A/N: Greetings, readers!

Anonymous review!

anon - Haha, that is true. It's hilarious because Finn thinks he's outsmarted everyone, except that he's not actually as smart as he thinks he is hehe. ;) And thanks! It's good to be back ;) I hope you like the new chapter! :)

Without further ado, the chapter! :D

Thuuunk!

Quinn brought the table leg down on the chain with all her strength. Hours after Finn had left, she had found that one of the links in the chain was even rustier than the others. It was so rusty that she hoped that if she pounded on it long enough, it would break. She had been pounding on it for several hours with no luck.

She was never going to get out of there.

Judging from what little light slipped in from the window high above her head, Quinn could tell that it was getting dark. She had been imprisoned in this cold cellar for almost twenty-four hours.

Finn had undoubtedly gone to Rachel by now. What had he told her? Had she believed him? Quinn couldn't even entertain the thought. She knew how Quinn felt about her. And she knew that Finn was up to no good. There was no way Rachel would believe his lies, especially with that false signature on the letter Quinn had been forced to write.

Her biggest fear was that Rachel had fought Finn. Her brother was so unstable right now that any opposition could be met with violence. And if Finn harmed so much as one hair on Rachel's head…well, Quinn would have to harm Finn.

She wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve. Quinn was exhausted, and the light was too dim for her to tell if she had weakened the chain at all.

How much longer was Finn going to keep her a prisoner here? Until after the wedding probably. He wouldn't want to risk Quinn's interference. And Quinn would interfere if she could. There was no way she would allow Rachel to marry Finn, which was why she had better get back to work on breaking the chain.

The door opened and in walked one of the guards Finn had assigned to watch over her. He was also one of the men who had beaten her that night. Quinn could tell because she had suspected that she had broken the nose of one of her attackers with her elbow. This man had bandages over his nose, and every time he looked at her, Quinn could see hatred in the man's eyes.

But the guard had made no further attempts to harm her, and hung a lantern high up on the wall, filling the cellar with warm, golden light. There wasn't much to see, but Quinn was grateful for it anyway.

"I brung you dinner," the great brute informed her in a deep, rolling voice. He set the tray down on the ground and pushed it across the dirt floor. Starving, Quinn reached for it. She could just barely grab it with her fingers, even when her chain was stretched to its limit. Obviously Finn didn't want anyone getting too close now either.

"Thank you." Picking up the tray, Quinn set it on her lap. The smell of hot beef with gravy and potatoes reached her nostrils. It wasn't the work of the French chef she had become accustomed to at Brahm House, but it still made her stomach growl in anticipation.

Grabbing up her fork and knife, she dug into the potatoes swimming in the rich, dark gravy. She closed her eyes and groaned in pleasure as the food touched her tongue. Oh Lord, it was good! She hadn't eaten since dinner the night before and hadn't quite realized just how hungry she was.

She was tearing into a chunk of thick, fresh bread loaded with butter when the door opened again. If it was the guard coming to collect the tray, the man was running a serious risk of having his nose broken again. Quinn wasn't finished eating.

It was Finn. Suddenly the food that was so wonderful just seconds ago tasted like sawdust in her mouth. Swallowing, Quinn eyed her brother warily. Was this it? Had Finn decided to get rid of her once and for all? Quinn's heart thudded against her ribs. I wasn't death that frightened her, although she had no desire to die. It was the idea of dying without ever seeing Rachel again, without knowing if the brunette believed in her. And the prospect of Rachel marrying Finn filled her with an even deeper dread.

Smiling smugly, Finn stared down at her. Quinn kept eating, but she set the tray aside.

"Why, sister, you look just like a filthy gypsy eating in the dirt like that."

It occurred to Quinn that her brother rarely called her by name. Why was that? Perhaps it made it easier for Finn to go through with his nefarious plan by treating Quinn more like an animal than a person.

Chewing, Quinn looked up. She swallowed before she spoke. "But I'm not a gypsy. I'm descended from the same blood as you, brother."

Finn's eyes narrowed. "Only on one side."

Quinn shrugged. "But it's the side that counts, isn't it?" She meant no disrespect to Carole, but in England it was the father's blood that counted, not the mother's. In England Quinn never would have inherited a title through her mother.

A sneer twisted Finn's mouth. "But it's your mother's blood that shows. Her barbarian blood."

