Hey, everyone! I'm very excited to bring you all another update! There's one or two chapters left of Crossing Paths, I can't believe it! I'll be starting the sequel after I finish CP. I'm eager to continue the story, I hope you all will enjoy it! Thank you to everyone for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing this story - it means the world to me and inspires me to keep on writing. Enjoy xoxo

TW: graphic descriptions of violence/gore and sexual assault

I opened my eyes slowly, finding myself nearly face down on a cold, stone floor. Opening my eyelids had been such an effort, I didn't even attempt to move. My entire body felt as if I had been struck and dragged by a train. My face felt sticky and smelled strongly of iron from the dry blood that had gushed from the gash on my forehead. My left arm was throbbing in such immense pain that the slightest twitch sent painful bolts of electricity all the way through it. I remembered my arm had been trapped under a fallen wooden pillar on the ship; I had no doubt it was broken. I took shallow, labored breaths, trying to focus on the hazy surroundings around me.

I could see several armed militia-dressed men walking around, carrying some serious assault rifles. I could hear Rafe's voice, but he was horribly muffled by the ringing that was still drowning out my ears. He sounded stressed and almost scared by what little bits of tone I could hear in his voice. Pain had kept my attention, but I couldn't help but feel a terrible sense of dread capture my interest.

As my eyes focused I finally saw Rafe's blurry figure become clear. He was talking hurriedly to a man I wish I would never see again. A monster in human form.

Simmons' thin, but menacing figure stood before Rafe, his calloused hands casually slid into his pockets. Simmons' jet black and greying hair was slicked back with heavy amounts of gel, his aged face glanced at Rafe with mild disinterest, as if he was growing bored with whatever Rafe was saying. Simmons' had a belt on that carried several different weapons, just itching to be used for some unspeakable torture. Rafe's head was bleeding as well, and his shirt was torn from fighting Nate, but I didn't see the Drakes anywhere. Simmons looked over his shoulder in my direction, his predatory eyes locking on me. He smiled, revealing a set of dully white teeth.

"Well, well, well, she's finally awake," he practically rejoiced. Simmons sauntered his way over to me, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. Rafe watched him carefully, his eyes fearful.

Simmons crouched down beside me. I wanted to jerk away, but couldn't. He was still grinning, his crowded teeth reminded me of a shark's.

"Time for me to repay a little favor," Simmons announced. He lifted up his leg and brought down his steel toed boot down on my left arm.

I screamed in agony, deafening the sound of my bones crunching and crackling under my skin. Simmons stomped on my arm again, this time grinding his foot like he was snuffing out a cigarette There was no quieting the loud, audible snap that erupted from my arm now. As he lifted his boot off my arm, I could see a piece of bone piercing out of my skin. My arm was now horribly bruised, and misshapen from the elbow down. Blood started to seep around the exposed bone. I was crying now, my entire body trembling. Rafe watched, speechless and horrified – he finally realized how dangerous Simmons was, but it was too late at this point. Simmons crouched down beside me again, but I was too busy mourning my badly fractured arm.

"You disappoint me, Danielle. You failed to keep in contact with me, and decided to side with others to take the treasure for yourself?" Simmons made the 'tsk tsk' sound, circling around my crumpled body. "You were not much help finding Avery's treasure, I thought you were supposed to be an elite treasure hunter! I did most of the work myself!" He was yelling now, his mood dramatically shifting.

Simmons pulled out his gun, a silver Desert Eagle, from its holster on his belt.

"Wait, that's not necessary," Rafe interjected.

Simmons peered over at him, "you wanted the treasure, too."

"Hold on, I'm sure we can work something out," Rafe began, slowly approaching Simmons. "We can make a deal, right? I'm sure you're a reasonable man. Let's talk numbers-"

Simmons snickered, "do you really think I'm going to share this treasure?"

