Jaz didn't want to die. There was a huge difference between being willing to die, for your country, for your loved ones, and actually wanting to die.

She had wanted to die, once, though, when she was sixteen. She was going to high school, and hiding her bruises behind huge sweaters. She was lonely, had no friends, she couldn't, it was too risky. If anyone came too close to her, she was afraid not to be able to hide anymore, to hide her wounds, to hide the truth of her life. At least, with no friends, she was just the weirdo, but no one was looking at her with pity or disgust. She was almost normal. High school was her bubble of safety. Far from perfect, but safe.

Then, one day, her father showed up at school. He had never bothered to pick her up, to come visit during school events, so, when she stepped out of the school to find him walking toward her, she just froze. He was yelling, she couldn't even understand what he was saying. Blood was rushing in her ears, and she was petrified by the glances thrown at them. Students whispering, while looking at her, pointing her father, laughing at her, or pitying her.

Her bubble had burst.

He had grabbed her arm and had dragged her to his car, throwing her inside. That day, he had almost killed her. Her fault: she had forgotten to iron one of his shirts.

The next day, she was so in a bad shape she couldn't go to school. She couldn't stay at home either, not when her father was hanging around, not when her mother was avoiding her. So, she went for a walk, limping, with a knife in her pocket. She couldn't live that way anymore, she was alone, no one would never come for her, so, what was the point. She wouldn't be missed…

Then, she didn't really remember how, she had found herself inside a sport club, watching people boxing. Men only. And she didn't know how, she had found herself boxing since that day. First in the shadow, watching the exercises and trying to do the same. She had put the knife back in the kitchen, and had spent hours training alone, in a corner of the boxing gym, after school. The owner, a veteran named Mitch, had studied her, his eyes lingering on the purple bruises on her face and on every visible skin. He never said anything. He just kept telling her that she had to pay, but he never actually asked her for money. He had let her use the equipment, and the men had let her train with them. She had kept training for months, getting better and better, but avoiding competitions, to Mitch's disappointment. But she had never trained to win some fancy medal. She had trained to survive. Because she never actually wanted to die. Because no one was never going to come for her. She had had to learn how to fight back by herself.

And she had. The last day she had seen her father, years ago, he had tried to hit her, on her graduation day, and she had fought back. Then she had packed her belongings and had fled, legs shaking, heart beating madly, but relieved and free. She had spent the first night in the street, and then, Mitch had offered her to stay in his office for a few days. She had enlisted and army had been her home since that day.

She wanted to live. Even more since Iran.

Hearing Top begging her not to go had been harder than she had expected. They had been toeing this invisible line for years, and she hated the idea of never finding out if her feelings were shared. She remembered that bucket list she had written when she was twelve, after watching one of those teen movies. Never falling in love was at the top of the list. That was quite ironical. Hell, she wanted so bad to turn around and to come back to the hotel. But she would never be able to face herself, she would never be able to forgive herself if anything happened to Malden's son.

She still had a chance, she was one of the best at close combat, she was small and thin but fast and strong. Once the boy was safe, she was going to kick Victor's ass. If he didn't kill her first, of course.

She wasn't stupid. She had hidden the note with the address in the hotel room, she knew that they were going to find it at some point. She had had to buy some time, to make sure the kid was safe. She knew her team was the best, but she also knew how protective Top could be. He would have never let her go alone, not when knowing that she was the target, not after Iran. Setting a honey trap was different than walking into the lion's den.

She didn't know what was going to happen to her, but she knew that her guys would come and finish Victor if she hadn't been able to finish him herself.

Top would be furious, he hated when she went off book. Preach had told her once that she was driving him crazy with concern, but that keeping him on his toes was also what made them a great pair. She had shrugged, getting defensive, but she knew deep down that he was worried for her safety. He had never made her feel like she was unable to protect herself, though.

But yeah, he was definitely going to be furious.

oOoOoOoOo

Dalton was angry. No, he was beyond angry, he was furious. How could she? They were a team, he was her captain, how could she just throw all that away? She was so damn stubborn, and proud, and infuriating, and unpredictable, and he was terrified of losing her.

He kept crossing his arms to hide how his hands were shaking. Didn't she realize that losing her would affect the team? That it would destroy him?

They had found the address, hidden in the room, and they were driving through the town, as fast as they could in the morning circulation. The silence was tense, each of them aware of all the possible scenarios.

Jaz had always worked well in a team, despite having been lonely for years. But they couldn't say they were surprised that she left. She could handle many things, but being responsible for an innocent death was too much for her, especially if this innocent happened to be a child. They all remembered how guilty she had felt about Hussein's death. Top knew it too, but his fear of losing her was overwhelming.

The place was a random house in Durban suburb. Nothing seemed out of place, but they knew she was there. Dalton frowned as they listened to what was happening in the house. The voices were a little bit muffled but they still could understand. Dalton couldn't help the shaky breath of relief when he heard her voice.

"Well, well, well… I'm glad to see you dear. Our last appointment had been quite a disaster, don't you think?" Victor said.

"It was quite a success in my opinion…"

Dalton shook his head, not believing how sassy she still was, even alone and threatened.

"Funny, really… Too bad I don't get to see your pretty boyfriend, I think I owe him… But maybe he isn't your boyfriend? I bet on the blond one, the captain…"

They could almost hear the smirk in Victor's voice.

"Where is the boy?"

