Strahm woke up in the admittedly cozy bed of the Parks guest room and looked at his cell phone on the table next to him. It read 6:13 am. He laid there a moment but he knew that he wasn't going to be able to fall back to sleep. It was just a feeling you sometimes got. He could lay there wide awake for another couple of hours, or he could get up. He decided on the latter.

At 6:58, after a showering and cleaning up, he quietly made his way down the massive staircase to the study and flipped on the lights. He opened up the row of laptops and settled in. Even though it was a Sunday, he remained set in his ways and was in a suit and tie, but he allowed himself the indulgence of leaving it loosened.

He picked up the headphones and pulled up the folder of audio files. He remained convinced that Amanda had tried to signal them and he was determined to listen to what she said again and again until he figured out what that was. He'd told Jake he would last night, and he was going to do it until Amanda's snippet of that ransom call was as ingrained in his mind, backwards and forwards, as his favorite song, and he'd analyzed every detail of it.

Following the suspect after a money drop was a crapshoot, and if he had her locked somewhere he could use it to his advantage to cut a deal with the prosecution in exchange for certain immunities from prosecution. He wanted to find the location himself. He didn't want to have to cut a deal with the bastard for Amanda's safe return.

Why? He'd done it in the past...But then, Amanda was different. He was closer to her. He wasn't sure their connection was strong enough to invite her and Jake over to dinner with his wife Lauren and their teenage daughter Alexis, but it was close enough that he'd consider making an invite. He imagined Lauren would be enamored by her, and Jake looked like he'd be fun to share a beer with.

And there was a thought that was in his head that had been buried in the back of his mind since the first day. He did not know for sure what she was capable of, but he had his suspicions, and he did believe, deep down, that she was cunning and clever enough to kill him. He realized after he called his wife last night and had been drifting off to sleep that the call he'd been privately expecting to come through his cell phone hadn't.

He expected it to originate from some local cop in a rural location in New York State, or perhaps a county sheriff's deputy. They'd received a call from a kidnapping victim and had found her and taken her to a hospital, the cop or deputy would tell him. She was being checked out at a hospital. They'd found the kidnapper too, the cop/deputy would say. There wasn't much left, if she hadn't told us who it was, we'd have had to identify him through dental records.

Yes, he'd been expecting that call, and despite the fact that he'd spent his entire career in the FBI being the straightest of straight shooters, he'd never been more happy to let someone go on their own recognizance, it bothered him that said person was being held against their will, and yes...He had been silently cheerleading from the start that Jigsaw's former apprentice would get an opportunity to reveal just how much she'd learned and forgotten.

But it had yet to come. So he would continue working things from his end. Maybe they would meet in the middle.

He opened up a folder on the desktop screen. Amanda's brief contribution to the conversation had been pulled out into a separate file from the full cell phone call to make it easier for all of them to listen to yesterday. He clicked play, and listened. Then again. Then again.

"I can't wait to watch more House with Greg."

It kept sticking with him. The character was named Gregory House, but she was specifically mentioning the name Greg, yet Jake was adamant they knew no Gregs, nor did he remember anyone she'd mentioned dating with the first name of Greg, and at no time had she ever watched the T.V. series "House." Sylvia said they had never watched it together.

Damn it, Amanda. I know you were trying to tell us something. You're cunning, you're savvy. It's got to be here. I just need to be smart enough to figure it out. I never thought with as many years as I have with the bureau, I'd be in a situation where Amanda Young feels more clever than I am, at the moment.

Perez poked her head in the doorway and he pulled the headphones off and flashed her a small smile. She said quietly, "You got up early too, huh? I could barely sleep. My mind refused to shut off."

Strahm shook his head. "It was pretty much the same scenario for me. That damn Greg House thing. It was a signal and I'll sit here for as long as it takes until I figure it out. For all I've done, I've been feeling pretty useless."

She smiled, "We're both going to need some coffee. Starbucks? I can make a run."

