𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 | 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

００５．

Ren dreamed of being a kid again. She dreamed of running along the beach with her brother, of shoving Grey into the water only to be dragged in herself. She dreamed of family dinners when her mother still cooked, when she and her brother would scheme until they'd convinced their parents they were deserving of ice cream afterward.

She dreamed of her father teaching her how to use a gun. Her tiny hands were barely big enough to hold it up, and the kick had knocked her flat on her ass. But she'd fired a gun, and he was overjoyed. And then the broad, proud smile on his face melted into the grim stare he'd fixed her with years later, when she was old enough to understand the family business. When she was old enough for that brutal initiation, when she'd had to use that gun and prove to Cal Valetta once and for all that she could handle her shit for the good of their name and their business.

She'd done it. Hadn't even hesitated. But she still heard the sound of the gun firing sometimes.

The sound of someone pounding on her door shocked her out of her dream altogether, a blessing in itself as she woke just before the worst of it. Still slightly disoriented and very much on edge, Ren slipped out from beneath the covers, frantically feeling beneath her mattress for the pistol she kept there.

She broke a nail as she switched the safety off. And in that moment, Ren decided that even if whoever waited at the door was harmless, she might just shoot them anyway.

She flung the door open and leveled her weapon in the beaming face of her older brother, still entertaining the idea.

"Jesus christ," Grey said, his smile faltering as he shied away from the steel in his face, "it's me."

A dark, curly-haired head peered out from behind his shoulder. "And me," Vanessa greeted, furrowing her brow as she looked at Ren, disheveled and scowling as she dropped the gun to her side.

"Fuck off," Ren said by way of dismissal as she turned on her heel and made to return to her bed, swinging the door shut as she went.

Grey caught it before it could close, following his sister into the apartment with Vanessa close on his heels. "I would, except that then you'd go back to sleep," he explained as he sat heavily on Ren's couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

Ren swatted the back of her brother's head, just as she always did when he put his feet on her furniture. He made a show of removing them, just as he always did.

"Damn right I'd go back to sleep," she grumbled, squinting at the time glowing from the microwave in the kitchen. "I've still got an hour before I need to start getting ready."

Vanessa cast Ren a pitiful look. "No, babe," she said slowly, "that clock says eight. Not six." She pointed, and Ren squinted harder. Then she looked out the window, where darkness had almost entirely settled over Sainte-Anne.

The hardwood beneath their feet already rattled with the vibrations rolling off of the club below, music and shouting rising up between the floorboards.

"Fuck," Ren groaned, and then she realized. "Fuck."

A heartbeat passed before she was in her bedroom, fumbling through her closet frantically.

She ignored the sound of light footsteps as Vanessa walked into the room, peering around the corner with brows raised. "Why the rush?"

Ren held up a top against her chest in the mirror, narrowing her eyes as her reflection as she considered it before tossing it on top of the rapidly growing pile of clothes in her closet. "I'm meeting somebody," she said breathlessly. "A client."