Author's Note: I know I should be updating my other story (Safe in Your Arms), but this idea struck me and I had to write about it (sorry). I promise I will get back to Safe in Your Arms soon. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this story. As always, I own nothing and love all reviews.

CHAPTER 1: The Robbery

What they hell were you thinking; robbing a drug lord? I grit my teeth, trying to stay calm. I have done this many times before, I can do this now. Just breathe, and think about your next move.

I think over my options- Tom isn't supposed to be here for another half an hour, I am unarmed and outnumbered 10:1. And the only exit I know of is currently blocked by a 200 pound chunk of muscle carrying an AK 47.

I peer cautiously around the corner, and see Mr. Muscles still standing there, his finger on the trigger of the gun. It looks like he'd be more than happy to empty his magazine into me if he got the chance. I duck back behind the corner, my heart race increasing to an alarming rate as I feel reality setting in- I am trapped.

The best option is to find another exit, but that means walking through unknown territory filled with people who shoot first and ask questions late. People like Mr. Muscles out there who are way too trigger happy and probably filled with steroids. Not a very good combination.

Why had I thought this was going to be a good idea? Tom had warned me that Hector Lorca was a heartless bastard and that robbing him would be suicide, but of course I had to be all stubborn and demand to pick him as our next target. I had always had a problem robbing "innocent" people, so I had felt that robbing a drug lord would be easier. Once again, Tom was right.

Oh god, Tom. He doesn't even know I'm in trouble. It was only supposed to be a little surveillance- it had been my (completely stupid) idea to go into the building. I honestly don't know what I had expected- for the warehouse to be empty to give me a perfect opportunity to look around?

I swear under my breath and then work up the courage to start my dreaded search for a way out. The experiments with the lab rats trapped in a maze comes to my mind. At least their mazes aren't filled with death traps.

I stay against the wall as I slowly tiptoe away from Mr. Muscles. Every sound sends a jolt of panic through me. I struggle not to hyperventilate- passing out would definitely not help the situation. I glance around the next corner to find yet another empty room. What is Mr. Muscles even guarding? So far the warehouse has been empty.

When I make my way to the next room and look in, I see a promising site- a window. It is about 6 feet off the ground, and light can barely filter through the layer of grime covering it. The result is a patchy glow that casts weak shadows across the room. I have never been happier to see a window.

I carefully approach it, my senses still on high alert, but my mind slightly less panicked. I am going to make it out of here.

I let out a shaky breath as I stand under the window. I reach up, straining on my tippy toes to reach the small ledge. My fingers slide on the level of dust covering it. I struggle to keep my grip and pull myself up. I almost fall backward (I think my heart skipped a beat when I started sliding), but soon I am propped up on the tall ledge.

The window is old, and the panes creak when I press lightly against them. I might not have had enough common sense to bring a gun with me, but at least I brought a knife. I pull it out of the concealed pocket in my coat, and start working away at the old wood. I am so focused on sawing my way to freedom that I don't hear him approaching until it is too late.

"Freeze." The accent is distinctly Mexican, not surprising considering Lorca is an illegal immigrant from Mexico City and tends to hire within his family, although his gang had long ago spread out of familial bonds. I stop sawing, my heart dropping and my breathing speeding up.

"Turn around, slowly." I turn in the sill to come face to face with Mr. Muscles. The AK 47 is aimed right at my chest, and his finger is stuck on the trigger. His face is all business.

"Drop the knife right below you. Don't make any sudden movements, or I will shoot." I oblige, slowly, and out of my peripheral vision I see two more guards enter the room, as covered in tattoos and beefed up as Mr. Muscles.

Mr. Muscles starts speaking to them in rapid Spanish; he seems to be giving orders. The youngest one, who can't be older than 16, picks up my knife from the floor while keeping a wary gaze on me and recedes back behind Mr. Muscles.