He nodded. "None of that mocha vanilla crap either. Just get me a cup of something plain and very strong." She nodded ducked out. A few moments later, he heard the front door quietly open.

He sighed and put the headphones back on. He played it back again and highlighted the specific section where she said House with Greg, then put it on a loop, and it repeated over and over. He paused, then decided to try one thing that he didn't think they'd tried last night.

He increased the volume, and listened. He quickly paused it when it restarted, and increased it again. His eyes were beginning to widen. He paused it at the beginning one more time, and finally he maxed the volume and played it in a loop and closed his eyes and he let it blast in his ears for what seemed like a full minute before his eyes slowly opened and he stared at the screen.

She was not saying Greg. She had not made a G sound. It had been indiscernible at a normal volume, especially with the quality of cell phone audio, but with the sound maxed, he heard it. She had definitely made a Ca sound. It was not a G it was a C.

Ca reg. Craig. Not Greg House, Craig House. He shot to his feet and the headphones, attached to the laptop, pulled it a few inches before it popped free of the port. What the Hell did it mean?

The kidnapper was Kyle Donner. They'd all but identified him. But who was Craig House? An accomplice? He knew the name Craig wasn't on the list of exes Jake had written for him any more than Greg had been. No Craig's on the Tennessee DMV list either, only Donner was MIA, and thus remained their primary suspect.

Craig House, Craig House, Craig House. The name, in her voice, kept repeating in his head in an endless litany.

She'd said Craig House for a reason. Come on, Peter, you're so close. He wandered the room, thinking, eventually ending up at Jackson Park's wall of fame. He scanned the photos on the wall that Jackson Park had taken with his wife at famous places all over the world, and with important figures. A photo of the couple at Graceland, photos of people Jack Park was photographed shaking hands with, many of them unfamiliar, but one he recognized immediately, Jack Park shaking hands with former President Bill Clinton inside the Oval Office of the White House.

He stood there for a moment, blinking. White House. Craig House. It wasn't a goddamn person at all. It was a goddamned PLACE. He turned back to the laptop and minimized the audio player to pull up the web browser of the computer. He typed in Craig House into the search bar of the search engine and hit search.

A number of people popped up. He raised the mouse back to the search bar and added New York after Craig House.

An article pulled up from the Baltimore Sun from June 23, 2002. An introspective on the marriage of F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife, Zelda Sayre, later Fitzgerald. His eyes skimmed the article, and he was beginning to wonder just what the hell the search browser was thinking linking him to this article. He was looking for confirmation of the place, and an address. He was not interested at all in the tragic history of F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife right now. Someone else's wife was more important. And then he finally saw it. A summary of one of Zelda's letters to Fitzgerald.

April 1934,

from Craig House Hospital

in Beacon, N.Y.

Beacon, New York. He backed out of the page and saw another listing. A Flickr post from a man named Richard from 2003. The first photo was described as a Former Capuchan Monastery. The second, Tioronda school, the third, Abandoned Cottage which Richard had described as "Once part of the Craig House complex." Finally, the fourth photo. The kicker. A sprawling, brick Victorian Mansion. Richard wrote: "Craig House: Once an estate, then a private mental hospital. They tried to go on as a public facility and went belly up. Zelda Fitzgerald spent some time here." The photo was tagged, "7 Craig House Ln. Beacon, NY 12508."

She was here. He knew it. He dialed Perez. "Peter, I know you're waiting on coffee. I'm sorry, there's a damn line..."

He cut her off. "Forget it, forget the coffee. Get back here right now. I figured it out. I know. I know where she is."

Perez didn't bother to reply, she simply hung up the phone. Strahm did a search for law enforcement in Beacon and came across the number for the Beacon Police Department. He called it, and it rang, and then an answering machine came on describing their office hours.

He flipped his phone shut and had to keep himself from throwing it against the wall. Why would he be surprised? In small towns, the cities didn't maintain 24-hour office staff. Jake came into the room in his pyjamas. "You're up ear..."