I stared up at the two men, their bodies distorted through my tears. I just wanted all of this to end. Simmons had finally tracked me down, Sam was gone or missing, and Rafe was the only person here to witness me die. A fitting end, I suppose. I had been selfish, I wasn't there enough for my daughter, but at least she could still be protected. Sophie would keep her safe, hell she raised her while I was hiding away, but the last rational (or perhaps irrational) part of me wanted to end all of this senseless violence. This treasure had turned all of us ugly, and I was beyond the point of being tired of seeing it.

"Please stop…" I huffed, my voice still guttural and hard to recognize. I didn't think I was loud enough, my damn ears were still ringing, but I had caught both of their attention. "You have the treasure now, Simmons, there's no need to carry this out…"

Simmons bounded back toward me, and I flinched in anticipation of him striking me, but he didn't. He rubbed his chin in thought, lowering his gun as he did so. I noted how much his tanned skin resembled aged leather and I felt even more repulsed by him. With reflexes like a cat, he ripped out a Fixation Bowie knife from his belt and lowered himself toward me again. He brought the knife over his head and brought it down hard on my left hand. My vision blurred in pain; before I could comprehend what happened, my middle and ring finger were gone. Blood poured from the opened flesh. By instinct I covered my fingers with my right hand, trying to stop the bleeding. Simmons kicked my discarded fingers away from me, looking disgusted as if I had done something wrong.

"You don't speak unless spoken to!" Simmons roared.

He recoiled his leg; his foot and kicked me in the gut. The steel toe of his boot struck my ribs. I gasped for breath, unable to scream. Rafe was now making his way over to him, reaching out his hand. I don't know if he was going to attempt to reason with him, or start a confrontation, but Rafe had made a very fatal judgement. Simmons was way too quick.

Simmons turned and pulled the trigger of his Desert Eagle. The bullet pierced Rafe's abdomen, and blew him backwards. On his back, Rafe wheezed heavily, desperately trying to suck in air. His hands gripped his stomach, but blood had already started to pool out of the wound. Simmons sneered down at Rafe, holstering his gun and shaking his head.

"You're fucking stupid, you know that?"

Simmons walked away from us, and went to speak to one of his heavily armed men. I watched helpless as Rafe lay gasping just a few feet from me. A sudden rush of emotion and guilt washed over me. With my good arm and a lot of effort, I started to drag myself in Rafe's direction. The pain was more agonizing than I can describe, but nothing seemed to matter anymore. I was going to die anyway. I made it to Rafe, looking down at him. His grey eyes stared up fearfully into mine, wider than I had ever seen them before. Blood was trickling out of the corner of his mouth; his hands now became stiff and curled up in shock as if he was having some kind of seizure. With my good hand, I wiped the blood away from his lips.

"I'm so sorry, Rafe…"

"D-D…" He choked.

"I'm so sorry but you deserve to know…" I started to cry again, my tears falling onto his face. "We have a daughter, Rafe, a little girl. She has your eyes…"

Rafe's mouth moved like he was trying to speak, but only gurgling and blood came out. Though there was still fear in his eyes, I could see them start to become distant. I placed my forehead against his, feeling him tremble uncontrollably.

"Vera… she has your eyes, Rafe…" I repeated, keeping my forehead resting on him.

We remained like that until he grew very still. Rafe had become obsessed and crazy over this treasure, hell he even tried to kill me, Sam, Nate, and God knows how many other people, but he was still my husband. I had known him my whole life, and had been married to him for twelve years, had two children with him. I couldn't help but feel some sentiment as he lay dying next to me. He passed away a few moments later, his eyes half-closed like he had fallen asleep. Simmons was standing over the two of us now, looking slightly amused as if he was watching some silly television program.

I glowered up at Simmons, tears streaming down my face, my left arm badly mangled, missing a couple fingers, had a few broken ribs, bleeding, but I was still pissed. I was told at an early age that my defiance would get me into trouble, but there was very little I had left to lose. I didn't want to give this fucking prick any more satisfaction out of seeing me lay pathetically on the ground in this Godforsaken cave somewhere in Libertalia. I gritted my teeth at Simmons, which barely generated any response from him, or his private militia. A lot of people had died by their hands, this wasn't a new sight to them.

