I went back and edited some mistakes from previous chapters - Thank you to everyone leaving reviews, following, favoring and reading this silly little story of mine. All of your support means the world to me! Sorry for not updating right away, it's been a very busy week! I hope everyone enjoys! xoxo

Rafe gazed at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. He sat down at the makeshift table with the maps and plans laid out before him. I waited for him to speak, folding my arms awkwardly in front of me.

"Have a seat," he gestured to the chair from across the table. I obeyed, sliding into the rickety wooden chair. He exhaled for a minute, studying me with his droopy, light hazel eyes. "Where do I even begin with you?"

I didn't know how to respond, I remained silent, just shrugging lamely.

"How'd you find out about the treasure? Pirate goods aren't really your thing, I know you enough to know you prefer the treasures and history of Eastern Asia."

"I owe somebody," I stated, simply.

"Owe who?"

I bit my lip, averting my eyes for a moment, knowing already how he was going to react. "Simmons."

Rafe raised his eyebrows in surprise. "As in Louis Simmons? How the hell did you end up owing a crazy bastard like Simmons?"

I sighed, wishing Simmons hadn't been brought up. Whenever I hear his name my anxiety raises enough to make my hands start trembling. I just wanted to focus on helping Sam and Nate enough to get Simmons off my back (literally).

"My father crossed him, so we're all paying for it now," I answered, sourly.

"Oh, well your father wasn't always the best at making deals, no offense." He sat back in his chair, lost in thought for a moment as I waited to hear what Rafe would do. I doubt he would let me stick around the catacombs to work with him. "You know I'm not the only one after Avery's treasure," he finally said after a long pause.

"You mean Nadine?" I replied, flatly.

"No, I mean three old associates of mine. Victor Sullivan, and the two Drake brothers." Rafe leaned in as if to study me closely for a moment, has hands on the table as if he was giving me an interrogation. "You haven't seen any of them poking around here have you? I know some Shoreline troops were having trouble a couple klicks away."

I shook my head, putting on my best poker face. "No, Shoreline is the only thing I've run into out here."

Rafe stood up then, not looking very convinced. "So, you just happened to find your way into these catacombs by yourself?"

"Well, I'm not stupid, thank you," I clipped, feeling slightly insulted (even though I did have help).

Rafe was next to my chair now. He kneeled down slightly so we could be at the same eye level. He was trying to break me, and I wouldn't let him.

"Listen, I know we go way back, even when we were little kids, but those days are over. Whatever we were before changes when business takes over. You understand what I'm getting at here?"

I nodded. "I hoped given our history you'd be more supportive," I muttered, quietly.

He chuckled humorlessly, "not a chance, not after those last few run-ins I've had with your family. Sorry, sweetheart, but that's how it goes. Nothing personal-"

"Just business," I finished for him with a cheerless smile. "So what now? Are you going to get one of those soldiers to execute me? Send me packing?"

"I don't want to shoot you, I'm giving you the opportunity to walk away here."

I stood up out of my chair now, feeling the urge to challenge him just so I could delay more time for Sam and Nate to find what they were looking for. I hoped they made some progress while I was dealing with this mess.

"You would send me home with nothing back to Simmons? You know what that sadistic psychopath is capable of. He'll beat me within an inch of my life, or do something sick like give me a lobotomy or something. Killing is merciful by his standards."

Rafe waved his gloved hand dismissively, "I don't need a sob story, I've owed Simmons in the past, too, and I know plenty of what he's like."

This I didn't know. "What did you do?"

"I paid him off," he reputed with a careless shrug.

"Hmph, figures."

Rafe sighed again, as if this entire meeting was a big annoyance to him. "Because I like you, I'm going to let you go. I'll tell Nadine to call off her Army from shooting you when you leave. Hop back on a plane and head home, no harm no fowl."

"There will be harm, I'll still have to deal with Simmons," I pressed.

"You'll figure it out, you're smart." He gestured toward the door, cuing that I had overstayed my welcome. "Go on, don't be shy."

I pondered if I should feign stubbornness to make my story sound more convincing. I was worried if I left without a fuss he would grow suspicious. I remained immobile, staring at him with sad, but subtle eyes to invoke some reaction out of him.

