During the entire drive, Ethan just focused on the road and made brief small talk with her, never trying anything, and he even followed the route exactly as she'd told him. That alone surprised Fiona.
She had assumed he was one of those guys looking for a one-night thing—at least asking for her number or something like that—but he behaved himself. Life had never been easy for her or her siblings, and she believed she'd learned how to judge people well. And he seemed, well… trustworthy. And cute. He didn't look like a bad person, right?
She hesitated for a moment when she saw the long line stretching outside the bar. Then she took a breath, gathered a bit of courage, and looked at him.
—Would you like to go in for a drink? My treat… you know, for giving me a ride.
Ethan turned the wheel slowly and parked by the curb. Then he looked back at her with a crooked smile.
—I thought you'd never ask.
—Haha. —Fiona let out a small laugh; deep down she was an easygoing, spontaneous person, and her eyes curved in a charming way—. Well… now I am asking. What do you say?
—Of course, no problem. —Ethan raised a brow, amused—. Same as before: it'll be a pleasure.
—Perfect. —Fiona reached for the zipper of her coat—. Could you turn around for a moment? Just a few seconds… I need to change.
—Sure, no problem —Ethan nodded, looking out the window.
Zip!
The zipper clicked, and the car shifted slightly. Ethan smiled, realizing the girl beside him was changing without any shame at all. After a slight rustle, there was another soft hiss. A faint scent of perfume filled the air, instantly soothing.
—Okay. —A few seconds later Fiona's voice came, shy but playful as she adjusted her dress—. What do you think?
Ethan turned, eyes lighting up.
—Wow! —he blurted out.
In just seconds, Fiona looked like a completely different person. The bulky gray coat, which had made her look plain and subdued, was gone. In its place was a fitted blue halter-neck dress that highlighted every line of her figure. Her high ponytail was now loose, letting her long brown hair fall in soft waves over her fair shoulders, transforming her presence entirely.
On her long legs, the white sneakers had been replaced by black leather heels with laces and open toes. With that simple makeover, she looked more striking than ninety percent of the girls waiting outside.
—Well, how do I put it? You look incredible…
—Thank you! —Fiona replied, pleased by his reaction, tossing her hair back with a smile that made her look even sexier.
Just then, a taxi in front of them stopped. A woman in a black-and-white miniskirt stepped out; her figure was sculpted and her posture confident.
—That's my friend Veronica… —Fiona said, pushing her door open. A wave of cold air rushed in.
She rubbed her arms and exclaimed brightly:
—Let's go!
With that, she threw her arms open and ran toward her. The two women hugged, radiating charm as they whispered in each other's ears.
Ethan stepped out, and the cold wind hit him immediately. Still, it didn't seem to bother the women waiting outside the bar. They all wore light outfits, shiny, confident—like winter didn't exist.
After the two women left the car, they kept whispering and occasionally glancing at him. Ethan waited a few seconds before walking over to them.
—This is Veronica, my best friend. —Fiona introduced with a smile—
Veronica, the "Black Pearl," had a stunning, perfectly proportioned figure; Ethan couldn't help noticing her exceptionally long, toned legs.
While he was sizing up the crowd, Veronica was also checking him out from head to toe, her eyes full of approval.
—I'm Ethan —he said, offering his hand with a smile—. Nice to meet you.
—I've heard you're a gentleman. Thanks a lot for helping my friend… —Veronica replied, shaking his hand—
—Alright, move your asses! The party's getting cold! —Fiona shouted, bumping Veronica with her hip before sprinting toward the line, laughing like she was already drunk—. Time to have fun!
Veronica rolled her eyes but followed; with Fiona, there was no middle ground—you either loved her or wanted to strangle her.
Ethan followed them, joining the line obediently. Like everyone else, they chatted as they waited. It wasn't too crowded that night, and they were let in quickly. Ethan tried to pay the cover, but both girls refused.
Inside the nightclub, the atmosphere was buzzing with energy. Neon lights flickered in different colors and the electronic music pounded, wrapping around everything and heightening the senses.
Once inside, Fiona and Veronica grabbed each other's hands and headed to a corner of the dance floor, moving to the rhythm without a care. They were radiant, overflowing with energy.
When they danced, it was like they were the center of the stage—that was Fiona, always trying to drown herself in a moment of happiness before returning to her reality.
