I can't keep doing this… She's my daughter.

You can, and you will, or your daughter will die.

Kai…

Beat her until she breaks, Arita. Only then will she learn to survive.

Alison slowly opened her eyes. Blurry from the forced state of unconsciousness, she had to blink several times, but that did nothing to help her sight. Her body felt stiff and awkward, drained of viable energy. Groaning softly, she realized that she had been propped up in a chain with her wrist bound behind her back. The plastic material bit into her skin. If her senses weren't dulled, the grip might have been painful. Breathing in slowly, she shook off hidden and unwanted memories. She needed to gather her thoughts and figure out her location. Or, at the very least, become acquainted with her surroundings.

She had been blindfolded by use of a dark clothed bag. Despite her impaired vision, she noticed the light coming through. No wind on her bare shoulders, though, nor heat. It would seem that her blazer had been removed. Of course it had. Her cell phone had been in there. Who knows where her wallet could be? The last thing she could consciously remember had been a sharp prick at her neck. Some type of knockout drug then. She had been taken for stepping in something that hadn't been her business. Alison had made a mistake, and it seemed as though it would cost her. She should have just left instead of trying to get insight.

"Well, look who's decided to join us finally," a voice caught her attention, causing her to jerk in surprise. "My apologies. It seems you have a low tolerance for sedatives." The apology sounded as fake as his voice. Alison swallowed with difficulty. Her throat was dry. She attempted to speak, but only a hoarse whisper escaped. And suddenly, the bag had been pulled from her head. Alison winced under the sting of the artificial light. She blinked rapidly, shuddering fast. It felt like she was about to vomit. "Hm… Maybe too much sedative."

Her vision finally cleared, allowing her to focus on the two men that stood opposite of her. One, she recognized. Stowe. He appeared as smug as he had at the diner. Beside him, with the clothed bag in his hand, was a tall, dark, muscular man. He, too, appeared militant in nature. Camo pants with a tight black shirt, along with dog tags around his neck, completed the look. Alison sat bound and weak with two dangerous men in the room. In her line of work, facing dangerous men was a norm. This situation was obviously different. "Wh-Where…?" she managed to croak out.

"That's not information that you need to be privy to," Stowe replied. "Instead, let's talk about you, District Attorney Alison Medding." Within her mouth, her teeth grinded hard against each other. He knew her identity, and yet he had still chosen to keep her. This man had still chosen to restrain her. It meant one thing. He was going to kill her. Question was: Why hadn't he already? "What could someone like you get out of defending a known thief?" Alison remained quiet, understanding the 'known thief' was Carrie Hopewell. Jesus Christ. Not because she liked it, her ass. "You see, the girl you so passionately decided to defend… stole from me, along with the local bartender, a hacker, and some unknown person."

"If… If you wanted… to report a crime… you could have gone to the authorities," Alison retorted slowly. Stowe merely gave her a smirk for her attempt at sass. She swallowed again, less difficult than before, but still challenging. "If you know… my position… then why am I… he-here?"

"You were so quick to come to her aid, which made me think maybe you're her friend," Stowe explained. Alison would have scoffed if she could. "And if you're her friend, you might know her other friends, who she associates with, who she spends time with. All you need to do is give me names so that I can pick up this fourth person, and I'll let you go." A lie. She had seen his face. Saw his name. And he was making it fairly obvious that he hadn't intended on just talking to these four people. Too many action movies. Same bad guy mentality. She almost wished she had been ignorant of such a thing.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alison spoke. Her voice wasn't up to par, but she hadn't spoken as slowly as before. "What Carrie Hopewell gets up to in her free time is her business. I don't know her, or her friends. Whatever information you need, you can get from her."

"I already tried. She was… determined to keep the name of her fourth away from me," Stowe mentioned. "No matter how hard I tried to pry it out of her mouth." The way he spoke was oddly sinister, and Alison found herself shuddering internally. "So maybe you might have the information, whether you know it or not. So rattle off some names of who you think might be in cahoots with Anastasia Rabitov."

"I already said I don't know," she said.

Stowe frowned, a crack in his calm façade. He took a step towards her, and Alison tried hard not to flinch. "You know something," he insisted. "See, I read up on you—your work. You're very thorough in what you do, hardworking, and most importantly competent. When you set your sights on a criminal, most of the time, you manage to put them away. You see little facts that most would gloss over, and those little facts help you to win most of your cases. Very commendable." And now he was trying to butter her up with compliments. It was a predictable tactic… that wouldn't help him. "You researched Carrie. You must have found something that could point me in the direction of the fourth idiot that robbed me. Her past, her present—you can link them together and find the one."

Honestly, it was true. She had already begun to try and link names and faces in her mind. However, nothing really stood out. The lives of Carrie and Anastasia were completely separate. Almost, but any links to her past had already died or were unknown to her. Still, even if she had known, she wouldn't tell this man. "I'm sorry you don't like my answer," Alison told him. "But it's not going to change. I don't know Carrie enough to give you anything."

"I want my fucking money," Stowe almost snarled.

"That sounds like a personal problem."

The man quickly decreased the distance between them. His large hand grabbed her by the hair and yanked hard. Hissing, Alison glared up at him. "You don't seem to realize the situation that you're in, Medding," he growled. "I want my fucking money, and you might be the only one that can help me get it right now. So I want you to think real hard. Otherwise, I'm going to start to think you had something to do with this group of idiots." Threatening tactics. He had sure escalated in an unpredictable way. Something was wrong with this man. Alison pursed her lips, refusing to speak anymore. Stowe's eye twitched three times before he roughly released his hold on her hair. "Put her with the others," he ordered, standing straight. "Maybe see familiar faces will jog her memory."

The other man walked towards her and roughly grabbed her out of the chair. It happened so fast that her mind spun at the sudden movement. She felt her legs buckle, not quite ready for it. She would have fallen had it not been for the strong hand that gripped her bicep. Not saying anything, the man practically dragged her towards a door. Her heels clicked against the floor as she was forcibly moved. Alison had no choice but to try to keep up with his long strides.

After pulling her through the camp—the sunlight had hurt her eyes; she could barely make out anything—the man finally came across another door. He opened it, and then pulled her inside. Alison managed to spot three people inside, one being Carrie. Another, she recognized, but couldn't quite remember where she had seen him. He was an older black man. Bartender…? Sweets…? The last one was a bald Asian man. She had never seen him before. Before she could further examine the room, she was shoved hard. Not expecting it, she fell to the floor, barely able to save her face from the fall. At the last second, she twisted her body, causing her shoulder to take the brunt of the impact. It hurt like hell, but it would be better than having a broken, bleeding nose.

"Hey, asshole! Was that really necessary?!"