Strahm rushed him and his eyes were glittering with excitement. "I've got her Jake. She left us the clue the whole damn time. I figured it out. I know now exactly where we can find her."

Jake's eyes widened. "Let me come with you. I'll go get dressed. Where's Perez..."

Strahm said, "No. Absolutely not. I want to, Jake, I really do, but there is no way I can take you to a location with an active hostage. Not only is there your safety involved, there's also my career. I've got this. I swear to you, I'll get her. You called me here for a reason. This is the reason. I won't let anything happen to her, I swear it." He heard the sound of the front door open and Perez dashed into the room.

He called the NYPD's 19th Precinct in Manhattan and here he was answered immediately.

"I need units dispatched to 7 Craig House Ln Beacon, NY 12508. Yes, it's not in Manhattan, I'm well aware of that. This is in regards to the Amanda Park kidnapping. This is the probable location of the victim. No sirens on approach, I repeat, no sirens. I am en route to the location."

He pocketed his cell phone and clipped his Glock to his belt. Perez was already wearing hers. He wrote the address down to plug into the GPS and looked Jake in the eye solidly. "Jake, less than two hours and all this is over. I promise. I'm bringing Amanda home."

He snagged his overcoat from the massive entryway closet and sprang into the driver's seat and passed Perez the note for the address which she started plugging into the GPS on the dashboard.

Jack and Sylvia, woken by the noise, came down the stairs together. "Dad...Mom...They think they found her. Strahm seems pretty positive. He left with Perez and they called the NYPD there also."

And then he burst into tears as his father and his mother both circled their arms around him.

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Kyle woke up in his dimly lit bedroom and looked at his watch. It said it was almost eight. He stretched, and thought of last night and felt a stirring in his loins. He took a piss and his dick still tingled and he couldn't think of any better way to start his day. And besides, he'd told her that he wanted her for breakfast.

He walked across the hallway to Amanda's locked door and turned the key he'd left in the padlock to open it. The bright sunlight in the hallway illuminated her. She was snugly wrapped up in the comforter and Kyle's dick twitched knowing she was only wearing the ripped-open blouse underneath.

He flicked on the main light but she still didn't stir. So he crossed over to the mattress and pulled the comforter off of her before he turned her over onto her back. Her legs fell open and revealed her shaved, sexy pussy. She still remained asleep. He squeezed her exposed tits roughly. This finally woke her up and after looking at him, confused and sleepy, they widened in fear.

"Good morning, sexy. It's time for my morning coffee. You look like a perfect breakfast blend." Kyle looked at her hungrily

Amanda, now that her mind was clear, had of course expected this, so she curled into the fetal position looking shell-shocked, playing up the "psychological damage" he'd inflicted on her last night.

He stroked her hair and said soothingly, "Hey hey hey...You just woke up. I'll go easy on you. Open up for me and after I get what I want we'll get some breakfast huh? You didn't eat at all yesterday, you're hungry, right? Who knows, maybe already you're eating for two."

Amanda let her eyes dart around the room, keeping them unfocused, in a daze, as though her mind had temporarily snapped. In her mind, she screamed, 'Oh Kyle. Fuck you. Fuck you so fucking much you fucking motherfucker.' She let her body relax and let her legs go limp and slightly fall open.

"Good girl," Kyle said. He opened them fully with his knee and kissed her neck as he rubbed his stiffening dick on her pussy until he was entirely hard. He was actually beginning to think about taking her with him instead of murdering her. If he was only sure she'd be in this malleable state indefinitely, she'd be fun to rape every day. A former rich bitch, former daughter-in-law of a billionaire, now shell-shocked and kept in his bed to rape whenever he felt like it. But that just wasn't going to happen. He pushed the thoughts from his mind. He was going to rape her as often as he wanted until the money drop, and then...One more rape before he killed her. He would go ahead and kill her before he went for the money. In for a penny, in for a pound.

He forced himself into her dry pussy and moved his cock in small thrusts until she got wet. She was so pilable now that she didn't even try to move her head away from his sloppy kisses as he raped her pussy. He ended up lying to her. In his excitement and horniness he actually ended up raping her pretty violently and she moaned loudly in pain, but made no move to get away from him. She just let him do it.

