Hey everybody. Delayed in posting because we lost power - hurricane Ida has made its way to the northeast. Nothing major, just a lot of rain. I hope everyone down south is doing okay. Happy Reading!

Hailey

I'm not giving up on this case, not when we're so close to putting Booth away for good. So, instead of going to the UC apartment, I drive back to Booth's warehouse. I need to get the deal back on track and I have a plan. This will be one of those instances that I will ask forgiveness, not permission.

I walk into Booth's office and he looks at me, not at all surprised to see me here.

"You don't give up do you?" he says.

I take a few steps, inching close to his desk. "I was talking to Ryan, and he said your guys were about to do a deal, and then you went a little crazy."

"I don't trust him," he says, his expression unusually blank.

"Well, I do. With my life. He's as solid as they come." I take a step forwards and sit at the edge of his desk. "Good husband. Good father."

"He's married?"

"Yeah. Has been for, I don't know, five years? Maybe more. Sweet girl too. Has no idea he's in the game. That's why he does all of this - to keep her happy."

"Yeah," Ron scoffs. "Good luck with that."

"What, you don't believe in romance?"

"I don't believe in things I can't control."

"Okay. You don't trust him. I'm done pushing."

I turn to leave, but he grabs her arm. "Hold on."

I turn back to face him. He slowly gets up, coming to stand face to face with me.

"If I do this for you…maybe we could, you know…connect."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "That could be nice."

"What's wrong, Kelly? Sacred?"

His face is stoic, but his eyes betray his emotions – red and angry. Something is amiss, the air is charged. A feeling of discomfort arises in the pit of my stomach.

"No, I'm not scared of you, Ronnie." I force a smile on my face. "I'm just broke, and I need to pay rent, keep a roof over our head," I say. "So…Business first., okay?"

"Business, huh?" His eyes roam my face. "I never thought I would be in business with a detective from the Chicago Police department."

A chill runs up and down my spine, freezing all my vertebrae. My hands tremble and my heart begins to race.

"What are you talking about, Ronnie?" I say, trying to keep my voice even and not betray my alarm.

He grabs me by my shirt and backhands me in the face. The sharp crack of his palm across my cheek momentarily stuns me. I quickly regain my composure and push my body into his knocking him back against the desk. But he grabs my arm and pulls me around, slamming me into the wall with such force that I hear a crack. I block his next hit, but a searing pain has me doubling over.

"I knew you were a cop. I just didn't want to believe it!" he bellows, grabbing a gun and pointing at me.

I'm slumped on the floor panting. There is not a single part of me that is not screaming in pain. I'm pretty sure I have a cracked rib.

Booth pauses, his eye-catching the movement in the surveillance camera. I look at it and recognize Jay's UC car pulling up. A lead ball drops to the pit of my stomach.

Ronnie presses the gun against my head. I feel the pressure of the barrel on my temple.

"He a cop, too?"

"You don't have to drag anyone else into this," I say, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. "This is between me and you."

"What is he to you?"

I grit my teeth. "He is nobody."

I can hear the thumps of Jay's fist echoing against the walls of the warehouse as he bangs on the door. Then suddenly, Booth grabs me from behind, a hand over my mouth, my right arm twisted behind my back. I feel the gun push harder against my head. "You open your mouth and he dies."

I don't fight him and he grins wickedly at my compliance.

He slaps a strip of duct tape over my lips and pulls my hands together, tying my wrists with a zip tie. Memories from New Year's Eve flashes through my mind like a broken kaleidoscope. I recognize the overwhelming panic that comes over me. This feeling lessens slightly when the frantic pounding on the door ceases and there is silence.

Then Booth yanks me by my hair and pushes the gun back against my temple. "You try anything, and I will dig a ditch big enough for both of you."

He shoves me to the ground then leaves without a word, his steps receding into silence. I look around, though I won't do anything. I know what Booth is capable of – I've seen it. This is on me. Jay can't be another casualty because of my missteps. This time I go down alone.

Minutes later Booth returns and starts kicking me, first on my stomach and once I recoil from the pain, he kicks my back. It happens so unexpectedly a scream rips from my lips, though it is muffled by the tape. Pain slashes through my torso, unleashing tears from my eyes.