"Shut up," the militant man retorted. He squatted, taking out a white strap. He made quick work of binding her legs together by her ankles. Alison felt like kicking him in the face, but refrained. Once done, he stood up to his full height, staring down at her. "Think real hard," he repeated Stowe's earlier words, and then walked off.

The slam of the door closing behind him caused her to flinch, but at least she could breathe properly again. Or hyperventilate, which ever one came first. She couldn't believe she had wound up in another dangerous situation. First Chayton, and now this Stowe character. Both men had dangerous weapons and men at their disposal. Both men had no problem ignoring the law in favor of displaying their power. Both men cared little for life. And without weapons to defend this time around, she might actually die.

"Alison, are you alright?" Carrie asked, voice filled with concern. Alison had to stop herself from scoffing. She slowly sat up, facing the other three prisoner.

"Shouldn't you be asking yourself that?" she snapped. The woman looked horrible. Face red, just ready to start bruising. Dried blood was caked under her nose. Her white shirt had been splotched with red. Carrie frowned, lowering her head a bit at being called out. Her injuries had clearly come from being beaten to a torturous extent. Alison shuddered violently, wondering if Stowe had delivered the beating himself. "But, no, Carrie, I'm not alright," she snapped. "I could be at home. Curled in bed. Eating soup!" That last bit made her flinch. Kurt. She hadn't been able to make it to his place. Was he thinking she had decided to just stay home, or had he been pacing in worry because of no contact? "But no! I'm here—kidnapped—surrounded by thieves and people who won't bat an eye at the thought of killing!"

"Hey! I told you to leave!" Carrie rejoined, narrowing her eyes.

"And in hindsight, it was a dumbass decision and I wish I could've walked out that door," Alison vehemently agreed with a sharp nod. "But if wishes were poppy, then we'd all be dreaming." She wiggled her legs, testing the binds on her ankles. The plastic strap had been applied dangerously tight. If she hadn't been wearing pants, her blood flow might have been cut off—further proof that these military men didn't give a damn about taking her life. Jesus Christ. Alison sighed heavily, attempting to relax despite her body's trembles. "Now, since we're obviously going to die, I think I deserve to know why the fuck we're here in the first place, Carrie." In response, the woman, once again, lowered her head, clearly ashamed.

"I'll tell you why we're here," the Asian man spoke up, drawing Alison's attention before she could demand answers. Pursing his lips, his pointed stare was aimed at Carrie. "We got sloppy. We got sloppy on a job we shouldn't have done in the first place."

"He doesn't know everything, and that's what keeping us alive until help arrives," Carrie said.

"Help…? What—this fourth person he keeps going on about?" Alison questioned. She scoffed and shook her head. "So there is honor among thieves?" Her sarcasm was met by glares, but she couldn't bring herself to care. What the hell was one person going to do against a small army? "So who is this person that won't skip out of town and has you so confident that they'll come?"

"I don't think you want to know… District Attorney," the older black man commented. Alison sucked her teeth in annoyance. "But… he'll come."

"But who's gonna help him, hm?" the Asian man asked, rhetorically. "That man has exactly three friends, and they all right here."

"Have some faith, Job," the older man said.

"Have you met me?" Job retorted.

"He's gonna come," Carrie asserted.

"Oh, I know he'll come," Job agreed. "He'll take on the whole motherfucking platoon. Might even make it past the front gate. But there's still a shitload of mercs with a shitload of guns between him and us. So excuse me if I'm having realistic expectations."

"He'll find a way," Carrie muttered.

"Fuck you, he'll find a way!" Job shouted. "He ain't your fairy godmother come to make all your dreams come true. How many more times does he have to put his ass on the line for you until he gets his motherfucking head blown off?" Alison's eyebrow jerked. The two, Carrie and Job, continued to bicker, voices growing louder the longer they went on, but she was stuck on that offhanded question. On the line, he had said. There weren't many people who would do that. In fact, only one came to mind. Alison shifted her attention to Carrie, and then the older man. Jesus Christ. The revelation came like a deafening boom.

Despite the situation, Alison began laughing. Hysterically. She was vaguely aware that the shouting match had ceased, but she was too in her head, scolding herself for not seeing it sooner. The one person who had opportunity, knew both Carrie and the bartender, and was capable of such blinding faith. She didn't know what this Job had to do with it, but she had enough circumstantial evidence to suspect this man as the fourth. The longer she thought about it, the more concrete it became.

"I think she's lost it," the bartender murmured.

Alison breathed in sharply, abruptly cutting off her humorless laughter. "Isn't this perfect?" She shook her head. Her glare focused on Carrie. "Your baby's daddy coming to the rescue." Expectedly, Carrie froze, but Alison let out a huff. "I can't believe this. I should have realized sooner. I should have known something was off the moment Gordon told me about Deva's real father." She licked her lips and chuckled again. "He's the only one link to your past that's still around. He's the only one that knew about the money beside the occupants of this camp because he visited on a case that involved this base of operations. He's the only one that lives above your bar, Sweets."

"It's Sugar," the man mumbled. "And he actually lives next door."

"He's the only one that has put his ass on the line for you more than once that I know of," Alison finished, turning her attention back to Carrie. Then her gaze settled on the remaining man. "I have no idea who you are, but you must be the hacker Stowe mentioned." Job remained tight-lipped. "With a crew like this, how could the Sheriff not seize an opportunity to rob fucking commandos? But I'm guessing you all did the job right after his girlfriend died. Made him sloppy, which made everything else sloppy, which is the reason we're here. You must be real proud of yourselves."

"… Damn, I guess you're not the DA for no reason," Sugar commented. His compliment made her frown. "All that from one little outburst." He glared at Job, in which the Asian man glared right back. "Now if we can all just calm down…" Alison inhaled through her nose. "Yes… We're on opposite sides of the law, but we're in this together. If we're gonna to make it out of this, we're gonna have to stick together. Hm?"

They were thieves, the lot of them, but… Sugar was right in this case. Whatever chance of her surviving... came from allies. She needed them in this situation. Clenching her jaw, Alison scooted her body towards the vault. It took a lot out of her, but she managed to sit back against the steel safe. She needed time to recuperate, but it wouldn't mean anything if the fourth was caught beforehand. If he was captured or killed—that would be it. All of them would die. "Doesn't matter if we work together or not. Won't mean a damn thing if there's no outside distraction, so I pray that your blind faith in the man isn't misplaced."

"He'll come," Carrie repeated, somberly. "He always does." Alison decided to keep the huff to herself. She breathed in deeply and shut her eyes. Nothing better to do yet other than to recover her strength and wait for whatever outcome to present itself. No, she didn't want to die, but she wasn't going to hold out for a one man army. Her expectations were alarmingly low about getting out of this situation.