Her voice was steady to anyone who didn't know her. But Dalton did know her, and he could hear how angry and worried she was.

"Are you in a hurry, dear? I think we have some time… Would you like a cup of tea?"

"You asked for me in exchange of the boy, I'm here, let him go."

They heard a slap and a grunt. McG winced while Preach looked worriedly at their captain. Dalton clenched his fists. They had to wait for Amir's signal, bursting into the place could be dangerous for both Jaz and the boy.

"I'm usually a gentleman, except when people mock me. Have a sit, please…"

There was a silence. Then another grunt, and the noise of a chaise being pulled on the ground.

"You're a fierce one, aren't you? It's fine, it will be funnier…"

Dalton felt a cold chill running in his back… He could tell that McG and Preach didn't like it either.

"Now, you're going to tell me everything you know about The New World… And then, dear, you're telling me where your friends are hidden…"

They heard her laugh. Dalton closed his eyes, his jaw tense.

"Good luck with that, dear…"

"You're not afraid of dying, are you? "

Preach snorted and Dalton gritted his teeth. Victor was right, she wasn't afraid of dying, visibly non aware of how it would affect them. He knew she wasn't used to have people who cared about her, but if Tehran should have taught her something, it was that they would never leave her behind. That he was always coming for her, no matter what. As her captain, and also as a man.

"Believe me, once I'm finished with you, you'll beg me to kill you…" Victor snarled.

"Top?"

"Amir, what do we have?"

"Three tangos in the kitchen, four tangos in the backyard. Probably more inside…"

The three men exchanged concerned looks. Dalton looked at the house, assessing their options.

"We've been through worse… Remember that hospital in Syria?" asked McG.

"Yeah, but it's easier to enter a hospital than a house…" Preach retorted.

"Knowing Victor, there probably are security cameras… Noah?"

"Working on it Captain!" said Noah in his earpiece.

"Okay, Amir, any other entry?"

"The adjacent house?" he suggested.

Jaz's hiss of pain rang through the mike. Preach glanced at Top, worried he might snap like he did in Iran.

"We're going. Fast and clean, the kid is still to be found. We can't risk both their lives."

"Copy!"

OoOoOoOoO

Jaz was expecting the pain. She hissed but didn't cry. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction. What Victor didn't know was that she was used to feel pain. So, she did what she used to do when the pain became unbearable. She escaped her own body, hiding in memories no one would never take from her.

The first time Top had seen the scars on her knee, he had looked at her with an intensity that had made her uncomfortable. There was anger and pain in his eyes, and something she misread.

"Don't pity me…" she had told him coldly.

He had put a hand on her knee and that had been the first physical contact he had willingly initiated. She could still feel how hot and rough his hand was. How it had made her pulse quicken, and her throat dry.

"I feel a lot of things when you're concerned, Jaz, but pity isn't one of them…" he had said.

Then he had stood and left her alone, missing his hand as soon as it left her skin, and wondering what had just happened, what he did mean by his words.

"See what you make me do?" Victor spat. "I've never hit a woman before! I called you, you know… But of course it was a fake number!"

"Aw, did I break your poor little heart?" she said with a smirk.

The next blow almost knocked her out.

She escaped again, her mind travelling through her memories.

The first time Adam had cried in her arms. His father had just died, he hadn't talked to him in years, so the pain he had felt had been unexpected, hitting him like a truck, and had left him feeling a loss he never thought possible to feel. She had found him sitting alone in the dark and when she had sat next to him, he had turned to her, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. Stunned, she had awkwardly put her arms around him and had let him cry. She hadn't said a word, Preach was the one who always knew what to say, but Top hadn't seem to be in need of wise words. He had just hugged her afterwards. Then, he had told her about the happy memories he had with his father. There were few of them, but at the end, they were both smiling, and closer than never.

And that time, when her guys had cooked a birthday cake just for her. Top had had some flour on the cheek, and before realizing what she was doing, she had swept it with her fingers. Eli and McG had kept teasing her about it for days, not that they did it in front of their captain, the cowards. But she would never forget the softness in Adam's eyes when she had blown the candles, beaming at them. She had started to like birthdays from that very day.

She had had more happy memories in the last three years than in her whole life. It could be a sad statement, but it wasn't, not for her. Her team had made her happy, each one in his own way, but Adam was there every single time.

They made her feel loved and safe. He made her feel so many things.

She felt blood running along her face, she tasted blood in her mouth. Victor was using his bare hands, she didn't even know what he was asking anymore. His words were blurry and everything was fading.

He pushed her head in a pail of cold water, almost drowning her.

"Come on, sweetheart, you tell me what I want to know, and then we can have fun…"

She could handle a lot of things, but being touched in…that way, against her will, wasn't something she would deal with.

But something beeped in the room. Victor raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"Looks like we have some company… But this time, I'm ready…"

She didn't even know what he meant, and didn't react when he pressed something cold and metallic on her temple, a gun, obviously. The kid was still asleep and she couldn't stop the sigh of relief that escaped her.

Then the door burst open, revealing Amir and Top. Amir looked shocked, Top's blue eyes darkened at the sight of her blood.

The gun pressed harder on her skin.

"Well, captain Dalton, what a pleasure to see you again…"

I know, it's been a while. I've been busy, with my other fiction Hold On, with holidays, family, work, life. I hope you're still reading The Brave fictions, and that you'll enjoy this new (long) chapter. One more and it should be complete! Thanks for reading!