CHAPTER 6

Ryan had called Max from the ambulance and she outright demanded the officer's standing by outside her and Mike's apartment to drive her to the hospital. They resisted at first but she was having none of it and threatened to shoot them if they refused much further.

Max wasn't stupid. She knew the look that passed between the two men communicated something along the lines of, "a crazy pregnant lady with a gun – better do what she says." And she didn't care as long as the latter was done and fast.

Soon after, she arrived at the hospital and found Ryan. "Where is he?" She asked, her brow furrowed worryingly.

"He's in surgery." Her uncle tells her, his hand on her arm in a feeble attempt to reassure her. She avoided looking at his face for fear of finding something that told her Mike was in a bad way and just might not pull through.

No. He will. He must.

Max nods, aware that questions were pointless since she knew just as much as Ryan at this point. Before she collapses from the excursion, she sits down. "What happened?"

Ryan joins her on the bench, taking her hand. "Mark shot him… or Luke did. I'm not sure."

Her brow furrowed further. "What do you mean? I shot Luke. He's dead, Ryan." This was too much confusion for one day.

"I know. It's just Mark has managed to convince himself that his brother never died." He explains, trying to understand it himself, "and it certainly seems like he hasn't." And indeed, it seemed as though, for lack of a simpler explanation, the twins were now one and the same.

Before Max could ask anything more, a nurse approached. "Anyone here for Agent Weston?"

As quickly as her condition allowed, Max jumped from her seat. "Yes! We are. How is he?" She inquired in one breath, blue eyes imploring.

The other woman nods. "He's stable." And as soon as she outs the words, the two Hardies sigh in relief. "The bullet was easy to remove and he's been patched up. But he hasn't woken up yet."

"He will though, right?" Ryan asks.

"Nothing is certain right now. He lost a lot of blood and he flatlined at one point." These words were not so reassuring, "but he's in recovery – He was very lucky." She concludes and leaves.

"He would've been lucky not to be here at all." Max mumbles sullenly.

Ryan sighs heavily and pulls her into a hug. Unlike their past embraces, Max pulled away. "You didn't have to go to the gallery. Neither of you did." She remarked angrily, that unmistakable flare in her eyes. Had they listened to her back at the apartment, Mike would be at home safe right now. Why did the two men in her life find it absolutely necessary to let the red they often see cloud their judgement? It was frustrating and quite frankly, downright stupid!

"Max, I-"

"No!" She refused, "there's no excuse for being an idiot." And with that, she stalked off to find Mike's room.

…

The door slammed shut behind Luke and following the abrupt noise, the shrill cries of infants echoes through the expanse of the mansion. "Damn it!" He cursed.

"You gotta learn to be quiet if you want the babies to do the same." Mark tells him.

Luke rolls his eyes. "Whatever." He climbs the staircase and calls, "Sally!" searching for the woman in question.

A young girl, no older than nineteen, appears with two wailing babies in her arms. "Yes, Mr. Gray?"

"Can't you quieten them down?" He says, a grimace on his face while he shields his ears from the sound.

"They're hungry, sir. I can only feed so many." Sally reasoned, somewhat warily.

"There's only seven!" He remarks, as if he knew something about caring for newborns. Rather, it was Mark who took it upon himself to help their single wet-nurse in handling the rapidly growing brood.

"Don't worry, Sally. We'll get some help." Mark told her, taking one of the babies. "Do what you can in the meantime." And she relaxed, eased by the calmer and kinder tone of the younger twin.

Initially, she had been confused by the manic nature her employer seemed to possess. But being the simple thing that she was, she merely accepted it and hoped only to encounter Mark. Luke seemed far too brash and a little too assertive for her liking.

She smiled and returned to the nursery to tend to the other children.

Left alone with one, Mark sauntered off to the Solarium wherein he and Luke set out their plans.

Luke set the baby down in one of the Moses baskets that were carefully placed by the flower beds. Sally apparently had been using it to allow the infants to absorb some Vitamin D. She had been forbidden to take them outside in case they were seen by the authorities.

"Ugh!" Luke groaned, sneering at the baby before him.

"What's wrong with you?" Mark asked, tucking the baby in.

Luke took his hands from the child and pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. "I just don't see why you keep involving yourself with them while they're so young." He ignites the lighter. "It's not like they're going to remember you changing their diaper." And brings the flame to light the tip.