After what seemed like hours, the door to their prison opened. In stepped a man, armed with a gun. She didn't know enough about weaponry, but maybe it was a rifle. Whatever it was, it looked as though its bullets could shred a person to bits. The man pointedly aimed it at all three, staying silent as he did. Alison supposed it was a warning. No funny business, or else type of warning. Sugar hadn't bothered to wake himself for the threat. He had dozed off some time ago, lying on his side with his cheek pressed against the floor. Either he was fearless, or his old body could no longer withstand the fatigue of current events. Alison was willing to bet it was a bit of both. Why else would a man in his fifties even consider stealing from commandos?

Anyway, after waving his gun around after a few moments, the door opened again, causing the man to lower his weapon. The same black man from before came in, followed by the Sheriff and Stowe. The man's blue eyes widened considerably at the sight of her. He glanced in the direction of his comrades, but came back to her. Mouth opened and eyebrows raised, he stared, clearly in shock. Alison stared back, frowning.

Stowe didn't seem to care. The man walked by him, gesturing to the rest. "As you can see, your friends are alive… For the moment." He then proceeded to kick Carrie's face. Her head sprung back because of the vicious strike. Alison grimaced at the sight. Carrie groaned, and her head dropped forward. Blood dripped down, staining her already bloodied shirt. Uncaring, Stowe walked away from the woman he had kicked and approached Sugar. With a rough nudge from his foot, he turned the man over to lay on his back. The older man startled awake, only to groan as Stowe pressed down on his chest. "Go get my fucking money," he demanded, unperturbed by the groans of pain.

The Sheriff stared back at Stowe, hands visibly clenching. Again, he looked her way. "I get it. I will," he assured the crazed man. "But let me take her out of here-" He gestured to her with a tilt of his head. "-she has nothing to do with this. Absolutely nothing. She's not involved."

"No," Stowe dispassionately replied.

"She's the District Attorney for fuck's sake," Lucas pointed out.

"And you're the Sheriff," he retorted. The man lifted his foot from Sugar's chest and looked at Alison. She tried not to flinch under his hawkish gaze. "Didn't stop you from taking what's mine. Besides, she is the one that involved herself. Isn't that right, Medding?" Stowe walked over to her, and Alison breathed out sharply through her nose at his proximity. Again, he grabbed her hair. He practically lifted her from the floor with his grip. His cold blue eyes bore into her, invoking violent spasms to course through her. "Did you know your Sheriff was so corrupt?"

"Yeah…" Alison turned her eyes to Lucas. He pressed his lips together as he watched her. "I thought real hard and figured it out." Finally, the Sheriff lowered his gaze to the floor. Maybe she shouldn't have said it out loud. Who knows what he would do in retaliation for her knowledge? Who knew what else he had been hiding?

"And are you just as guilty?" Stowe asked.

"Fuck you," she hissed out, shifting an offended glare on the man who would dare.

Her words only seemed to amuse him. Stowe released his strong grip on her hair, and stood up straight. His eyes, once again, focused on Lucas. "Since she seems important to you, I think I'll keep her," he said. "Go get my money now." The harsh demand was met with the Sheriff turning abruptly, leaving them all behind. He had showed up despite her misgivings, but his entrance hadn't been enough of a distraction. Also, it appeared as though he intended to negotiate—trade the money for them all. Lucas was sorely mistaken if he thought they were going to make it out alive based on that negotiation. Still, she had learned that the Sheriff wasn't exactly a good man. Perhaps he had some type of plan. Perhaps he would bring in allies. His deputies… And, of course, thinking about his deputies made Alison think of one in particular.

"Kurt…" she thought, dipping her chin. Squeezing her eyes shut, she thought about her twenty-four hour boyfriend. Alison almost let out a wry chuckle. Finally managed to form such an attachment, and she couldn't even enjoy it long-term. Fate was a strange thing. She scowled, attempting to banish the words of Kai Proctor from her mind. Fuck that man. Fuck this man, too. She glared up at Stowe. The urge to see him bleed burned raw within her. She had to make it out of this if only to put them away. Or watch them die. Whichever came first.

0-0

This might have been the worst feeling he had had in years. Kurt couldn't stop his knee from bobbing up and down. The minutes seemed to stretch as he rode around in the Mayor's SUV. They had made a few pit stops before ultimately heading towards the last place the Sheriff could be. Their first stop had been the Mayor's house. He had an extra bullet proof vest, which Kurt had immediately put on above his long sleeved black shirt. He had only briefly marveled at the fact that he would actually need it. They intended to go against trained military men. They knew they would come under fire. But that didn't matter as long as the hostages could be taken back.

The CADI had been the next stop. Kurt had to sneak into the back to head for the armory. He was pretty certain he wouldn't want to explain to his fellow deputies—if they hadn't been out patrolling—why he needed so many guns and bullets. He especially hadn't wanted to be under the hawkish gaze of Alma as he signed out the weapons. That woman was every bit intimidating as the first night he had met her. So as stealthily as he could, Kurt had raided the armory and had smuggled the weapons out of the CADI and into the back of the Mayor's SUV.

Now, they were headed to the local watering hole. The Mayor had insisted that the bar would be the only place that the Sheriff could be. Kurt had agreed. After all, he, himself, had found the Sheriff there several times. Sure, they could have gone straight to where the hostages were being held—honestly, Kurt wanted to go storming the gates as soon as possible—but the Sheriff knew the layout. It would be best to have some sort of plan beforehand. Besides, the Sheriff had proven himself to be good in an overwhelming crisis. If it meant getting Alison back safely, then he could wait before rushing into the fray.

Finally, the vehicle came to a stop, causing Kurt's eyes to focus on the outside. They had arrived at the bar. "I'm going to check to see if he's in there," the Mayor stated, turning the vehicle off and taking his keys from the ignition. He warily stared at Kurt from the corner of his eye before proceeding to get out. He had been doing it the entire car ride, choosing not to comment. Obviously, the man was uncomfortable about his presence, but he had still offered to drive. Kurt supposed that their shared apprehension about those taken had overridden anything else. He nodded his head, watching as the Mayor headed inside the bar.

Keeping his eyes on the entrance, he waited for the reappearance of the Mayor. It seemed like a long time had passed before the man came back out. He gave a quick nod, moving towards the back of his vehicle. Kurt opened the door and followed. They both grabbed their respective bags, and then headed inside. The Sheriff sat at one of the tables, clearly preparing for war. Guns and ammo laid spread out on the squared table. He was in the middle of loading a gun. His eyes did a double take, realizing the current company. The Mayor paid no mind and headed over to another table, opposite of the Sheriff, and began preparing himself.

