Update! Sorry for the crap chapter! I fixed it!

Ha! You all thought I was dead! Well I'm not and I'm trying not to be a quitter. Yes this means I have not given up on my other stories too. But seriously, this story has come a long ways and I hate reading it cause my writing was really bad. Maybe one day I'll rewrite it to where it sucks less and I don't have an annoying Oc but until then... P.s. If you really want to know my sad sap story as to why I've been less frequent on updates then pm me or review and I'll get back. Otherwise, I won't bother you and continue on with this sad piece of trash offering...

I was never one for pretending

Bonnano sighed as he pulled up to the familiar coordinates, staring up at the worn sign of McRory's bar. He should have known that the report of gunshots would lead him here. He waved off the others, telling them to wait for him as he entered the bar. He should call Ford, but he didn't know if that would be the wisest decision at the moment. Well now that he thought about it, every decision made with those thieves in the mix always spelled trouble for him. He stepped into the dim lighting of the bar, the patrons inhabiting it sitting at the tables- well the ones that were too drunk to leave when the chaos started or we're just dumb enough to stay when the firing stopped- and the police arrived much later. He passed them, heading to the stairs-he was not taking the elevator after that- and reached his destination. He heard voices, and though they were familiar, he drew his gun and held it steady while he tried the door. It was locked-the mechanisms taunting him-and he certainly wasn't going to alert any potential enemy by knocking, so he took a step back and rammed himself into the door.

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"...and that's why you don't approach a Siren with a cold turkey on your shoulder. It's just messy."

The expressions varied. They looked amused, horrified, interested, disgusted...

Nate physically shook his head and clapped suddenly.

"Okay then, that might have been a little more than I was wanting, but I guess I did ask."

Layla shrugged, it wasn't her fault he didn't clarify, knowing that she could be a little bit of an overshare. She stuck her tongue out at the Siren who was looking at her like she was an idiot. It made her feel better to be childish and crazy than to deal with her problems. Not that it helped, but she was in a rut thinking about her sister trapped in Moreau's clutches. And here she was, chatting away the sun's rays with these people she came to out of angered desperation. Oh Lord, she needed help-mentally and physically- if she was to get through this.

"...which is why I'm assigning Layla to..."

The door burst open with one mighty heave, startling the room into chaos.

"Police! Hands in the air!"

Layla, instinctively, did as instructed, hands going in the air as a tall man emerged from the doorway. He looked around for a second, and before anyone could speak, he spoke.

"I would ask what is happening, but I'm not sure I want to know."

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The woman turned her head slowly, sun flashing on her black shades for just a moment as the only beam of light in the car hit them. She sighed deeply, pulling out her phone, and made the call.

"I'm outside the apartment now."

There was silence in the car for a few seconds.

"Yes. Yes. I know. How they have come this far is a marvel in itself."

She waited and then silently snarled at the response.

"You've waited a few months already, what's a few hours?"

She sighed again, hand massaging the bridge of her nose.

"Yes. Yes. Yes sir."

She hung up, crushing the phone in her hand with one simple squeeze. She stepped out of the car, turning to face the building that was now surrounded by police. Cracking her knuckles, she started walking towards them.

"Time to go to work."