I'm back like I promised! Here is a quick chapter with more on the way soon...I won't make you hang too long. ;-) Thanks again for all the reviews! Enjoy this wee little bit...

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Greece

Greece – 2 weeks ago

It all went wrong so quickly.

She followed her target—Levi Yadin, he deserves a name now—back to his private patio for drinks. She thought this would be her moment. She thought this was when the deal would finally go down. When, after a week of evasion and sidestepping, Levi would finally reveal his intended buyer to her so she could nail them both and end this.

But she was horribly wrong. And her error in judgment is costing her big time.

"Officer David," Levi snarls out her name. One of his private security goons has a knife to her neck. And, really, what Mossad officer, retired or otherwise, needs private security? "Please stop struggling."

If looks could kill, the vile man would be dead on the ground. She elbows her captor in the stomach just because she can. He grunts, then holds her tighter. The cool blade of the knife presses tightly to her skin and she knows that one wrong move will be her last. A third man comes and whispers something in Levi's ear. She strains to hear it but cannot. After a brief exchange, the new man is standing watch over her as well. She notes the gun concealed at his hip.

"I can help you, Levi," she says evenly, trying not to sound too desperate. They are standing on Levi's private beach, a beautiful garden on a rocky cliff overlooking the sea. The breeze picks up and whips Ziva's hair into her face. She curses herself for not wearing it up.

Levi laughs. "Of course you can, darling. Let's go march into daddy's office together."

Her captor laughs too. His breath smells like rotten fish; a wave of nausea strikes her.

"Do you really think this is your best move? That the Director will let you live now? I was sent to kill you, Levi! You have turned on Mossad and your country!" Ziva is grasping at straws now, anything to buy herself more time. The steely determination in Levi's eyes informs her that his mind will not be changed. But if she just had more time to think…

"Israel sent my daughter to her death!" Levi thunders, causing Ziva's heart to plummet. So this is not just about greed or revenge against an agency he hated? Levi spits on the ground and yanks the knife from his belt, sending it flying past Ziva's head. It misses its target, a nearby tree, by a few inches and falls harmlessly to the rocks below. Ziva doesn't flinch. And this man was Mossad?

Seeing the anger and desperation in Levi Yadin for the first time, Ziva's mind clicks back to his dossier. She remembers a footnote about him having a daughter who served in the Israeli Defense Forces, a jet fighter pilot. There was nothing noted about her death.

"Your daughter was a soldier! She died a noble death, serving her country. Something that cannot be said for her father—the coward," she lashes, hoping that she's guessing correctly. She shifts her body so when her captor tries to hold her tighter she leverages a better position. These goons are not Mossad, that is for sure.

Levi turns on her, his face purple with rage. "My daughter was a soldier and Mossad until Eli David ordered her to her death!"

Levi's words knock the air out of her lungs more effectively than any blow. Her mind races as she struggles for air. Her captor's hand wanders and all lucid thought is replaced by burning rage. Ziva laughs harshly. "And so now you repay him by killing his only daughter."

"That is only part of the plan, my dear," Levi looks positively gleeful; he pulls another knife from his hip and turns it in his hands. "A happy twist of fate."

Ziva thinks back. How did Levi find out her true identity? She retraces her steps, trying to see where she might've slipped, but comes up with nothing. But more than that, here she is in perfect position, a sitting duck for a man bent for revenge. A happy twist of fate. Her blood boils. There is only one person who could send her straight into this man's trap. Was it intentional? If so, how could her father not tell her of this man's motive? How could he even send her down this path?

Ziva slams her foot on her captor's heel, liking his screech of pain and ignoring the threat of the blade on her skin. "You think my father will be broken hearted over my death? You are wrong! He trained me, his own daughter, as an assassin. My death is of no concern to him."

As the words come flying out, it startles her how true they are. Of course her father would be saddened by her death, but how upset could he truly ever be when he sends her out on these missions in the first place. When he sent her straight into Levi Yadin's arms. You are one of my best agents. Her position in Mossad clearly trumps any position in his family. She is just another pawn in his game. True, she chose this field but how much of the choice was ever really hers?

"Yes, yes, you are right," Levi chuckles. Then, he rattles off a command in a dialect Ziva doesn't understand to one of his men. The third man produces a video camera from his coat. Ziva's heart pounds. Oh, this is not good. She sees her options dwindling fast. She knows she has to act soon if she is ever going to make it out of this alive.

I'm counting the days, Ziva.

An image of Tony flashes across her mind.

Come back to me.

Her father may get over her death, may order a few men to take out Levi and his crew, but it will not be so easy for Tony. Or any of her American friends, for that matter.

"Perhaps your father will not be so unaffected when he has to watch your death broadcast on the world news. A headline event, don't you think?" Levi signals to the man with the camera, who starts recording. "Though if the torture and murder of his own daughter doesn't disturb him, the poor publicity probably will. One of his own former operatives turns against him? And just how did that happen? How secure is our national intelligence, really? When daddy-dearest is forced to step down, what will become of Mossad?"

A flash of fear cuts through Ziva. There's a bigger picture here and she hates that she can't see it.

The reject trying to restrain her pushes the knife too hard into her neck. She feels the sting of its blade, the warm trickle of blood. He laughs, his acrid breath turning her stomach again.

Kick ass, Ziva, and come back to me.

A surge of adrenaline rushes through Ziva, stronger than she's ever felt before. And who are these men anyway? A washed up Mossad officer and his two flunkies? Her odds of overcoming three armed men aren't great, but she has a solid chance. I will not die like this.

Her eyes flick over to the camera and the man with the evil grin behind it. Levi is narrating the scene in Hebrew, but his words hardly register with her. Ziva's captor loosens his hold on her just enough; he is distracted by the prospect of sudden fame.

Ziva takes her chance.

One swift movement has her captor flung on the ground. Levi throws his knife at her, reaching for his gun at the same time. But he is out of shape and the move is too complicated for him; he is not quick enough. Ziva easily ducks the knife and moves to take out the third man. His eyes are wide with fear, with uncertainty over whether to drop the camera and fight or to continue filming. Ziva smiles wickedly at him. As he hesitates, she lands a kick to his chest and a satisfying hit to his head. He goes down. The camera goes flying.

Turning to Levi, she finds him leveling a gun at her face. She laughs. He advances. She lunges for him. He panics.

The gun goes off with a sickening crack. Sudden searing, stinging pain strikes Ziva. Enraged, she struggles to land any blow she can to Levi. She registers the sound of cracking bone, a pained yell. She's off balance though, and is easily taken down by a backhand to her face.

And then she's falling.

And falling. And falling.

Then nothing.