The tightness of her and the fact that he had taken all the fight out of her made his orgasm surge quickly Her face was totally blank as he jammed his dick in as far as it would go and gasped and grunted as he emptied the contents of his refilled balls in her pussy, adding a fourth load to the three he'd raped into her last night.

He knew he wasn't done yet. He needed to cum at least two times during sex. He waited until the sensitivity subsided in his dick, then stroked himself hard again. He was looking away from her, and didn't see Amanda as her eyes once again refilled with focus and stared at the back of his head, imagining how he would look stabbed to death by her.

His cock hadn't been easy to stroke, as it was sticky with her juices and the remnants of his cum, but he got there. Amanda once again let her eyes go blank as he turned to rape her again.

This time, he flipped her onto her stomach and slid easily into her used pussy. He twisted her hair in his hands and pressed her face to the pillow and went ahead and raped her as hard as he could again, savoring the low, muffled cries she made into the pillow that were clearly from pain at his onslaught.

Amanda didn't mind this position. He couldn't see that the expression on her face was one of murderous rage. She was playing possum and she was praying that this morning's faux appearance of brokeness would finally allow him to drop his guard around her completely.

Kyle kept slamming into her hard and felt his balls surge and he buried his face into the back of her neck as his cock erupted and shot a fifth load of his sperm inside of her. He laid on her for several moments. He needed to rape her in this position again later. It was a position of complete subservience, which is how he liked her best.

He rolled off of her and she turned onto her back and in a complete and total dick move, he shoved his arm under her and pulled her to him, as though they were cuddling after consentual sex, and not two painful rapes. "You're really getting good at making me happy. After I get the money I'll definitely remember this time we had to...Reconnect...You're in a state now where I can be honest...I can't let you leave here. I would have enjoyed potentially leaving you knocked up...A nice, crying and growing reminder of our time together...But that's way too big of a risk."

Her expression did not change. "Before I ended Wade, things were different. But now I've got felony murder charges waiting for me in addition to everything else. That's a long stint in prison I'm not going to serve. You know who I am, and you might not snap out of it in time to blab before I leave the country, but there's a good chance you might. If you're dead, and I get the money, I know they won't identify me in time on the fingerprint and DNA evidence alone. So I'll make it quick, and eventually you'll be found, but it will be after I'm long gone on a sunny beach somewhere. I thought about taking you with me, but that's too big of a risk too. It has to be this way."

Amanda kept her eyes blank and Kyle smiled at her, he was apparently glad to get the pre-warning of her murder off of his chest, and was pleased she seemed so out of it that she wasn't freaking out. But she let her mind fill with images of his corpse.

He'd told her he was going to murder her, and there hadn't been a flicker of anything on her face. She was completely gone. He wondered if the light would come back into her eyes when he shoved the blade of a knife into her chest, that brief moment before her heart stopped completely.

Kyle wondered what the cops would think after they finally found her in here. He'd probably leave her corpse naked with the legs spread so they'd be sure to know exactly what he'd done to her before he ended her life. He was surprised the thought of it pleased him so much. Maybe because he'd gotten the satisfaction of breaking her...And killing her after assaulting her for the final time would be the ultimate victory. He'd know he was going to end her right after, but she wouldn't. As soon as he finished raping her for the final time, he'd stab her in the heart and he hoped that she'd realize she was dying before she did.

Seeing how pliable she was and after he'd forced her to make him happy, he decided to reward her. It would be his only act of charity. "You want some breakfast? Come on." He gave her left tit a squeeze and got up. She reached for her panties like a robot and Kyle grinned at the white trickle of his sperm leaking from between her pussy lips as she pulled them on. If she was fertile right now she'd be pregnant with his kid for sure. It was a shame he'd never be able to speculate after he left the U.S. whether he'd gotten her pregnant or not, and whether or not she'd kept the baby or aborted it.

