CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Why Mark?" Rebecca watched as his chest rose and fell. Killing Sheriff Blackwolf had left him drained.

She forced herself to look at Blackwolf or more importantly at his utility belt. If she could get free and at that belt…

Mark looked around, as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. "You don't know what it's like. The darkness, the pain, knowing any moment he'll come for you."

Rebecca shook her head, "I understand more than you realize, Mark. What I want to know is…why did you kill my sister? Why did you kill Ruth?"

Mark stood, the bloody knife dripping on the brown uniform of Blackwolf.

"I didn't kill Ruth. He did."

Rebecca tried to moisten her lips; her mouth was still dry from the chlorophyll he'd used to knock her out. "What?"

"He killed her." Mark twisted the knife back and forth in the small beam of light streaming from the partially opened door. "He comes for me, and I have no choice."

Rebecca watched as a large rat moved behind him. "Who comes for you, Mark?"

Mark cocked his head and stared at her, "Skinner – who do you think?"

Rebecca took a deep breath. Apparently Mark had never been able to let go of his torture at the hands of Lucas Skinner and his mind had adapted by recreating the event over and over.

Mark pivoted, "Do you hear that?"

Rebecca knew it was the rat scurrying behind them. Rats had a keen sense of smell and the blood from Blackwolf would soon bring out more of the furry creatures. She played along with him.

"Yes Mark, I heard it."

There was a wild, animalistic look on his face as he stepped closer to her.

"He's here. He's back."

Rebecca held her breath as Mark raised the knife over her head and cut the ropes binding her hands.

"We'll have to go, or he'll kill you too."

Rebecca paused. Mark was in a far worse psychotic break than she'd thought. She looked at the gun holstered on Blackwolf's belt.

Mark grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door. The smell of rotting leaves and stagnate water was over whelming and she thought she was going to be sick.

She tried to pull away and his grip tightened until she thought her wrist would break, Marks' face was hard and his eyes grew cold.

He pulled her towards his face and she could feel his breath against her cheek.

"Try that again bitch and I'll slice you where you stand."

His voice was deeper, his posture suddenly straighter.

He was Lucas Skinner now.

"I don't think so."

Rebecca almost fainted.

David.

She tried to pull free from Mark's grip, but in one seamless movement, he pushed her forward and with a quick twist pulled her against him, the knife placed at her jugular.

"You don't want to do this Mark." David's Glock remained on Mark. "Let's talk this out. We can help you."

David locked eyes with her and Rebecca understood his silent communication.

"The last time the FBI tried to help me your friend Hotchner almost killed me."

Rebecca held David's eyes, "That's right, Lucas but Hotch isn't here. It's just us. You – me, and David."

David lowered his gun to the ground.

"She's right, Lucas. See," he stepped away from his weapon and held his hands up, "we can talk this out."

Rebecca could feel the change in Mark's breathing. His psychosis was changing again.

He lowered the knife.

In a blur David pushed her aside and in a flash of fists and flurry the two men grappled on the ground.

Rebecca landed near another rat, this one the size of a house cat. She stifled a scream and managed to grab the handle of David's gun.

She turned and aimed at the two men. Panic pumped in her veins.

She couldn't get a clear shot.

Blood splattered from a cut on David's lip.

Mark was waving the knife at anything within striking distance.

In a moment that seemed frozen in time, Rebecca watched as Mark landed on top of David, the knife raised above his head.

Rebecca fired.