back. Turning out the lights, they left Juliette and her fate in the echoing dark. Like she deserved.


{}{}{}


 -7 hours 


Sebastian locked his eyes on the surveillance camera and its blinking red light as he stood at the headquarter’s alleyway door. Generally, it took less than thirty seconds for security to acknowledge his arrival and permit him entry. As his waiting time breached the one-minute mark, he knew they knew he was responsible for Juliette’s absence. Therefore, it was safe for him to assume her cavalry waited for him on the other side of the thick metal door. 


He closed his eyes and inhaled deep, carving his focus into a pointed edge. A war room existed within his mind and he was its general, mapping out a strategy in which his boots would track blood toward the elevator. 


A jittery buzz cut through the air and the locks came undone with a heavy click. All Sebastian had to do was pull at the door’s handle and walk into the ambush. A trap designed for his capture. Not his demise. 


They all knew only his father wielded the power to trade in a Faustian contract for a death warrant issued in his name. But that didn’t mean Sebastian would saunter away unscathed or bullet-free. His enemies had the creative license to define for themselves what it meant for him to be captured alive. 


He opened the door, unveiling an obstacle course of ill intentions in the narrow hallway bleached in bright white from the overhead panel of lights that emitted a low hum. No one made a move. As he stood at the threshold of the civilian world and the Underworld, any attempts at his life would surely draw attention from the river of crowds flowing down the sidewalk beyond the alley’s mouth. 


As Sebastian breached the entrance, he smoothly extracted the glock pressed into his spine. He took aim as the door slammed shut behind him. His finger tugged at the trigger three times, emptying bullets in three foreheads. Pop, pop, pop. They charged at him. He drove an elbow into a face and delivered his fourth bullet into a stomach. He had six rounds left, but eight assets still needed lead therapy. 


A burly bastard charged at him sideways and rammed him into the wall, the force knocking the gun from his hand. A meaty forearm drove into his throat, pinning him in place. He gritted his teeth and growled, reaching for the sheathed military-grade knife on his attacker’s waistline. Sebastian plunged it into the victim’s abdomen, relishing how wide the impending corpse’s eyes grew wide. He twisted it clockwise for fun and withdrew, watching the poor fuck fall like a domino. 


Another foe ran up on him, aiming a shot at his shoulder. He dodged a few millimeters to the right a second too late, a bullet grazing his shoulder. He hissed as he tossed the knife into the air and caught the leather hilt horizontally, slicing it cleanly across the approaching stubble-covered throat. Blood wept from the slit, flowing down. Sebastian smirked as a gurgle hit his eardrums. He shoved his boot into the casualty’s stomach to assist gravity. 


A different fool tried to come for him, but he flung the knife and it sunk into the soft pulp of an eye. The body fell forward onto him. As he went to cast him aside, an oncoming enemy blindsided him with a brass-knuckled punch to the temple. 


He fell on the tiled floor littered with hollow shells and slick with puddles of slick red. Pain roared through his skull, his vision garbling. His assailant kicked the dead fuck off him and dove onto him, eager hands clutching his throat. He gasped for air, the depletion of oxygen adding fire to burn away the Authority from his life once and for all. Inches beyond his reach, an abandoned gun rested by its deceased owner. He flailed his arm as if to grab the glock. The asshole choking the shit out of him took note by sparing a glance. A millisecond lapse in judgment Sebastian calculated perfectly.


He coiled a hold around the man’s forearm and yanked, impelling his attacker to jerk down and forward. A face hung just over his like ripe fruit and he headbutted it, a dark satisfaction surging through him as he witnessed a bloody nose and mouth. He punched the man’s throat and redistributed their roles as predator and prey, coming out on top literally. The wrestle move put him well in reach of that gun. 


An irritated Sebastian deposited two bullets in the man’s forehead, warm ruby droplets splattering on him. 


A new challenger came up to him from behind and put him in a chokehold while the other three remaining opponents closed in with guns drawn. He used his full weight and strength to dislodge himself from the assault by throwing the goon overhead, forward, and flat in front of him.


