Page 9 of Vicious and Volatile (Vengeance and Venom #2)

I study Ares’ sleeping form through the dark. His dark lashes fan out. His lips are relaxed. His tattooed arm is lying across my waist. His breath warms my neck.

He’s incredible. This is a man who has come out of some pretty heavy, bad circumstances and stands as a genuinely good man. How many billionaires would drop everything to rescue trafficked humans? How many of them would risk their safety to help them? How many of them would use their own money, their own real estate, to help them reset in life?

Sometimes, I marvel at how we ever came into each other’s lives. All because my best friend went missing. All because I went looking for her at a party where vampires fed on people. All because he intervened before I could get myself taken, just like Ophelia.

All because he made me an insane proposition.

It might have been fake for a while.

But somehow, Ares Hunt has become the very best, most important part of my life .

I’d do wicked, morally gray things for this man.

And it’s everything that I know he’d do the same for me.

But where do we go from here? What’s next? What is our life together?

I try not to think about it, but damn. Sometimes I have to. The fact that this man I love is immortal.

I am not.

And that’s nothing said about our more immediate future.

I feel like there is so much uncertainty.

“What are you worrying about?”

I startle, just a little, at Ares’ scratchy voice.

“I didn’t realize you were awake,” I say, my eyes searching through the dark until I find his.

“What’s on your mind, Vengeance?” he asks again. He reaches a hand up, caressing the side of my face.

I lift a hand, covering his with my own. “The future. About all the uncertain things ahead, and I just… We have a lot to figure out.”

“We do,” Ares agrees. Which I’m relieved to hear. The worst thing would have been if he’d simply asked, ‘like what?’

“I don’t want to spend the next few years chasing down Augustus’s victims, but I also can’t live with myself just ignoring them once we’ve found Ophelia,” I start. And it’s like a dam breaks. “Augustus is dead now, and that’s going to have ramifications. How are the Barons going to react? What is it going to mean for your future? And I feel like we’re in this weird honeymoon phase of being together now, but we never really decided on living with each other on these terms, and then there’s the fact that I can’t stop thinking about the fact that you’re going to live forever, and I am definitely not. ”

I take in a hard breath, realizing that my heart is suddenly about to hammer out of my chest.

Ares pulls my hand to him, kissing my knuckles. “It’s a lot. And there are a lot of uncertainties. Trust me when I say I’ve thought about a lot of these things, too. But we’re Lana and fucking Ares. We get through impossible shit. Together.”

I take a deep breath, calming my runaway nerves and nod. He’s right. For the first time in so long, I don’t have to figure everything out on my own. For years now, it’s just been me. No one was coming to help.

But I’m not alone anymore.

“We can get through it all later,” I say, sorting through it all in my brain. I have to take it one thing at a time. “Today, we have to go find Ophelia.”

“Today we find Ophelia,” Ares says, staring into my eyes with confidence, which calms my nerves just a bit.

I lean forward, pressing my lips to his. He tastes like home and peace and storm clouds. This man is everything.

We climb out of bed, and we both dress. I grab a protein drink and down it in the kitchen, while Ares grabs a bag of donated blood and sucks it down in the same way. Thirty minutes after waking, we walk outside and find Billings waiting at the curb.

It’s a twenty-minute drive to LaGuardia airport. But I find when we arrive that we don’t head to the main portion of the airport.

We roll right between buildings and Billings stops the car in front of a small, sleek jet.

“What is this?” I ask, my brows furrowing as we climb out of the SUV.

“We don’t know how Ophelia is going to be,” Ares says as he takes my hand. “I thought a little privacy would be helpful today.”

“Sometimes I forget that you’re insanely wealthy,” I say, even as my stomach clenches in an uncomfortable way. “Still feels as weird as day one.”

Ares just chuckles and steps forward, talking briefly with the waiting pilot before we climb the stairs.

“Damn,” I say, and I can’t help the impressed tone of my voice. The interior is luxurious with soft, white leather seats that look comfortable enough to sleep in. And it’s so clean I feel guilty wearing shoes inside.

But I walk down the center and take one of those comfortable chairs.

The final record that could possibly be Ophelia is located in Michigan. I know nothing about Michigan other than that it’s shaped like a mitten and is surrounded by Great Lakes. The place we’re headed is about half an hour from the airport.