Once her panties were in place he said, "That's enough. Come on." He apparently had forgotten that other than her sweater, she had no other clothes in the room TO put on. She got to her feet and he pulled her by the hand to his own bedroom, where he pulled on yesterday's clothes and shoved his feet into his work boots. They left the bedroom and they walked further down the hall to where Wade's corpse was lying on the floor. She didn't look at it. Her eyes were blank and stared straight ahead.

As he walked by the front door, he was overwhelmed to see how badly he'd damaged her. He walked to the front door, unlocked it, and waited. She simply stood there, waiting for him to continue to lead her down the hall to the kitchen. It was a final test. She might have been able to get past him, but she made no move to try. She just stood there. Kyle smiled and left the door unlocked before grabbing her hand again and pulling her into the kitchen.

Even if she'd thought she could have made it past him out the door, she wasn't going to. It WAS risky, and it WAS too cold for her to get very far in panties and a blouse. Besides, running would mean she wouldn't get her chance to make him hurt for what he'd done. The kitchen would be like a toy store for Amanda, surely there would be some weapons she could access and she could use to hurt him, like maybe a long, shiny knife.

After they were in the kitchen, Kyle had turned to her and said, "I feel like hash. Make us some." He pointed to the portable burner and took two cans of hash from the cabinet he kept the food in. Then he rummaged through the cutlery drawer, leaving a large knife and other utensils on the counter above the drawer until he came up with the can opener.

With his back to her, Amanda darted her eyes around. He was between her and the large, very pretty carving knife on the counter. That wasn't going to be the best option. But this was probably going to be the only time he lowered his guard enough to let her out of the room. If she was going to make him suffer, and hopefully kill him, this was going to be the only time she was going to have to strike. Nothing in that locked bedroom would be a good enough weapon.

She'd heal from her murder, which was part of the reason why she was able to pretend to be completely out of it and unfearful now that he'd told her of his plans, but she'd still be locked up in here after and she didn't know for how long. The Entity's fog couldn't save her, and eventually she'd use up her two weeks and start aging and she just didn't know, if he locked her in there, how long she would be stuck in there after.

This place obviously wasn't frequented that often, and her verbal clue hadn't brought a swarm of cop cars yet. How long would it be? A week? A month? Longer? Eventually she'd start wanting to eat and her body would start to need food and the prospect of being locked in here in a similar way to how Adam had been locked in that bathroom slowly starving to death was not a very appealing one. The thought of it happening to Adam had spurred her to put him out of his misery and she definitely didn't want to come full circle on it.

But more importantly, beyond her survival was a need for revenge. She was only 50/50 on whether he'd successfully collect the money and get back here to murder her as he planned, but 50/50 was too much. Plus, if he was caught, knowing Kyle, he'd try to work a deal out. She'd have to wait for potentially decades for him to be released to get her pound of flesh, and that was in the real world. Factoring in the realm timing it would be an eternity before enough time passed in the real world to surprise him once his sentence was up.

And if she hurt him then, it would be in cold blood. If she hurt him and killed him now, in this moment, she could easily and believably claim self-defense and no one would bat an eye. And hopefully she could make it all go away quietly because she did not want to find herself thrust back into the public eye. The Ocean Princess was a gift that had kept on giving. If not for that, Kyle would never have remembered her and definitely would not have kidnapped her. Being in the news again would simply bring further complications.

The only positive outcome of it was that if the situation did become known, it would further convince anyone who may have come to suspect she was Amanda Young to leave her in peace. After all, there was definitely no way a determined cop, even if he recognized her now, would be able to convince a prosecutor to go after her, if it was known she'd been a kidnapping and rape victim.

Raped. That act. That word. Why had it not broken her? When she'd willingly let Frank do what he'd done, she'd been close to breaking. Now, not only had she been repeatedly victimized, and not only did she not have Jake here to help her cope, but in this moment, she didn't feel she needed to. He wouldn't help her in what she needed to do. Maybe it was because of what she'd thought before. Being a willing participant in sex with another man had felt like cheating. Being an unwilling participant didn't feel like she'd cheated at all. He'd forced his dick in her and stolen what he wanted from her.

