"I knew you'd darken my doorway again," Avery said evenly, trying to keep herself calm. "Just not so soon."

Her fingers tightened around the haft of her blade, giving it an anticipatory squeeze. She'd half expected him to be adorned in his full Legionary regalia and found herself slightly surprised to find him in civilian attire. A sarcastic laugh fought its way up her throat. Stupid. Of course he would wear something less conspicuous. He wanted to draw the least attention to himself. That way he could slip in, eliminate his mark, and then leave without a trace. A true killer.

Vulpes' face was sallow and impassive as he stared at her, closing the door behind them with a soft click. His slender fingers slipped from the doorknob and he let his arms dangle loosely at his sides, taking a few languid steps forward.

"The Legion will always come to claim what it calls its own," Vulpes replied.

A frown tugged at the corner of her mouth. "This won't go like you're expecting."

"I expect you will be feeling differently by the end of this repartee. Where is your NCR bulldog?" He inquired. He already knew the answer. "Ah, lover's spat?"

"Nothing of the kind," she said through gritted teeth. The hunting knife felt heavy in her palm and she brought it up to rest against her thigh.

"Found out about your extracurricular activities out in Utah?" A twitch pulled his mouth into a sneer. "About your whoring?"

Avery felt a flare of anger blister its away across her face and she had to stop herself from lunging at him. She knew he was trying to goad her, to antagonize and provoke her into being the first to attack. If she got angry, she would stop thinking clearly, and he would have the higher ground. A creature like Vulpes wouldn't make this easy for both of them. He was like a feral dog playing with its prey before snapping its neck between its jaws. It wasn't worth it if he couldn't torture them a little before putting his victims out of their misery.

She thought it best to remain silent.

"Your bulldog is not a very clever one." He took another step closer to the bed, his gaze falling upon the cracked lamp at the foot of the nightstand. "He relies more on his brutes than his brains. A true solider of the NCR. Poorly trained, puerile, hoping their guns would make up for what they lack in intellect. Little do they know a worthy soldier is the right mixture of both."

"You know nothing about Boone," she snapped. "He's a decent man. Something I'm sure no one has ever said about you."

Even though they'd been on unsure ground with one another for a while now, she still felt the need to defend him. As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Responses like that would only prove to him that his attempts to get her riled up were working.

He eyed her with disinterest, a small reproving noise coming from the back of his throat. "Your loyalty is embarrassing. After all, how do you think I was able to find you?"

"Fuck you." She was feeling her temper beginning to wear thin, like a fraying rope snapping piece by piece. "You wouldn't know loyalty if it bit you."

His face was eerily still.

"The speaker on the collar was a farce," Vulpes said easily, retrieving the item from the floor in a graceful swoop. "The locking mechanism was on a timer."

She furrowed her brows. Slowly, the pieces started to click together in Avery's head, and she felt herself begin to internally panic. She kept her face impassive as she stared at the Legionary, unblinking. If Boone thought they were listening in on his conversation, his first move would be to get to her before they did—possibly even stick around to fight. If she were him, she would've tried to lay low and wait it out. Instead, he led them right to her. Boone was a smart man but he had a penchant for jumping to conclusions. His impatience might actually be the death of her this time.

"The NCR and their soldiers are an injudicious lot, but even a man like Craig Boone would have the deductive reasoning abilities to figure out what was going on. Or, at the very least," he sneered, working the collar between his fingers, "what we wanted him to think was going on."

The rope inside her brain finally snapped.

"If you've come to kill me, can you please finish the job so I don't have to listen to you drone on?" Avery ground out.

"Where's the fun in that?" He said simply, clasping his hands behind his back. "Besides… I haven't come to kill you, Courier."

A wave of unease washed over her and she regarded him with growing trepidation. "That's never a good sign. I would ask what you want to do with me, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to know the answer."

That got a small smile out of him and she felt her stomach clench.

"As far as the Legion is concerned, Joshua Graham is dead. Only a select few know the truth." He started, tossing the slave collar onto the bed. "We've tried to implement punishments to prevent word of his survival from spreading. But, alas, even removing the tongues of those who'd chosen to perpetuate such filth has done little to deter it. I'd like to remove the former Legate from the equation. Permanently."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Don't play stupid. It doesn't suit you," he said brusquely.

There was an edge to his voice that made her skin crawl and she pursed her lip into a straight line. Her mind was racing. If she wasn't going to die for her actions in Zion, then she was going to be utilized as an instrument for Joshua's annihilation. It was the only logical conclusion. They were aware of the closeness between herself and the former Legate and they planned to extort it for their own gain. A swell of fear rose in her chest and gripped her heart. Not for herself, or for her unborn child, but for Joshua.