Eight weeks. Ophelia has been missing for eight weeks. I was only gone for eight days. I let my eyes slide closed as I imagine what she might have been through. So far, I’ve seen or experienced three very different outcomes. Myself as a prisoner underground, but kept comfortable. Kelsey who was damn near starved to death and not given access to a shower for months. And Leslie, who was treated so well, she went and fell in love with her buyer.

What conditions will we find Ophelia in?

I watch out the window as we take off. I’ve only been on a plane twice in my life before this. I feel spoiled that my third trip is on a private jet. My stomach is on edge with nerves, but within seconds, the plane is off the ground, our takeoff smooth as butter.

The flight is so easy and so smooth, it seems too soon when the pilot announces that we will be landing shortly. I look out the window, watching as the endless landscape of humanity passes below us. Twilight is taking over, the sun casting red fire on the clouds at the horizon. And then we’re touching down, the landing as smooth as the takeoff.

Just three minutes later, the door opens, and Ares and I climb out of the aircraft. There, waiting in front of us, is another nondescript rental car.

We slide inside, and as Ares gets the car started, I plug the coordinates we pulled from the record into the GPS. It announces we will arrive in thirty-two minutes. Ares pulls out onto the road, and we’re on our way.

Only, as we approach within a quarter of a mile of our destination, I’m extremely confused. We’re passing along the side of a graveyard. I don’t see any houses around at all.

“What do you think this is?” I ask as we close in our destination, the GPS stating it’s on the left in one hundred feet. There’s definitely no house.

“I’d say there was a mistake with the record, but so far, that hasn’t been the case,” Ares says. He puts the car into park when it’s announced that we’ve arrived. It’s at the opening in the fence that circles the graveyard.

I scan the area, though I can’t see much considering the sun set twenty minutes ago. “Maybe we should just get out and look around,” I say. “Maybe there’s something we can’t see from here.”

It seems impossible, the land is pretty flat. But I don’t know what other options we have.

Ares climbs out of the car, and I check that my gun is secured in place. Another benefit of flying on a private jet instead of commercial. It’s loaded and ready in case it’s needed.

I fucking pray it isn’t needed.

The air is deafeningly silent as we walk past the fence and enter the cemetery. There aren’t any houses within sight, and the last house I saw was half a mile back. No signs of life here.

The graveyard is full, I note. There are very few open patches of grass, and most of the tombstones are slightly weather-worn. I start paying attention as we walk, and even though it’s hard to see, I note that I’m not reading any death dates any later than the 1950s.

There is the expected array of tombstones. Flat ones, flush with the ground. The classic standing tombstone. A few obelisk monuments. At the far back, I even see a few huge, looming family mausoleums.

“I don’t understand,” I say as I turn in a circle, scanning the entire place. There are no groundskeeper quarters. There isn’t a funeral home here. I don’t even see a shed.

We get to the middle of the space, each of us scanning the empty, yet filled space. Suddenly, Ares stops in his tracks, holding a hand out to me.

I immediately stop, my heart rate spiking. I feel too blind as I look around. I can barely see anything at all. I’m listening for the sound of footsteps running away, of an evil overlord breathing loudly. Anything.

“I hear something,” Ares says softly, his eyes lifting toward the back of the cemetery. “I can’t… I can’t really tell what it is.”

I don’t know how he can hear anything. To my ears, it’s absolutely silent.

But Ares steps forward, his feet confident with direction. He aims for the back.

Hammer, hammer, hammer. My heart is going crazy. Adrenaline is rushing through my veins.

Ares is laser-focused as he moves between the headstones. As he gets closer, it becomes obvious where he’s headed.

It’s one of the mausoleums. It’s huge. Honestly, it’s bigger than plenty of New York apartments. Ornate pillars hold up the roof, angels and roses decorating the structure. Above the door, it reads OBERMAN.

“What is it?” I breathe, fear turning the palms of my hands cold.

Ares shakes his head, a warning against speaking. Feet silent as the graves around us, he closes in on the stone building. My adrenaline spikes as he places a hand on the lever of the door, and he pushes it open.

The hinges must be oiled, the door doesn’t make a sound. I catch up to Ares, just two steps behind him.

