Chapter Seven: Dylan Iscariot

Onscreen, Hollywood's foremost action figure had stood toe-to-toe against an army of terrorists and prevailed. He had scaled Mount Everest and skied his way down. He had fought in Air Force One, fell from the open lift, and landed unscathed. He had stood still while a man fired a whole machine gun clip at him and hit nothing but air.

In reality, Jason Gibbons was lying in a hospital from a simple gunshot wound to his stomach. His coloring, usually a beautiful tan with just the right amount of pink that tinted his ears and cheeks whenever he got excited or embarrassed, was now pale, sallow.

The beautifully big smile that spread from ear to ear, breaking hearts everywhere, had a thin lipped almost scowl in its place.

His long eyelashes were unchanged. Alex, in a bout of insomnia, had once spent an entire night watching him breathe, noting the way that they skimmed the skin underneath his eyes. They were the longest that she had ever seen, and she discovered, that night, that she could never tire of watching them flutter.

It created a different sort of reaction in her now.

Jason got manicures more often than she did. His skin was amazingly soft against her lips. Alex's eyes closed, sliding his still palm from her lips to her cheek, rubbing against it slowly.

The beep-beep of the monitor provided a bittersweet backdrop, and Alex, alone for the first time since the events that had led them to this hospital room, thought of nothing but the past.

"You know..." she began, voice almost broken with tremoring emotion, "You used to really scare me, Jason. I never understood how you could be so... happy just to be with me. You had everything in the world, and all you wanted was me."

She drew the hand in her lap, moving gently to sweep an errant bang off of his forehead.

"I never understood that. How do you do that? How does one person put so much love, so much trust, and value on something as fragmented, as reckless as a soul?" She shook her head. "I didn't know who I didn't trust more, you or me, but it doesn't matter, does it?" She continued to caress his brow, moving to gently line his lips. "Because I get it now, Jason. I finally understand what you've been telling me. I've got two doctorates and I've been in space and it took a guy who made a career out of being professionally goodlooking to spell it out for me."

He lay perfectly still, eyes closed, hand listless in her own. She clutched it anyway, leaning until her lips were pressed against his cheek, forehead gently resting against his.

"I love you, Jason," she finally whispered. "I don't care if I could die tomorrow, or that we never see each other, or how famous you get. I want to be with you."

In Alex's post-feminist world, she played her own prince, leaning across his body to place her lips on his, gentle, sweet.

He slept on.

"What are you doing here?"

Ricki, Jason's agent, stood in the doorway, holding together a huge bouquet of roses.

"Hey, Ricki. I was just leaving."

Ricki's smile was cold. "Ms. Munday, I don't know who let you in here, but-"

"I let myself in, Ricki. And I'm going to keep letting myself in, just like I always have, and just like I always will." Her tone, calm and quiet for Jason's benefit, rang with authority, and just a little threat. Ricki's smile fell from her face, and the smaller women, with her Coach bag, and her Gucci shoes, almost gave a full step back when Alex tacked on, "So get used to it."

"You've done my client some damage, Ms. Munday." Ricki's angered statement stopped Alex at the doorway. With a hand on the doorway, and an eye on Jason's bed, Alex finally nodded.

"More than you know," she answered crisply. "But I'm about to set at least one thing straight."

--

Pete had long ago succumbed to sleep.

His lean frame seemed heavier than Natalie remembered. Plastered across her lap, his face buried in her stomach, the rumblings of his heavy breathing caused a tickle in her tummy. Natalie's body ached, but disciplined kept her from moving, hand rubbing through Pete's hair, as she shifted uncomfortably on the hard plastic chair.

Nurses moved back and forth through the hallways. A lifeless, melancholy version of 'Against All Odds' played in the speakers, wafting down to Natalie while a child, scampering over chairs while the tired mother dozed in the corner, hummed along.

Natalie hated hospitals. It was one of the main reasons she had chosen not to become a practicing doctor. Her parents, wonderful as they were, had a hard time understanding at first, why Natalie, who loved to help people, would decide against it.

