Stella appreciated his no-nonsense answer; but as she was still fuzzy on the details of exactly what happened, she worried about exactly how far Gavin had to go to help her out of that mess. 

"I need you to come back safely."

She looked at Tara, unsure what to say, but grateful that she was there.

Gavin nodded before he moved toward the door. In a few moments, he was gone.

Tara watched the door close before standing up and, with far more effort than Gavin needed, slid the dresser back to block the door. Returning to the chair, she offered Stella a comforting smile. Still, if she really wanted to help Stella she had business to handle first.

"Stella, we don't need to talk much right now if you don't want. If you do want to, we can talk about any topic you like, whether it's therapeutic or simply a nice distraction. But before we do..."

The frown on her mouth and the mixture of hatred and disgust in her eyes prefaced her question.

"Durden. Gavin mentioned that although his guess was a few hours, he wasn't sure about the timeline and how long he had possession of you. I'm sorry to be blunt, but even though he didn't say anything directly, I suspect that this is why Gavin brought me here."

Along with another reason, but you don't need to think about what Gavin's doing right now. Do you know him well enough to know?

"So in the interest of being direct and not beating around the bush: were you raped? Is there any chance you could be pregnant?"

Uncomfortable as it was, that was a thought that hadn't crossed Stella's mind.

"I... I don't think so. I don't remember everything, it's all very blurry."

Taking a sip of water, Stella tried to concentrate, ignoring the dull but slowly disappearing pain in her head. She started recalling things from the cafe the morning of. 

​​​​​​"The men that took me from the alley only hit me, knocked me unconscious. When I woke up, I was on a floor, just in my bra, panties, and camisole. Nothing seemed...um...disturbed."

A flashback of Durden's face so close to hers made her shiver to her bones. She remembered his words, and the creepy grin as he had reached for something. 

​​​​​​"I think Durden was going to. He said I was 'going to get to know him.' I guess that's when he gave me whatever it was. That's when I screamed, I think. I heard loud pops through the door, but that's when everything just disappears."

Tara nodded, obviously relieved, even as she listened to the disturbing details.

"Well, that's good to hear at least. Things like this... they take time to recover from. Don't chastise yourself for taking as much time as you need."

Nodding, she changed the subject.

"I expect the city will hear a few more loud pops, among other things, before tomorrow morning. For now, though, I think you should get more rest. Let the drugs filter out of your system."

She reached into her purse, shaking out two pills from a bottle and handing them to Stella.

"These are sleeping pills from Spaceman's Pharmacy. No negative reactions with the drugs already fading from your system- and not addictive. Take these two, and you'll be out for 8-12 hours or so. I'll stay here with you and make sure you're not disturbed."

Stella took the capsules from Tara, and downed them with a swallow of water. There was no question that she trusted Tara as she trusted Gavin. 

Despite what Gavin had said a bit ago, Stella couldn't help herself. 

"I didn't mean for Gavin to get involved in this - or you. I was afraid Durden would start hurting people I knew to try and get to me. I really thought I could make him understand."

The pills worked quickly, and Stella felt a heavy, dull feeling take good of her. She laid back on the pillow and blinked.

"I'm sorry. Please don't let him get hurt again...not on my account." 

Before she could say anything else, she was drifting off to a dreamless, heavy sleep. 

Tara smiled kindly at Stella, who was a few years younger than Tara. Like a big sister, she reached forward and squeezed Stella's hand.

"I know what you mean, Stella. But you'll find that we can't always choose who gets involved- and that we can't always protect our friends."

Tara sighed.

"He'll get hurt again. Nothing either one of us can say will stop that. But..."

By then, Stella had already closed her eyes, so Tara closed her mouth. Honestly, she'd had no idea how to end that sentence. Yes, Gavin would get hurt again. But on this night, Tara suspected he'd be dealing out far more pain than he received.

Although as she looked at Stella's beautiful, sleeping face, she reconsidered her last thought. Perhaps Durden had hurt Gavin more than she was giving her brother credit for. 

With a small smile, Tara pulled up the covers and watched Tara drift asleep.

Settling in on the chair, she pulled out a book. It was a long one, as she suspected she'd be here all night. 

***

Gavin closed the door behind him and closed his eyes for a moment, focusing himself. 

When he opened them, he start walking briskly down the hall and entered the next room, which he and Tara had also rented. 

One call later, to a very upset Worm hiding in a safehouse and charging a fortune now that he was retired, Gavin had what he wanted: a list of names.

Most of Durden's high ranking men had already pulled out of New York, headed back to Delaware City to regroup. But some were staying. Worm didn't know all of them, but he knew a few.

Gavin skimmed the list. Six names.

Time to go to work.

***

Russell Buchanan was a brand new gangster. His suit was so new that it still had one the tags left on it. His new shoes clicked on the New York sidewalk. Just a few days, and he was already kicking up tribute to his boss. Durden was a hard man to impress, but Russell Buchanan? He was going places. 

A smile spread across his face as he walked in front of a narrow alley- a strip of darkness amidst the streetlights. The smile was quickly covered by an iron hand that covered his mouth, even as he felt himself get pulled back toward the alley. Russell found himself staring down at the dim light at his new suit, which was punctured several times by a hunting knife. The hand on his mouth covered his squeals of pain and despair, and the last thing he saw as he slumped to the ground was a man kneel down and clean the blood off his knife with an unstained part of his suitjacket.