Ethan bought three beers, pushed through the crowd, and approached them.
—Thanks —they said, taking their beers and drinking deeply.
Seeing his somewhat reserved expression, Fiona shook her head and said:
—Ethan, come here. Relax.
—She's absolutely right —Veronica laughed, grabbing his hand to turn around and start dancing on him, grinding her body sensually against his, while Fiona did the same.
He stopped hesitating and simply let go. Something inside him snapped—like a tight rope finally breaking—and all the pent-up work frustration came pouring out. He moved with the beat of the electronic music.
The DJ cranked the intensity; lights exploded in blue and red flashes sweeping across the dance floor, and the atmosphere turned frenetic, almost electric. Ethan couldn't take his eyes off Fiona. Her body moved with a sensuality that was almost hypnotic.
Fiona felt it too.
It was almost instinctive: they jumped in rhythm, getting closer without thinking. Their eyes met between flashes of light. She smiled—just a small curve of her lips, but enough to ignite something in him.
From the bar, Veronica watched. Her lips curled into a knowing smile.
—Ah! —Fiona screamed.
Just as they were wiping sweat and catching their breath, a shadow streaked between them like a whip. A black man lunged in, yanking Fiona's purse with a violent tug that nearly knocked her off balance.
It happened so fast that Fiona didn't even register it.
Ethan reacted instantly, reaching out to grab him, but it was useless. In that split second, the thief had already sprinted through the crowd, almost disappearing into it.
A sharp whistle cut through the noise.
A beer bottle flew, smashing against the thief's head. White foam burst everywhere, and the man collapsed with a dull thud.
—Wait here… I'll take care of it —Ethan told Fiona as he helped her up, making sure she could stand.
Without wasting a second, he pushed through the crowd, shoving shoulders and dodging bodies to reach the thief. The music still pounded, but the atmosphere had shifted: now it was all noise, confusion, and elbows.
Bang!
A sharp crack tore through the air. A bottle flew through the lights, spinning like a makeshift projectile before shattering against Ethan's head. The impact stunned him; a sharp pain shot across his skull, and he felt warm blood run down his temple, soaking his shirt.
He touched his forehead. His fingers came back red.
He turned immediately, pure instinct—and there they were: a few meters away, two black men glaring at him, their expressions hard, almost challenging. One of them still had his arm half-raised, mimicking the throwing motion, making it clear the hit was completely intentional.
The dance floor kept vibrating, but in that corner it felt like everyone held their breath.
Their mouths moved fast; he couldn't hear what they were saying, but it definitely wasn't anything nice. Ethan smiled, pushing through the crowd as he clenched his fists.
Seeing he wasn't stopping, the two men got even angrier, cursing and insulting him as they approached, ready to beat him down.
The shift was instant. Ethan didn't miss the opening and kicked the attacker brutally in the chest.
The man who had thrown the bottle had no time to react—he flew backward and crashed into a small table, sending it collapsing in a mess of broken bottles and splintered wood.
Bang!
The round table crashed down, drinks exploded everywhere, and screams erupted.
The sudden chaos didn't scare his companion.
The second man, furious, grabbed one of the bottles from the floor and raised it with both hands, ready to smash it over Ethan.
Bang!
The attacker swung his arm down hard, but Ethan got there first. He raised his forearm and blocked the strike with a sharp crack that rattled the glass. Without giving the man a second to regain his balance, Ethan twisted his hips and hooked the man's arm, executing a clean judo throw that flipped him over using his own momentum.
The guy hit the floor flat on his back with a dull thud that killed any attempt at a counterattack.
Before he could get up, Ethan leaned down and delivered a direct punch to his face—precise and brutal. The man's head snapped to the side and his body went limp instantly, completely unconscious.
The music kept blasting, but a small circle of tense silence formed around them.
The Black man who had thrown the bottle staggered to his feet. He was breathing hard, still trying to hold a defiant stance.
Ethan moved forward, not giving him a chance to recover. He grabbed the man's head with both hands as if it were nothing more than a mask he could tear off. The man tried to break free, but Ethan yanked him in with a firm pull.
With a perfect muay thai motion, he drove his knee upward with explosive force.
The impact cracked against the attacker's face. His pupils shrank, as if someone had turned off a light inside him; his body slackened and collapsed instantly, hitting the floor with a hollow thump, completely knocked out.