Dylan had been the first to truly get it. She had nodded over breakfast one day, munching on a corn muffin when Natalie mentioned it casually, and her response was simple. "Sure. I mean all that gloom and doom and dying would whither you away. Natalie needs sunshine."

It was that simple.

Natalie needed sunshine.

Heavy boots clicked their way across the floor, and when Natalie looked up wearily, she discovered Dylan, still dressed in the Secret Agent's black suit, holding out a cup of coffee.

At this point, what Alex said Dylan did didn't matter. It was still Dylan smiling down at her, green eyes glittered with warmth of love and family.

Natalie took the cup gratefully. "Thanks," she said.

"Careful," Dylan said, lifting up Pete's feet to slide under, settling in next to her. "It's hot."

"I need it."

"Don't we all," Dylan responded. Natalie took a moment to wrinkle her nose at the bitter liquid - Vienna Roast it was not - before looking up as Dylan asked after a beat, "So what's the word?"

"Only Alex was able to get in, but the official press release is that he's going to be okay. The gunshot hit him in the stomach."

Dylan frowned, looking away. "That's weird."

Natalie glanced back up. "Why is that weird?"

Dylan seemed hesitant to express it, but at the curious look in Natalie's blue orbs, she finally took a breath.

"Well, the killer never had a problem with aim before. He wouldn't go for the head, but he would make sure they were dead."

"Maybe he slipped up," Natalie answered, voice just a little more distant than before. Dylan was venturing into work related talk, and although Natalie knew they would have to get there eventually, it only served as a reminder of Dylan's lie.

"He wouldn't slip up," Dylan said. "He's good, Natalie. Really good."

Natalie pursed her lips, eyes on Pete as she ran fingers through strands. "I agree."

"Regardless," Dylan said. "We should try to get into that evidence room and figure it out."

"Why bother?"

The third entrance into the conversation made them both look up. Alex strode forward, eyes a watery coal, and a stony, closed expression no her face. "We know who he is. And we're going after him. Where is he Dylan?"

Oh, God. Here it came.

Natalie's heart jumped into her throat, unable to resist turning to see Dylan's reaction.

Dylan only had eyes for Alex. Her face was open, naked, and the surprise that swept over it was easy to read.

"What?"

"The Thin Man, Dylan," Alex said crisply. "Where is he?"

"Alex-"

"I'm not going to let him finish what he started, Dylan. You know where he is. Tell me."

"Alex, I don't -"

"Don't you dare lie to me," Alex whispered.

Natalie's fingers clutched into Pete's hair.

Her boyfriend yelped, driven from his sleep by the pain, and teetering off her and Dylan's lap.

Regaining his balance, Pete wiped off his pants, and smiled to all three girls.

"Hello," he said good-naturedly.

"Pete," Natalie began, slowly and deliberately. "Go get me a coffee."

Pete looked understandably confused. "You got one right there."

Natalie quirked an eyebrow, shaking her head slowly. Pete slowly turned his head, and discovered the ample tension that arose between Dylan and Alex. Both women had eyes for no one but each other, and Pete, based on his unfortunate positioning, had been placed right smack in the middle.

"Coffee!" he said quickly. "Right! I'm going to get you some coffee, Natalie. Anyone else?" He gave a polite smile to Dylan. "Dylan? Alex?" Dylan stiffly shook her head. Alex merely cocked an eyebrow. "Okay... I'm gone...."

Backing away slightly, he cast Natalie a sympathetic glance before heading down the hallway.

Immediately after, Natalie finally tried to break in, taking advantage of the brief lapse to step between her two friends and partners.

"Guys, I think maybe we should try to calm down before-"

"Alex, I'm sorry, I lied," Dylan said stiffly. "If you would just let me explain-"

"I don't want an explanation, Dylan," Alex ground. The brunette's form was stiff. "I just want him."