Her brother had made similar disparaging remarks about the Scottish in front of Quinn before. It was a stereotype Quinn didn't quite understand, especially since Scotland boasted some of the best doctors and architects in the kingdom.

Quinn smiled. "Then I guess it's a good thing I look so much like our father, isn't it? So people will know whose daughter I am. Fortunately, you're pure English, so it doesn't matter so much that you look nothing like him."

She really shouldn't be baiting Finn this way, but Quinn's own temper was dangerously close to igniting. Her fear for Rachel and her exhaustion were wearing on her, chafing her already raw nerves.

Yes, she could tell by her brother's expression that she had pushed him far enough. Finn looked ready to kill her.

"Why are you here, Finn?" Quinn asked, plucking an apple off her tray and polishing it on the one clean patch left on her blouse. "I thought our business was finished."

Instantly, Finn's anger disappeared, replaced with that superior confidence Quinn had come to despise. "I thought you might like to know that you will be returning to Scotland tomorrow afternoon."

Quinn frowned. "So soon?" She hoped her brother didn't hear the relief in her voice. If Finn wasn't going to kill her that meant Quinn still had a chance to stop him from marrying Rachel – if she could only escape.

Finn's smile grew. "Yes. You will be on your way shortly after Rachel and I have said our vows."

Quinn fought to keep her face blank. If Finn knew how deeply those words cut her he would know his taunt had its desired effect.

"You're quite the man, Finn. Here you are, now a peer of the realm and you still have to force a woman to marry you. That doesn't say a whole lot for you, does it?"

She wasn't prepared for the kick. It hit her squarely mid-thigh. And while it didn't hurt as much as a blow to the stomach, it still hurt.

Rubbing her leg, she glared up at her brother. "Why don't you unchain me, Finn, and the two of us can settle this on a bit more equal footing." Then, with as much insolence as she could muster, she dragged her gaze along her brother's taller but stouter form. "Then again, with me chained up, perhaps we are equals."

Finn drew back to kick her again and Quinn surged to her feet. Finn had made the mistake of getting close enough to kick her and that put him within Quinn's reach. She snatched him by the lapels and hauled him so close their noses were almost touching. The shackle dug into Quinn's leg as she strained against it.

"Guard!" Finn screamed in Quinn's face. "Guaaaaaard!"

The fear on her brother's face was enough to make Quinn smile, and it would certainly be worth any beating the guard gave her.

"Where's your pistol, Finn?" She gave him a rough shake. "You're not such a big man without your weapon."

The door flew open with the guard's arrival and Quinn tossed Finn to the floor with a resigned grunt.

The man with the bandaged nose looked from Quinn to Finn.

"I want her beaten so badly it hurts to breathe!" Finn cried, struggling to his feet.

The guard shot Quinn a dark gaze, but nodded. "All right."

Dusting off the seat of his trousers, Finn stomped toward the door. Obviously, not only was her brother a coward when it came to fighting her, he was also too squeamish to stay and watch his orders be carried out.

"You'll regret crossing me," Finn informed her, his voice shaking every bit as much as the finger he pointed at Quinn.

Quinn smiled bitterly. "Finn, I regret meeting you. I think you can safely assume that I also regret everything after that as well."

"Good. That will give you something to think about tomorrow morning when I marry the girl you love." With that parting shot, Finn stomped out the door.

Quinn turned her attention to the guard, who was still standing in the same spot, watching her with the same expression.

"Well," Quinn prompted, holding her arms out at her sides. "Aren't you going to beat me now? You had no problem beating a woman before."

The guard shook his head. "Naw. You don't fight like a regular person." His fingers went to his bandaged nose. "You fight dirty."

Stunned, Quinn watched as the big man shuffled from the room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Well, at least he'd left her the lamp.

Sighing, Quinn rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. She had only until the morning to free herself. She could put only so much faith in the hope that someone would rescue her. She had to rely on herself. And so far, banging on the chain with a table leg hadn't gotten her very far.

Then she saw it. Lying on the tray not far from where she stood was her fork, glimmering in the lamplight.

She looked down at the shackle around her ankle. If she bent the tines on the fork enough that she could slip one inside the lock, then she just might be able to pick it.

