CHAPTER 3

"Hey, you okay?" Mike supposed it was a rather stupid question to ask at this point, but if it could get Max to say something, it didn't matter.

Instead of answering however, Max shrugged as she continued to stare blankly out the window of her uncle's car. She couldn't answer; she didn't have one.

Ryan glanced at the couple's reflection in his rear-view mirror, looking miserably helpless. At one point, he was certain Mike's eyes had met his own, hoping the elder man might know a way to help his niece where her husband couldn't.

But there is neither a way to diffuse the situation, nor would there be a chance to breathe freely until Mark is stopped. And much like Ryan had been in regards to Joe Carroll, Mike wasn't interested in detaining the remaining twin – he wanted to find him and kill him. That way it meant it'd be over; truly and at last.

For now, they could only hope it would be soon.

Given the technical set-up, Mike and Max's apartment was the best place to carry out further investigation into Mark's whereabouts. Ryan had joined them after collecting the hardcopies of research and informative files on the Gray's from two years prior. "Just like old times, huh?" He mused, rifling through the boxes.

"Too much like old times," Max remarked, not unreasonably sullen in light of the circumstances.

The minutes bleed into hours and dawn gave way to dusk as they pinpoint the known locations in which all six women were abducted and later found. Finding no correlation, they move onto researching similarities the victims may have with the exception of that which was obvious.

Of course, there was none to be found. Each woman had an entirely different career, lifestyle and even dieting habits. Mike suggested perhaps they shared the same doctor or visited the same practice within the city – maybe that was how Mark found them.

Max checked and unfortunately, though not surprisingly, the theory came to no avail. "This is useless!" She huffed, slamming the laptop shut. "We can't find anything because there's nothing to find." And with her unmatched tech-savvy, that meant something coming from Max.

"We don't know that, Max." Ryan disagreed despite the evidence having proved otherwise. Usually it was Max who portrayed the role of the optimist but, as it was, her positivity was somewhat lacking of late. And it left the two men struggling to match the hope she often seemed to have.

She sighed, rubbing at her eyes. "Then by all means, keep looking." And they would, what else could they do? "But I'm done for tonight."

She left the room and Mike immediately followed, worried – another trait of hers he had slowly been adopting, though discretely in an effort to keep her stress levels as low as possible.

"Max wait…" he began, reaching for her hand.

"I'm tired, Mike. I just want to sleep." He could tell by the slight drifting of her eyelids that it wasn't a lie.

Mike nodded, of course she was. The toils of the day had taken their toll on each of them.

He used his free hand and sought out her own, holding them tight between their bodies. "Ryan's right, you know. There has to be something." They had to believe that there was, because otherwise they only had one thing to go on and it didn't leave much room for having one up on Mark who currently held the trump card. He had likely spent the better part of the past two years planning what he had recently executed – taking the time to find women whom the trio of vigilantes could identify as their beloved Max Hardy. Her pregnancy may have narrowed the list considerably but somehow, by some fluke, the odds had worked in his favour.

Disenchanted by the fruitless search, Max wasn't at all convinced. However, she thought if two of the biggest pessimists she knew believed otherwise, she ought to have faith that they were right. Or at least hope that they could be. "Then find it." She told him, her eyes clouded with fatigue and a fading dare to hope.

She let their foreheads rest together for a moment before she squeezed his hands and pulled away, eager to get into bed and surrender to sleep, if only for a while.

Once the door to their bedroom was shut, Max leaned back against it, holding back the tears that had begun to swell in her eyes. Claiming she hadn't found anything wasn't entirely the truth. In fact, against better judgement, she had stumbled onto the coroner and autopsy reports of the five murdered women.

She hadn't wanted to know what Mark had done to them, but something told her that denying anything had ever happened was shameful and a complete disregard for the women who suffered in her place.

Upon reading the details however, she immediately regretted it and thus had to excuse herself for fear of her husband and uncle witnessing her cry. It was perfectly acceptable to weep, understandable even, but she didn't want to be coddled. Though, as she imagined the sharp edge of a scalpel performing a non-anaesthetised caesarean, she couldn't help but want Mike's arms around her.