When Dylan glanced at her, Natalie wasn't sure what to offer in return.

Dylan had lied, and even though this wasn't the time nor the place, there wasn't any point in avoiding it. Alex wouldn't accept it.

And Natalie would have been lying if she hadn't felt just the tiniest twinge of anger as well.

But Dylan was displaying an admirable sense of control. Her breathing was even, despite the labored heaves of her chest in an effort to maintain it, and her voice was firm, not angry, not yet - but not apologetic.

"Alex, if I thought for one second that this would have happened-"

"You should have, Dylan, You knew what we knew, you knew more than us, and you kept it from us, and now Jason-"

"I did what I thought was necessary!" Dylan said finally, voice rising in her emotion. "I'm just not sure it was him, okay? It just doesn't make sense?"

"What wouldn't?" Alex returned. "He's a killer, Dylan! Do you get that? He's an assassin. That's what he does!"

The last sentence was a shout. Nurses and doctors were beginning to stare.

Natalie tried again. "Guys-"

"I'm tired of you falling for the bad guy, over and over, ignoring their faults just because -"

"Is that what you think?" Dylan asked, eyes suddenly wide, and breath sucked in with amazement. "That I'm fucking him? That this is some sort of last ditch effort to protect my lover?!"

Oh, crap. Now Dylan was getting mad. She was at the cursing stage. A habit that Natalie had managed to break her of years ago. Natalie sank down on the chair, rubbing her eyes.

"Listen, ALEX. I may have bad taste in men, but that NEVER conflicted with my job!"

"Oh, no?" Alex asked with mock surprise.

"NO," Dylan ground back. "Eric Knox? Yeah, mistake. I kicked his ass, and if I recall, we blew him up. Seamus? Yeah. A big mistake - I sent the bastard to jail and then thought I had killed him. Don't you fucking tell me I choose men over you two, Alex. I wouldn't do that. That's not what this is about."

"Then what is it about, Dylan?" Alex asked, coming closer, now only a foot away from Dylan. "Because all I'm seeing is you withholding information on a suspect you just happened to kiss!"

"Oh, you know what? You're one to fucking talk, okay?"

"Excuse me?" Alex asked, voice now a dangerous level.

"You know what I mean," Dylan snapped, ignoring the crowd of nurses to step closer. "You think I'm blinded by love? It only took you a gunshot in Jason's stomach to finally admit you loved him?"

"OKAY, ENOUGH!" Natalie spat. Pushing forward, she came between both women, hands on each shoulders to keep them from moving any closer to the other. "This has gotten way out of hand."

"Nat-"

"No, Alex. This is not the time or the place. Dylan? We are going to talk about this, and we are going to LISTEN - but not in a hospital ward, and not when it can disrupt not only our identities but our jobs."

Her grip was rock hard on both shoulders, holding them in place as she snapped. Finally, Dylan and Alex seemed to see the crowds.

Dylan blushed and stepped back, arms crossed as she turned to grab her jacket. Alex merely looked away.

Natalie's heart was racing, and her chest was so tight with anxious emotion it ached. But she took a breath, and nodded toward the door. "I'll go get Pete."

"No, Natalie," Alex said firmly. She was quiet, stiff. "I'm done talking. Dylan, I don't care what's happened. What I need from you is concrete proof why you think the Thin Man is not our guy."

"All I have is instinct, Alex," Dylan said, just as severe, just as stiff, but there was a note of pleading in her voice. "I'm just asking you to trust that. At least until I get proof."

Natalie licked her lips, looking back and forth between her friends, her sisters.

Alex's cheek twitched, and in her beautiful face, something seemed to give, almost -

But her eyes moved to Jason's door, and everything hardened all over again. "I'm sorry, Dylan," Alex said. "But I have an instinct, too, and it's with Jason, and I have to trust that." Glancing at Natalie, and back to Dylan, she said finally, "I'm going after him. I would... like you to come with me. Since I do need you. You can tell me where he is, but I'll find him either way."