There are three beautiful, stained-glass windows, one straight ahead and one to our left and right. Beneath each window is a built-in stone bench. Except that they aren’t benches. There are plaques on each of them, an obvious tell of the people who have been laid to rest there.

But none of that draws my attention first.

It’s the stone crypt in the center of the space.

The lid is open. And I see stairs descending inside of it. There is a dim light glowing down below.

Chills wash over my entire body. I feel cold, despite the fact that it’s July.

No.

No, no, no, no. Please no.

There’s a faint sound down below, just a slight dragging sound .

And then I hear swallowing .

Ares disappears in a blink, a primordial snarl ripping from his lips. In a scramble, I clamber down the steps, my hands fumbling for the gun.

Only I don’t get a chance to pull it.

Ares collides with a woman. And as he does, she unlatches from another woman. Auburn hair. Slight build.

“Ophelia!” her name rips from my lips as I dart across the small space. I wrap my arms around her just before she completely collapses to the ground. She stares up at the ceiling, blinking just once, and doesn’t say anything.

“Who the hell are you?” the woman snarls as she shoves off the wall, stalking toward Ares. Her eyes are brilliant red, and Ophelia’s blood drips from her still elongated fangs. She looks like she’s around thirty years old, not much older than Ares. She’s beautiful, put together. She wears expensive-looking clothing.

“The reckoner,” Ares growls back. “You purchased this woman. What sick person buys an unsuspecting human?”

“Oh, please,” the woman says. “Like you’ve never taken a taste of that girl right there? She smells like a French pastry shop.”

“Not even one prick,” Ares says in a vile sneer.

The woman shakes her head, clearly not believing Ares. But the look in her eyes darkens. “You’re not taking her. I paid a fortune to have a supply whenever I need.”

“Wrong answer,” Ares snaps. And he launches himself at the woman.

“Ophelia?” I ask, looking away from the savage fight between the two vampires. I clutch my best friend, lowering both of us to the ground. She’s taller than I am, and I’m having a hard time holding her upright.

“Ophelia?” I repeat, desperately searching her face. She’s staring up at the ceiling, her body unmoving. But she’s breathing. A small, tiny moan flutters over her lips.

She’s just still numbed from the bite.

“You’re okay,” I reassure her, tightening my arms around her as I hold her in my lap. “You’re okay. We’re going to get out of here.”

My eyes return to the fight happening in a blur around us. The woman shoves Ares against the wall, and the entire space shutters, dust dropping from the ceiling and walls. Terror rolls my stomach as she goes in for his neck.

Everything happens so fast, my brain and eyes can hardly keep up. I only get one second to feel panic before Ares shoves off the wall, and with one massive hand, he wraps it around her throat, throwing her back. Her feet fly off the floor. The sound is thunderous as he pins her to the dirt beneath us. With raging, glowing eyes, he roars in her face.

Across the room, I yank a stake from my belt. I toss it through the air.

Ares catches it without even looking. With one smooth, swift movement, he strikes his arm down. The wooden stake buries into her chest.

Her eyes fly wide open, a gasp rips from her throat. But it’s… wet. Broken sounding.

Just two moments later, her arms fall at her sides, limp. She breathes her last breath. And it’s something I’ll never get used to—the speed at which a vampire’s body grows gray with death. Every ounce of color leaches from her body.

Fuck .

That was so messy, even if there wasn’t any blood. There was no way to sneak up on her, to use the true element of surprise. It was just a rough and tumble fight.

“Lana?”

Ophelia’s thready voice pulls my gaze back down to her. She stares up at me with tired eyes, her lids barely staying open.

“Ophelia!” I gasp, tightening my arms around her. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. It’s over.”

“You… you came for me?” she asks. She sounds confused. Or maybe even a little reverent.

“Of course,” I say, pushing every ounce of sincerity into my voice. “You’re my girl. I’m so sorry it took so damn long. I tried. I’ve been looking…”

She looks up at me, and it feels like maybe everything is going to be okay when she lifts a hand, cupping the side of my face, and a breathy laugh accompanies her smile. “I always knew you could do anything in this shitty world.”

I laugh with her, so damn relieved to be holding her in my arms, to hear her joke, to hear her swear. This is my Ophelia.

But damn. She’s so thin. She was always slight before, but she feels near skeletal now. Her hair seems thin, and it’s completely coated in grease. She smells like she hasn’t had access to a shower since the day she was taken.

