The drive to the hospital was awkward to say the least.

They sat in complete and utter silence, neither of them wanting to be the first to speak.

Because of Max's temporary disability, he was unable to drive, and hence had to call his chauffeur to bring them to their destination. He couldn't even use driving as an excuse to keep his mind off the girl beside him and the hell she had brought to his life.

He was mad. How couldn't he be? There he was, running around blindly, grasping at straws, when the answer he was searching for was right underneath his nose. 'Humiliated' couldn't even begin to describe the way Max felt, and neither did 'ashamed' or 'mortified'. He had hated Gabriel and the rest of his father's henchmen since day one, but accusing them of a crime they hadn't committed was beyond acceptable.

Max had made a buffoon of himself on several occasions, so showing his face at headquarters was now out of the question. He'd utter a single word and they'd throw him out and pelt him with rotten tomatoes, and he deserved it. He had pointed his finger without damning evidence against them, and it wouldn't be surprising if his father decided to deport him back to Spain for bringing shame upon the family.

Because that's what he had done. Shamelessly.

He pressed his temple against the window, allowing the coolness to sink in. His long legs were bent uncomfortably behind the driver's seat while his back was arched forwards, and he felt like a clown attempting to ride a minuscule bicycle.

Max could feel Zara's remorseful glances every once in a while, but he duly ignored them, preferring to occupy himself by observing the traffic that raged outside. There wasn't a moment when his line of sight wasn't invaded by a yellow taxi, blurred by the heavy rain that pelted the window, like stones. His eyes hurt for keeping them open for so long, but it didn't matter. He'd do anything instead of talking to Zara.

He felt her shift beside him, and that stare to the side of his head again. It was beginning to make him uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," She said.

The apology would have been appropriate for a child who accidentally knocked over a vase, not for Zara. It would take more than a 'sorry' to make him even consider forgiveness.

Max said nothing in response.

"I really am...I don't—I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything!" He snapped, tilting his head back.

More shifting, and a sniff. "I only found out yesterday...why won't you believe me?"

"Why should I?" Max turned so he could look at her, really look at her.

Beautiful. No, don't think about these things.

"How can I believe that you didn't know about this the whole time?" Max continued, "The only reason you talked was because you had to. If I wouldn't have brought it up then you would've never said anything, am I right?"

Her eyes flitted downwards.

It was a complicated thing. If she would've known earlier, would she have told him? Most likely not, as she would have behaved in the best interests of her grandfather. She would think that she was protecting him that way.

She was wrong.

"You don't know what mess your grandfather is in..." Max shook his head. A deal with el Tigre was like a deal with the devil. You rarely came out of it alive, and in one piece. "Do you know anything about the Jaguars?"

She pursed her lips, "They're a gang...I heard about them on the news."

Max looked at her incredulously.

Is that it? Is that really all she knows about them? That can't be it.

"What else?" He pushed, keeping his gaze on her. His father's men had trained him in the 'art of deception'—or how to expose liars—the biggest pointers were in the most subtle of facial expressions.

"Uhm..." Her eyebrows furrowed, "That's it. I know that there are many gangs, like by name, but I don't know anything other than that. Despite everything that has happened to me, I've always tried to...stay away from that world, because I know nothing good ever comes out of it."

This girl was a thief and she knew nothing about the most well-known and dangerous gang in New York City. Her naiveté was almost unbelievable, considering her financial circumstances.

Zara really must've been in the dark about her grandfather's whereabouts, but that wasn't completely impossible. From what he understood, the two lived separate lives, both with very different pasts. It still angered him that the man had so selfishly put his granddaughter's life in danger.

All for a couple of cents, most likely.

The car lurched to a stop as the driver braked at a traffic light.

"I don't know much about Grandpa," Zara whispered, crossing her arms over her stomach, "We've never been that close. It's partly my fault because I didn't let him, but it's not like he made a tremendous amount of effort either. He just did what he thought a parent was supposed to do, and that's it, at least that's what I felt like he did."

Her unnaturally blue eyes locked with his, and the sadness he saw in them made his heart melt. She immediately looked away, the corners of her full lips downturned. "I swear that I didn't know about what he did until yesterday, but when I found out I was just as pissed as you are right now. I mean, I was the one that put him in the hospital for it," She gave him a tight-lipped smile and he chuckled.