Kneeling with her bound foot toward the light, Quinn grabbed the fork and set to work bending it. When she was finished, she stuck one tine into the lock and started moving it about, searching for the right spot.

If this worked, the poor guard was going to be in for a surprise when he came back to collect the tray.

And Finn would be in for a bit of a shock as well.

Rachel was still awake when the sun rose the following morning. Despite Bow Street's assurances that they would find Quinn in time to prevent her from marrying Finn, she couldn't help worrying about what would happen if they didn't find Quinn in time. She would have to go through with the wedding.

The Runners had told her that she didn't have to complete the ceremony, but Rachel was terrified of what Finn might do to Quinn if she didn't. If Bow Street didn't find where Finn was keeping her, they would have no evidence against Finn, and he would know that Rachel had betrayed him, and he just might take that betrayal out on Quinn. So if it came to the point where Rachel had to say "I do," then she would legally be bound to Finn.

She couldn't bear the thought. But if she said "I don't," then it might mean Quinn's death. And that was even worse than spending the rest of her life with Finn. Rachel could only pray that Bow Street would find Quinn, or uncover enough evidence against Finn that they would be able to hold him until Quinn was found.

Turning her head toward the window, Rachel watched the sun rise through the glass from the warm comfort of her bed. Perhaps if she just stayed there everything would be all right. Maybe she could pretend to be sick. Finn could hardly force her to get out of bed if she was ill, could he?

No, Finn would know she was lying. And he would threaten Quinn in order to get her out of bed, even if she really was sick. He wouldn't care as long as he got what he wanted.

If only Quinn's plan had worked. If only they had managed to escape that night, then Rachel might very well be her wife right now.

And Quinn would have all the money she needed to repair her castle. Perhaps then Quinn would decide she didn't need a wife after all?

No. She couldn't think such things. Finn wasn't above lying to get what he wanted, she had ample proof of that. Until she saw Quinn again, Rachel would believe that the blonde had been sincere in wanting to marry her, that money had nothing to do with it. The only thing giving her the strength to go through with this charade was the promise of Quinn's love. She would hold on to that and deal with the truth when the time came.

The only hope of ever discovering that truth depended heavily on Rachel's ability to continue the charade of cooperating with Finn to buy Bow Street more time. For that reason alone, she threw back the covers and swung her feet over the side of the bed. It was time to get ready. The wedding was to be held at Brahm House at eleven o'clock that morning.

Padding across the carpet, Rachel let out a huge yawn and shrugged into her robe. Across the room, she pulled the cord that would ring for her maid in the servants' quarters. The girl probably wasn't even awake yet, so she flopped down in a chair by the fireplace and waited.

What had Finn told poor Carole and Brittany? That Quinn had up and left them? Had he shown them the fraudulent letter? Surely they wondered at the suddenness of the wedding. Originally she and Finn weren't to have married until the spring. Did the two women suspect Finn of any wrongdoing? Or were they blissfully unaware? Rachel hadn't asked them. She didn't want to endanger either woman by telling them the truth, and she certainly didn't want to be the one to tell them just how evil Finn truly was.

There was no way around it; the two of them would be devastated when they learned what Finn had done, and Rachel worried that the shock might be too much for poor Carole to handle, especially so soon after the death of her husband.

A knock sounded upon the door. "Come in," Rachel called.

The door swung open, revealing a very sleepy-looking maid. So, she had been up when Rachel rang – but just barely. She still had creases on the side of her face from the pillow pressed against her cheek.

Rachel couldn't help smiling at the poor girl's appearance. "Good morning, Jane. I'm sorry to have called for you at this early hour."

The maid stifled a yawn and grinned sheepishly. "Good morning, miss."

"Will you have water sent up for a bath please, Jane? And see if my gown is ready?"

Jane curtsied a response. "Yes, miss. Would you like some breakfast sent up, miss?"

The very thought of eating made Rachel's stomach roll in revulsion, but she knew she had to keep her strength up. "Just a cup of chocolate for now. I will eat with my mother later."

"Would you like me to ask Mrs. Berry to come to you once she's up, miss?"

Rachel nodded. "Yes. Thank you. That will be all for now, Jane. I'm afraid we have a very busy morning ahead of us."

The girl smiled, curtsied again, and left to fetch a footman to carry the bathwater.