Four or five teeth flew through the air, splattered with blood.
At that moment, five or six men in black suits rushed over, watching him warily. The leader placed a hand on his chest to show he meant no harm.
—Sir, please stop —he said sternly, taking in the chaos around them—. Fighting isn't allowed here. You need to leave immediately… or we'll call the police.
Ethan loosened his fists, about to say something.
But the head security guard didn't slow down. He pointed at the three older men lying on the floor and shouted:
—Get these three out of here!
Seeing this, Ethan—
—Hey! —Fiona hurried over, her voice sharp with emotion—. These bastards were trying to steal my purse!
Everything had happened too fast—barely a dozen seconds.
When she finally reacted, she shoved her way through the crowd, pushing people aside as she tried to see. She only arrived in time to hear the security guards ordering Ethan to leave.
Frustration punched up through her chest. She was furious… but she also understood why they were throwing him out. Ethan was still breathing hard, eyes blazing, and the beating he'd given those men had been so fast and decisive it looked like a scene straight out of an action movie.
For a moment, seeing him there surrounded by bodies and broken bottles was like watching a Chuck Norris film in real life.
—I know they stole the purse —said the head guard, gesturing to the side—. That's why I didn't call the police.
—Shit… —Fiona covered her mouth at the sight.
She had only seen Ethan hit someone, but she hadn't realized how badly the other man was hurt. Several Black men lay on the floor; one of them had a head swollen like a pig's, a mangled mouth, and a pool of blood spreading under him.
Seeing that, she didn't know what to say.
If the police got involved with Ethan, she feared it could cause trouble. Fiona grabbed his arm quickly.
—Let's go… they're not worth it.
—Sure —Ethan nodded.
He knew he could make a call and this whole mess would solve itself; he wasn't afraid of the police. But it was better not to burn those favors too fast—Hank had told him to stay off Internal Affairs' radar.
Besides, after the beating he'd handed out, those guys would probably have trouble eating for a few months.
—Holy shit! —Veronica burst through the crowd, stepping in with her jaw dropped.
She had noticed the commotion earlier; then she saw Fiona's purse on the floor, picked it up quickly, and ran toward them.
—Come on, let's talk outside —said Fiona, not waiting for her to speak, yanking Veronica and Ethan toward the door, afraid the security staff might change their minds.
—It's fine, take your time —Ethan said calmly—. No rush, they won't call the police.
As the three of them headed out, Ethan noticed a young-looking man in a casual suit on the second floor staring at them.
To be precise, he wasn't looking at him—he was looking at Fiona. It was Steve. Ethan had always suspected that, in the show, he had been the one who orchestrated that stunt to save Fiona.
The moment Steve saw Ethan looking back, he turned away quickly, his expression tinged with resentment.
Ethan didn't care and kept walking. Steve had missed his chance. Once outside the nightclub, Ethan stopped, eyes widening.
Snowflakes were spinning and drifting through the air.
—Hey, how many fingers do you see? —Veronica said, waving her hand in front of him.
—Three… four… one.
His clothes were soaked in beer, his face wet, and a thin line of blood ran down his forehead, making him look pretty pathetic.
—I'm fine, don't worry. —Ethan snapped out of it, noticing both girls shivering beside him, and hurried toward the car— Let's get to my car before you freeze.
The Dodge Challenger was parked not far away, its white body dusted with snow.
They opened the door and all three climbed in quickly.
Ethan turned the key, and warm air blasted from the vents, heating them up. But the warm air also released a strange, unpleasant smell of beer.
There was no time to think about that. Fiona pulled a pack of tissues from her purse, turned Ethan's face toward her, and wiped him clean with care.
—How long was I out? Ten seconds? —Veronica asked, leaning forward nervously—. What the hell happened?
—Those bastards stole my purse —Fiona muttered through clenched teeth—. Luckily Ethan was there; otherwise I would've lost my whole paycheck.
—Damn… you really are brave. —Veronica said, giving Ethan a playful tap on the shoulder.
In an instant, Ethan's image had gone from "gentleman" to "hero" in her eyes.
—It was nothing, I just acted on instinct. And… —Ethan glanced at Fiona's face so close to his, then shook his head— I don't need treatment. I'll be fine after a bit of sleep. —With his regeneration ability, he'd be good as new in a couple of hours.