"Bunker," the Sheriff greeted, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Sheriff," Kurt replied. He shifted the weight of the bag before stepping forward. He went over to the bar, setting down the bag. "I heard about what happened," he explained as he began unloading the equipment. "Civilians were taken. The District Attorney was one of them." He turned towards his boss, hoping his determination showed. "I intend to take them back. No matter what." The Sheriff didn't look the least bit surprised at the mention of Alison. He had known then? It wasn't just speculation anymore. After hours of fretting over no contact with her, Kurt had finally gotten his confirmation. She had never showed up for soup because she hadn't been able to.

"If you've heard… then you understand that this isn't-"

"I understand perfectly, sir," Kurt interrupted. "And with all due respect, you can't stop me from going." The Sheriff opened his mouth, seemingly about to protest, but then he closed it. Sighing to himself, he nodded, and then went back to preparing. Honestly, Kurt was relieved there hadn't been much objection to his presence. He needed to get to Alison. He needed to know she would be safe. He wouldn't feel comfortable, knowing the danger, and not being able to do anything.

So for the next ten minutes, the three men worked in silence. Then the Mayor cleared his throat. Kurt paused his work and turned his head towards the older man. His eyes were focused on the Sheriff, who had yet to halt his preparation. "So you have a plan, right?" the Mayor questioned, meticulously putting his sniper rifle together. "A better plan now that you actually have allies with you, I hope." The Sheriff finally paused, placing a final bullet in its clip.

"Yup," he answered, plainly, and then slipped the clip into his Glock, one of the several he had strapped to his person. Kurt, too, had chosen mostly handguns for this excursion. However, his main weapon would be a semi-auto rifle. It felt comfortable in his hands, and he would use it until the bullets ran out. "I know the layout. Me and Bunker will move on foot. You, Mr. Sniper, will get somewhere high, cover our backs."

"How do we get in, sir?" Kurt asked. "Infiltration?"

"No, we'll go right through the front gate," the Sheriff replied. "On the multiple occasions I visited, there were two guards. Easy to take out. It's the tower opposite of them that'd be the problem."

"The tower could be their communications and a good vantage point for snipers. It has to be taken out of the equation before we go in," the Mayor stated. "I can take care of that."

"How many do you think we'll be up against, sir?"

"The camp, itself, is shut down, so it'd be a skeleton crew," Hood responded. "Twenty, thirty, maybe. It'd take them a few minutes to form up with no communications, so we have to take out as many as we possibly can in the first few minutes. Shoot to kill. No mercy, Bunker."

"Yes, sir."

"You nervous, again, Bunker?" the Sheriff almost chuckled.

"Yes, sir," Kurt admitted.

Not for the reason his boss might have thought. Sure, the odds were against them. They were about to go head to head with trained military personnel. Most, if not all, would call it a suicide run. The Sheriff was capable. He had seen the man in action. Kurt glanced at the Mayor. He seemed to know his way around his weapon, so perhaps he had been well-versed in sniping. Kurt's own training had very much been a crash course—minute training that had gotten him by in Dade County. Caused his survival when Chayton attacked on the CADI. And made him confident in his abilities to take down a suspect. However, the stakes were higher this time. If even one thing went wrong with this, all of them could die. Including Alison. That, alone, stretched out his nerves and chilled him to the bone. He could not let that happen.

So as Hood went over the plan, Kurt listened carefully, committing every detail to memory. The Sheriff gave descriptions of the layout, possible cover spots, and their ultimate goal. The location of where the four were being held. His knowledge of the area had been surprising, but Kurt hadn't been about to interject and question the extent. If the plan worked, and it had seemed good, considering their odds, then he wouldn't bring himself to care how the Sheriff came across the knowledge.

Wrapping up the plan, the Sheriff slipped on his bulletproof vest, signaling that he was about ready to go. The Mayor had already put on his vest, as well as a leg holster. He was already standing, sniper rifle attached to his back, grenade launcher in hand. After a few moments, the three men headed towards the door. Kurt clenched his jaw as he moved towards the light blue Ford pickup truck that had been parked right outside the bar. It would be the mode of transportation. Shame it wouldn't be their way back out.

He climbed into the trunk, along with the Mayor. The two of them would hide under the tarp about a half a mile away from the camp. For now, Kurt pressed his back against the wall of the trunk with the Mayor sitting opposite of him. Hood wasted no time starting up his vehicle, and soon they were on the move.

Kurt shut his eyes, squeezing the neck of his main gun. Only now, as everything finally settled in, did his heart begin beating horribly fast. Alison had been taken. She could die. One of the best people in his life—arguably the best—could be snatched away in an instance. He swallowed, but it was painful. There was a real chance that he could lose her. Before, he had foolishly thought he could live his life without her. He had resigned himself to accepting a restraining order. He had thought he could manage that. The potential of her no longer existing, though—vanishing from his world forever—no, he wouldn't be able to handle that. He… could spiral into oblivion if it came to that. The ramifications of the thought had his heart stuttering within his chest.

Tranquility is a state of mind…

Her previous words stroked his mind, and Kurt forced himself to breathe again. He relaxed a little, inhaling slowly through his nose. When he had first began learning control, she had told him that. She had told him that he had been quick to anger. Had been quick to provoke. He had come a long way from that conversation. He had reached tranquility, or, at the very least, was on his way to approaching it. He couldn't allow himself to get worked up. Being emotional about this might compromise the plan, and the possibility of her dying—everyone on their side dying—increase considerably. So he had to calm down. Breathe. And stick to the plan.

Kurt exhaled through his mouth, loosening his fingers' grip on his gun. He opened his eyes, and almost instantly realized he was being stared at. The Mayor, wobbling side to side because of the movement of the truck, kept his eyes trained on him. With a thoughtful frown on his face, he stared unblinking. Maybe he had chosen to stop and think about things as Kurt had. Maybe he was now wondering, with a clear mind, just what his temporary ally had to do with anything about this situation. The Sheriff's friends were in danger. The Mayor's wife was in danger. This rescue was personal for them. To him, it might appear that Kurt was willing to risk it all for the sake of doing what's right. Not many people would, so his suspicion was logical. Only a matter of time before the man became vocal about his suspicions.

"So you're really doing this because you're a cop?" the Mayor questioned. And there it was. Kurt felt himself tense again, even though he knew it was coming. "Sorry, but that seems as unlikely as-"

"A neo-Nazi becoming a cop?" he cut in, frowning. The Mayor mirrored the frown.

"You can't honestly expect anyone to believe you're doing this because of your profession—one you shouldn't have in the first place," he remarked. "You're not getting paid for this. There's a high chance that this mission could result in our deaths. And you don't exactly look the part of a Good Samaritan. Hell, even good Samaritans wouldn't willingly come on this trip. So why are you here, Bunker."