“How about we get you home?” I say, wishing we could just teleport straight back to the penthouse where I could feed her everything in the fridge and bury her in comfortable clothes after using every drop of hot water in the shower.

She nods, and like it’s painful and difficult, she rises into a sitting position. But the moment her eyes spot Ares standing by the entryway, she flinches hard, a curse coming out her lips.

“It’s okay,” I say, climbing to my feet and carefully pulling her to her own. “This is Ares. He’s the reason I found you. He’s just here to help.”

Ophelia eyes Ares doubtfully, and I can see by the narrowed look, she’s trying to figure out what he is.

“Lana’s giving me way too much credit,” Ares says, offering Ophelia a very gentle, unsure smile. “Finding you has been her mission for months now. She didn’t relent for even a day.”

Ophelia looks down at me, even though she’s only a few inches taller than I am. Her eyes are dewy, reddened. “That’s why you’re the fucking best.”

“I know,” I say. It’s sarcastic, but I say it evenly and with a smile. “Let’s get out of this hellhole.”

Ophelia nods, and I hold onto her as she aims for the stairs. When she falters after rising just one, Ares darts forward, hands at the ready to scoop her up.

“No!” she says, a little too startled, a little too aggressive, as she holds a hand up toward him. “No. I will do it.”

Her words are… cold. Firm.

Ares just nods, and steps back a few paces.

So, slowly, really slowly, and with enough shaking I’m worried she’s going to collapse, Ophelia and I work our way up the stairs, her arm draped over my shoulders. Finally, we step out onto the flat, stone floor of the mausoleum.

“Where the hell am I?” Ophelia asks, looking around at the benches that are really resting places, seeing the name plaques and the stained glass.

“You’re not going to like this next part,” I say as we step forward, exiting that main door and stepping out into the graveyard.

“What the f—” her voice trails off as her head swivels side to side, taking it all in. It’s a good thing the moon is nearly full, or it would be so damn dark. Actually, maybe that would be better than her seeing where she’s been kept.

“Have you been kept here the whole time?” I ask as I step forward, half dragging her with me. I walk as fast as I think she can manage. No need to let her take it all in slowly.

“Yes,” she says, her voice cracking just a little. She looks terrified as she scans the headstones. Her eyes glisten just a little more, and her body shakes.

Damn.

“Come on,” I encourage, walking just a little faster. And finally, we step beyond the fence surrounding the graveyard. Ares steps ahead of us, opening the back door of the car. Ophelia groans as I help her into the seat, as if every movement is painful. And I believe it is. She’s got to be low, single-digit body fat now, and she hasn’t been able to move around more than a twelve by eighteen space in months. Her body is atrophying from disuse.

I get her situated in her seat, buckle her up, and close the door. I catch Ares’ eyes as I walk around the back of the car. He looks worried, but not hesitant. Who knows how she’s going to react to whatever comes from here on out?

I climb into the back seat beside Ophelia and buckle. Ares drops into the driver’s seat and starts the car. He turns the heat on, puts the car into drive, and pulls away from the curb.

“Where am I even?” Ophelia asks as she looks out the window. It’s pretty much impossible to glean any information from the dark night out there.

“Michigan,” I answer her. “We’re about half an hour from the airport, then we’ll fly back to New York.”

She shakes her head while still looking out the window. “New York feels like a fantasy by this point. Like it was never actually real. Being down in that dungeon felt like two lifetimes.”

That makes total sense to me. I was only in Lawrence’s basement for six days, but it felt like months.

She’s quiet after that, and I let her settle into her thoughts. Part of me is dying to pry, to ask a million questions. I need to know what life has been like these past few months. And maybe that’s a self-sabotaging thing. I know that no matter what she tells me, I’m going to feel guilty that I didn’t do more. That I didn’t get to her faster. I’m going to feel absolutely rotten that I enjoyed myself at all in the time she was a vampire’s prisoner.

But for now, I let Ophelia have her quiet. Ares and I don’t say a word either. The three of us travel in silence as we drive back to the airport.

It’s been less than two hours when we get back. Which doesn’t feel right. I searched for Ophelia for eight weeks. How is it possible that I got off a plane, found her, brought her back, all in under two hours?

“I thought you said we were flying home?” Ophelia says in confusion as she takes in the hangars that surround us as we drive through the side of the airport.