—That won't do —Veronica said, leaning in and examining him closely—. Come with us, I'll take care of it… I have professional training.
—Are you sure? —Ethan asked, turning the wheel.
—Absolutely sure —Veronica answered, eyes bright and smiling—. Besides, don't you want something to happen between you and Fiona?
—Hey! —Fiona slapped her hand away, annoyed—. Veronica, stop.
—Hahaha —Veronica burst out laughing—. I know, I know.
The Dodge Challenger sped through the snowy streets. Fiona told Veronica what had happened. When she mentioned Ethan had knocked someone aside with a kick, the car filled with murmurs of amazement.
Both girls were lively by nature, and soon their laughter and jokes returned. Ethan caught their good mood, and a smile spread across his own face. He loved this life—catching bad guys, pretty girls, and fights in nightclubs.
Twelve minutes later, they reached a neighborhood.
The view outside looked familiar; it wasn't far from Kevin's bar—definitely the neighborhood where both girls lived.
The Challenger pulled up quickly in front of a gray detached house. It had two stories, an uneven lawn, and a beat-up van parked in the yard next door.
—I'll go get the first-aid kit —Veronica said as she got out and hurried along the sidewalk toward the house next door.
—Is it okay if I go in? —Ethan asked, locking the car and following Fiona over the waist-high iron fence.
On the porch, the house was quiet.
—Yeah, it's nothing fancy… and you saved me twice today. It's the least I can do. —Fiona smiled, taking out her keys and unlocking the door—. Welcome to the Gallagher house.
Fiona flicked on the living room light.
By the entrance there was a staircase leading up. To the right was the living room, where several large sofas surrounded a wooden table piled with random objects.
Chrrrk!
He barely stepped on the table when a strange sound came from beneath it.
He quickly lifted his foot, squashing the belly of a yellow rubber duck.
—Sorry, the house is a mess —Fiona said quickly, a bit embarrassed, grabbing the clothes scattered everywhere and stuffing them into a plastic basket.
They probably weren't hers; most of them looked like children's clothes.
—Isn't this what a house is supposed to look like? —Ethan said, sitting casually on the couch— It's strangely cozy.
—Maybe! —Fiona shrugged and walked farther inside.
A metallic clatter echoed as she pulled several Budweisers out of the fridge.
—Here, have something to drink first. Veronica will be here soon.
—Alright, thanks —Ethan popped the bottle open and handed it back—
—No problem —Fiona noticed his soaked shirt and quickly set the bottle down—. Take off your shirt, I'll wash it for you…
Seeing his hesitation, Fiona smiled and added:
—Please don't tell me you're shy.
—Of course not.
Ethan didn't hesitate. His soaked shirt clung to his body and felt uncomfortable, and with the heat still on, he had no reason to keep it. With a couple of quick motions, he pulled it off and tossed it aside.
His muscles stood out under the light of the living room—tight, defined, highlighted by sweat and the shifting shadows around him. He radiated a presence that was hard to ignore, almost tangible.
Fiona felt a sudden heat rising to her cheeks. She pushed her hair back, trying to hide her blush, and hurriedly picked up his shirt with clumsy hands, trying to compose herself while still processing what she'd just seen.
—Wow! —Veronica exclaimed, stunned—. Why the rush, honey? Should I come back later when you're done?
—Shut up… I'm just going to wash his clothes. —Fiona grabbed the shirt and headed to the back—
—That's right —Ethan said, lifting a Budweiser and showing it to Veronica— Beer?
—My God! —Veronica planted a hand on her hip and let out an exaggerated gasp— Hey Kevin, look at this, the guy looks like a Greek statue!
She grabbed a beer and pointed over her shoulder with her thumb.
—Let me introduce my jealous boyfriend, Kevin, who insisted on coming to check out the guy who brought us home.
—Kevin?
The two men looked at each other and spoke at the same time.
—Sorry —Ethan stepped forward, fist-bumping Kevin with a grin—. I'm Ethan. So you're Veronica's boyfriend? What a coincidence!
—Uh-huh —Kevin lowered his hand, glancing at his girlfriend—. I didn't expect your new friend to be him.
—How do you two know each other? —Fiona asked, hurrying out from the back, surprised.
She wasn't the only one surprised—Veronica was curious too.
—Sit down first, tell me while I disinfect your wound —Veronica said, gesturing for Ethan to sit on the carpet. She opened the first-aid kit and pulled something out.