Jerking on her blazer, Alex pulled out the sunglasses that were resting on the inside pocket, and placed them over her eyes. Moving past them both, she walked away, down the hallway, through the door.

In the silence that followed, Natalie knew a choice was coming. Dylan and Alex, independent souls - only once had they, without meaning, pulled her in two directions.

Back then, it was almost amusing, handcuffed to each girl, protesting in half irritated amusement that she wasn't a yo-yo.

Now, it wasn't quite so funny.

"Nat," Dylan began, in a voice so broken and conflicted she sounded like a child. "I need to know..."

"Dylan," Natalie interrupted. Suddenly tired, it was as if the world, at this exact time, had decided to rest the entire weight of it upon her shoulders, while Dylan and Alex called to her from opposite sides. "I want to... Dylan... I do, but... I have to go with what we have. I can't do instinct, with this much evidence."

Dylan swallowed hard. She flinched away, as if Natalie had struck her.

"Dylan, if you come with us, maybe we can get him without violence. At least if we have him-"

"And what? Turn him over to the police? And let the real killer stay out there?"

Natalie's eyes closed in frustration. "At least, with him away, in a safe place, we would know-"

"That would kill him, Nat."

"Dylan, what do you want? Do you want us to just let him go? Pretend all that evidence isn't there? When Jason's lying with a hole in his gut?" Natalie finally snapped. "Come on, Dylan! You're an Angel!"

A simple, bitter laugh resonated from Dylan. Eyes closed, she looked the very picture of a broken doll.

"Yeah. I'm an Angel," she answered. Eyes opening, a remarkably clear gaze sent in Natalie's direction was not judging, but clearly resigned. "And I'm sending him to Hell."

Natalie didn't realize Pete was standing there, watching with two cups of hot coffee in his hands, until Dylan moved around him.

In the end, he was all she had left, her solace in a pair of beautiful brown eyes, and two cups of coffee.

--

She had been yelled at by Alex, Natalie, and Bosley.

Dylan knew it was only a matter of time before Charlie was informed, and then she would hear him, too, in his calm, never-changing tone - he would be disappointed in her.

Already, the Agency had received a call from Mary Briggs, threatening to pull them off the case, and threatening to expose them at the same time, as if she couldn't decide which would be worse, and was just waiting until she could think of a proper punishment.

She had lost the trust in her partners, her friends, her family.

But the nagging doubt in Dylan, the small ache that began to create a throat-sized lump that was now ever present and painful, refused to abandon her.

Her actions were automatic, fingers gently smudging eye shadow against the tip of her eyelid. It was darker than her normal, but it seemed to fit her mood. Lips, blood red.

Quietly, quickly, she ran over the evidence in her head.

The sniper wore black Doc Martins, used a Luger, and a knife in his killings.

He never shot in the head, indicating that this was personal.

He shot from a relatively close range, which would mean that he had to be very good at being invisible.

The Thin Man had been placed at each scene.

He wore black doc martins. He had been known to use a Luger and his weapon of choice was indeed a sword.

It fit. It did.

Hands pressed against her dresser, as Dylan looked in the mirror.

So what was wrong with the picture?

Exactly what she had told Alex. It was too easy.

The Thin Man was smart. Too smart for them. He, along with Eric Knox, had succeeded in not only fooling them, but repeatedly beating them at their own game that entire case.

The case involving HALO, he had known before they did that Emmers was after Max.

He had been one step ahead of them the whole time...

So why was he slipping up now? Leaving them trails to follow and clues the size of goldmines?

Why would someone attack Jason Gibbons at Annabeth's funeral - and yet not kill him?

Unless someone was trying to spark a suspicion into a reaction -

Unless someone was trying to frame Anthony.

"Holy shit," she whispered, staring into herself in the mirror. Now, everything inside her was alive, processing and whirling - smallest instances that easily formed one big conspiracy theory in her head-

All brought down by one memory of a mute man whispering, "No" against her lips.