"I should've killed you when I had the chance," he hollers and kicks my stomach again.

The pain is intense and I can barely catch my breath before another kick sends me sprawling on my side. He grabs me by the collar and pulls me up. I attempt to stand, but the throbbing is too severe and I double over once more.

"You'll pay for this," he growls and knees me in the mouth. Before I can fall he grabs me by the shoulder and shoves violently to the ground. Intense throbbing clouds my mind, pounding so hard it's as if my heart is beating inside my skull. I lie there motionless, trying but unable to catch my breath until I feel two sets of hands grab me.

"Get her out of here."

I feel a kick to my side, then another to my face as I lose consciousness and everything goes black.

x

I come to, feeling a jolt – my body startling me awake. My eyes open slowly, one at a time. I feel my body moving from side to side, and at first, I think I'm dreaming, then it all comes crashing back. Even though my eyes are open, I can't see anything. I try to open my eyes, but my eyelashes just bat against the inner cloth of a blindfold. My legs are bound together and my arms are twisted and tied behind my back. Every muscle aches and twinges behind with pain.

I realize we are moving. I'm in a car, in the trunk. Panic rises in my throat, and I fight through a sudden choking sensation brought on by the rush of anxiety. I need to remain as calm as I can. I have to be analytical about this. Despite my inability to see or move, it leaves me with the scent and sound, and I can smell the distinct odor of Lake Michigan. I listen intently, holding my breath, and judging from both the bumpiness of the ride and the volume of the engine's roar, it's a large vehicle.

I don't hear other cars passing by, so I guess we're by lake Michigan but by the industrial stretch just north of the city. Then I hear the whine of the engine as the car rolls to a stop, crunching over what sounds like gravel. My heart starts pounding mercilessly. My stomach aches. And I feel goosebumps poking up my flesh as the door of the car opens with that distinct scraping sound.

I try to recoil, folding myself up as small as I can manage despite the ache in my muscles.

It's pointless.

A pair of heavy, calloused hands grab hold of me and drag me out of the trunk. I can feel the slightly cool air touch my skin. I can smell the dampness. I think it's Booth tugging me, without a word, my tingling feet crunching over gravel as he drags me along. The feeling returns slowly, as I walk, the sensation of pins and needles nearly as torturous as the pain in my stomach.

I can't run.

I can't scream.

I'm basically walking to my end.

I know the team is looking for me, that's the only reason why I haven't completely lost it. I know Jay knew something was wrong the minute I ignored his call. My heart aches and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks. That's the only hope I'm holding on to, that they will find me soon.

All I need to do is buy myself some time.

He guides me through a creaking doorway into a place that smells like iron and rotting earth. I wrinkle my nose and cough underneath the tape. His hands push me forward on and on, step by stumbling step, into the murky, musty darkness.

Then, without saying a word to me, he leaves, and I hear his footsteps retreating in the other direction. Through the thick fabric of the blindfold, I can make out the faint shimmering of daylight at the entry of whatever hole he's shoved me into. The door slowly closes, shutting out the light to leave me here.

x

"Kelly, wake up!"

My eyes open as the blindfold is ripped from my face, the duct tape comes painfully off too. The sudden light hurt my eyes. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust and everything to swim back into focus.

"T-Tyler?"

"Hey..." He looks over his shoulders and pulls a water bottle from somewhere behind him and brings it to my lips. I take a few sips and it stings my busted lip. I let it run down my chin. "What the hell have you done to piss off uncle Ronnie? I've never seen him that angry before."

"W-Where are we?"

"I'm not sure actually. Some old storage site by the lake."

"Where is he? Where's Ronnie?" I ask, looking past him and also around for the first time. We're in an old, empty warehouse. The walls are rusty brown and the yellowish glow of incandescent lamps hang overhead, lighting the place like tiny suns. A stench of rusted metal hangs in the air.

"Not sure. He just gave me the address and told me to come help him…" Tyler hesitates. Then his eyes widen realization setting in.

