Disclaimer: If you haven't already seen the disclaimer of the other 100 chapters I've posted in all my stories...I'll say it again. I don't own.

A/N: Alright, 4th and final thing I'm posting tonight. This chapter, I think, is the shortest in this story. But that's because either this would have been the last, or the next one would be the last. Yeah, that's right. One more.

You will Love this one...I hope.

Chapter 7

Sam's POV

I stare at John in the back of the van, barbed wire around his wrists and ankles. We had gagged him with a rag so he couldn't speak or yell out, even though no one would hear him where we were going. The van stops and the back doors open. I don't ask their names, they're unimportant, but they know I'm a Puckett. They'll do whatever I say. I want them to do whatever they want, and I'm going to do what I want. And I hope they kill him.

The guy carried our victim through the warehouse and set him in a chair, wrapping more barbed wire around his shoulders, chest, and the chair. If he struggled, he'd be cut to shit. I nod to the other guy, the one that had just followed us in, and he grabs a homemade tattoo gun, one that I know was going to hurt the bastard, turning it on. I rip the gag out of the asshole's mouth and kick John in the leg. "Wake the fuck up!" I shout at him. He doesn't wake up. I look to the guy who'd punched him. "You didn't kill him, did you?" He shakes his head, and I punch John in the face. "Wake up, you fucking asshole."

"What the fuck?" he mutters, and I punch him again. "What?" he yells. I punch him again. "What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want you to fucking suffer, asshole. You tried to rape my best fucking friend and because of you she can barely be around me without worrying that I'm going to do the same. And then you go off fucking other chicks that you've been dating for god knows how long, and try to hook up with me, and you expect me not to kick your fucking ass? Do you know who I am? I'm a fucking Puckett, you son of a bitch. I don't mess around, and I certainly don't have time to deal with fucking pricks like you. You fucking homophobic…" punch, "lying…" punch, "cheating…" punch, "rapist."

My knuckles are cracked open but I don't care. He has to be hurting worse. One of the guys pulls me away from John and in my state of mind, I almost swing at him, but I force myself not to. The other guy steps forward, tattoo gun in hand, and sets to work. John screams from the pain in his forehead and I feel like throwing up, but I can't. I have to be strong about this. "Keep struggling and it'll only hurt worse, rapist," the guy next to me says, and I smirk. Let him hurt as much as possible.

"You won't…get away…with this!" John screams, but I just roll my eyes, moving into his sight. "You're just a dyke bitch!" he yells. "You're the reason Shay's such a fucking dumb dyke bitch!" I frown. "All she ever fucking did was talk about you! She wouldn't fucking shut up!" So Carly did think about me the whole time she was with this asshole. "You turned my fucking girlfriend into a fucking…" I punch him so hard the chair falls backward. "She wanted to fucking say yes," he says, glaring at me. "When you fucking kissed her…she was going to say yes."

"Why didn't she? Did you have something to do with it?" I kick him in the ribs.

"She didn't know how to fucking react. She was scared, you fucking bitch." I kick him again and he yells in pain. "I fucking hate you!"

"Why did you try to fucking rape her? And don't say you didn't. I saw the goddamn bruises. And we have fucking pictures." He glares at me, obviously unfazed by my statement. Let this fucking bastard get raped in prison.

"She wouldn't put out. Fucking bitch never even wanted to drink or get high. So I wanted to teach her how to have fucking fun."

"How? By fucking her? How would you like to get fucked against your will?" I nod toward one of the guys. "He could fuck you." John looks terrified at that. "In prison…they don't take kindly to rapists, especially rapists who fuck with a Puckett. And in my eyes? In my uncle's eyes? Carly's a fucking Puckett, regardless of name." I notice the tattoo isn't finished and pick up the chair so the man can finish. "I'm done here. You guys got it?" The guys nod and I leave the warehouse, screams echoing in my head.

Freddie's POV

I watch as Carly kisses Sam and smile inwardly. Has Carly finally gotten comfortable with Sam? I really want to kill John, but Sam made it clear that when the guys got there she would go. I was to look after Carly, in case anything happened, and that's what I would do. Sam waves at me and Carly kisses her one more time before jogging toward me. The brunette pushes me toward my car and I wonder where the hell this boldness came from. For the past few days she's been so scared and now she's running us around? What the hell?

Carly slides into the passenger seat, hood drawn over her head, and I drive to Sam's. We make our way up to the Puckett apartment together and she goes straight to Sam's room. I help myself to another root beer and settle on the couch, turning the TV on and find whatever movie I'm least likely to fall asleep watching. I hope Sam knows what she's doing and that she's not going to do something that will come back on her. I know anyone who works for a Puckett knows to keep their mouth shut, but still, if she leaves evidence, she'll be leaving Carly behind and Carly doesn't need that.

My brunette friend returns to the living room and sits on the opposite end of the couch, minus the jacket she'd been wearing. "Carly…you know I'm not…"

She stares at me. "I know, Freddie. I just…I wish I hadn't said anything to you and Sam back then, at least not what I did. Freddie, I panicked. I couldn't…all those people…I was scared…" Is she going to tell me what I think she is? "I…"

My phone chooses then to ring and Carly flinches, looking away from me. "Hello?"

"Are you and Carly at my place?" Sam asks, and it sounds like she's been running. Please tell me the cops weren't chasing her. "Benson…Are you there?"

"Yeah, we're here. Is everything alright?" She doesn't answer, and I'm met with a dead line. I hope that means yes. Within five minutes, the apartment door opens and Sam barges in, going to Carly, ignoring me completely.

"Why didn't you tell me, Carly? Why couldn't you just tell me why you ignored me for six months?" If Carly was terrified before, she's petrified now. What did John tell Sam? "Carls…seriously. If I had known that was why, I would have understood, instead of you blowing up at me over it."

"Sam, I couldn't." I'm not needed in this conversation. I move to stand and walk past Carly and Sam, but Sam grabs my shoulder and shoves me back toward my end of the couch. I guess I won't be going anywhere.