Elena was gone. Philip was in the hospital, obviously lying to the police regarding what had happened in his apartment. Their mother was ready to call the entire Canadian police force to go after Elena, blaming the blond for all this misery. Logan Jonsen, Elena's supposed cousin, was also gone, the townhome he shared with Rachel just as much a disaster as Philip's. In the blink of an eye, her best friend and everything connected to the woman, had just… vanished.

And there she sat, waiting.

Waiting for… what, exactly?

Diane had no idea, and that was what pissed her off more than anything. Elena should have been there in the hospital, holding her hand and praying that Phillip would make it through the surgery alive. She should be the one helping their panicked mother to offload the drama bomb she was harboring before anyone got sprayed with a napalm of furious hate. Instead, her mother was quietly pacing before the window, the very image of icy, controlled calm. One had fiddled with the ring on its chain around her neck, the wedding ring she had worn for thirty years before her husband, Diane's father, had passed away.

The ring she was hoping to give to Phillip when he proposed to Elena.

"I came as soon as I could."

Her mother raced towards her, the click-clack of her heels a welcomed sound.Mother always wore those damned designer heels, and the sound of their eminent arrival usual caused widespread panic in the McAdam children.But not today.Not when she needed her mother.Not when she needed anyone to comfort her.

"Glad you're here," she murmured into her mother's shoulder.

"What happened?"

Diane took a step back, wiping her eyes. "It was a home invasion.Philip was stabbed.They just took him in for surgery."

"Oh, my god—"

"He's going to be fine, mother."

"Dia—"

"Mom," she said firmly. "He's going to be fine.

Her mother seemed to take that as gospel truth, some of the color returning to her panic-stricken face. "W-what about Elena?Is she okay?Was she with him?"

"I… I don't know.She's, um, she's not answering her phone."

And the debate raged from there, the need to call the police and put out a missing persons bulletin for Elena wrestling with something in Diane that told her not to call. Something she couldn't ignore. There had been… well… something about Clay when she'd met him. Something that a body made for sin and a mouth sculpted by demons hadn't been able to fully hide. Dangerous, that was the word. Dangerous in a way that made wild animals look safe in comparison.

She hadn't exactly feared for her life in his presence. No, something inside told her that he wasn't looking to hurt her. But there had been that exchange with the creep in the parking lot…

Diane closed her eyes, trying to blot out the image of Clay Danvers nearly ripping that dark-haired man out the car window by his throat. The menace in those growled words as he spoke, words she'd never forget. Pete... Antonio… almost killing Jeremy.I've lost track of the reasons why I should kill you.
There's nothing stopping me from ending this war right now.

Nothing, except her. Idiotically walking over to them, and demanding to know what was going on. Clay had jerked in surprise, those eyes hitting her with a dual hammer blow of undisguised rage before he could get it under control. The man in the car, whomever he had been, seized the moment to get the hell away from the mountain of vengeance that was Clayton Danvers.

It wasn't until she was alone at home that she realized what he had said. A sick sensation crept into her stomach, and a realization that it somehow made sense. Elena's secretiveness about everything, the random trips to this Stonehenge place or whatever, and the refusal to include herself or Philip in any aspect of her life that wasn't the present. They were all dangerous, those people in Elena's life. And whether or not Elena had kept herself and Philip in the dark as a protection, it was now a moot point.

The danger was here. And she was willing to lay good money on the odds that Philip wasn't attacked in a "random home invasion."

Diane folded her hands in her lap, the knuckles nearly white as she gripped her fingers tightly. She would NOT get up and pace like her mother. She would NOT open her mouth to anyone for fear that she'd spew out all that acidic hate in place of her mother. And heaven help her if Elena called…

The need to pace won, and she was up before she knew it. But she refused to let the tears fall, refused to give into the need to sob and sob and sob. This just couldn't be happening to their family. Hadn't they suffered enough with their father's death, and a mother that oftentimes made Cruella DeVille look warm and compassionate?

"Miss McAdams?"

Diane spun on her heel, heading towards the man in the white doctor's coat. He was most likely addressing their mother, but she had no patience for that. "Yes?"

"Your brother just came out of surgery. Everything went well. We expect him to make a full recovery."

At that news, the tears won. She clasped her hands over her mouth and let the tears wash away nearly all the stress and worry from her mind. All but a single thought. Elena should have been here…

The phone woke her. Diane jumped in surprise, her neck and upper back reacting negatively to the sudden movement. Sleeping with her head in her arms, leaning against Philip's beside, hadn't been the best move. However, she wasn't leaving his side for anything. Not until she knew for certain that he was going to make it. The doctors could talk about 'complete recovery' all they wanted, but she knew the facts. People died in hospitals all the time for random things.

Philip wasn't going to be a statistic.

Her phone rang again, and she glanced down at the number. Did a double-take as she recognized it, and jabbed viciously at the thing until the call connected.