"Drop to the ground, slowly now, and face the wall." As soon as I hit the ground and turn, I feel Mr. Muscles dig the muzzle of his gun into my spine. I press against the wall, doing my best to keep my breath steady. I am not scared; I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing me scared. Just breathe, in and out.

One of the guards pats me down, his hands lingering on my ass. I consider kicking him, but figure that would get me shot. Finally he pulls back and attaches cuffs to my wrists. He pulls tightly. I silently pray that Tom is on his way.

I'm not sure how much time has elapsed, but I'm guessing that it's a lot shorter than a half an hour. I need to stall. As Mr. Muscles pushes me forward I stumble over my own feet, falling forward.

Mr. Muscles has a tight grip on my cuffs, so I don't hit the ground. Instead all of my weight is caught in my wrists and the metal digs into my skin. I let out an involuntary screech, sounding like some kind of deranged animal. I fight the tears building in my eyes. Mr. Muscles pulls me back up with terrifying ease and jams his gun into my spine again.

"No funny business or I'll put a bullet through your heart," he growls into my ear. I believe him. I continue forward, taking care not to trip. We walk through a few more empty rooms, getting deeper inside the warehouse.

We stop in front of a small wooden door, the only feature I had seen so far besides rusty metal and cobwebs. The middle muscle knocks on the door and yells something in Spanish. I can only pick out "Señor Lorca". If I was scared before, I am now beyond terrified.

Air seems to have a hard time going into my lungs, and I can hear my breathing turning into gasps. The youngest muscle looks a little alarmed by the sound I am making. Maybe if I pass out they will take pity on me.

I close my eyes and center myself. This is the biggest robbery Tom and I had ever attempted, and clearly it is not turning out well. I hear the door open and my eyes snap open to see the one and only Hector Lorca- notorious drug lord and ruthless murderer. I hear he had even killed his brother once for making a deal he didn't agree with. Hopefully that was just a rumor.

His bloodshot eyes glare into mine. His gaze makes me squirm; behind his loathing for me I can see something else- a certain coldness, an emptiness. It occurs to me that I am coming face to face with a sociopath; he is incapable of feeling. He will take me apart piece by piece until I am screaming for mercy, and he will enjoy doing it.

My mouth goes dry and I start hyperventilating again. Damn, I had just gotten my breathing under control. He turns to the middle muscle.

"What do we have here?" he says with such venom in his voice that I have to avoid cringing.

"Jose found her trying to escape through the window. We're not sure how she got in, but we're pretty sure it was while we were changing shifts."

Lorca turns his gaze back to me. "Hmmm what to do with you?" He sneers, then speaks to Jose (Mr. Muscles) behind me. "Bring her down and put her in room 19. Cuff her to the chair; me and her are going to have a little fun."

When Jose pushes me forward again, I fight him, kicking my legs frantically backwards. If I'm going to die anyway I want to go down with a fight. He easily fights off my blows and sends one to my back that causes my vision to blur for a few seconds. I don't fight the next push forward, stumbling ahead.

We approach a wooden staircase that leads into darkness. He half carries me down it. I strain my eyes at the bottom, but I am unable to see anything more than gray blobs in the dark. Jose seems to know where he's going and he passes through one door after another.

By the time we reach my room I am completely disoriented. He pushes me down and I feel my back pressing into a wooden chair. He fixes the cuffs to it and then exits. I hear the door close behind him. I am left alone.

At first I think all is silent, but soon I am able to make out a low sound. It is a light moan. It sounds far away, but it carries into my room and fills my head. It is weak and filled with agony. I cringe at the sound of it, thinking that will be me soon.

I hear a door open far away and the moaning stops. My ears ring from the sudden lack of sound. Then a loud scream pierces the air. Once, twice, and then a gun goes off and all is quiet again. Horror fills me, and I can't prevent the trembling that overtakes me.

I am going to die. I will never see Tom again. I will never see our crappy little apartment, or our tiny pet fish, Hudson.