Pop, pop, pop, pop. He ended four more lives with four more trigger pulls. He got to his feet and discarded the weapon, stepping over bodies to look for his own. Once it was found, he retrieved it. He pressed the up button on a silvery panel. The elevator car was void of life when the doors parted, but he knew he wouldn’t be alone on the top floor. A ding heralded the conclusion of the elevator ride and the doors peeled back, revealing his final opponent.


Jasper smirked. “You’re right on time.”


Sebastian stepped out. “I’ll always make time for you.”


“Likewise, Nathaniel.”His nemesis nodded. 


“No guns or knives,” he said, discarding all his weapons. “Bodies only.” 


Jasper followed suit. “Where is she?” 


She as in Juliette. 


“Wherever ghosts go,” Sebastian answered, rolling his shoulders to prime himself for one last fight. 


They circled each other like prey. Both full of venom but neither lashed out. 


“Fine,” Jasper chuckled. “How’s—”


“Keep any mention of my wife out your mouth,” Sebastian bit out, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. 


Jasper boasted, “Are you still upset that while you were licking your wounds I was licking the inside of her sweet mouth?” 


Attack. Kill. Attack. Kill. Attack. Kill. 


The primitive directives thrummed through his bloodstream, overriding all calculated sense. Sebastian seized Jasper’s throat and tackled him, sending them both to the floor. Red stained Sebastian’s vision as he used his other hand to punch and punch and punch. Flesh tore. Teeth snapped. Blood gurgled. Even after Jasper’s body stilled, he punched and punched. 


Enough, a dark voice barked with him. It tugged at his puppet strings, demanding he stand up. He entered Juliette’s office and rounded the desk. He extracted his burner phone and accessed the recorder app. Juliette’s breathy last words filled the air, delivering the clearance code. Her right-hand man’s blood smeared the sleek silvery laptop’s keyboard as Sebastian typed. An access-granted message appeared on the computer screen after he pressed enter. 


He plugged a high-grade flash drive into one of the USB ports. An automated file-transfer program hid within the device and he activated it, prompting a data transfer window to pop up. The laptop acted as a conduit to the Authority’s private network, scouring for any and all keys he could use to unlock his shackles. 


Once his flash drive was fattened, he went into Juliette’s office restroom to wash his hands. Pinkish water spiraled down the sink’s drain. Sebastian gathered the nerve to peer into the reflection of a bloodthirsty beast nearly free.


A beast ready to be a man.


And more. 


{}{}{}


-5 hours


Willow felt like throwing up. She wasn’t sure which cause was to blame: pregnancy or tending to her husband’s gunshot wound. Or maybe, it was a bit of both. She dabbed at the shallow graze with an alcohol-drenched cotton ball that turned a deeper shade of pink with every pat. 


“It’s nothing,” Sebastian said. 


“It’s something,” Willow returned, tossing the soiled cotton ball away.


At least he doesn’t need stitches, she thought as she used another cotton ball to dry the wounded area. She was, after all, the daughter of a surgeon. Edison Carter made sure his daughters knew how to do proper first aid. Even taught them how to stitch shut a wound with a needle and fishing wire. 


“I don’t need stitches,” he then stated, earning a glare from her. Sometimes, it annoyed her how easily he could read her. 


But her demeanor softened as she fixed him up with a pad and a tight gauze wrapping. When she was finished, he captured her hands gently and kissed both sets of knuckles. 


“I’m alright, Will,” he breathed, tugging her into his lap. She studied his damages and her active imagination filled every crook and crevice of her mind. She thought about the sequence of events that led to his gunshot wound, the angry red marks on his throat, and his bruised knuckles. 


Sebastian curled an arm around her waist, resting it on her belly. “There’s no use in thinking about what happened at the headquarters. It isn’t good for either of you.” 


As in her and their unborn child. 


While all hell broke loose at the Authority headquarters, she paced around the safehouse, worrying, thinking about what-ifs, rubbing her stomach, and growing attached to the idea of keeping a little being that was a piece of Sebastian and her. 


A little being made from a complicated love. 


In five hours, she’d show her father-in-law all her cards and prayed they’ll both walk off that ferry alive and with their own jackpots. It was a game of risks that could end up with two winners or only one.


“I don’t want to think about that either, Sebastian,” she whispered. 


At least, not yet.






Chapter End Notes:

Please forgive me for this horribly late update. 







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.