—Alibi Bar. I stopped by for a drink a few days ago and Kevin was there, nothing unusual. —Ethan said, smoothly shifting the topic—
—Yeah, and he was lucky enough to meet Frank too —Kevin added sarcastically—
—Do you remember Frank?
—Yeah, I remember him. Single father with six kids, right? —Ethan nodded.
—What's wrong? —Ethan set his bottle aside and leaned back—. Isn't Frank a single dad? Raising six kids on his own?
—Bullshit —Veronica shook her head—. That bastard is a damn… no offense, Fiona… —she said, glancing at her.
—Don't worry about it —Fiona shrugged—
She sat beside Ethan, her expression serious.
—Remember, Frank is a single dad—true. And he has six kids—also true. As for everything else… just don't believe a single word he says. Absolutely nothing. —Fiona thought for a moment, then said firmly—
—Mhm —Veronica nodded while continuing to clean Ethan's wounds, even the scratches on his hands.
—Alright —Ethan extended his hands. He knew Frank was his father, but of course he wouldn't say anything. There was no way they would know, and if he told them, he'd look like a total creep—. You know him too? —he asked Fiona.
—It's embarrassing to admit —she said, lifting her bottle and taking a long drink, trying to swallow the bitter taste— but the Frank you're talking about is my father.
Veronica jumped in:
—And the most irresponsible, lying son of a bitch I've ever met. Believe me, I'm not exaggerating.
She shrugged and raised her beer bottle.
—To Frank.
—To fucking Frank —Fiona said, raising her bottle as well.
Veronica and Kevin lifted theirs too, the glass clinking together with a sharp tap.
—To fucking Frank.
They all laughed and took a drink.
After setting the bottles down, Veronica quickly cleaned the wound and applied medicine.
—All done. It was just a scrape. No swelling, so you'll be fine. —she said, satisfied as she packed the supplies back into the first-aid kit.
Footsteps echoed, and a boy around seven or eight walked in, followed by several other kids who had to be his siblings.
He sat sleepily on the carpet and held out his fist toward Ethan.
—Hey, I'm Carl.
Fiona said quietly:
—This is my little brother.
The boy had very short hair, clear innocent eyes, and an easygoing air about him.
—Nice to meet you, Carl… I'm Ethan —Ethan said with a smile, bumping fists with him.
Carl pulled his hand back, satisfied.
—I like you.
A girl the same age as Carl approached the couch too, her cheeks rosy and her voice soft and gentle.
—You're really handsome. I'm Debbie.
She spoke surprisingly well.
Ethan flashed a warm smile.
—Good evening, Debbie. You're very pretty too.
—Ian —said a boy around fifteen or sixteen, with short red hair and freckles, who stepped into the room.
He grabbed a beer bottle, and his eyes flicked over Ethan's bare torso.
Ethan recognized that look; Job's ex-boyfriend had looked at him that way before. He pretended not to notice, smiled, and bumped his hand.
—Hey, I'm Ethan.
—What are you guys talking about? —another voice asked.
A curly-haired boy snatched the beer out of Ian's hand, staring at Ethan with blank eyes as he nodded.
—I'm Philip, but everyone calls me Lip.
Ethan hadn't expected so many kids to appear out of nowhere.
—These are my brothers… and the little one's sleeping upstairs —Fiona said, spreading her hands—. Welcome to the Gallagher family.
Fiona finished packing her things.
Clap!
—Alright, it's way too late for you all. You've got school tomorrow. Upstairs, go. —she ordered, shooing the younger ones toward the staircase—
—Bye, Ethan.
—Nice meeting you.
—'Night.
One after another, all four of them appeared and quickly disappeared up the stairs.
—Wow —Ethan said, smiling at Fiona—. That many brothers… your days must always be lively.
Fiona let out a long sigh and sank into the couch.
—More than you'd imagine… but they're good kids.
—By the way —Kevin asked curiously—, weren't you here in Chicago for sightseeing?
—None of your business —Veronica said, elbowing him in the ribs.
She grabbed the first-aid kit, took Kevin by the ear, and walked out with an air of authority.
—We're leaving. Ethan, do whatever you two need to do—don't be shy!
As she spoke, she winked at Fiona several times.
—Let go!