***

Rolando wasn't much of a fighter or an earner, but he was still making an impression on the Durden gang by demonstrating the one thing he did better than anyone else: drive. His car was a sleek black Duesenberg he'd stolen from his father in law, and there was no one better at navigating New York City. Godfather Durden himself had even requested him as a driver once. 

Twirling his keys around a finger, Rolando whistled as he slid behind the wheel, smiling as he inhaled the scent of the leather interior.

His expression changed to one of shock and horror when the garrote tightened across his throat. He kicked, scrambled, gasped for air, and died behind the wheel. 

***

Robert Jefferson stood at the street corner, his hands in his pockets. As a stranger approached a trenchcoat- 5'9, well built, dark hair, blue eyes- he gripped his gun apprehensively. But the guy simply stood next to him and smiled.

"Heard you've got the good stuff, eh?"

Robert nodded. His stuff wasn't particularly good, and he only had 8 units, but he well on his way to becoming a goomba in the Durden organization, and money was money. He tilted his head, indicating that they should duck into an alley to do business. 

When they reached the alley, Robert still had his hand on his gun. He was a cautious guy, especially during interactions like these.

But when Robert saw the stranger dropped a couple Benjamins on the ground, his greed overrode his caution as he reached down before the wind could send them flying away.

As the knife slid across his throat, his last act was to reproach himself for his carelessness.

***

The night was getting late, but a few private clubs were still swinging. Eric Forrest was having the best night of his life. He was dancing with an amazing blonde, and his job prospects were looking better than ever.

As he spun on the dance floor, woman on his arm, he noticed one man drop a bouncer with a series of punches. Drunk idiot. Should just have fun and enjoy life. 

The same man started moving toward the dance floor, and Eric lost him in the crowd. A few more bouncers had moved towards their unconscious co-worker. Suddenly the blonde scream, and Eric saw the man who'd hit the bouncer approaching him with a gun in his hand. He was shot twice before he could react, and the gunshots sent the whole club screaming and fleeing for the doors. Eric saw his attacker blend into the panicked crowd as he dropped to the floor- and felt a wave of footsteps crush him.

***

The morning sun was just rising when John Roddenberry thought he heard a noise in his house. His wife was sleeping next to him. His children were asleep down the hall. Roddenberry reached for the gun in his nightstand and loaded it before he walked out into the hallway, bare feet sinking into the carpet. There was no one in the living room, the kitchen... had that window been cracked open last night?

Spooked, Roddenberry raised his gun as he checked the bathroom. As the gun moved inside the room, a hand shot out from between the wall and the shower curtain, twisting the gun out of his hand and painfully disarming him. As he was about to cry out, a man burst from the shower and stuck his gun in Roddenberry's mouth.

"You're going to listen. If you yell, I'm going to kill you."

Roddenberry nodded.

"I'm not going to bullshit you. I'm going to kill you anyway."

Roddenberry whimpered and the stranger stuck the gun further in his mouth, shutting him up.

"Don't do that. You have a few different options here. I know you have a wife and two kids. I've killed women before, more than a few. Women can be just as dangerous as men, and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot. I've never killed a kid before. I wouldn't like to start. I suspect that if I did kill your kids, I could sleep just fine tonight. But I don't want to find out. I don't think you do either."

He paused.

"So I'm giving you a few choices here. You go walk out there and tell your wife that there's an emergency, that you need her to take the kids and leave. If you try any bullshit, I guarantee you I'll kill you and your wife before I leave. Even if I don't kill your kids, they'll be pretty fucked up. But if you get them gone, I'll kill you alone. Call the cops so your family doesn't find your body. Agreed?"

Gavin removed his gun from Roddenberry's mouth, which immediately started spitting out whispered words.

"But I never killed anyone. I've never hurt anyone. I-"

"You're the chief New York accountant for Durden. You help him manage his cash, move money around. You're up to your neck in bodies, even if you haven't pulled the trigger. End of story."

Roddenberry looked at the man's eyes and nodded. A few minutes later, he was crying, his wife was crying, and his kids were confused. Gavin sat in the bathroom, gun at the ready, smoking a cigarette. When the family was outside, Gavin silently moved to a location where he could watch Roddenberry- who, as soon as his family started driving away, started bolting after them. Gavin was after him in a second, hitting him with two shots before he'd taken more than a few slapping steps on the road. Walking up to him, he shot Roddenberry five more times- the last two in the head. 

You try to be a nice for once, and look what happens...

Neighbors were already opening their doors, so Gavin started running.

***

The morning sun was already climbing in the sky when Gavin returned to the hotel. He knocked on the door and Tara, re-enacting Gavin's earlier scene exactly, let him in. She arched an eyebrow as she questioned her brother.

"Are you done?"

Gavin nodded.

"For now."

They both sat down, quietly waiting for Stella's sleeping pills to wear off. 

--------

Two days after the nightmare in Durden's clutches, Stella pulled on a freshly pressed, calf length navy blue dress with white detail at the collar and white cuffs at the sleeves. The shower had been the most refreshing feeling she'd had in days. 

As she pinned her hair back, she stared into her own eyes. For a moment, in her peripherals, she could swear that she saw the face of her godmother Sofia behind her. Stella recalled parts of the journal where Sofia had detailed how she navigated danger. To her reflection, she nodded once. 

"Alright, scarred but smarter."

Walking out of the bathroom and into the bedroom of the hotel suite, she called out. 

"Gavin? You ready to go?" 

​​​​​​