"You're right...he kind of deserved it though, don't you think?"

She bit her lower lip.

God she's so fucking cute.

"Excuse me, señor, but we have arrived," interrupted the chauffeur, eyeing Max through the rearview mirror.

The rain had stopped pummelling the window. They must've stationed themselves in front of the hospital.

"I'll let you know when to come," Max informed him.

A nod in response, and the two passengers stepped out of the car.

"Please don't be too hard on him," Zara said, as the two began making their way towards the entrance.

"I won't make any promises."

The doors slid open, and he was hit by the smell of artificial cleanliness. Max reflexively wrinkled his nose, his disgust amplifying when he noticed how many people were sitting around in the reception area. The air buzzed with a low clamour, broken occasionally by a cough or a sneeze that gave him goosebumps.

Max detested hospitals.

Zara soldiered ahead of him, long strides highlighting her restlessness. As he followed her at his own pace, he took in his surroundings with a vigilant eye, staring down anyone and everyone who dared to look at either him or Zara. He stopped a couple of feet away from the reception desk, giving her the space she needed to talk to the nurse.

She must've felt this absence, because she turned to give him a questioning look, to which he responded with a reassuring nod. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, but then she nodded back and began chattering away. Max smiled to himself when he noticed how she needed to stand on her tip-toes in order for her head to rise above the counter. It was amusing how such a small body could hold such an imposing character.

As he waited, he imagined what the fabled Simon looked like. But then, as he thought about for some time, he realised that it didn't matter.

The man was a selfish prick in spite of his appearance.

"Max come here," Zara called out, waving him over. He pushed himself off the wall he had inadvertently leaned against and sauntered over, and eyebrow shooting up into his hairline.

"I'll have you know that I'm not a dog."

"I—"

"I was joking. Now where do we have to go?" Max manoeuvred around an old lady with a walker, but almost bumped into a doctor hurrying in the opposite direction. When the guy began to protest, Max shot him a look that incinerated him on the spot.

"Fourth floor, Room 403D." She seemed a little on edge. When they reached the elevators, he decided to ask her about it.

"You okay?" He asked a little too abruptly, almost biting his tongue at his eagerness.

"Honestly? No. I'm scared shitless about what I might see when I go in there." She tilted her head back, eyes going to the row of numbers that illuminated in descending order.

He chortled and raked a hand through his hair.

Now that was unexpected.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Because you're so cute," he grinned.

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped in, maintaining a comfortable distance between themselves and the other occupants. Max was especially aware of the man standing right behind him. The guy seemed on the verge of death, with a ghoulish complexion and a diarrhoea-brown robe, he looked like something out of a Horror movie.

Max almost forced the doors open when the elevator dinged their floor, inhaling a breath of almost-fresh air. The last thing he wanted was to catch whatever he had.

"I'm not cute," Zara whispered, having only just recovered from the compliment.

"You damn are—403D, we're here." He stopped in front of a green door, the number glinting at him from behind a laminated label. Zara had to be pulled back, she had walked too far ahead. "You go first." He stepped aside.

She took his place in front of the door, her posture a stiff plank.

Nervousness was written all over her.

"Zara." He placed his hand on her shoulder and she turned towards at him, a grim expression on her face. She looked on the verge of tears. "I'll be waiting outside, right there." He gestured to the row of chairs against the other wall. No way in hell was he going to sit on those, but he had to make a point of it.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, cradling her head against the uninjured portion of his chest. "Don't worry too much about it. He probably won't even remember what you did." Running his fingers through her hair, he tilted his downwards and kissed the crown of her head, inhaling her scent.

He almost growled.

Her head bobbed up and down and she pulled away, wiping her eyes with a sleeve.

Max kept his hand on her back as she inhaled sharply and opened the door, keeping it there until she was completely inside.

What felt like hours dragged themselves by, leaving nothing but boredom in their wake. Max had long since given into his primal instincts and had sat down, initially on the edge of the seat. But then, as weariness took over, he allowed himself to sink back and doze off into a dream-less sleep.

He would've hibernated for centuries if it weren't for the click that eased him awake.

Max rubbed his eyes and yawned, then sat up to rest his elbow on a thigh. His neck and shoulders were killing him, he must've fallen asleep in an awkward position. "How did it go?" Voice raspy, thirst hadn't caught up with him until then.