—Ow, ow, ow! —Kevin grimaced and leaned forward as they left, but still called back to Ethan—: Hey, remember to stop by the bar. Next time, beers on me for looking after my girl.
—Sure… see you.
Veronica slammed the door.
In an instant, only the two of them remained in the living room. It was so quiet they could hear footsteps upstairs.
The faint noises stopped soon after.
—Sorry —Fiona said with a smile—. That's Veronica. She never knows when to shut up.
—No way —Ethan shook his head—. I like her personality. She's pretty straightforward.
As they talked, their eyes met.
Fiona brushed her hair back, her face slightly flushed, as if she could feel the heat radiating from the body beside her.
His imposing build made her a bit nervous.
With her movement, her sexy blue dress slid down slightly, revealing a tempting strip of snow-white skin.
Ethan slowly set down his beer bottle, his gaze locked on her.
Fiona took a couple of deep breaths and held his eyes, then they leaned in, lying on the couch as they kissed. Fiona couldn't help running her hands over him, feeling the shape of his muscles.
The cushion sank hard under them as they got closer, but soft laughter drifted down from upstairs.
—Wait a second… follow me —Fiona whispered, breathless—
—No problem.
Ethan lifted her into his arms and slung her over his shoulder.
Her slender fingers fidgeted nervously near the doorframe, her breathing quickening.
With a click, the living room light went off.
The room dimmed, lit only by the glow of the street lamps casting thin beams of light inside.
—In the laundry room —Fiona said, pointing behind her and biting her lip.
In the shadows, her eyes gleamed intensely.
—Ah… —Fiona let out a soft gasp.
Ethan held her in his arms and carried her toward the laundry room, setting her directly on top of the running dryer. It was still spinning, vibrating gently beneath her. They kissed again, and soon Fiona's dress slipped to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her underwear.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, right as he was about to—
—Are you sure? —Ethan asked with a grin.
—Shut up and fuck me already —Fiona said with hot, absolute confidence.
Bang, bang, bang!
Just as he was about to, a series of knocks thundered on the front door. Ethan turned his head and saw a familiar blue light filtering through the curtains.
The sudden noise startled Fiona, making her tense up.
—Shit.
A minute later, more knocking.
—Fiona, open up. It's Tony.
Ethan stepped back, and the dryer finally stopped beeping.
—I'm coming!
Fiona could barely breathe; she jumped off the dryer, her legs shaking so badly she almost fell.
She pulled on a pair of pants and a blouse she found in a basket and shot Ethan an apologetic look.
More knocking echoed through the door, and she ran out barefoot, switching the living room lights back on.
—Tony, what's going on?
Pulling herself together, she opened the door, and a police officer stepped onto the porch.
Seeing Fiona's flushed face and messy hair, Tony quickly looked away and motioned her aside.
—What happened? —Ethan asked, zipping up his pants as he walked into the living room.
Two officers were dragging in a drunk man, dropping him directly onto the carpet.
One of the officers stiffened slightly when he saw Ethan.
—Thanks, Tony —Fiona said, arms crossed as she leaned against the staircase railing.
She glanced at Frank, lying on the floor, completely wasted.
—Don't mention it —the officer replied. He stood up and gave Fiona a reassuring smile—
He looked at Ethan before signaling his partner to head out.
Ethan didn't recognize either officer—they had to be from another precinct. Then again, he barely recognized the ones from his own.
Frank's hair was a mess, and he reeked of alcohol and vomit.
—Where's his room? —Ethan said, clapping his hands once—. Let me carry him. You can't lift him.
—No need —Fiona said with a strained smile—. Leave him here; just keeping him from freezing to death outside is enough. It's getting late… why don't you head home? —she added, opening the door.
Ethan nodded. Having an alcoholic father like that would kill anyone's mood.
He grabbed his clothes from the laundry and put them on quickly.
—Give me your number. Let's go out for dinner sometime.
Fiona didn't answer; her smile turned cold.
Something was wrong—her eyes shifted nervously, filled with sadness, as if reality had snapped her out of a dream that was too good to be true.
Ethan looked at Frank, completely drunk, and knew it just wasn't the right moment.
He put on his coat and said:
—I'm heading out.
The door shut, footsteps faded, and the car started and drove away.
Fiona turned off the lights, walked up to Frank, and slowly knelt beside him. The streetlamp lit half her face—half in light, half in darkness.