Rachel doubted her mother had slept much more than she had last night. No doubt her father had slept like the dead, blissfully unaware of his daughter's plight. His heart wasn't as strong as it used to be and neither Rachel nor her mother wanted to worry him unless it was absolutely necessary. And they hadn't wanted to risk him rushing off and doing something foolish – like confronting Finn and revealing their plans.

Glancing toward the ceiling, Rachel sent up a silent prayer that when her mother did come to her room she would bring news from Bow Street with her. Any news, even bad, would be better than this not knowing anything at all.

A few moments later two footmen arrived, carrying buckets of steaming water. Once they left, Jane set to work, adding rosewater to the bath, placing a cake of rose-scented soap and a washcloth on the stool beside the tub. She placed several jars there as well. Jane prided herself on the quality of her beauty creams and remedies.

"Anything there for dark circles, Jane?" Rachel asked as she stepped into the fragrant, wonderfully warm water. "I must look like a raccoon."

Jane smiled. "Don't you worry, miss. By the time I'm done, you'll look like your normal lovely self."

Rachel smiled and leaned back in the tub. "Only as good as that? I must look positively awful now, do I?"

Jane giggled and ducked her head. "You always look pretty, miss – even if you do seem a little tired."

Still smiling, Rachel rested her head against the back of the tub and let Jane work her magic. She scrubbed at her skin when one of the concoctions had to be left on for a period of time, and washed her hair during the last treatment. When Jane dumped a bucket of fresh water over her head to rinse out the soap, the cream washed off her face as well.

There was nothing quite like the feeling of being clean. Rachel knew she was odd in that respect. Most young girls she knew bathed regularly, but few bathed as often as she did. And there were some people of her acquaintance who could certainly benefit from bathing more often. Augh! Even some members of London's high society smelled as though they bathed once a month – if that.

Quinn certainly wasn't among their ranks. She always smelled of lavender soap and that fresh, clean scent that was decidedly hers. Just the thought of it was enough to cause tears to sting the backs of Rachel's eyes. She couldn't bear the thought of never seeing Quinn again, of never breathing in the scent of her, of never again experiencing the way the blonde made her feel.

Drawing a deep breath, she tried to force herself to relax, to allow the hot water to loosen the knots in her back and shoulders. She needed to relax. She had to gather her wits and try to keep her emotions at bay. She would do Quinn no good at all if she became a bundle of nerves.

But it didn't stop her from worrying. As she climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in the soft towels Jane offered her, Rachel's mind tumbled with anxiety.

She knew she should just trust in Bow Street to find Quinn and bring her safely home, but she couldn't. And she couldn't help wondering just what she was going to do if they hadn't found Quinn before the time came to say her vows.

They would find her. They would.

What if Quinn didn't want her? What if she decided Rachel was to blame for Finn's insane behavior and despised her for it?

She shuddered at the thought. Jane, mistaking the gesture for a genuine chill, built a small fire in the hearth. It was a fine summer morning and there was little need for it, but Rachel was glad for the warmth.

She was sitting beside the fire, curled up in the chair, sipping her hot, sweet chocolate when her mother entered, carrying a tray. Funny how chocolate always seemed to make everything better.

"I brought you something to eat," her mother said as she closed the door behind her. "I doubt you feel like it, but you should have a little something. I brought you some eggs and some toast and jam."

Rachel smiled. That sounded very much like a good breakfast to her, but to someone who loved food as much as her mother, it was a small repast indeed.

"Thank you." Rachel took the tray and set her cup on it. Her stomach growled and she realized with some surprise that she was hungrier than she had thought. Even though she didn't feel like eating, her body certainly seemed to think she needed it.

She chewed a bite of egg and swallowed. Dreading the answer she steeled herself to ask, "Any news from Bow Street?"

Her mother shook her head, a few stray curls bobbing out from underneath her lace cap. "Not yet, but they said they would be in touch this morning, so I'm expecting something soon."

Frustrated, Rachel dug into the food on her plate. "If they've been following Finn ever since we went to them, he must have surely led them to Quinn by now."

Her mother nodded. "One would think. Finn's too sure of his hold over you to think you would betray him by going to the authorities. And he's far too full of himself to think anyone would be able to follow him."