Zara leaned against the door, a mixture of worry and contentment evident on her face. Her head fell forwards, followed by a cascade of curly hair. She sighed and prodded towards him, allowing herself to collapse in the chair next to him. "He looks much better than I thought he would." She reached up to absentmindedly play with her hair, "His leg is much worse than before though...the fall completely destroyed his knee and so he will have to get it replaced, some time this week."

Max scratched the side of his face, and stood up. A little to quickly perhaps, because a light-headedness took over him. He reached into his back-pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, "Get yourself something to eat, and get me a Gatorade. If they don't have it, carbonated water. I'm super thirsty."

He placed it on Zara's outstretched palm, and her fingers curled themselves around it uncertainly. "Do I have to? I mean I'll get you something to drink, but I'm not really hungry."

"When I come back, I want to see food in your hands, and it has to be something savoury. Don't try to act sleek with me, because I'll know. We aren't going to leave until you eat something." He took a step back to put his hand on the door-handle, grinning at Zara's appalled reaction.

"You can't make me." The challenge in her eyes amused him to no end.

"I have my ways, darling," He taunted, turning the knob and entering the room before she could continue complaining.

Simon—at least he thought it was him, the guy had his whole leg in a cast—lay in the first curtained cubical on his right, one of four occupants. The room looked dull and impersonal— the walls were lime-green with golden speckles, the plastic curtains were a bottle-green. Most of the décor was of the same colour, except for the bedsheets, which were a stark white.

The smell of antiseptic lingered in the air, and soft moans could be heard from the bed adjacent to Simon's.His initial plan had been to storm in, grab the man by the collar and demand a more satisfactory explanation, but now that was out the window. There were too many witnesses, and he couldn't get thrown out before he got the answers he needed.

"My granddaughter told me you were coming," Came a guttural voice. Max's head snapped towards the sound, his eyes narrowing when he caught the man's big blue eyes watching him. He was covered torso-down in blankets, the only exposed parts being his head and his injured leg, which held at a ten degree angle by a set of cables from the roof. The bed had been adjusted in a way that he was laying at an angle, rather than fully flat against the mattress. Max took a step towards him, squaring his shoulders and allowing disdain to take over his facial features.

Another step and he was at the foot of the bed. He looked down and lifted the patient hanging folder.

Surname: Mathewson. Name: Simon. Age: 65.

The rest was irrelevant, as the man's surname had caught Max's attention.

"Why do you have a different surname than your granddaughter?" Max asked, predatory gaze on the patient.

Max almost outright laughed at the man's appearance. He was the definition of pathetic. If you picked up a dictionary and searched for the word, you'd find this guy's picture next to it. Greying hair, sunk-in features, age-spots on his stick-thin arms—how did this guy manage to fool an entire company into believing a lie?

Temptation had Max nearly walk back out and ask Zara to direct him to the right person.

But no, something told him that this was the right man. Max almost pitied him. Almost.

"It's a long story..." The grooves around the man's—Simon's—face seemed to deepen with each word.

"I have the whole afternoon. You kind of owe it to me, don't you think?" Max caught a plastic chair against the wall with the corner of his eye, and moved to sit on it. He tilted his head to one side, an encouraging smile on his face, "Don't be afraid. Think of this like...a friendly get-to-know-you. I ask you a question, and you reply. If you don't—" He flexed his fingers and his joints crackled. The action earned the reaction Max had wanted: fear.

He saw the guy's hand inconspicuously slide towards a remote, with the intent to call the nurse, but Max's sharp gaze immediately snapped to it. "If you so much as graze that fucking thing, I'll have you in a coma in three seconds flat. I may be injured, but I can still beat your ass into the ground. Now you're going to answer my questions or—"

"Alright, alright," Simon relented, hand trembling back to its original position, well into Max's line of vision. The guy took a deep breath, tossed Max a hate-filled glare, then said, "I'm not Zara's real grandfather."

This should be interesting.

Max waved him on.

"I'm her step-grandfather...father's side, if that makes any sense. My step-son retained the last name of his real father, who died in the Vietnam war. He never really saw me as his real father, for some reason he always hated me, which is why we fell out once he was old enough to leave home."