She knew many victims became fearful of intercourse after, but Amanda found herself actually looking forward to being in bed with him and having sex that was consensual and actually made her body react, not shut down. Nothing felt so good physically as the feel of him inside of her and she needed to feel good. She wanted to get out of here today and lay in their cozy bed and let him do what he did so well to make her body feel good. She couldn't believe that her mind was split in two places right now, wanting to murder Kyle and wanting to fuck her Jake, yet here she was.

Kyle had opened the cans of hash. He pointed her to the portable electric burner and Amanda just stood there, playing it up. She made no effort to move, and let herself stand there, blank-faced, as though everything that had happened to her over the past night and day had broken her mind completely.

Kyle let out an irritated sigh and dumped the contents of the cans into a pot with a handle. He turned on a burner to the max setting and set the pot on it, then grabbed her and pulled her over in front of the burner before he pulled a large spoon from the pile of utensils on the counter and shoved it in her hand. "STIR it." He gripped Amanda's hand with the spoon in it, and put the spoon in the hash, then moved her wrist around. "STIR. Okay? Stir. Jesus." Christ, had he fucked her stupid? It sure seemed like it. Or maybe she'd been a rich bitch so long she forgot how to cook.

Kyle knew he would want a nice cup of joe with his hash, so he filled another, smaller pot with some water for instant coffee and turned the other burner on max. The coils glowed bright red and reflected in Amanda's blue, and suddenly very-focused, eyes before he covered it up with the pot of water. She stood there, mechanically stirring with her hand as her mind, razor-sharp, focused on a plan of attack.

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Strahm had driven from New York City to the boonies as fast as he could, the red bubble light on the dashboard flashing. But once they got into the "country," it wasn't traffic he'd had to worry about, but twisting, under-maintained roads that shook the shocks of the 2005 Ford Crown Victoria they had commandeered from the N.Y. FBI office. Still, they had closed a lot of distance. They were close. He steered the car down Wolcott Avenue and passed a high metal gate cut between the high brick walls surrounding the Craig House complex.

He pulled the car off the road into a grassy area next to the tall brick and kept it concealed behind the wall, then turned off the dashboard light. He got out and Perez followed. They carefully looked through the iron bars and could see the house in the distance. It was up a concrete driveway that turned into a circular drive that passed under the mansion's overhang before looping around back to the entrance and exit drive. And lo and behold, parked off to the side of the house was a black Oldsmobile Cutlass. The DMV sheet had said it was a 1984 model.

That confirmed it. Amanda Park nee Young was in that house, along with the prick that had taken her. I've got her, Jake. I promised you I would find her and I did. She's as good as safe now.

He glanced around but the NYPD cars weren't here yet. Worse, they didn't even look like they were close. Still, he'd called for back-up and they had good reason to go in alone and investigate. He might be hurting her in there, at least that was what he'd say if anyone asked why he didn't wait for the NYPD to join him at the scene. He looked at the car and saw that the car's roof and position of where he'd parked it would put them in climbing distance of the top of the wall.

He carefully moved past the iron gate to the left side and looked at what was behind the wall opposite where the car was parked. He saw that there was plenty of tree cover that would obscure that fence from the sightlines of the windows, and they could use it to approach the mansion from the right side. He crossed back to Perez, tapped her shoulder and pointed. They climbed from the hood to the roof of the car. Strahm hefted himself up and then spun. He let the cold wall press against his gut and pulled her up. He pulled himself up into a sitting position next to her, then they let themselves drop over to the other side.

Strahm pulled his Glock and so did Perez. They darted from the clumps of trees until they were beside the house. Perez whispered, "I'll try to get entry from the rear." Strahm nodded and she hurried off.