Rachel didn't remind her mother that less than a week ago she was one of Finn's staunchest supporters. While she certainly didn't like or approve of the fact that her mother had plotted with Finn to ruin Quinn, she had to admit that her mother had certainly made up for her poor behavior.

She managed to finish every morsel of food on the tray, plus her chocolate. Then, with her belly full, she leaned back in her chair and gazed at her mother. "Do you think they will find her in time, Mama?"

Shelby nodded, her jaw set with determination. "I'm sure of it. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the duchess managed to free herself before they even get there. Knowing what she does of Finn's capabilities, I cannot imagine that she isn't trying with all her might to escape."

Rachel took some comfort in her mother's resolve. "No, Quinn would certainly put up a good fight." But what if Finn's hired thugs had beaten Quinn so badly that she couldn't save herself? What if she were lying somewhere battered and bleeding? No, Rachel wouldn't let herself think such horrible thoughts. It did no good. She had to remain calm if she wanted to help Quinn. Until she was told differently, she would assume that Quinn was hale and healthy, and on her way back to her.

As she and her mother talked, Rachel dried her hair in front of the fire. Once it was almost dry, her mother helped her dress. Everything was new, except for her gown. She had always wanted to be married in her blue satin, but given the circumstances, she decided against it. Instead, she was wearing a gown from last Season, when she had made her debut. It was the dress she had worn the night she and Finn had met. For that reason alone Rachel was loathe to wear it.

It was a plain ivory gown that she and her mother had altered by sewing a few rosettes on the neckline and hem to make it a bit more festive. It had short cap sleeves and a modest scoop neckline. An ivory ribbon ran along the high waistline, just underneath her bosom. It was simple and elegant – and much better than Finn deserved.

After slipping into her stockings and shift, her mother helped her into the gown, fastening the dozens of tiny pearl buttons that ran up the back.

"What are you going to have Jane do to your hair?" her mother asked as Rachel swept the heavy mass of dark waves off her shoulder to cascade down her back.

"Does it matter?"

Her mother smiled a little. "But what if the duchess arrives? Don't you want to look pretty when you see her again?"

She had a point. "Maybe she could curl it a little…" They discussed possible hairstyles for twenty minutes – or at least that's how long it took for Rachel to realize that her mother had started the conversation only to keep her mind off of Quinn's safety.

Finally, she decided to let Jane curl her hair and pile some of it on top of her head, allowing the rest to tumble over her shoulders and down her back. It would be a very Grecian style, which was certain to be fashionable.

A knock on the door signaled Jane's arrival. Just in time.

But the maid stood in the doorway with a confused expression on her face. "Beg your pardon, Mrs. Berry, but there's a gentleman from Bow Street here to see you –"

The poor girl never got a chance to finish as Rachel and her mother both bolted from the room. Skirts hiked up around their ankles, they ran down the stairs, Rachel in the lead.

Sure enough, Officer Bowles stood in the front hall, dressed in a brown coat instead of Bow Street's trademark red. Rachel supposed he had intentionally not worn the coat just in case Finn had the house watched.

"Good morning, Mrs. Berry, Miss Berry," he spoke as he removed his hat.

Rachel and her mother both curtsied. "Do you bring us news, Mr. Bowles?" Shelby asked.

"I do," Mr. Bowles replied. "Our men followed Mr. Pierce to an abandoned store in the east end of the city this morning. We think that might be where he's keeping the duchess. Several Runners will be on their way to the building shortly.

Knees weak, Rachel couldn't help laughing out loud, so great was her joy. "Oh, Mr. Bowles, thank you!"

He held up his hands as though he was afraid she might actually try to hug him. "Don't thank me yet, Miss Berry. We will have to go in and make sure it's the place we're looking for. I'm afraid you still have to keep up the ruse until we have Her Grace in our custody."

Rachel's shoulders sagged. "Honestly?" But she didn't want to continue the deception; she wanted Quinn!

"Is that really necessary, Mr. Bowles?" her mother asked, coming up behind Rachel to rest her hands on her shoulders. "It's still another hour before we have to leave for Grosvenor Square."

Bowles nodded curtly, but his expression was one of sympathy. "I understand, Mrs. Berry, and I wish I could tell you otherwise, but we don't know for certain that the duchess is in that building. And we don't know if Pierce plans to return after the wedding, or what kind of instructions he gave his men. Quite frankly, I don't want to get too cocky or take any unnecessary chances with the duchess' life. The more confident Pierce is, the less suspicious he will be."