Max didn't nod, didn't shift a muscle in his face. "Does Zara know this?"

The man shook his head, and his eyes flitted downwards in shame.

For a moment, Max was at a loss of words. This guy wasn't even related to her and had somehow managed to take over her life.

"What happened to her parents?"

"They...passed away," He coughed, voice raucous with emotion. "Arson. That's the word for someone setting a house on fire, right?"

A nod. He decided not to ask anything more, preferring to hear it from Zara. Like this, it felt like a breach of privacy. Hypocrisy at his finest, as he had read her files a couple of weeks earlier, but this were all superficialities. Experiences are more authentic when recounted by someone who lived them.

"She knows about that?" Max continued.

"Well..." Simon leant forwards, groaning from the strain the movement placed on his leg. He attempted to shift his body into a more comfortable position, and Max just watched him, making no move to help. After battling with it for a minute or so, he settled down.

Max found that his patience with the man was wearing dangerously thin.

"So?" He tapped his fingers against his leg.

"I was getting there, Jesus."

Max inched forward with his chair, a silent threat.

"I-I mean..." Simon had to look away for a moment, "She just knows that it was a fire, not that it was an intentional one...she was too young to remember anyway, she was only three when it happened."

"Has everything you ever told her ever been anything but a half-truth? Or a lie?" Max bristled, anger beginning to simmer inside him. Just looking at the bastard's face made Max want to punch his lights out. It had dawned on him that this Simon guy had never been entirely truthful with his granddaughter, preferring instead to keep her in the dark about things that had very much to do with her.

"What—" Simon's face darkened; Max's anger must've begun to rub off on him as well.

"Zara has been through a lot of shit because of you, did you know that?" Max was like a bear protecting his cub, because Zara was his cub, and it was his duty to protect her against predators like Simon.

"She's talked to me about—"

"Of course you don't you just think about yourself. You obviously don't behave in your granddaughter's best interests." Max rubbed his forehead exasperatingly, feeling restless.

"What business does it have with you?" Simon's face had contorted into a wrinkly prune of anger, "You don't know why I did what I did, or what my granddaughter and I had to go through for years. Who are you to tell me what to do? I'm the one that raised her! I know what's best for her, I always have, and always will!"

The other patients grumbled at the yelling, and one of them even threatened to call a nurse, but Max was too dismayed by what this moron was saying to care.

Is he for real?

"You weren't the one that raised her. Taking her in as a teenager isn't 'raising her'." Max made air-quotes to emphasis his words, "You're just a poor idiot who felt bad about his son's premature death and decided to adopt her so that you could erase some of the guilt you felt inside for not trying harder with him. Well too bad, because you've failed twice. Once with your son and twice with your granddaughter."

Max was on his feet now, a finger jabbing the space between him and Simon. The man was so in shock that no words came out of his mouth. It just opened and closed, like a goldfish.

"I may not know her for as long as I may have wanted to, but I can tell you this. You, my friend, have done more harm to her than not. You don't deserve having Zara like your granddaughter, she deserves someone better, someone who can treat their kid like a princess, not like a burden."

Max walked towards the door—the guy's presence alone enraged him. To think that Zara had been so concerned about him, racked with guilt of having hospitalised him. If Max was in her shoes, the guy would be nothing but a corpse underground.

"And I'll have you know, that the only reason why I haven't killed you for what you have done is because Zara loves you, you, who aren't worth the dirt underneath my shoes." Hand on the door knob, he was ready to leave that wretched hospital, "But don't you worry. I won't be the one to get you."

He stormed out, slamming the door behind so violently it almost rebounded.

"What happened?!" Zara shrieked jumping out of her chair, "I heard you yelling and I—"

"Nothing's wrong," Max said hurriedly, gaze landing on the plastic bag she was gripping, "Your grandfather is fine, we should go."

"I can't, I need to see if he's okay!" Again with the wild look on her face as she tried to go back to the room.

But a nurse had already appeared, flanked by a security guard.

"You are disrupting the patients! You must leave the premises right now!"

"He's fucking peachy Zara, okay?" Max's voice had risen so high that the guard now had both hands on Max's arm, shoving him away, "Stop it! Stop it Goddamnit!" Max shook him off, his mouth almost frothing with rage. "Come on."

He grabbed Zara's arm and dragged her away. 

-:-