"Help with what?" I prompt. "Tyler, what did Ronnie asked you to do?"

He looks away and a few beats pass before he answers. "He asked if I could come and help him dispose of some weight."

Then it dawns on me as it dawned on Tyler. I'm the weight.

"Kelly, I had no idea what he was talking about. Didn't even know you were here."

I sigh. "Tyler, you need to help me get me out of here."

"I-I can't...It's…" he stumbles. "He'll kill me, Kelly. You know, he will."

"I can protect you," I tell him.

He looks at me like, Yeah, right. "You can't even protect yourself."

"Tyler, I'm a cop."

Tyler looks taken aback. As if I'd punched him in the gut. He stumbles back. "Y-You're what?"

I sigh. "I'm a cop, Tyler. I can protect you. You help me, I can wipe your entire sheet. Give you a clean slate. You have your whole life ahead of you, Ty. Killing a cop is capital murder. There's no coming back from that."

Tyles takes another step back, shaking his head. "Y-You're the rat? You ratted on uncle Ronnie?"

"Tyler, focus. You need to get me out of here."

He shakes his head. "I-I can't. I s-should go."

I clear my throat nervously. "Tyler, listen to me. Ron—"

"No," he yells. "I-I can't help you, Kelly." He rakes his trembling fingers through his hair, pacing, but not leaving. "Is that even your real name?"

"My name is Hailey."

"Hailey," he repeats as if testing the name out on his tongue to see if he likes the sound of it. His brow scrunches as he tries to make sense out of what he's just been told. "Why'd come back?"

"I was the one that found Scotty after that drug rip went sideways."

Tyler releases a lungful of air and groans loudly. "I-I have to go."

"Tyler—"

"No."

"Tyler—"

"Goodbye, Kel—Hailey."

Tyler stumbles out of the warehouse, slamming the door shut, and minutes later I hear an engine crank and tires scrunch the gravel.

I look around, now that I can, for a way out. I try to stand, but an ache in my chest has me doubling over. I fight it, taking a few deep breaths, but it doesn't help. Still, I crawl away on all fours, trying to at least get to the exit.

I stop myself when there's a soft, barely-audible sound on the other side of the door. At first, I wonder if I'm imagining it, but then I hear it again. A moment later the door opens, and Booth walks in. Immediately I can tell he's been drinking, the stench of alcohol overwhelms my senses.

He remains silent, just watching me with menacing, dark eyes.

More silence.

I slump back to the floor.

I hear what can possibly be a chuckle, but those eyes don't waver for a second. I wait for him to say anything, but apparently, he's content to just watch me. His stare somehow feels more pointed. More dangerous. A look I've seen once before.

My stomach churns and uneasiness grips me.

"Why'd bring me here, Ronnie?"

He waggles his finger at me, clicking his tongue, shaking his head. "You don't get to ask questions."

"You're going to kill me like you killed Garrett?" I say boldly. "Admit it you killed Garrett."

"And this whole time I thought he was the rat." He reaches down, grabs my shirt, and slaps me across the face so hard my ears rings.

"Garrett got it easy, now you…" he waggles his finger again. "We're going to have some fun."

My cheek is throbbing, and I can taste blood in my mouth. "You can't walk back from this Ronnie. You do this, you're done."

He chuckles humorlessly and pulls a vial and a syringe out of his pocket. He plunges the needle into the vial and turns the vial upside down to fill the syringe. A cold sweat overtakes me and adrenaline quickly rushes through my veins. I can't remember the last time I felt this helpless. Despite all the shit that I've lived through, I've never once thought: this is how I will die. Panic sets in, and I begin to stumble back.

Booth takes determined steps in my direction and I try to fight him off – kick him, but he simply grabs my foot and hauls me forward. I dig my nails into the ground, desperate to get away. I ignore the blood and searing pain in my fingertips. My endorphins are set into overdrive and I'm not going down without a fight.

I shriek and he yanks harder. I try to fight him off, but he stabs the needle into my thigh, injecting the liquid; instantly my head turns hazy and my body goes weak. A wave of sickness crashes over me and I feel dizzy – lightheaded. My hand goes to my chest and my eyes struggle to focus.