“We are,” I say as Ares rounds the last corner. There, in front of us, is the private jet Ares paid for. “But I’m guessing you don’t have any ID on you, and you look about as trafficked as you were. So, commercial didn’t seem like the safest idea.”

Ophelia’s brows furrow as she spots the sleek jet, and we park. “I… I can’t pay for this, L. I don’t?—”

“You don’t have to pay for anything,” I cut her off, rushing to assure her at her obvious distress. “It’s taken care of. You just have to sit back and try to breathe, okay? ”

Ophelia’s eyes flick to Ares as he climbs out of the car, and the look in her eyes is almost accusatory. She’s put two and two together. She knows I don’t have any damn money.

I climb out of the car, though. I walk around and pull the door open for Ophelia and take her hand, helping her to stand. She holds my hand as all three of us cross to the jet. Ares must have somehow gotten word to the pilot, because he stands at the ready at the bottom of the stairs.

“Back to New York,” Ares says quietly, standing to the side of the stairs, letting Ophelia and me board first.

Ophelia hesitates as soon as she gets into the aisle and sees the interior of the plane. Just like me, Ophelia never grew up with anything. She lived just as poor as I did. Worse, at times. But the inside of this jet, it’s just a taste of the luxury the name Hunt comes with.

After a few moments, she steps forward and takes one of the plush seats. I sink down across from her.

Just five minutes later, the door is closed, and we’re waiting to take off. I’m so fixated on Ophelia, waiting for her to talk, waiting for any of it to come out, I hardly even notice or feel the takeoff.

But Ophelia simply watches out the window. And doesn’t say a word.

Tick. Tock.

I feel time running down until she’s ready. She has to be the one to open this Pandora’s Box. To let out all the facts.

I can’t process this for her.

Finally, finally, about twenty minutes after takeoff, she turns to me. “Christina was truly awful.”

“She’s the one who bought you?” I ask, both anxious and relieved that she’s talking now .

Ophelia nods. “That’s what she said her name was. She didn’t talk much. She more just showed up and bit. But she did at least tell me what her name was.”

“How kind of her,” I say, falling back on sarcasm to try to lighten the terribly heavy conversation.

“For sure,” Ophelia says, raising an eyebrow, a smile crooking in one corner of her mouth. “And you know, she even brought me food every few days.”

Fuck. I want to joke about this for Ophelia’s sake, but it makes me sick thinking about it. Ophelia is skeletal for a reason.

“And about once a week she’d take out my toilet bucket and bring me a new one,” Ophelia says. But her tone sobers. She’s trying to keep it light and sardonic, but failing by the second as reality sobers her. “Never would bring me enough water for me to bathe myself, though. It was tempting. I know how I must smell. But I needed the water to drink.”

Her words crack. She clears her throat and brushes her hand over her lips as she looks out the window, even though there’s nothing to be seen out there but a few distant lights. She takes a few deep breaths, trying to regain her composure.

I don’t do such a good job though. Emotions sting the back of my eyes as I picture it. My best friend was kept beneath a mausoleum. In a place for dead people. She was given a bucket to shit in and barely enough food and water to survive on.

And the woman who bought her didn’t care.

“At least she only came every few days,” Ophelia says, trying to huff a laugh, but failing. “When I first woke up where I was, when she bit me and I realized what it had to mean, I thought vampires had to feed every day. At least it wasn’t every day.”

At least it wasn’t every day.

Shit.

I lace my fingers together, trying to still their trembling. I was terrified when Lawrence locked me up. I’d screamed and tried to attack him, anything to escape.

But compared to Ophelia, I was living like a princess.

I had as much water as I wanted. As much food as I wanted. I had my own very nice private bathroom. I had clean changes of clothes.

Ophelia had none of that.

“Who knew going to a party could turn so dark,” she says with a forced chuckle. She finally looks over at me, and her eyes are glistening with unshed tears. She bites her lower lip, refusing to cry, but I see the way her hands are shaking in her lap.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t go with you to that party,” I say as I lean forward and take her hand. My own tears finally break. Two cascade down my cheek.

She shakes her head. “You can’t take on everything, L. Not everything is your fault. Sometimes the world is just a shitty place.”