Out in the Mojave, Caesar had the upper hand and Joshua knew that. It was safer to remain in Zion and fight off an assassin or two than be out here. He did what he could to protect his home and his family from Caesar's destruction. The White Legs had been eradicated. Joshua couldn't save New Canaan from them, or from Ulysses, but he sure as hell could save the Dead Horses.

"It's not going to work," she said suddenly. "Your plan. Joshua won't fall for it."

"I think he will." Vulpes replied, gesturing to her with an open hand. "A weak willed individual like himself will follow his heart," he grimaced slightly at the last word. "He's soft. A shadow of his former self. The old Legate would've slit your throat the moment you got too close."

"I won't go with you willingly." She clutched the hunting blade once again, tapping her index finger against the hilt. "I'm sure you knew that though."

"Naturally." He brought his fingers to his throat and let out a low hum. "I can't very well be seen dragging your unconscious body out of here. But I have something that will ensure your cooperation."

A knot began to form at the base of her throat and she swallowed.

"I don't want to ask," she said hoarsely.

In one fluid motion he dipped his hand beneath the lapel of his jacket and withdrew a small square of paper. It was stiff and he waved it a few times, giving it a once over, before proffering it to her. She reached out and took it with a trembling hand. Her heartbeat began to thrum in her ears as she ran her finger along the smooth white edges, wishing to desperately control the shaking of her limbs. After a few beats she turned it over. It was a polaroid.

She felt her blood drain from her face. Boone and Cass. Both were roughed up, covered in black bruises and blind-folded. The stains that speckled the front of Boone's shirt were bright and fresh. She felt like the world had been pulled out from beneath her.

"Bastard," she spat.

"Your redheaded friend sure is a fiery one," Vulpes said with an odd cheeriness. "We caught Boone on his way out of this profligate cesspool."

"They have nothing to do with this."

"Oh, but they will." He said, he voice low and threatening. "Normally, I would relish beating your face in until it was a puddle of broken bone and mottled flesh. That alone would make this entire ordeal worth it. But desperate times, Courier."

"I won't give into your scare tactics, Vulpes." Despite herself, her voice wavered as she spoke and she silently berated herself. She sounded incredibly unconvincing. "This entire thing is futile. You're wasting your time."

Before she had time to react, his hand lashed out and gripped her chin and mouth with his slender fingers. He wrenched her face upwards and she fought back a yelp of surprise. She raised her hunting blade to hack at his stomach but he sidestepped her, knocking the weapon easily from her hand.

"If you don't start being agreeable," he hissed, squeezing. His nails dug into the tender flesh of her cheeks and nose. "I have three very eager frumentarius who want nothing more than show your friends a good time."

A flurry of emotions chased themselves across her face. She was angry, so incredibly angry. She felt it boil beneath her skin and burn a hole in her chest. She glared at him indignantly, trying to hold out for more time. Time to think. There had to be something she could do. Damn it. She groaned as he dug his nails deeper into her skin. Tears began to form at the ridges of her eyes and she blinked, her vision blurry.

"Fine!" She cried out. "Fine… I'll go. I'll go with you. Just… please. Don't hurt them."

Or us. The overwhelming maternal urge to protect was strong and she resented it.

"Good girl," he pushed her face backwards as he released her.

Avery fell against the bed and caught herself, leaning on the balls of her hands. When she didn't move, he grabbed her once more, snagging her by the bicep. He yanked her to her feet and she stumbled forward, struggling to maintain composure. A cold blanket of guilt wrapped itself tightly around her. Nausea rocked her stomach and she swallowed the bile that rose in the back of her throat. She was a coward.

"Move."

He ushered her out of her room, down the stairs, and into the street. The chilly night air nipped at her face and stung fresh marks Vulpes' nails had left embedded. His grip on her bicep tightened as he steered her towards Freeside's west gate.

Avery wasn't devout. Hell, she was probably closer to being a godless heathen. But she looked up at the night sky, speckled with stars, and found herself praying. It was born from desperation and an innate fear of losing control. She'd been through a hell of a lot the last ten months—with too many close calls to count. But this was different. More often than not, she was able to hatch out a plan. Maintain control over the situation. She was light on her feet and performed well under pressure. And yet, as Vulpes dragged her to her fate, she was at a loss. There was no light at the end of the tunnel for her to move towards.

She hoped to God someone up there was listening, because this was one time she may not be able to make it alone.