"Dylan," she told herself, mustering as much self-recrimination and anger as she could muster, "You're reaching."

Dylan had never been one to trust the government, but she was certainly not a conspiracy nut.

For once, Dylan ignored her instinct.

Her fingers hesitated over the lighter. She almost didn't want to touch it. The silver case shone in the candlelight, and his imprints, smudged and stained with her own,

Instinct took hold, and then she reached, fast, for the lighter, jamming it into her pocket and moving toward the door.

It was time to betray someone.

Yippee.

--

Dylan drove.

Natalie remained uncharacteristically quiet beside her, snapping and unsnapping handcuffs that she had brought along for the case.

It was a gesture she wasn't sure either appreciated. The handcuffs were a signal to Dylan - they were going to try to take him alive, and to Alex - a sign that Natalie would back her on her decision to go after their number one suspect.

It was Natalie's unspoken compromise, a last ditch effort to try to find a way to meet both her friend's stances - bring everyone together so they could once again be the world's most elite crime fighting team - not the strangers that sat quietly.

Dylan's point was clear - she wasn't sure. If Dylan wasn't sure, she stood her ground. Proof was never overrated; it was one of the things that she and Alex had in common. Natalie was the dreamer. She was the astrological champion, not Dylan, not Alex. She believed in destiny and had been jokingly ridiculed about it more than once.

How her two logic based friends could come to two very different conclusions regarding one man was still something Natalie couldn't wrap her brain around.

Dylan wasn't sure - Alex was. The silence in the car could have been attributed to the two women thinking, more than likely about the males in their lives, but Natalie knew Dylan, and she knew Alex.

Something was wrong.

Angels were Angels, however, and Dylan proved it when she slid Natalie's car into the curb.

"Here," she said with a curt snap, pushing up the gear, and turning the ignition. At Natalie's questioning glance, she motioned. "Top floor."

"Classy," Alex muttered.

"Okay," Natalie said softly, eyes on the top floor. "The plan is capture. That's all. Alex?"

Alex hesitated, hand hovering over the door handle. Almond eyes grew darker, but when they slid in Dylan's direction, she swallowed hard. "Fine," she answered. "But if he tries to kill me, I'm giving as good as I get."

Natalie gave a long, anxious sigh. "Dylan?"

"Fine," she said, voice a flat monotone. After a beat, her glare softened, and in almost normal tone of voice, she continued. "Look, at least let me go first. See if maybe-"

"I don't trust him, Dylan," Natalie said firmly. "You can go ahead, but you're not going in there alone. I remember when he tried to kill us and watched you get shot out a window."

Dylan's hands clenched harder around the steering wheel, gaze some distant place that Alex and Natalie were not invited to.

"Point taken," she whispered finally.

It would be a piece of cake. Not even the Thin Man could take all three of them. One by one, maybe, but when the three fought together, it was always win-win. They knew each other's moves, the strengths, the weaknesses. They knew it all.

They were unstoppable when they were together.

Blowing out a shaky breath, nevertheless, Natalie couldn't stop the curious pound of her heartbeat as she smiled quickly, hooking handcuffs on her belt.

"Let's go."

--

There were certain things that Dylan Sanders just knew.

She knew that every Saturday morning, Pete and Natalie could be seen jogging alongside the ocean's edge, a happy Spike playing in the waves, galloping back toward them only to jump away again.

She knew that every Monday, Alex would bring in a basket of 'goodies', all smiles and expectations as she handed out whatever god-awful pastry she had decided to try this time.

They were getting better.

She knew that every morning, barring the end of the world or another equally severe crisis, she would sit beside Natalie and Alex, smile and say with as much cheer and happiness that she could muster, "Good Morning, Charlie!"

She knew that the Thin Man - aka Anthony - killer and assassin, would rather die that be taken alive. She knew that he was capable of killing if he was cornered - and that Alex and Natalie were no exceptions.

