The woman by the name of Sabrina Lynn Barkley was more like a caged beast than the lady she was supposed to be. She restlessly paced back and forth the whole perimeter of the room, her shoes creaking as she carelessly crushed shreds of broken glass covering the floor. She screamed out in anger and frustration, it was not supposed to happen like that, it just wasn't meant to be that way, it wasn't what she had planned.

Her eyes scanned what once had been the bedroom she shared with Nick Barkley. In her growing frustration for the way things had gone, Sabrina had unleashed her wrath against anything at hand.

In the undefined time she had spent in self-imprisonment, Nick had repeatedly tried to break through her defenses. He had yelled, threatened, implored to let him in. At her obstinate muteness, he had announced a divorce. She hadn't heard from him since.

Like a castaway, she contemplated the debris of her broken marriage. Her gaze laid on what once had been their bed, where just a few days ago she and Nick had consumed their torrid passion. The pillows had been ripped like paper with a knife, the stuffing pulled out and scattered around in a fluffy mess, the linen sheets ripped to rags and amassed in a shapeless heap on the floor, Her vanity's drawers were all open, the mirror broken. She pointlessly glowered at her own half mirrored face in disapproval.

I'm hungry.

She had willingly trapped herself in that room two or three days ago, she wasn't sure. At a certain point, things got confused. After all, she had barely slept and eaten nothing all this time. In order to survive, she had drunk from the wash pitcher and used the basin to empty her bladder.

I'm hungry!

Sabrina's eyes lit up at a sudden idea. She rushed to the writing desk, cluttered with Nick's papers and the leather desk set Jarrod had given him for his birthday, rapidly got rid of them with the back of her hand, unceremoniously knocking everything on the floor, the inkwell spilling the black liquid on the Persian carpet.

She opened the desk top and inside found what she was she was looking for, the Richard Cadbury heart-shaped box of chocolates her husband had given her for their first Valentine's Day, one of his many ridiculous attempts to conquer her heart. She had put them there and completely forgotten about it.

Sabrina feverishly opened the box and there they were, more enticing than Silas' fried chicken, more precious than the pearl necklace received for the same occasion, the one she had mercilessly destroyed a few hours before. She brought a handful of chocolate to her mouth and stuffed it with sweet, creamy perfection.

Divine.

She barely chewed, greedily gobbling down every chocolate down to the last. Once she was completely full, she sighed in satisfaction. She turned her head and once again watched her image in what was left of her vanity mirror, laughed at the chocolate mustache on her upper lip, wiped it away with her sleeve. She went to the vanity to take a closer look.

She was a mess.

Don't you see what you're reduced to? This is Nick's fault. He took everything away from you.

I still have my dignity, my pride.

Eating chocolate and making fun of yourself?

I still have Jack.

Jack is dead.

SHUT UP!

He's dead because Nick Barkley killed him. You know what you have to do.

Yes, I know.

She abruptly went to the wardrobe and retrieved the small pine trunk that belonged to her father, the only thing from her past life she had taken with her when she had become Mrs. Nick Barkley. Inside, there were the few mementos her beloved parent had left her. She was just eleven when he had died, leaving a void in her heart only Jack had been able to fill. She took the fortune bells he had brought back from India, contemplated them for a little while, then put them on the floor and rapidly emptied the trunk. She opened the false bottom to reveal a hidden compartment, where two bundles laid. They were still there where she had put them, enveloped in linen sheets. As she slowly undid the first one, something very dear to her heart appeared, Jack's Colt revolver. Its intrinsic beauty shone in her hands as she caressed the handle, tracing with her fingerprints the nacre inlay.

"Hello darling," Sabrina greeted in a husky voice. She reverently put it down to undo the smaller package, her own small Derringer. Because of its small size, it was only accurate at close range. She had loved that closeness with her victims.

It seemed like yesterday, the last time she had used it to shoot dead that Sawyer marshal. She didn't know him or care about him one bit. He wasn't even whom they had come for. Yet shooting him, her bullet penetrating his flash, his blood flowing through the wound she had provoked, had created a sort of bond between them. In that moment, when she had deathly violated his body, they had been intimate. He was still breathing when they had left, slowly dying from exsanguination.

She didn't even know most of the people she had killed. Nonetheless, the very moment the light started to leave their dying eyes, she had always experimented a feeling of closeness, almost sensual.

Imagine how it would be, taking Nick's life. Being alone with him, held in his strong arms, look him in those intense, beguiling hazel eyes and pulling the trigger.

Sabrina licked her upper lip in anticipation. It was Nick Barkley's turn to taste the bite of her bullet.

She laid down the Derringer and took back Jack's Colt. That was undoubtedly the best choice. This time she was alone and she didn't know how far she would be from her target. Besides, using Jack's gun to kill the man who had killed him, made her revenge perfection.

There will be no return, you know that.

I know. My life without Jack has no reason to be. I have nothing left to lose. I want Nick Barkley dead, and I want to be the one who snatches him from life, no matter if I die in the process.


A very concerned Jarrod rushed inside, dropped his luggage and went to embrace his mother.

"Jarrod! Oh, Jarrod, thank goodness you're here!" Victoria greeted her eldest son, tiptoeing to get to kiss him on his cheek, as he enveloped her in his arms.

"I missed you very much, Lovely Lady," he said warmly.

"Oh, darling, I missed you too," Victoria said, as her heart melted at Jarrod's gallantry. "Where is Emilie?" She asked, gazing past his shoulders to see if she was coming.

"Emilie excuses herself, but the doctor said she'd better not travel in her condition. She has had some contractions that had him worried," Jarrod explained.

"Oh, Jarrod you shouldn't have left her!" Victoria complained, lines of concern immediately forming between her brows.

"There was no way I could convince her, Mother. She can be more stubborn than brother Nick, at times. Don't worry, she's in good hands." Jarrod said as his keen eyes took in his mother's distress at a glance. She had a helpless look about her, something he could not define. "Tell me, what is it? Is it Audra?" he asked worriedly.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. Won't you come to the study, Nick and Audra are there and we need to talk."

Audra rose from the settee and went to kiss him. Something had changed in his little sister since the last time he had seen her. She had a different light in her eyes and, beyond the apparent concern about whatever was going on, a joy sprung from inside her to the outside, like an aura of light that surrounded her. Jarrod couldn't help a feeling of loss. His little sister had unmistakably grown into a woman.

Jarrod's eyes laid on Nick. His younger brother was pouring himself a drink and didn't turn when Jarrod made his entrance into the room but, by his rigid stance, Jarrod could say something was definitely wrong.

"Will someone tell me what's going on?" he demanded. At this point, he was beyond concerned.

Just then Nick turned, a glass in his hand, a paper in his other hand. Jarrod flinched at the sight of his brother's haggard look, the dark circles under his eyes and his unshaven cheeks.

"Have a look yourself," Nick said curtly, handing the paper to Jarrod.