Kurt reminded himself to breathe again. He took his time in finding words—an explanation that would stop the questions. He glanced to the side for a moment, wondering if he should just tell the truth. With the way things were looking, it would be known soon enough, anyway. Besides, the Mayor was a friend of Alison's. Eventually, he'd figure it out. Taking in a slow breath, Kurt returned his gaze to the Mayor. "The District Attorney," he began. "She's the main reason I'm going." Expectedly, the man's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "We've… We've been friends for a little more than three months now."

"You're lying," the Mayor protested. "Someone like Alison would never associate with someone like you…!" A sharp brittle pang jabbed at his chest. Someone like him…? Yeah, he supposed someone like him didn't deserve to be in Alison's orbit. "With what's she been through, there's no way she could ever see you as a friend."

"You're right," Kurt replied, solemnly. "Under normal circumstances, someone like her would keep away from someone like me. But I was persistent. She saved my life, and I wanted to thank her. She agreed, and a little while after that, we became friends."

"Bullshit."

"Mayor Hopewell, you can believe what you want," Kurt told him, stifling irritation. He understood where the man was coming from. The relationship between himself and Alison had always been impossible, but it had happened regardless. "But it won't change anything now. I won't let someone like her die." The declaration seemed to startle him into silence, but Kurt meant every word. "I… I care about Alison. I can't just sit around and hope she comes back safely. I'm going to do something about it to ensure it. That is why I'm here. That is why your belief doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is saving her."

The Mayor's frown deepened. He opened his mouth to say something, but a banging on the window signaled that they were close to the camp. It was time to go into hiding. Holding onto the side of the truck, Kurt maneuvered himself underneath the brown tarp, alongside the Mayor. Cradling their weapons close to them, they waited with quiet breaths for the next signal. Within a few minutes, the truck came to a complete stop. Swallowing, Kurt felt the truck begin to move again. They were only seconds away now.

Kurt slowly moved his finger over the trigger. Then he heard the gun shot. Immediately, he rose from his position, aiming his weapon at the post. The guard behind the glass barely stood up before he fired. The bullets went through the glass, hitting the target. Behind him, he heard the grenade launcher go off, followed by a loud explosion. He only glanced at the destruction of the tower before hopping out of the back of the truck. Kurt quickly slapped the button to open the gate.

Waiting for the gate to open, he took a deep breath. It had begun, and he wouldn't stop until he got to Alison. Steeling himself, he moved forward, following behind the truck as it went pass the gate. Alongside the Mayor, they both jogged behind the vehicle. It acted as a large shield for the hail of bullets that came at them. As expected, the enemy was scattered, completely taken by surprise. They were easy to pick off even under fire. Kurt grit his teeth as the truck finally reached a point where the Sheriff turned the vehicle sideways. This was the cue to move away. Hood jumped out of the driver's side, hastily following them behind the cover of a building.

Once the three of them were in the clear, the Sheriff set off the grenades that had been hidden. There were about ten of them, so the resulting explosion shook the entirety of the camp. The rumbles caused him to falter in his stance even though he had known the blast had been coming. The explosion had taken out a few more enemies, but its main purpose had been to alert the four. Hood had complete confidence that his friends would realize that the tactic was for them, and that they would take steps to begin fighting their way out. Kurt had agreed, and had known Alison would think the same. He just had to hope the diversion reached her ears from the vault room she was being held in.

0-0

The District Attorney sharply lifted her head. She had felt that. Who would have thought? The Sheriff actually came through, and apparently had decided to use all his resources for the excursion. She supposed she had been resting quite enough. The least she could do was make the job easier. So taking a deep breath to steady herself, Alison shut her eyes. Then she pushed herself from the vault's wall. Purposely slow, she rolled back onto her shoulder, carefully maneuvering her retrained arms around her body. Barely wincing, she managed to bring her hands to the front of her. Wasting no more time, she quickly went to work freeing her wrists from the plastic strap. It took a few moments, but she finally got the mechanism right and slipped out of the loosened handcuffs.

"What the fuck?!" Job's incredulous voice caught her attention. For a second, Alison spared the man a glance before reaching for her ankles. "You watched us try to get these damn things off for ten minutes, and you could've got out yourself this whole damn time?!" Impassively, she tossed the plastic across the room, and then moved to stand. She moved across the room and over to the incensed Asian man. Kneeling behind him, she worked to remove his constraints as well. "How'd you even do it?!"

Alison frowned as she slipped the strap from his wrists. Truthfully, she had learned. One of the harsh methods of her mother—and apparently Kai Proctor—when she had been a teenager. She had been kept out in the woods all night until she had figured out how to get out. It had taken her a full twenty four hours to come up with three methods. "Like I'm gonna tell you that… thief," Alison retorted as she removed the zip tie from his ankles.

"This bitch ain't fair," he told his other comrades as he rubbed his abused wrists.

Ignoring him, Alison shifted to release Carrie next. The woman had been in the midst of trying to use an edge of a piece of machinery to cut through the binds. Trying and failing. Alison quickly turned her to get at the other woman's binds. Job went over to Sugar to get him out of his restraints. "Looks like he came through," she muttered. "Surprising, but he doesn't stand a big chance by himself. We have to get to him if we want to make it out of here alive." With a grunt, she forced the plastic off Carrie's wrists, and the dropped down to her ankles. "Someone will come to take us to use as shields. We take them out, get their weapons. All of them have more than one on their person, so no problem there."

"God, Alison, it feels like you've been waiting for this moment," Carrie remarked.

She had been waiting for this moment. Calculating and planning for this moment. A big enough diversion had come along, and she wasn't about to waste its potential. "Are you kidding? Renegade for life. Time to spill a little merc blood," Alison said. Not waiting to see if Carrie had caught the reference—Lena would have instantly—she hurried towards the door. There was a small place where she could hide, waiting for an unsuspecting enemy to come through. The door would open and keep her from view. "Carrie, with me! You two be distractions!"

"Who the hell put her in charge?" Job questioned, yet moved to sit on the floor beside Sugar.

"I'm not gonna question a renegade," Carrie muttered, following after Alison. Huh. Maybe she had caught the reference, after all. The woman put herself in front, bending her knees, body tensed and ready for some enemy to come through that door. The reason she had chosen Carrie had to do with the fact that the woman could obviously hold her own. She had gone through the several reports of how Mrs. Hopewell had taken out so many armed men, supposedly by herself. Might have been a cover up, but cover ups usually had some truths. It was a gamble, but hopefully things would finally turn in their favor.

After a few moments of waiting, the door slammed open and a man with a dark baseball cap walked in. "Okay, bitch! Let's go!" he exclaimed. Noticing that half of the hostages had seemingly disappeared, he aimed his assault rifle at the two men. "Where the hell are they?!"

Perfectly distracted. Carrie chose that moment to move. She crept up behind the man, and without pause, struck his temple with her left fist. Then she kneed his torso, causing him to double over and drop his weapon. An elbow strike to the back of the head caused the man to completely crumble under the coordinated attack.