"I've been trying to reach you since yesterday," she hissed, slipping as quietly as she could into the hallway."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Really? That's all Elena had to say? Two sentences comprised of all of two words? Diane closed her eyes, grasping the phone in both hands until the shaking stopped. Until she felt she could utter another word that wasn't going to erupt into a full on melt down.

"How is he?" Elena said into the gap.

"The doctor says he's going to be all right," she managed out, bringing the phone back to her ear. "He's just resting now. Are… are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

One sentence. Three words. At this point they were going to degenerate down to the final one word that would forever break their friendship. Like hell she would allow that to happen, not until she got to say everything that was currently stuck in the back of her throat. Not until she got to demand the answers to the questions. Important questions. If she could only phrase them without sounding like a lunatic.

"Thank God," Diane said… and couldn't bottle up the anger anymore. "Elena, where the hell are you?"

"Have you spoken to him? About what happened?"

She blinked, stared down at her phone. That sick feeling returned to her stomach. God, she had hoped—prayed—that it wasn't what she thought it was. But questions like that? How in the world could she think anything positive, anything other than Elena and her entire family was mixed up in something… dark?

And now she was dragging Philip down with her.

Like. Hell.

"Yes," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. Lying through her teeth. "He doesn't remember much. You should be here with him."

"Which hospital?"

That sick feeling got worse. "We're on the post-op floor, Mount Sinai Hospital, room 721."

Elena did her the favor of lying in return. "Be there as soon as I can."

"Sure."

The call disconnected, and the silence at the other end was somehow more final, more heartbreaking then that one friendship ending word. Still, Diane said it anyway.

"Good-bye."

Elena didn't show, and whether it was from a lack of caring on her part, or because whatever her family was mixed up with had taken all her time, it didn't matter. Twenty-four solid hours had passed without a sign, without a call, without a demand to know why she was standing there in Toronto General staring at a nurse who had no idea who Philip McAdams was, nevertheless why she thought he was a patient there. At least that would have been something. It would have shown that the love and friendship had been genuine.

Elena never showed.

It was somehow worse than a good-bye.

It made her realize that all she and her brother had been to Elena was a cover story, a way to prove to the world that Elena Michaels was just an ordinary girl with ordinary problems.

That was a lie. Just like everything Elena had ever told them.

"I just need a minute of your time, okay? A couple questions, and I'll be out of your hair," the police detective asked. "Walk me through what happened."

"All I remember were a couple of guys coming in," Philip answered, shaking his head.

The shake was more to signal Diane to stay in the chair and to keep her mouth shut than to collaborate his statement. She was glad that Detective Reyes's back was to her, so he couldn't see the look of offense covering her features. Just what did Philip think he was doing?

"Did you know or recognize them?"

"No."

"They didn't say what they wanted?"

"They jumped me as soon as they came in. I tried to put up a fight."

"I saw your place," Reyes said with a touch of approval. "You must have put up one hell of a fight. You got any idea why anyone would attack you in your home?"

"I don't have any enemies if that's what you're getting at."

Reyes nodded, pulling out a business card and leaving it on the side table. "If you remember anything, you call me."

Diane was out of that chair before the door finished closing behind Reyes. "You should have told him about the stalker you beat up at Elena's show."

"That stalker was one of the guys that attacked me in my apartment," he countered. "And keep your voice down."

She dialed down her volume… barely, and stalked over to his bedside. "Why didn't you tell the police that?"

"Because Elena and her family are involved in some kind of a mafia war."

Diane blinked… and then blinked again. The image of Clay nearly strangling that man in the car taking forefront in her imagination. There's nothing stopping me from ending this war right now..."How… how do you know this?"

"Elena told me yesterday."

Diane sat down hard on the side of his bed, the sick feeling not just returning to her stomach, but spreading throughout her body. Taking over limb and organ, coming suspiciously close to outright terror in her heart.

Philip took her hand in his, squeezing. "We have to keep this quiet, Diane. Do not tell Mom when she comes back."

"Why?" she whispered viciously. "Why are you still protecting Elena? Especially if it means putting yourself , and maybe our family, in jeopardy."

"Look at me," he squeezed her hand again. "Look where I am. I'm not saying anything because it's going to put us in jeopardy."

"Then you should know that I lied to Elena. I told her you were at a different hospital. I… I didn't know what was going on, and I… saw something, too. Outside of Elena's show, I saw Clay fighting with someone. It wasn't an argument, Philip. Clay literally had the man by the throat, threatening to kill him. I was afraid for you if she came here."

Philip closed his eyes, fatigue swallowing what little color he'd managed to regain since the surgery. "It's okay, Diane. She wouldn't have come anyway."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because she loves me, and as crazy as that sounds, it's the truth. She'll stay away if it means her enemies will stay away."

Diane leaned down, stroking his hair, fighting back the need to cry. "I don't believe that."

"It's the truth."

She waited until he fell asleep, until her mother returned to take over the watch, before she slipped out and made the call.

"Detective Reyes, this is Diane McAdams. I think my brother and I have pieced something together about the attack…"