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By Liam O'Donnell
13 June 2012
O'Donnell Residence

So what happens now?

Liam bit his nails as he stared at the clock. Its incessant ticking was enough to induce madness. He'd been sitting in there for quite some time, after reading the paper for the third time today, front to back and now he was biding his time. The bar wasn't his anymore...not after giving up the deed to his ex-wife, and he had nothing to do now. The Abbey was his life, his pride and joy, and now it was gone. Even having escaped Azkaban, escaped the inescapable--the Dementor's kiss--after the chaos at Diagon Alley, Liam felt like he was still a prisoner in his own home. He was confined to these walls, this space that was filled with so many memories of Kara that it drove him mad. However, the alternative, going outside with the risk of being spotted by anyone from either realm was not an option.

He wasn't sure where Bridget had gone today, and he hadn't heard from her in a while. He hadn't heard from anyone at this point. The man claiming to be his brother-in-law had gone underground and hadn't contacted him since he sent him to the safehouse with that weapon...that drug. That specialized knife, the one that did all the dirty work on Jace Bryden, was sitting on the table in front of him. God, his blood boiled at the mere thought of that man's name, and the knife was just a reminder of that night. Flashes of everything, from arriving to the cold shoulders of Jaleth and Fierro, to the near blinding rage when Bryden came into the room. The fight. The stabbing. Then, the chase. Gunshots and blades tried to stop him, but there was a feral guard there, something that burned inside of him, to press on. He needed to survive and escape, and so he did. The question was, though, why did he hate Bryden so much? He'd never seen him before, but discovering his scent, seeing his face, hearing his name... He wanted nothing more than to see that asshole dead.

And what the hell was Kara doing with a wolf, anyway?! They had a connection, there was no doubt about that. Liam scoffed in disgust. It was bad enough he'd discovered his wife had moved on with Winslow, in their own house and bed, but the scent of Bryden all over her--and vice versa was unmistakable. So she was screwing him too? His fist tightened into a fist, cracking his knuckles as he grasped at nothing. Exactly what he had left, save the roof over his head. Nothing.

He pounded the table and the wood creaked and snapped as it split on impact under his strength.

Liam was getting tired of waiting around for his temporary handler to come around, and was nearly convinced he wouldn't be hearing from him anytime soon. He needed to figure out his next move before Bryden's crew came looking for him. He wouldn't be caught unawares, he had to prepare for any sort of ambush.
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