Alison raised her eyebrows, impressed by the sight. The gamble had paid off. Carrie had known exactly where to hit in order to put him in an unconscious state. "Yeah, probably could've been friends," Alison muttered, moving out of hiding and dropping down to pilfer the body. Sugar and Job stood up and made their way over. The Asian man picked up the discarded gun while she pulled a pistol out of the man's leg holster.

Just as she got a grip on the gun, the door on the far side of the room opened. Eyes widening, even though she had expected another, she felt panic flood her system. The arrival was just as armed as the last guy, and he wasn't the Sheriff. Job immediately opened fire, snapping Alison out of her panicked state. She rushed behind the cover of a forklift, along with Carrie and Sugar. She grit her teeth, forcing herself to ignore the throbbing in her head for now. Her eardrums rang in protest to the loud sounds of gunfire, but she couldn't worry about that right now. Job grunted, moving to crouch down beside her. Just in time, too, because the man had returned the spray of bullets in retaliation.

"I'm gonna circle around and draw his fire!" Carrie shouted over the roar of bullets. "Ready?!"

As if the whole of the situation wasn't already risky, she had intended to do something unnecessarily risky. They could just wait until the clip ran out, after all. But before Alison could speak up, Job told her to go and Carrie sprang from her position. Too fast to stop her. Grimacing, she remained where she was, cursing that they had already begun to split up despite earlier words of sticking together. Job provided her cover fire as she made her way to the open door. Alison watched her make it safely behind the wall. At least, she hadn't been struck down.

The back and forth of bullets continued for a few moments more before only echoes of the gunfight filled the room. Then something clattered to the floor. The clip. The man was in the midst of changing. Job understood the sound as well, and rushed out of cover. With bated breath, she waited for more gunfire. She hadn't had to wait long. Three pistol shots went off, followed by the heavy thud of a body. Alison peeked out of cover to discover that Job was still standing and the merc was on the floor. She breathed out a sigh of relief, standing to her full height.

"Sugar!" Job called out.

"I'm clear!" the man called back, following her out of hiding.

Alison approached Job as he pulled a pistol from the dead man. The sound of muffled gunfire told her that a concentration of the fight laid just beyond the door the dead man had entered. The Sheriff must still be alive despite the odds, meaning he had brought help. Job appeared to be about to push the door open to join the fray. "Wait!" she stopped his efforts. Turning back to her, he held a glare. "I'm not gonna be much help, so-" Alison handed the pilfered pistol over to Sugar. That one minute lesson from Brock she had had a few months back wasn't going to cut it this time around. "-I'll see about finding Carrie."

Job gave a sharp nod before he turned his attention back to the door. Sugar joined him, holding the pistol upward. Alison took a deep breath, and then turned away from them just as the door was pushed open. She ignored the sound of gun fire in favor of stopping in front of the unconscious man. Yes, she would go looking for Carrie, but she wasn't stupid. She needed a weapon herself. If she was right, this guy would have a melee weapon for close combat. Her hands gripped the Velcro on the man's vest. She would take his defense against bullets, too.

Trying to work quickly, she pulled the vest over her torso and did her best to strap the Velcro back in place. It was big on her, but it would do for now. Satisfied, Alison reached for the man again, aiming to find a knife on his person. Just as she went for the man's left pocket, her wrist was grabbed. Sucking in a harsh breath, she shifted her gaze upward. She met the angry eyes of the supposedly unconscious man. He hadn't been out for as nearly enough time as anticipated. A punch to the face sent Alison to the ground.

Shit.

0-0

They were pinned. Only a few yards away from their target and Hood and himself were pinned behind a goddamn military truck. The enemies had gathered together right in front of the building with the hostages. And with the constant hail of bullets, they hadn't made any headway. Hopewell was somewhere else, doing his best to keep stragglers away from sneaking up on them, but he also had to contend with a rival sniper. He was at a disadvantage because the other sniper hadn't needed to keep going back into cover from his position, while the Mayor had to, least he be shot and taken out.

Kurt grit his teeth, crouching lower. This couldn't continue. Eventually, they would think of some type of plan to get at them, and not even Hopewell would be able to stop groups of them. He breathed harshly through his nose. Squeezing his eyes shut, he prepared himself. So many times before he had thought he could and would do anything for Alison. It was time to stop thinking. Kurt gripped his weapon hard. He breathed out through clenched teeth, and then ran. Haphazardly, firing off his gun, he darted over to the next cover, another building, which provided more coverage. His back hit the wall, and he started breathing again.

He was right where he needed to be. Groaning, he looked down at his arm. A bullet had managed to graze the side of his shoulder. He didn't feel anything now, but once the adrenaline wore off, it was probably going to be painful. "Worth it," Kurt thought, shifting his eyes. The sounds of gunfire had yet to cease, so he had a window of opportunity while the Sheriff and the Mayor continued to distract. Wasting no more time, he pushed himself from the wall. He moved quickly, gun ready to take out any enemy that he came across. Fortunately, he didn't have to fire this time. He came across his target—a building with a ladder propped against it. The man seemed none the wiser. Too busy trying to snipe.

Kurt removed a hand grenade from the pocket of his vest. Before, he had been too far away to use it, but this seemed like a perfect time for it. It was the only one he had because Hood had taken all but one of them away for the truck. Quickly, he pulled the pin and tossed it onto the roof. After a few seconds, the blast, along with a grunt, sounded, letting Kurt know that he could go up now. He moved his main weapon behind him by turning the strap around his body. Then he hastily climbed up the ladder, pulling out a pistol as he did. Making it to the top, he saw that the grenade had done its job for the most part. The man lay sprawled, grunting in an effort to grab his sniper rifle.

Upon noticing him, the man reached for his leg holster for his handgun, but Kurt had already steadied himself on top of the roof. He moved forward, pulling the trigger several times. The third or fourth bullet pierced the man's skull, killing him. He approached cautiously, gun still raised just in case. The man didn't move again. Finally letting go of the breath he had been holding, Kurt lowered his pistol, and then shoved it into the pocket of his pants. He dropped down, picking up the discarded sniper rifle.

He propped the gun up, looking through the scope. On a separate roof, the Mayor appeared to be loading another round into his gun. The man looked in his direction and gave a slight nod. Good. Kurt didn't need to worry about coming under fire then. He shifted the line of fire to the ground below. Specifically, more towards the original target. Through magnified vision, he saw that the Sheriff's friend and the bartender, Mr. Bates, had managed to get free and join the firefight. Mrs. Hopewell and… Alison were nowhere in sight. Frowning, Kurt once again shifted his line of sight. They would be found, but right now, he needed to focus on clearing out the enemy. So steeling himself, he focused on new targets. Together, he and the Mayor began picking off the remaining obstacles.