"What did you do?" I hear myself slur the question.

"Just a little something to take the edge off," he says, his face now twisted into a menacing grin.

Cotton balls fill my head as I try to push away from him, but my coordination is off, my arms and legs heavy.

Then my eyes close and I can't open them.

x

The next thing I know my body is being flung. I groan, breathing through my nose. It feels like I'm passing fire with each inhale and exhale. I hear the wail of sirens in the distance, I think. I'm being dragged and the darkness begins to recede, replaced by a fuzzy brightness. I'm outside. I feel the cool breeze on my face, smell the distinctive smell of the lake too. My vision is blurry. There is a grayness that comes to view, with blue undertones. Sky? Water?

What's happening?

I feel my body being dragged up again, rough hands dig into my side. A sharp pain explodes in my chest, a swelling ache in my throat. I want to scream. I can't. Nothing comes out. Panic rises in my chest, squeezing my breath, hammering as fast as my heartbeat. I feel as though I'm trapped inside my head, unable to look outside. I'm covered in a haze. Sealed in.

A muffled voice breaks through my panic. I try to latch onto it. But the incoming words slip and slide away. I try to keep my eyes open. To focus on something. It is impossible to see anything other than blurred shapes. But then I clock the lights – police lights, faint red and blue flashing lights. They are closer than I think, I know because I can hear voices now, too. I blink twice as I feel tears running down my face. Not sure if it's out of fear, pain, or hope. Maybe all three.

I'm here. I'm here. I can hear the words in my head, but my lips aren't moving. I'm here. My voice, trying to get out, strangles in my throat.

There's an eerie silence, like the build-up in a horror, but it is broken by Booth's voice growling in my ear. "You come any closer and I let her go."

"You don't want to do that, Booth."

It's Jay. His voice sounds tight—far. I relax, and my heart begins to resume its normal pace. He came for me. I try to focus my sight on him, but my eyes don't cooperate.

"Do not come any closer!" Booth's voice snaps.

"I won't." I hear Jay say. His voice stifled— impatient and worried— amidst the haziness in my mind. "You can still walk away. Just put her down, Booth."

I can barely keep my eyes open anymore. I feel helpless and pearls of sweat spread across the surface of my skin everywhere.

"If you shoot me, I drop her in the lake. With the amount of Benzo she has in her system she won't resurface."

"What do you want, Booth?"

A wisp of Booth's hot breath brushes my ear and I shudder, feeling the barrel of his gun press against my side.

"Put the gun down, Booth," Jay's voice booms, his voice now clearly tinged with urgency. "It doesn't have to go down this way."

"If you shoot me, I shoot her."

I feel my body being jostled and dragged back. Pain jolts down my spine like an electric shock and I swallow the moan in the back of my throat. I try to put up a fight, but my arms and legs are just too heavy. I can't do anything. Can't move, can't speak, can't think straight. My brain is firing messages, but the rest of my body is incapable of receiving them.

"Tell me what you want, Booth."

I detect fear in Jay's voice. I open my eyes, discover blackness once again, and let out a jagged breath. The pain in my chest worsens. I close my eyes, then open them again. There is no difference between whether they are closed or not. It's all black. There is nothing. I see nothing.

"It's too late. You're all too late."

There's a cacophony of sounds and my body startles with the loud crack of a gunshot. Something collides into me and then it's like I'm falling as if someone switched off the gravity in the room. My stomach does a quick turn, wanting to flop up into my aching chest, but it doesn't.

I don't feel a thing as I land, but the exhaustion, the pain, and the terror consume me. Water surrounds me, cold and unforgiving. I feel myself sinking and I cannot get my breath. Darkness envelops me and my hunger for air becomes stronger and stronger, more urgent. I feel like I'm buried up to my neck on the beach, and the tide is washing over my head. I take deep breaths between every coming and going wave. This lasts for a few minutes until I feel exhausted. I dream that water flows down my throat and fills my lungs.

Thanks for reading. Are you all still with me? Let me know. Next week we have my personal favorite: worried Jay. See you then.