I have never wanted to live more than I do now. I want to live; I want to see another day. I want to go home to my apartment, go home to Tom, and scrape together whatever dinner we can afford. I want to fight over the bills, and then have him make it up to me with kisses. I want to stay up half the night with a cheap bottle of wine just talking with Tom and when we are too drunk to stay awake any longer I want to snuggle up with him on our lumpy mattress and fall asleep.

I can hear footsteps approaching my room, and tears start to flow down my face. I want to live. I am not ready to die. Despite all life has thrown at me, I am not ready to leave this world.

The door slams open and a light is switched on. I am blinded, and my eyes shut on their own accord. I squint against the piercing light.

Lorca lets out a low laugh that sends shivers down my spine. "Shhhh, don't cry now. This will all be over before you know it. All you have to do is answer a couple of questions, and I'll end it fast. The more you cooperate, the faster it will go. You see, I am not a monster; I am actually quite a practical man. If you don't resist unlike the person I just… dealed with… then this will be a rather quick and painless ordeal. If not… well let's just say I have methods of making people talk. You will spill all you're dirty little secrets to me; it is only a matter of time. So let's start with an easy one- what is your name?"

I stare at him with a level eye, the tears have stopped. I don't even react to his threats. What's the point of telling him anything if he's just going to kill me anyway? I will not betray Tom, no matter what Lorca's 'methods' are. He lets out another chuckle.

"So that's how it's going to be, huh? It's such a shame- you have such a nice face." He runs a hand down my cheek and I turn away, disgust showing on my face. "Oohhh, feisty are we now? I've always liked my prey to fight a little- it makes it all the more fun."

I spit at him. It hits it mark, landing square on his face. I know it's a little childish, but it's also very satisfying considering I am prevented from punching him in the jaw like I really want to.

He pulls away from me slowly and wipes an arm over his face. I smirk at him and notice the change in him. Gone is the amused look in his eyes. His eyes are cold and hard. Maybe poking the bear with a stick was a bad idea.

He slaps me with such force that my head gets snapped to the side and I can barely keep myself from crying out. His ring cuts a deep gash into my cheek and I can feel blood dripping down the side of my face.

"That was a big mistake. You see-" He is cut off by the sounds of guns going off above us. He looks up, a livid look crossing his face. He swears loudly. "I'll be back," he mutters darkly and storms out of the room. I can hear shouting from above me.

I need to escape, while I have the chance. I look around the room; it is an empty metal box, completely featureless besides the wooden chair. I need a lock pick. My thoughts whir and then it comes to me.

I shake my head violently, my hair wildly falling out of its pony tail. I hear my clip fall to the ground. I scoot my chair over and try to pick it up with my feet, but it keeps falling. I am running out of time. The guns are closer now.

I push back hard and my chair tips backward. There is a loud crack as I hit the metal floor. The chair shatters under my weight. I shake out of the wooden fragments and wiggle over to the hair clip. I grab it, and in a few seconds I am free.

I rub my bruised wrists and stand up. Looks like I'm back where I started- unarmed, lost, and lacking backup. I walk out of the door into the hallway that is now thankfully lit up. I turn left, with a general idea of where I am going.

Unfortunately, I am fairly certain that is where the rapidly approaching gun shots are coming from. Shit, this robbery is definitely not going as planned. Not that the plan was very good in the first place, I'm not even sure if Lorca keeps his money here.

I approach the first door. The shooting is definitely getting closer. I consider retracing my steps, when suddenly the shooting stops. I freeze; my hand on the door. I listen carefully, but my ears are ringing from the guns. I take a step back and the door bursts open.

I don't have time to react as a group of 6 men encircle me. I have no idea who they are, but they certainly aren't Lorca's men. If I saw them on the street, I wouldn't give them a second glance- they look like completely ordinary people. Or at least ordinary compared to people you find walking around here in the Bronx.

"We've got her, she's uninjured," the bearded guy barks into his walkie-talkie. I can't hear what is said in return. The bearded guy answers with a, "Yes sir."

He turns to me, "Elizabeth Milhoan, we are here to get you to safety. Come with us."