Moments passed, and eventually, the rapid gunfire ceased. Kurt did a sweep of the area, finding only dead bodies of the enemy on the ground. They had done it. They had won. Finally. Swallowing, he moved from his position, leaving behind the sniper rifle. His movements were quick, and all too soon, he made it down to where the Sheriff was. Gun still in his hands, Hood walked towards his friends. Kurt followed after, eyes darting around in search of Alison. Maybe she had taken to hiding? It would have been smart of her.

"Sorry I took so long," Hood greeted the two men.

"Tell me you didn't bring the whole fucking Sheriff's department," the Asian man said, glancing his way.

"Nah, just him," the Sheriff assured. He looked around. "Where's Carrie?"

"And the District Attorney?" Kurt added to the question.

"HOOD!" A shout caused all four men to aim pistols towards where the shout had come from. A man held a bloody Mrs. Hopewell at gunpoint. The barrel pressed against the woman's temple as an arm wrapped around her neck. "Put the gun down or I'll blow her head off!" Kurt nearly growled, noticing that the District Attorney was not among them. Where the hell was Alison? Had she been hurt like Mrs. Hopewell? Was she being used as someone's meat shield? He didn't have time for this hostage situation. He needed to make sure she was okay.

0-0

Alison's back slammed against a wall. Her captor hadn't been gentle at all. He had dragged her to a different location—an office of some sort, equipped with a desk… and a broken plaque. Her shoes had been lost along the way so her bare feet had gravel stuck to the soles and the cold floor wasn't helping her feel too good. The man who had taken her hardly paid attention to what he had done. Instead, he looked out of the window, attempting to see anything. The sounds of gunfire hadn't gone away during the time it had taken to get here. "What the hell's going on? Where's Stowe?" the man mumbled to himself.

"You brought this on yourself," Alison spoke up. "I'm guessing the Sheriff's department doesn't take too kindly to having the DA being kidnapped."

"Shut up, bitch," he retorted, sharply turning to her. Alison clenched her jaw as he approached her. "This backwater village shouldn't even had the balls to try going against us. And for what? You? No." She visibly frowned at the insinuation. "Keep your mouth shut and don't move."

"You need to be smart about this," Alison told him. "Whatever I may be to you, it doesn't change the fact that you've kidnapped a District Attorney. Stowe's going down for that. You don't have to go down with him. Just let me walk out of here. Let me calm down the people who came for me, and we'll leave. I'll forget this ever-"

"I said shut up!" He yanked on the vest, pulling her closer to his snarling face. She hadn't been expecting the jerking, and had cried out in surprise, stumbling hard into his body. Her entire body went rigid in discomfort. Even with the padding of the vest in between them, her skin crawled. The man scoffed in her face. "You liked that, didn't you? Like being manhandled, don't you?" Alison's mouth suddenly felt dry. The longer he stared at her, the quicker she realized a familiarity in his expression. She swallowed painfully, hands lifting to shove him away. However, his grip on the vest was strong, and he barely moved an inch under her palms. "How about you be smart about this?" He pressed himself against her, backing her against the wall again. "You do what I say…" His ugly eyes leered at her, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "And I might be able to keep you alive."

She was going to be sick. So many years had gone by, and yet here she was in the same damn situation. Monsters—it's like they could sense it. Oh, she's been damaged. It'll be easy to just take. Everything in her reeled in protest as the monster leaned forward. His mouth met hers, causing her head to smack against the wall. With stinging in her eyes, Alison incisor clamped down on his lower lip. Hard. Enough they she could taste his blood in her mouth. The monster reared back, cursing obscenities at her. She didn't give him time to retaliate. Sharply twisting her body, she elbowed him in the face. The monster stumbled back, knocking over a chair and hitting the back of his head against the desk.

Unable to help herself, Alison dropped down, straddling the monster. He groaned and weakly tried to push her away. Unperturbed, she began pelting his face with hard punches. Eventually, he no longer tried to knock her away. He made no move to counter, so she kept doing it. Over and over, her left fist met his face. All the pain and rage she had felt when she had been sixteen broke through her normal state of mind. Like a geyser that had been repressed for too long, her anger shot out fast and hot, burning and spiraling. Beat her until she breaks, Arita. Only then will she learn to survive. Yes. Survive. It had been the reason she had been broken. So that she could survive. No one was going to make her feel helpless again.

Never again.

Never again.

Never again.

Kai Proctor had had a hand in what she had become. He had made her this way. He had broken her. Had made her into this type monster. He had been the reason she had gone out to take her power back. He had been the reason she could survive in a world full of monsters. And fuck if she cared anymore. She would be a monster. She would unleash her rage on any monster that tried to take. And she would fucking enjoy it. Just like now.

Alison stopped, panting heavily, barely feeling the pain in her knuckles. She tilted her head back and shut her eyes. Her insides vibrated with elation. It had been too long since she felt this fake power coursing through her veins. For several moments, she merely sat there on top of the monster, waiting for her breaths to become steady again. Eventually, they did, and she crawled off, palms smacking against the floor. A slow sigh left her mouth as she rose from the floor.

Closing her eyes she realized that the guns had finally stopped going off. That meant one of two things. Either the Sheriff failed or Stowe's men had fallen. Lucas, thief though he may be, had proven himself to be skilled at gunplay. She had witnessed it herself, so she wouldn't count him out just yet, especially if he had brought help. Whatever the result, she had to make it out of here. The best option would be to arm herself. Alison went over to the desk and began pulling out drawers. A guy like Stowe would probably have an extra gun hidden away somewhere. After a few moments, she managed to find one in the bottom of a drawer, underneath papers.

It wouldn't do much good if the thing wasn't loaded, but she couldn't tell, and she didn't know how. Her hope was that she didn't need to use it. She hoped she could just sneak off the base without being spotted. It wasn't a good plan, but at least she wouldn't be behind enemy lines anymore. Clenching her teeth, she began to make her way out of the room. If she remembered correctly, a way out had been just around the corner. Luckily, she found it quickly.

After walking for a few moments, she finally came across Job. The Asian man was in the middle of examining an unmoving body. Alison recognized him as Stowe. The man had a large knife imbedded into his body. Clearly, he was dead. Still, she breathed out a sigh of relief. Job was alive, and that probably met their side had won. So relaxing, she began heading in his direction. With her guard down, she almost completely missed how Job's shoulder suddenly exploded with blood. She halted her walk, eyes widening as the man fell to his knees. With a silent gasp, Alison ducked behind a nearby vehicle. It was large enough to conceal her.

Her breaths came out fast and shaky, coming to the realization that not everyone had fallen. Jesus Christ. Alison shut her eyes, thinking back to what she had seen. Either that had been a miss, or the shot hadn't intended to kill. Furrowing her brow, she opened her eyes again, and then peeked out from her hiding place. She witnessed a man, without military garb, but clearly armed, approached Job as he held his injured shoulder. The unknown man wrapped an arm around Job's neck, obviously intending to choke him out.