She knew that Alex was desperately, painfully in love with Jason, and as a result, would not mind taking out the Thin Man if it came to it.

And she knew that if they were wrong - if they were just the slightest bit wrong- then the killer would still be loose.

It was a chaotic maelstrom of feelings and emotions that swirled through her as she marked the position on the last stair.

Her body seemed to move on pure instinct, step by step, toward the Thin Man's door.

Her mind continued to whirl - flying winds of pure emotion - and yet - her heart was curiously numb.

When she rapped on the door, she waited, the metal of the medallion a heavy, warm weight against her chest. She felt it's presence acutely as the door slowly, carefully opened.

In the blue eyes of a killer there was a spark of something else, a light in his face that she had never seen before, as the door opened wider, and a long, elegant palm reached forward, skimming her face.

"Hi," she said.

The whisper of a word seemed to pacify the beast, as he stepped closer, and closer still, knuckles now caressing her cheek, hawk eyes looking down on her as a predator, suddenly deciding to play with its food - and not kill it.

Natalie and Alex were almost forgotten, as he slid a finger into her jeans, closed around her lighter, and pulled it out.

"Yeah, you found it," she said. "Where?"

He craned his neck, as if struggling to remember, and without another word, let her go, pulling another cigarette and using her lighter, lighting it in a way she had never seen him to before.

Never seen him do before.

Never seen HIM do before.

A ghost of her past screamed in her mind.

I'd recognize that arse anywhere, you piece of shit!

"Oh, God - Seamus," she whispered.

Anthony stared her down, smoke pillowing against her face as he tangled fingers in her hair.

"NOW!"

The cries behind her suddenly resulted in one of her own. "NO!" she yelled, turning suddenly, arms out-stretched as a blonde and a brunette moved with almost inhuman speed at the door - at Anthony.

It was too late. Already, he was moving back, crouching low as he watched the three Angels - Natalie and Alex in their fighting positions, Dylan stranded between them.

The poise stunk of betrayal.

Dylan could read the accusation in his eyes - the rage filtered over her features, as his mouth opened, and a wordless screech of anger surged from his lips.

Quickly, his gaze shifted to the swords on the wall.

"No," Dylan whispered, "No."

There were too many questions - too many lies, and the truth was there, it was with him.

He knew what was happening.

But he wasn't telling.

Before she could move, her teammates moved forward, one in a long, carefully calculated flip, another with a slide, heels directed toward his kneecap. He saw it coming, twisting almost like a pretzel as he jumped, heel catching Alex in the chin, only to be caught in the chest by Natalie's foot.

The force behind the blow was powerful. He landed with a crash against his dresser, cracking wood, and spilling socks.

Alex recovered from his hit, sweeping under until she was up on one knee, fists locked in a fighting stance as Natalie moved in beside her.

"Okay, Creepy Thin Man," Natalie said breathlessly. "You can make this easy or you can make it hard."

He was visibly shaking, veins popping from his face as if it would burst at any moment. The red mottled his features, mouth opening in a soundless hiss.

With a roll, he slipped past Alex, launching from a handspring to catch a sword from the wall, pointing the deadly blade in their direction.

"Okay," Alex said, almost unheard under her breath. "Hard."

Dylan found herself helpless as the Thin Man, Anthony, soon tangled with the Angels, blade swishing through the air, glinting as the sun caught the metal. Natalie and Alex fought seamlessly, but not without effort.

"Dylan!"

Natalie's cry broke her, and without another word Dylan hiccuped, nodding helplessly before running to the wall, grabbing one cane, stripping the wood and moving toward the melee.

He screeched, whipping the blade to meet hers with a resounding crack.

She kept the posture, breathing now, panting as the blades crossed.

He froze. Confusion mottled his features, clouding his face until it resembled something human. Blue eyes gazed into hers, and the blade wavered.

"HIYA!"

Alex broke the moment with a sidekick aimed directly into his ribs.