"You really have grown some balls since I last saw you," Simmons commented. "You don't seem to stay down when you're whipped anymore. I need to fix that."

"Go fuck yourself," I growled.

Simmons brought the tip of his knife down to the bottom of my chin, using it to lift up my head toward him. I would be lying if I said I wasn't afraid, between my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears, and the continuing ringing from tinnitus, I couldn't hear my inner conscious yelling for me to keep quiet. I still glared at him, even with his knife so close to my throat.

"You should really mind your mouth, little lady," Simmons warned, his tone so low I almost couldn't hear him. "Maybe I should do something to shut it up."

He removed his knife from my chin and stood up straight. I watched him carefully. With one hand, he removed his belt and handed it to one of his men. He started to unzip his pants, and I felt my heart nearly stop.

"Now, you're going to swallow what I give you," Simmons demanded, pointing his knife at me.

"Whatever you put in my mouth, you're going to lose it," I hissed. God how I wished I could stand up and run, but there was no escaping.

Simmons was now next to me and Rafe's body. He gripped the back of my head, and pulled my hair, dragging me away from Rafe. I yelped in pain, trying to struggle out of his grip, but I was far too weak. He stopped, but kept his hand on the back of my head, pushing my face into the crotch of his pants.

"Shut up you little twat," he placed the knife close to my neck again. With his other hand, he reached into the unzipped part of his pants, groping for his penis.

I tried to fight against him, scooting back on my knees even though his hand. This set him off, he drew back and punched me in the eye. I fell on my back, my injured arm slamming onto the stone ground. I howled in anguish. Simmons crawled on top of me, pinning me to the ground. He stabbed my left hand's palm with his knife all the way through. I let out another blood curdling scream, which made me receive another punch in the eye from Simmons. He fully took off his pants, and threw them off to the side. He was completely naked from the waist down, I couldn't bear to look.

One of Simmons' men began to speak up, but Simmons abruptly cut him off.

"Shut the fuck up and turn around and watch the perimeter," Simmons snapped.

The monster turned his attention back toward me. He was pissed that I was still trying to fight back, squirming from beneath him, but I was in such a weakened state that I was no match for his strength. His hands started to unzip my shorts as I tried to kick him off with all my might.

"Stop it, you fuckin' failure," he clipped, clearly annoyed.

He wasn't going to stop until I begged for death, that's how Simmons operates. At this point death seemed more and more like a much better alternative than what was about to happen to me. Until I fell unconscious he wouldn't stop his sick torture. He would grow bored then kill me. Simmons twisted the knife stuck in my hand to get me to stop.

"Hold still, you little bitch!"

Suddenly a shot rang out, and one of Simmons' men fell to the ground. Half of his head had been blown off. His militia glanced around wildly, their weapons raised. Simmons' head shot up, alerted. Another shot rang out, and another one of Simmons' men had been shot in the head. Simmons hopped off me, looking in the direction the gunshot had come from.

"Sniper," one of the militia men yelled, aiming his gun in the same direction.

"Don't just stand there, fuckin' take 'em out," Simmons demanded impatiently.

Instead of another bullet being shot toward the militia, a grenade was launched toward them. The explosion deafened and blinded me. More explosions and shouting followed. I had fainted somewhere in between the chaos, for how long I'm not sure. I eventually woke up to another person standing over me, I thought it was Simmons at first, but as my eyesight adjusted…

"Jesus."

Nadine stood over me, staring down at me in horror. She reached down and pulled the knife out of my hand. I felt myself losing consciousness again as Nadine tended to me.

"Watch…" I muttered as I started to drift away. Maybe death had come to take me at last. Now that Simmons is gone, the irony was almost funny.

"What?"

"Rafe's watch…"

Before I knew it, I was out cold.