Gnashing her teeth, Alison completely came out of hiding. The man was too busy to notice her quietly coming up behind him. At least until she pressed the barrel of the gun to the back of his neck. He had lowered himself to his knees in order to render Job unconscious, so it had been quite easy to get the drop on him. Plus, Alison had already thought he wasn't militant. He probably wouldn't know how to counter, which was good. "Drop him and your weapon. Now." The order was met by the man slowly turning his head to try and get a look at her. Alison cocked the gun. "I'm not going to say it again."

The man paused, but eventually released his hold on Job. Her temporary ally hadn't moved. Still breathing, but not moving. Next was the gun. Alison pressed harder, intending to make it clear that if he tried anything, his brains would be all over the ground. The gun, which was equipped with a silencer, was placed on the ground beside the unconscious Job. Then the man slowly turned to face her, hands raised in surrender. Alison kept the gun leveled with his head. "Wait… I know you," he murmured. His blue eyes showed relief, and she raised a curious brow. "You're the District Attorney—Alison Medding."

"I don't care," she replied.

"No, listen. There's a misunderstanding here," the man continued. "I'm… I'm not with them. My name is Leo Fitzpatrick. I-I just worked here for Stowe as his head of security—that's it."

"Yeah…? And just what were you doing with him?" Alison questioned, tilting her head a bit in Job's direction.

"Him…?" Leo repeated. "He's… He's a criminal. You see, we're kinda the same, aren't we? We put bad people in jail. I was just taking him for some much needed justice. You understand, right? We're on the same side."

Alison heard what he said, but her attention was focused on the look in his eyes. His lips had begun to tug upwards, maybe thinking he was doing a good job at convincing her. His blue, greedy eyes stared up at her, and she could see the same ugliness she had seen before. Justice, her ass. His eyes were the same as those monster when she had been sixteen. When she had been seventeen. The same as those monsters from a few months back. The very same as the monster she had left behind to bleed out. He may not have wanted the same thing, but he wanted something from Job that he had no right to have. This person in front of her now wanted to take just as much as the others. Alison had a hard time swallowing the bile that had rose in her throat.

"The same side, huh?" she chuckled without humor. The forming grin almost instantly turned upside down. "I suppose, in the end, we're all monsters. But the thing is, Leo… My monster is disgusted by your monster." The man scrunched up his eyebrows, clearly confused by her word choice. It didn't exactly matter what he thought. "The difference between us is… my monster will live to see another day." He understood that implication well enough. Narrowing his eyes, he lunged for her, probably intending to pry the gun from her hands. Alison didn't give him the chance.

She stepped back while simultaneously firing. Unashamed, she emptied the gun of its bullets into the body of the monster, watching in satisfaction as his blood splattered around. She ignored the ringing in her ears as she lowered the gun. She had killed in cold blood. Maybe in self-defense. Maybe in a calculated manner. She would decide later. For now, she would take pleasure in ridding the world of another monster.

"JOB!"

A shout snapped her out of it, and Alison sharply turned to see who had called out for the Asian man. The Sheriff… and Kurt came from around a large truck, pistols poised to fire. Alison sucked in a sharp breath, surprised to see him. In that moment, everything bled away. The anger, pain, gratification—it all fell away at the sight of him. Only Kurt Bunker and the utter relief flooded through her. She released a shaky pant, and turned her herself to face him. Eyes zeroing in on the way his lips formed her name, Alison darted forward. A little unsteady, she moved towards him, dropping the empty gun on her way.

She ignored the gravel that dug into the bottom of her feet, and practically threw herself at Kurt. He let the pistol fall from his hand, and immediately opened his arms to embrace her. The collision of their bodies was rough and intense, but the moment his arms wrapped around her, Alison could only see it has a comfort. Her arms moved around his torso, holding on tightly. Like he was her lifeline. "I thought…!" Kurt squeezed her in response, one hand moving to palm the back of her head. "I thought—Christ, Alison!"

Burying her face against his covered chest, she shut her eyes. She was safe. She was finally safe. In his strong hold, she felt herself trembling. Jesus Christ. She had had hunches before. The strongest of them hitting her just last night. It had been a sharp grasp of the shift, but now, right here, it wasn't just a hunch. She didn't know what it was about this situation... It could have been seeing his face after going through such an ordeal. It could have been hearing his deep voice, whispering her name over and over again, so damn happy and thankful to have her in his arms—that she was whole. It could have been because he had come for her in the first place. Whatever the reason, the hunch had shifted to certainty.

She was in love with him.

Alison had never felt it before. But she was positive this was love. The way he looked at her. The way he made her feel. The way his mere presence was enough to comfort her. It was love. She loved her monster man. Her man. Biting her lower lip, she reared back, shifting her gaze upward. Kurt stared down at her, content and unblinking. He opened his mouth, but Alison didn't give him time to speak again. She pulled him down. Their lips met in a kiss. He stilled at first, but almost instantly pushed back. It was unlike any of the kisses they had already shared. It was as rough as their earlier collision, and just as consoling. Maybe she just wanted to completely get rid of the last guy that had touched her, but mostly… mostly it was reassurance. I'm here, she told her through their joined lips. I got you, he replied, pushing back just as hard.

The obnoxious sound of a throat being cleared caused Alison to rip away from Kurt. She turned a glare on the Sheriff. With both eyebrows raised and mouth wide open, he looked the very part of flummoxed. He looked back and forth between then. At one point, he scratched at his forehead. "I feel like I'm interrupting… Wh-Why? What?" Lucas managed to get out.

"No, this was-" Kurt cleared his throat, dropping his arms away from Alison's body. He faced his boss, red dotting his cheeks. "She was just… Uh… She was thanking me. Bu-But there's no reason for that, District Attorney Medding." He glanced at her. "Any deputy would have done the same." It was incredibly ridiculous… and sweet that he had attempted to cover up what the Sheriff had clearly witnessed. Alison forced herself not to smile.

"Right…" Lucas drawled out, obviously not believing his deputy's words. "I'm gonna go check on Job, but I'm pretty sure we're gonna have to talk about this."

"Oh, we'll definitely have a talk, Sheriff," Alison spoke up. The man matched her frown, but nodded in understanding. Then he moved, going over to the fallen Job. She watched him, shoulders sagging. Her eyelids lowered. Apparently, the adrenaline was beginning to fade. Exhaustion slowly slipping in. "Kurt…" She turned to him. He was already staring expectedly at her. "I think I'm ready for that soup now." The slightest tug of the corner of his lips made her smile.

"Okay, let's get you home," Kurt replied.

0-0