The blade fell away, suddenly swinging in Alex's direction. The Angel barely managed to avoid the swish, falling back, only to be caught by Natalie, who pushed her back up, until the three women were side-by-side.

"He's going for the kill," Natalie whispered breathlessly.

"Because we made him," Dylan ground, hand clutching his blade. "We never gave him a choice."

Another screech, another lunge, and without thinking, Dylan's hand caught Alex's, pulling her in her momentum. Bending over, she felt the weight of the other girl sliding over her back.

With a jolt up, she once again deflected the blade, striking up with hers, a short powerful jolt that he returned just as quickly.

He continued to charge, and sweating now, Dylan struggled to keep up, sweeping under just as his blade licked her heel, flipping over it to return to her friends' side.

"NOW!" Natalie ground, and Alex and she launched forward, reaching for the plush white sheet she had slept on only a day before, rushing with it just as he thrust.

The sword tangled, tore, and suddenly he lost the grip.

Dylan's throat was dry, breathing was next to impossible, and with a soundless heave she watched the blade circle in the air, into Alex's waiting hands.

The cool, passive face displayed by her friend was mimicked only by the cold glint that appeared in Anthony's.

Natalie's kick he blocked, but the sword that Alex now possessed nicked him.

The cut slowly began to seep on his palm, but he paid no attention to it.

The handcuffs on Natalie's hips were forgotten, and Alex's swishes, and lunges were anything but passive.

One way or another - this was going to end with Anthony dead.

He would never let them take him any other way - and he was fighting to kill.

Dylan's desperation resulted in a clamor for chaos that began to pound in her ears. Her blood was rushing so furiously, she felt near a heart attack. The truth, the absolution to the instinct that had haunted her, was so close...

In her pocket, was the proof that only she would take as such. Natalie wouldn't see it, Alex wouldn't see it... but it was clear to her.

He knew. Anthony knew.

Logic had fallen to the wayside. Dylan had to let it go. With logic, with feeling, she never would have done what possessed her now.

--

Alex's arm was beginning to ache. Already, the Thin Man's blood had spilled over her fingers, but she kept moving.

Natalie's lithe, powerful form kept up, and between them, they were getting closer.

He kicked at the sword, deflecting the blade, before another swivel and a jump kick catch Natalie on the thigh, forcing her to her knees.

Where was Dylan?!

"DYLAN!" she snapped. And then she found her moment, the Thin Man distracted, a window just above his waist, and under his ribs.

Without hesitation, she snapped the blade forward.

It caught another blade with a clang.

Breathless, Alex froze, body stiff with shock as Dylan, now standing in front of the Thin Man, swiveled the blade away, dropping her sword from her hand, dropping into an easy stance.

Natalie, rising from her crouch, held wide eyes. "Dylan-"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, eyes a dark jade.

The Thin Man himself was unsure what to make of it. His eyes darted from the blade to Dylan, from Dylan to Alex.

And Alex could think of nothing, could focus on nothing but the blade, Dylan's hand, Dylan's form. In a second, she knew.

"Dylan," she said, aching now. "Please, don't-"

"I have to," she said, hard, broken. "I'm sorry."

"Dylan," Natalie began. Clearly, she still did not understand, couldn't make this make sense.

"I love you guys," she said. The Thin Man stood, prim, proper, a feral Dr. Jekyll with the Hyde just spilling over. "And I'm going to get what you need. I need him to do it."

"What does he have that we don't?" Natalie pleaded.

The blade wavered, and Dylan, as if her time were running out, only gave a sad smile. "Proof."

The windows splintered, fragments spilled, and Alex was forced to cover her face to keep the shards from splintering into it.

Natalie cried out for Dylan, and Alex, battling a throat-sized lump that made it impossible to breathe, surged toward the broken window.

She could have jumped after her, caught Dylan and the Thin Man before they made it past the block, talked sense into Dylan-

But there was nothing but darkness, and that dark stench of betrayal left in Dylan's wake.

End chapter