Keeping his gun at the ready, Strahm made his way towards the overhang. Most of the side windows were covered with a steel plate. When he got to the uncovered windows he dropped into a crouch, approaching the door.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

She looked hot as hell. Barefoot, her back to him, just wearing the black panties and the open white blouse, she almost looked like an office secretary that had just had a fling with the boss and was now making him breakfast. She stirred the hash occasionally and eventually the water began to boil for the coffee.

He slid off the counter and approached her. Amanda tensed. This was it and there were no do-overs, no Entity to save her, nothing. Her one and only chance to kill him. She knew how she would try. She had been working it out in her head the whole time she'd been mechanically stirring the hash. Kyle approached her from her left side and nuzzled his lips to the side of her neck as though the sex he'd forced on her only a little while ago had somehow been romantic and they were two lovers in love. The miserable fucking son of a bitch.

Amanda tightened her grip around the handle of the pot with the boiling water, pulled her left leg back in a quick turn, and as Kyle's eyes widened she lifted the pot and swung it as hard as she could into the side of his face. He literally did not know that she had been playing possum and that he was taken in until she moved, and had no time to shield himself in the few seconds before she acted. The boiling water sloshed out of the pan and splashed over Kyle's face, his left shoulder, and Amanda's ankles and feet as she let go of the handle and it went over Kyle's shoulder and clattered to the floor.

He screamed in pain and staggered a step backwards and his hand fell on the handle of the carving knife and Amanda had a split second to react. She knocked the pot of hash from the burner and it clattered into the sink, then she gripped the portable burner unit in both her hands, raised it, and slammed it into the left side of his face.

He screamed even more brutally than he had from the boiling water and a smell of burning meat that in no way resembled bacon permeated the air. His hand spasmed and closed around the knife handle and she pulled the burner away from his face and strands of melted flesh stretched and parted, sticking to the red-hot coils. His left eye had burst from the socket and leaked fluid over the burned and charred flesh of his ruined face. The plug disconnected from the wall and she slammed the still red-hot coil directly into Kyle's crotch. The jeans blunted some of the blow but the hot metal still managed to satisfyingly sear his dick and balls underneath it. There was a sound that she heard, or thought she heard, of something popping, and when his jeans turned red she hoped that it meant that his testicles had melted and exploded.

His screams turned to howls and he swung the knife in his left hand and missed and she didn't know how he wasn't on the floor right now. The skin of his face looked like part of a target, the coils had burned black rings into his flesh. The front of his pants bore the same markings. The smell of burning flesh made her sick to her stomach. She'd inflicted a massive amount of pain on him and had been sure that he'd be on the floor and easy pickings but he was still upright and he was going to murder her if she did not murder him first. She ran around the island and he somehow managed to turn on his own heel to head her off at the door, swapping the knife from his left hand to his right.

Amanda tried to turn on her heel to go back and grab another knife from the drawer but the one-eyed, shambling mess that looking like he'd been plucked from a horror movie snarled and came back for her. He was not going to let her get to that drawer.

Fuck.

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Strahm stood at the main door of the mansion. He'd already seen that the exposed windows were made of something much thicker than window glass. He kept his gun raised. Strahm took the old metal knob in his left hand and was astonished to find it turned and that the door swung open. He walked in carefully and to his right saw a man's pale body lying on the floor. The amount of blood that had soaked into the carpet told him there was no need to feel for the pulse. He turned his attention to the sound of pained and angered screaming coming from the end of the hall and pressed the gun in his right hand down on the top of his closed left fist and carefully approached the screaming.

The call had never come from that random law enforcement officer to tell him that Amanda had freed herself, but based on the noise coming from that direction, he felt that he was likely to get a front-row view of Amanda in action. She'd played her game of possum, as he thought she might, and it sounded like it had worked. The man's screams were rage-filled, but definitely pained. She'd put a hurt on him, for sure.

Strahm's lips curled into a slight smile as he got closer and closer.

Good.

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No chance, Perez realized. She'd walked or crouched past every window, and every door on the rear of the house that provided entrance to the interior was locked and solid wood. They didn't have a SWAT battering ram, and the only option would be to shoot the lock of whatever door she picked and she didn't want to make that much noise. She made her way back the way she had come, and would look for the front entrance. She hoped Strahm had gotten lucky and had already gained access to the house.