That stings, but is a relief at the same time. I have blamed myself this whole time. I’ve reasoned that if I’d just skipped work that night and gone with Ophelia, she never would have been taken. We might have gotten scared shitless when we realized what was happening, that vampires were feeding. But together, we never would have been taken.

I try to tell myself to believe her. That not everything is my fault .

She’s right. Sometimes the world is just a shitty place.

“Still,” I say as I wipe at the tears that streak down my face. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Ophelia leans forward, staring into my eyes, our faces only a foot apart. “You came after me, L. No one else in the world would ever have done that. You have nothing, nothing to be sorry for.”

She cups the side of my face again, smiling at me. And something in me stills.

I did it.

Everything I’ve done for the past two months has been for this. To save Ophelia, to get her back.

And I did it.

“It’ll all be better from here,” I promise.

“I can’t imagine it could get worse,” she says with a sudden laugh. And even though a few tears finally break free, I feel the weight of the situation lighten. She breathes out as she leans back in her seat. And she looks out the window.

And that’s enough. I can feel it right now. For now, everything that’s been said is enough.

I look over at Ares, who is watching me with rapt worry. So, as Ophelia watches out the window, I reach across the aisle and take Ares’ hand.

An hour later, the pilot announces we’ll be landing in just a few minutes. And I’m not sure if it’s the skill of the pilot or the tech of the airplane, but our landing is smooth as glass. Just a few minutes later, we pull back into the place where we took off from. From the plane, I see Billings waiting in the SUV, just the same as where he dropped us off.

“I just realized I probably have nowhere to go home to,” Ophelia says as we unload from the plane .

“You do,” I assure her. I may have used Ares’ money to pay her rent, but I know he won’t be worried about it, even if I am. “But for tonight, you’re coming home with me. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Thanks, L,” she says with a smile.

Billings hops out of the vehicle and holds the door open for Ophelia and me. I notice when he smells her. His shoulders stiffen a bit, and his nostrils flare. But he doesn’t say anything rude, simply greets us all. Ophelia and I climb into the back, and Ares takes the front passenger seat.

If she notices the wealth clues, Ophelia doesn’t say anything. She just watches out the window as Billings navigates us back into the city. Her expression gets lighter as we reach Manhattan. I even see a smile on her lips. It was always her dream to get here, and she made it. She almost didn’t make it back alive.

But as we stop at the curb to our building, Ophelia seems dazedly at ease. Is she going into shock? Shouldn’t she have a million more questions? Because all she says as we walk into the silent lobby is “you moved.” A statement, not a question.

She needs sleep, and food. I’m sure with some rest and re-fueling, she’s going to come back to reality and try to figure out what the hell is going on.

But for tonight, I put some food in front of Ophelia once we get back into the penthouse. She picks at a few meager bites and says she’s done. So, I direct her down the hall to one of the guest bedrooms.

“I’ll bring you some clothes to sleep in,” I tell her as she looks around the room, not really realizing that there’s no fucking way I should be able to afford a place that looks like this. “There’s towels in the bathroom. Shower. Sleep. We’ll figure life out again in the morning, okay?”

“‘K,” she says, her tone sounding tired. She shuffles toward the bathroom, and without another word, disappears into it.

I turn back to the hall, meeting Ares’ eyes. I raise my brows, and he silently follows me to our bedroom.

“Does she seem a little… in shock?” Ares asks as he folds his arms over his chest and leans in the doorway while I search the closet for something comfortable.

“Oh yeah,” I say as I grab some sweatpants and a soft shirt.

I dart back out into the hall, then lay the clothes on the bed. Silently, I close the door, giving her privacy once she’s done in the shower, and pad back into my own bedroom.

I close the door behind me and walk to Ares, who stands in the middle of the room, looking uncertain.

“I don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring,” I say as I wrap my arms around his waist. He slides his hands around my hips, holding me close. And I melt into him. All of my fear, my anxiety ebbs just a little when I’m in his arms. “It might be ugly. Messy. Ophelia feels big emotions. So, I’m sure there’s a lot to come. But, just… thank you. For being you. For being so perfect. For saving my best friend.”

Ares studies my eyes, and I know there’s a whole storm of thought going on in his head right now. He doesn’t know what to expect either. But he’ll ride out the uncertainty at my side. “You’re welcome, Vengeance. Let’s get you to bed.”