"Please, I'm trying to do this as civilly as I can." He pressed his hand in between my shoulder blades to lead me out. The pain from the welts on my back immediately flared up. I sucked in for breath through gritted teeth, leaning over to avoid his contact. Rafe shot his hands defensively in the air, "whoa, what happened?"

"Simmons…" I uttered.

For a moment I swore I could see a flash of pity cross Rafe's face, but it was gone too soon for me to conclude that it was real. Rafe is a ruthless person that I don't think has a compassionate bone in his body any more. This was one of the reasons we started drifting apart as we grew up.

"Even though, so you still have to-"

"I know, I know," I snapped, making my way toward the exit again. "Even if it wasn't a pleasant conversation, it was still good to see you again."

Now what? Here I was standing in the middle of a slope in Scotland, listening to dynamite explode in the distance. It snowed lightly on me; flakes collected on my jacket as I waited under a bare tree, wondering if I would receive any word from the Drake brothers. The more time went on, the more I was starting to wonder if I had gotten played. Had Sam and Nate just go along with my plan to distract Rafe as a ruse to get rid of me? I wouldn't be surprised. In frustration I kicked the ground. I had met another dead end.

I walked toward the slope, seeing that it was a steep drop into the icy waters below. Watching the waves crash below had a strange hypnotic feeling, as if it was pulling me toward it. I let my feet inch toward the edge, the tips extending past the cliff. If I were to jump right now I'd be free from this trapped life I was living. All I had to do was jump into the water, close my eyes, and wait for gravity to do the rest as it dragged my body further and further down.

I wouldn't have to work tiresome missions for my family anymore. I wouldn't have to deal with Simmons ever again. I wouldn't ever be used again.

I stumbled back, suddenly feeling very dizzy. I fell on my butt, crawling backward away from the edge. I gasped for breath, my hands reaching for my throat as if it were closing. Tears welled and drained freely from my eyes. I let my dark thoughts consume me for a moment, and it scared me how close I'd come to completely letting it take over. I hugged my knees and starting sobbing like a child, shivering, cold, and alone. I was so shaken up from my own inner battles that I didn't hear the gunfire or the plane engine running right around the corner from where I was sitting.

The plane roared overhead, taking off from the water as bullets struck its frame. I looked up, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. They were hovering up high. I knew they spotted me and were deciding how to pick me up. More gunfire struck the plane; Sullivan dipped the plane and maneuvered a little more inland. Shoreline wasn't letting up. I knew if any of the Shoreline soldiers saw me board the plane then they would tell Rafe that I was lying. I stood up and started running across from the slope, trying to find a way to safely get closer to the water.

I found a slanted area on the cliff, leading right down to the water. I dove down, letting myself slide down. The rocks and gravel was beyond uncomfortable; when it hit my back I felt as if I'd faint from the pain. Sullivan brought the plane down back toward the water as I continued to slide down it. I landed faster than I anticipated, hitting the water like a solid object. The contact knocked the wind out of me. The dizziness came back, along with a floating sort of haziness. I drifted underwater, not even trying to resurface for air. I felt myself sinking, unable to will my limbs out of atrophy. As my vision began to darken, I felt someone's arm wrap around me, across my midsection and pull me up. After that, things went pitch black.

I woke up to the feeling of turbulence, and the sound of a roaring engine. A blanket had been draped over me, though I still felt freezing. I could feel someone's hand on my back (I tried to ignore the pain), as if holding me in place as the plane felt like it was bouncing around. I groaned, opening my eyes and looking up. Sam was there. I rubbed the grogginess out of my swollen eyes.

"Hey, she's finally comin' to," he called ahead of him.

Nate walked by, with a similar blanket hanging from his shoulders. "Here," he said to Sam, passing him a blanket. I watched him walk to the cockpit where Sullivan was steering.

Sam used the blanket to dab at his face, trying to dry off. My throat felt sore and restricted, though I still wanted to talk. He noticed me moving my lips wordlessly and shushed me gently.

"Don't overdo it, let yourself rest." Sam cooed calmly.