Mark forcefully rejects the cigarette from his mouth, "Hey! No smoking around the kids." He reprimands. "And besides, I think it's best for us to get accustomed to one another as early as possible. We're going to raise them after all."

It made sense; Luke couldn't deny that, and it had been a mutual decision to groom the babies of their seven victims – the way their mother had done with them. It was only perfect that it also adhered to their ultimate pursuit.

"Fine. Knock yourself out." He says, "but I'm saving my affections for one particular baby." He declares, a sinister though excited tone in his voice.

It was Mark's turn to roll his eyes. "Your obsession with Max Hardy has reached new heights." And Luke wouldn't deny that either. Ever since that moment he caught sight of her and those perfect lips, he couldn't recall another woman having plagued his thoughts the way she had. At first, he hated her for it and of course, that hatred only made it easier to torture her this way. But he'd be damned if he claimed her lips were the only thing he thought perfect about Detective Maxine Hardy.

She was perfect. And that's all he would say on the matter. If he couldn't have her, he'd have the next best thing – her child.

…

Max found Mike's room and for a moment, she was unsure whether she wanted to venture in and force herself to look at him. He would be asleep, limp and drained of colour – attached to lord knows how many machines. It wasn't a sight she thought she could bear; especially in the knowledge that it may be the last way she'd see him.

Please be awake, she prayed, closing her eyes as the door creaked open.

To her surprise and delight, Mike was sitting up and wide awake.

"Hey, baby." He started, his heart lifted to see his wife, but heavy with guilt for being the reason for the concerned frown upon her face.

"Hey," Max breathed, her voice soft as she approached the bed.

She could tell by his apologetic expression what he was about to say when he opened his mouth to speak. "It's okay. I'm just glad you're alive." She cuts him off, there really was no point in crying over spilt milk – no matter how flooded the place was. It's not like he was going to learn anyway.

"What about you? Are you okay?" Mike asks, reaching for her hand.

"We're fine." She tells him, her free hand finds her belly. "He stopped kicking when Ryan called me from the ambulance." Their eyes stare at the bump that was their unborn child. "He started again when he heard your voice." They share a smile, keeping it small in light of the circumstances.

"He knew." Mike marvels.

Max nods. "He did." In the past couple months while she had been able to feel the baby kick, she found that he was most active when his Daddy was around; excited by his presence. Or perhaps it was just simply the infant instinctively picking up on the emotions his mother was feeling when her husband was with her. Either way, they both loved Mike and the thought of losing him was unthinkable.

Lost in her reminiscences, Mike's hand moved to cradle her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw line. Her hand moved to hold his there, staring back at him, letting their eyes do the communicating as per.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. "Can I come in?" Ryan asked by the threshold.

"Sure, man." Mike said.

Ryan enters and stands at the foot of the bed. "Believe me, I don't want to trouble you two with this but… Max?" She looks up at him.

"You're my niece and I love you. I made a promise to your father the night you were born and I'm not going to break it." He announced, "You need to be protected and in a way that we can guarantee your safety."

"Mike and I already discussed this-" she starts, shaking her head.

"Actually, Max. We didn't." Mike adds, "we knew witness protection would be a possibility and you refused to acknowledge that." He continues, wincing slightly as pushed himself up further. "I let you have your way but that was before today."

Ryan's head falls in memory. "They're coming after you, Max."

Well, of course they are, Max thought. The seven murders were the calm before the storm and fortunately for her, they weren't oblivious to it – they had a chance to stop Mark – or Luke - before any more damage was done. Hiding wouldn't solve anything. "I won't go into hiding while more women die in my stead!" she argued.

"I'm sorry, Max. But this is not up for discussion." Both men agree.

Max scoffed, "excuse me? Isn't this my life we're talking about?"

"It's not just your life." Mike pointed out. "They're taking the babies, Max. They plan on raising them to be just like them." He tells her regretfully. "And that includes our baby."

"And I refuse to let them take either of you from me." The firmness in his voice and the strength in his gaze told Max that the time for arguing was over. Not that there was much left to debate upon – once the baby was mentioned, Max's pride was nothing more than a trifling matter.

"Okay." She finally agreed.

Ryan nods, leaving to search for Clarke who would make it happen.

The couples eyes meet again. "I'm coming with you." Mike adds, as if that too was up for consideration.

At this point in the game, nothing was. It was either do or die.