He was right of course, but that didn't mean Rachel had to like it. Oh well, it wasn't that bad. It wasn't as though that hour was going to be spent in Finn's company.

But it was to be spent worrying about Quinn and wondering how she was going to react to Rachel when they met again. And that was assuming this abandoned building was where Finn was holding her.

"We will do whatever you want, Mr. Bowles," she assured him. "Just do everything you can to ensure the duchess' safe return."

His smile was warm. "We will do our best, Miss Berry."

He set his hat back on his head and tipped it at them. "I'll see you both at the wedding." He spoke as though everything was going to work out, but Rachel suspected he had a backup plan just in case.

Once the door closed behind him, Rachel turned to her mother. "I hate this."

Shelby hugged her, and Rachel took comfort in the gesture. "I don't like it either, dearest, but we have to be strong." Releasing her, her mother seized her by the hand and pulled her up the stairs. "Come, let us have Jane start on your hair. Perhaps Her Grace will be waiting for us when we arrive at the house."

Rachel hoped so too, because if she wasn't, Rachel didn't think she was going to have to pretend to faint. She was going to do it for real.

Finn returned to the cellar that morning. Only for a few moments, though. Long enough to show off his wedding finery and to finalize plans for Quinn's return to Scotland.

And long enough to tell her how agreeable Rachel was being about going through with the wedding.

It had taken all of Quinn's control not to throw off her shackle and attack her brother. She had succeeded in picking the lock the night before, but bided her time, waiting for the guard to come back. Attacking Finn might make her feel better, but if the guard returned, Quinn would be outnumbered and she had no desire to have her own plans destroyed because she couldn't keep her temper.

Quinn knew her brother wouldn't hesitate to lie to her, but she couldn't help the sliver of doubt that planted itself in her mind. Was it possible Rachel had begun to believe Finn's deception? Did she think Quinn had abandoned her? She didn't want to believe it. Surely Rachel trusted her more than that? But how could Quinn expect Rachel not to doubt her when Quinn doubted the brunette herself?

Panic gnawed at her insides, but she pushed it aside. She had to get to Rachel and make her believe that she would never lie to her. But Quinn couldn't just run up the stairs and hope that she could make it past both the guard and her brother's pistol. She had to be patient and wait for her chance.

So she waited. Long after Finn's voice disappeared up the stairwell, she was still waiting. Quinn's patience was quickly coming to an end. If the guard didn't come soon, she was going to call him in – and that was liable to raise the man's suspicions.

If she managed to overpower the guard – no, she wouldn't allow herself to think "if" – once she had overpowered the guard, she would lock him in the cellar. With hope, there weren't other guards posted up above. Quinn doubted it. Her brother was too cautious to hire many men. The other man who had helped beat Quinn might be upstairs, but Quinn didn't doubt that she could handle him, provided he wasn't armed.

Bending down, Quinn fiddled with the shackle until it sat loosely on top of her foot. From a distance it might look as though it was still securely locked around her leg, but it would fall off if Quinn moved quickly, which was the plan. She had just straightened when she heard the key in the lock.

The guard came in, carrying another tray. Quinn felt almost guilty about deceiving him. After all, the fellow could have beaten her last night and hadn't.

Then again, he had blackened her eye that night of the attack. It was still swollen and bruised from that. Suddenly, she didn't feel as badly about what she was about to do.

The guard set the tray on the table. "The boss thought you might like something to eat before we leave."

Quinn's smile was tight. "How thoughtful."

Gesturing to the previous night's supper tray, which still at on the floor – with a fork that didn't look as though it had been used as a lock-pick at all – the other man flashed Quinn a wary glance.

"Stand back while I pick that up," he ordered.

Quinn did as she was told, but as she did, the shackle slid off of her foot to the floor.

Blast it all!

The guard's face hardened. Roaring in anger, he charged.

Fists raised, her heart and soul intent on freedom, Quinn stepped forward to meet him.

A/N: Ooooo, the suspense! What will happen when Quinn and the guard collide? Will the Runners find Quinn before Rachel has to go through with the wedding? Find out next time in the exciting conclusion to All That's Best! :D

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! The next one will be posted whenever I can get it done lol! Bye!