"Well, that was a close one huh?" Nate piped up from the cockpit.

"They shot up my goddamned plane, Nate!" Sullivan bit back. "Not to mention you brought her with you. We nearly got shot down going back for her! But your brother insisted!"

"We're fine, thanks," Sam interjected, testily.

"How soon can you get us to Madagascar?" Nate asked Sullivan.

Madagascar? What on Earth did they find under those catacombs. I sat up, feeling my muscles pull and cringe in protest. My back flared up again, but I continued to lift myself up. Sam gripped my shoulders, steadying my swaying figure.

"No treasure, then," Sullivan replied after a long pause.

"Not yet," Nate answered confidently.

So there was nothing under the catacombs? How did they come to the conclusion to go to Madagascar? We're in Scotland!

"I don't know what you're talking about, look," Sam turned around to face the cockpit, taking out some kind of coin from his pocket, "we're rich!"

Sullivan took it from his hands, examining the coin. "Jesus, I guess it's a start. And you think the rest is in Madagascar?"

Nate took the coin. "Well there was a chamber back there with a giant map of Madagascar on the floor, so yeah it's probably there."

Sullivan shook his head. "This is beginning to smell a whole lot like wild goose, kid."

Sam exhaled, sitting up to go to the cockpit. I watched in confusion, my head pounding relentlessly. I gripped my temple, laying gingerly back down for relief. I listened to them debate back and forth about the treasure and how Nate thought Avery was inviting pirates to his treasure. Sam was frustrated; he paced the back of the plane. Nate thinks Avery and a bunch of other pirates hid their treasure together.

That would be one hell of a fortune; no wonder Simmons was so interested in it.

"How's our passenger back there?" Sullivan called. The sound of his voice echoing made my ears ring. I felt terrible, but grateful to be alive.

"I'm okay…" I croaked, my voice low and hoarse.

"I didn't know you knew Rafe so well," Nate added.

"Pardon?"

"We heard you and Rafe talking while we were in the catacombs. You softened him up a bit, but you didn't manage to get Shoreline to slow down too much. Nadine and her army still found us in the chamber."

I frowned, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry-"

Sam shook his head, holding up his hand to stop me. "Don't apologize, hon, you did what you could." His eyes studied me for a moment. "So… what did this Simmons character do to you?"

I felt my body go cold. I swallowed thickly, turning over to stare out the plane window. I didn't want to tell them, sharing something so terrifying and intimate felt as if I was exposing myself to the horror again. I didn't respond, gathering up more of the blanket to get warm. I hated that every time I heard Simmons' name I instantly shut down.

Sam took my silence as an answer, his expression melancholy. "He's a really bad guy, huh?"

Sullivan cleared his throat, "are you talking about Louis Simmons? Goddamn, how did you end up getting mixed up with that sadistic son of a bitch?"

"Long story, it was my father's fault," I clipped, flatly.

We were all silent for a while, listening to the rumbling plane engine. I took out my phone, checking to see if it had been damaged from the fall. Yup, still in working condition, and still holding its waterproof status. I wished this damned thing would break so I wouldn't be connected to Simmons.

Me: Kings Bay in Madagascar is where the next clue is

Father: Is that where the treasure is really hidden?

Me: Not sure until I get there

Sam's calloused hand resting on my shoulder made me jolt. He pulled back apologetically.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

I sighed, "it's all right, I'm just texting my dad."

Sam sat in silence beside for a minute, thinking carefully what he should say. "Are you doing okay? Do you need anything? Like a cup of water, another blanket-"

"No, no, it's okay. I'm fine, thank you." I replied, earnestly. He'd already saved my life (again). "You've done more than enough, really."

Sam smiled, that same, damned charming smile of his. It made my heart flutter and my cheeks glow. I felt stupid, feeling this girlish giddiness toward someone I hadn't known that long. He was older than me, and he was still my competition against finding this treasure. I looked away from him, hugging the blanket closer toward me. I felt myself being lulled back to sleep by the peacefulness of being away from gunfire.

"Get some rest," I heard Sam say before I drifted off to sleep.