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Amanda kept moving to the left and the right and Kyle kept following her and she knew if he got his hands on her he was going to kill her. He finally got tired of darting back and forth and with a surge of adrenaline from somewhere, he dived over the corner of the center island and shoved her with his left hand. Amanda slammed backwards into the counter and dropped to her knees as Kyle landed beside her. The doorway was clear. She started to get to her feet but somehow, fueled by the adrenaline in his body, Kyle was somehow faster than her. He spun around on his stomach and grabbed her ankle as she started to sprint and she lost her footing and slammed her head against the side of the island's counter top and landed on her back.

She sat up and scooted backwards towards the doorway as Kyle crawled forward on his hands and knees more quickly and dived on top of her. He raised his knife hand and started shoving it towards her chest as she grabbed his wrist with both hands and pushed upwards. He slapped at her face with his free hand and Amanda ignored the blows but she was fighting a losing fucking battle.

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Strahm heard the sounds of struggle from the open doorway he was next to, spun, and stood in the entryway.

There were to of them. A man on top of a woman. Kyle Donner and Amanda. Amanda was virtually naked, her blouse hanging open and kicking her legs underneath Donner. He looked like his face had been burned by Hell itself. He had a knife in his hand and was trying to shove it into her chest as she held his wrist with all her strength, but Strahm could see she was in a poor position and soon the tip of the blade would pierce her chest.

Strahm leveled off his Glock at Donner and screamed, "DROP IT!"

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Amanda heard a man yell but did not dare look because if she averted her attention for even a second he would ram the knife into her and while she would heal it would be a Hell of a problem explaining how she'd fully healed from a knife to the heart.

Her mind raced in desperation and she screamed, "He's not going to drop it he's going to fucking kill me! Shoot him whoever you are oh fucking shoot him just please fucking SHOOT HIM!"

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Strahm heard the panic in her voice but wanted to avoid deadly force until he had to. Plus, in the positions they were in, it was possible he might hit Amanda with a shot fired while standing. Strahm dropped to a knee and leveled the Glock on Donner. "I SAID DROP IT!"

Donner, it had to be Donner because who else could it be? Raised his head and his eye was crazed. Eye. The left eye had burst and what was left of it was hanging from his optic nerve.

Strahm heard Perez scream from behind him, "Peter!"

Amanda's kidnapper drooled and snarled and pulled his hand free of Amanda's grasp, raised it above his head and was about to try to bring it down when Strahm fired. He had a clear shot and he took it. The shot hit the shoulder of the arm holding the knife, and he reared back. Strahm hoped that the shot would indicate to Donner that Strahm meant business and he'd drop the goddamn knife.

Perez, from behind him, screamed, "DROP THE KNIFE!" But even as she screamed, Strahm could see that Donner's face was twisted in blood lust and that there was no way they were going to convince him to relinquish the blade.

Indeed, Kyle Donner did not listen. Amanda had fucking tricked him and either she was going to die or he was. His dick was ruined, his face was ruined, and he would not let her live knowing that she'd physically destroyed him. The pain was unbearable from the burns and from the bullet and it was taking him every last ounce of strength not to collapse. He fought through the pain. He would kill her, and then if these two cops or whatever wanted to end him, that was fine. He'd go to Hell or wherever knowing that the bitch was coming with him.

When Donner raised his arm to try and bring down the knife again Strahm shot him three more times in the chest. He hung there, mouth gaping, trying to form words. Blood dripped from his chest and onto Amanda. The knife had gone up weakly one last time, and a shot from Perez' Glock from where she was standing behind Strahm went through his forehead and blew the back of his head off and he went sprawling on his back.

There was a silence. The kitchen was filled with the smell of burning not-bacon and cordite.

And from the kitchen floor, Amanda let out an anguished cry and broke down in hysteria, pressing her hands to her face.