I awoke to the sound of steady beeping, and the feeling of something pricking the bend of my right arm. My left arm felt stiff and compressed, and there was something covering my left eye. The ringing in my ears had gone quieter, but was still present. I opened my eyes to a white room with a single window and a door. The window showed the familiar and beautiful landscape of Madagascar. For a moment, I thought I had died and that I was in some weird state of limbo. I looked over to my right side to find an IV in my arm, taped down. A monitor connected to cords that ran into my hospital gown beeped and displayed my vitals on a screen. I squinted in confusion, unsure if this was reality or a dream. My left arm was completely wrapped in a cast going all the way down to my hand. Even with something over my left eye, I couldn't open it. I could feel that it was swollen shut. At my bed side table, something caught my eye. It was a silver Rolex watch that looked to be stained with blood; then I remembered.

Tears prickled my eyes. Nadine had saved me.

I don't know why, but she had attacked Simmons and his men and saved me. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she would return just to save me. Maybe she wanted more of the treasure? That didn't seem right, Nadine had already secured some of Avery's treasure with Shoreline. Whatever the reason, I was beyond grateful.

My mind returned to Rafe and his dead body lying on the cave floor, and to Sam and Nate. Where were they? Did they drown and sink with the ship? Did the explosions from Simmons' men and Avery's traps kill them? Did they escape? The uncertainty was killing me. The thought of Sam being dead left a heavy emptiness in my heart. This made the tears well up even more and before I knew it I started to sob. I cried for a few reasons: for the pain I've endured, Rafe, for Sam, for the raw emotion I felt for Nadine saving me, for shock and relief of finally being free of all debt. Vera was safe now, and for some miraculous reason so was I. As I wept a nurse came in and was instantly at my bedside, alarmed.

"Miss, what is the matter, is the pain medication wearing off?"

Her accent was so thick I almost didn't understand her. I tried to quickly wipe my eyes with my good hand, but it was a fruitless effort.

"No, I'm just in shock and… a bit confused," I replied.

"You arrived with very severe injuries, miss. We could not notify your next of kin because you have no ID on you. Who should we contact?"

I thought about my parents, but I wasn't that close to them. Since my dad forced me to marry Rafe when I was eighteen we had become estranged. Not to mention the two of them let Simmons beat me when I first returned empty handed. There was only one number I had memorized, anyway.

"Sophie De Luca, my cousin. She lives in the Philippines."

The nurse brought me a phone. I dialed slowly with my right hand, trying not to pull against the IV too much. I brought the phone to my ear, listening to it ring on the other end. I prayed that Sophie would pick up; she was the only person that could help me right now.

"Hello," Sophie answered.

"Sophie…" I croaked, my hoarse voice barely able to stay steady. I was still weepy and groggy from all the medication that was being pumped into me.

"Dani? That you?"

I sniffed, taking a shuttering breath, "Sophie I need your help… I'm in a hospital in Madagascar-"

"Jesus, you okay," she interrupted, alarmed.

"Not really… Sophie, Rafe is dead and I'm stranded here…" I held back a sob, squinting my eyes closed, not that it would stop the tears. "I need help, Sophie…"

"Shit," Sophie swore, the concern clear in her voice. "I'll contact the US Embassy and see what they can do, might as well give your folks a call, too. Tell me what hospital you're at."

I glanced around the room, "I'm not sure, I woke up in here. Is… Vera there?"

"Sorry, hon, she's at school."

I sniffed in response. I glanced over at Rafe's Rolex sitting on the bed stand, feeling terribly guilty. Sophie went on about resources she was going to contact to help me, but I was only half-listening. I was thinking about my girl Vera. I hadn't called her since this whole Avery ordeal started. Another pang of guilt ripped through my body. What kind of mother am I? I wish I was healed already so I could go to the Philippines and see her. I missed my daughter so much.

"Sophie, there's one more thing I need help with."

"Anything."

I bit my lip. "Can you help me track down someone named Sam Drake?"