Her pride however kept her from him and had her fleeing to her bedroom, using the pillow as a poor substitute for comfort.

…

Mike doesn't hear her muffled sobs as he returns to the office to find Ryan staring at the map on the wall. "How is she?" He asked the younger man.

"Not good." He replied truthfully, letting himself fall into the chair, his head in his hands. "I'm worried, man." He admits, "I'm worried she's right and we won't find anything that'll help us stop Mark from killing again." Ryan turned as Mike continued. "Or worse… come after Max." His heart stung as he spoke the latter words.

Ryan shook his head, ignoring them. "We'll get him, Mike. We always do." It was mostly true.

"Yeah, eventually." Mike replies with buoyancy he doesn't feel. "What if this time it's too late?"

"You can't think like that." He knew Ryan was right. None of them should be acting as though they had already lost; as though Mark has since played a hand that includes the trump card. And with it, its game, set and match to the twin. The winner takes all and the loser folds completely.

"I could always go after him." Mike ignores Ryan's thoughts in favour of his own.

"No," the older man decides simply and without consideration.

Their eyes meet, Mike's somewhat confused. "Why not?"

Ryan sat down opposite him and explains. "Besides the fact that Max would kill me for letting you go? She's your wife and you have a baby on the way." As if he could forget, "It's not just about you anymore, Mike." Of course, it's not. "You have a family. You can't be so reckless." And Ryan remembers a select few having told him the same words years ago. He only hoped Mike would have more sense than him to heed them.

Mike groaned. "I know! Damnit, I know." He cursed, exhaling deeply. Luckily for all their sakes, he certainly knew better. "I just feel like I could be doing more." Though it wasn't like he could be parted from Max either way, especially now.

"She needs you here. So you're staying."

He nods in agreement and adds. "Since when are you so cautious?" Mike wonders, amused by Ryan's sudden and uncharacteristic wisdom.

"Since my niece decided to get with your sorry ass." Their shared laughter was interrupted with a text from Clarke in which a video was attached.

"A nurse discovered this shortly after you left." The agent explains in the message before Ryan presses play.

There's no direct audio, only the frightened hysterics of nurses in the background. The camera records the length of the wall above Grace Newton's - now empty and bloodied - hospital bed. Upon the white of the wall, a few conspicuous words are written threateningly in thick, dripping blood…

"MOTHER'S MILK IS RED TODAY"

No doubt another message Grace was used to send. Only this required her to die in order for them to receive it.

"What is it?" Mike asks Ryan in response to his stricken expression.

Ryan hands Mike the device, waiting for his reaction.

Rage bubbled beneath his seemingly calm exterior when he asked. "He was there?"

"Someone was." That much was obvious.

What the sinister words meant however, they were at a loss. Perhaps they were simply a ploy to taunt them; to scare them. Or rather they meant exactly what they read. At this point, they could mean anything.

They knew just how Luke liked to play games and if Mark is anything like his brother had been, this wasn't going to be straightforward – not by any stretch of the imagination. And both men decide whatever the message was supposed to mean, if anything, they won't share with it Max. It wasn't something she needed to see. They saw no need to bring her further down into the power struggle.

…

"You're an idiot!" The words born of anger bounce off the walls of a seemingly large, hollow room.

A softer, yet equally as aggressive voice retaliated; "Shut up!" The words were followed by a thud, the owner having been pushed to the ground.

"You got cocky and now your list is complete!" The other added. "Tell me, how many women in this city are pregnant and happen to look like Max Hardy?" No answer. "Hmm?" The voice pressed.

Silence replied all that it could. "None! You killed them all!" Though it probably wasn't true given New York City's recent census, there was no time to find others who fit the profile.

"That was the point!" He explained innocently. "What did you want me to do?!"

"I didn't want you to kill them all at once!"

Next, there is an exaggerated sigh. "So, now what?"

"You're gonna have to widen your options."

Finally, the seemingly lesser of the two got to his feet. "You don't mean…"

"What else could I mean?"