Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I didn't realize it was Friday already and by the time I did a storm knocked out my internet. But better late than never, right?

So, there is a possibility that I won't be able to update for the next two weeks. I'm in the process of packing and moving back up to college a month early so I can begin my job at the local renaissance faire. This means I have one week left at home and am going to be spending a large amount of my time with my family and won't be able to write. And then the week after I'll be moving in and in training and unable to upload. I'm going to do my best to work on the next few chapters during these next two weeks, and by no means am I abandoning this story, I will be back. Real life is just catching up faster then I thought, but in two weeks things should have leveled up and I will for sure be back. So until then, enjoy this chapter!

Thank you to everyone who is reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following this story. It means a whole heck of a lot and I hope that you enjoy this next chapter.

Disclaimer: Neither Now You See Me, its characters, or the song belong to me.

World on Fire

And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
I'd get him to swap our places.
Be running up that road.
Be running up that hill.
Be running up that building.
If I only could, oh.

~Running Up That Hill by Placebo

"Bradley is most likely holding the Horsemen here." Dylan pointed at a center room on the plan of the second floor. "It's in the very center which makes it easier to guard and harder to get to, and the second floor makes it extremely difficult to reach."

"Not necessarily." Jack frowned and traced a path with his finger. "Getting to the room is the easy part. It's not getting spotted and throw in with them that's the tricky bit."

This marked two straight hours they had been arguing over a rescue plan. The majority of the day had been spent with hand-drawn copies of the floor plans on the site itself. They had covered every possible angle, going over and over every square inch of the property, all under Bradley's very nose. It had been their first real confirmation that they were at the right spot, though Jack had nearly given them away when he cursed and hit the ground when Bradley first stepped onto the porch. The man had stayed on the second floor porch for nearly three hours, simply reading whatever book he had brought with him. Needless to say, the man's presence spooked Jack and had him cowering behind a large tree for several long minutes. Dylan, on the other hand, was far from spooked. Rather, Bradley's presence left him with barely concealed anger as he clenched his jaw and continued surveying the area.

Even after the debunker had returned inside, Jack couldn't shake the feeling that the man knew they were there. He mentioned his worry to Dylan, but the older man had brushed his concern off, saying that "If Bradley knows we're here, then he'd have to be magic." The sleight had frowned, something about that pressing his memory, but he couldn't figure out what and so he simply nodded and continued to follow Dylan around the house. The comment bothered him for the rest of the day and no matter what he said to convince himself otherwise, he couldn't lose the feeling that Bradley knew exactly where they were. He was still on edge when the returned to the motel, and checked out blinds every so often, but he never saw anything out of the ordinary.

"That won't be a problem." Dylan cut through Jack's thoughts.

"Fifteen armed guards won't be a problem?" Jack arched an eyebrow.

"Not if they're distracted."

Jack didn't like where this was going.

"Stop being cryptic. What do you have in mind?"

Dylan hesitated.

"I turn myself in."

"No! We've already talked about this, Dylan. Not gonna happen."

"But…"

"No. We'll find another way. One that doesn't involve suicide!"

"If I turn myself in then that gives you the distraction you need to get in to save the others." Dylan said quickly before Jack could cut him off.

The younger man stared, head shaking incredulously. Was Dylan insane? Did he have a death wish? Seriously, the fact that they were even having this conversation—again!—was insane in and of itself!

"I'm not going to let you sacrifice yourself, Dylan. If you turn yourself in you're dead."

"And if we do nothing then the others are as good as dead."

Jack bit his lip, hating the reminder that it was a very real possibility that his friends were already dead. Several tense moments ticked by and the silence weighed on both the men. It was Dylan who broke the silence, his voice low and showing his vulnerability.

"The week is almost up, Jack. We have to do something now, before it's too late. If we strike immediately with this plan, we have the element of surprise and stand the best chance of getting the others out alive."

"And what about you?" Jack practically whispered. "Do you really think the others would be ok with you sacrificing yourself for them?"

"I'm not going to go down without a fight." Dylan tried a half-hearted grin that fell flat. "I'm a lot harder to get rid of then you give me credit for."

Jack took a deep breath, not liking this plan at all. Dylan remained quiet for a moment, watching the younger man carefully, before speaking up.

"We have no choice, Jack."

"There's always a choice." Jack muttered, but he didn't offer anything else.

As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew that this plan might be their only chance to save the other Horsemen. He didn't like it, and there was no way that he was just going to leave Dylan to fend for himself. Silently he formed his own plan, one that involved rescuing the others and going back for Dylan. He kept that to himself, and as they finished their plans, it became very clear that Dylan wasn't planning to make it out.

'Not if I have anything to say about it.' Jack thought. Out loud, he asked, "When do we go?"

"Tomorrow."

Jack's eyes widened.

"Tomorrow?"

"Bradley won't be expecting us. The sooner we strike, the sooner the others will be safe."

Resigned to the inevitable, Jack simply nodded. They spent several hours solidifying the plan before Dylan announced that they should get some sleep. Jack obeyed and laid down, but he didn't fall asleep. He didn't miss how Dylan slipped from the room with his cell phone, probably to call Alma, but neither did he say a word. He slept fitfully, nervous for what the next day would bring. He would have been content for the world to just stop and end right there, but the dawn broke and before the sun was barely in the sky they were on their way to the plantation home. Like the previous days, they pulled the car over two miles from the house, but this time only Jack got out and began to make his way through the woods. He moved quickly, confident in his maneuvering, but practically shaking for what he knew was to happen.

And so he found himself crouched at the very edge of the woods, waiting for the signal. He had already used the ear piece to let Dylan know he was in position and now it was just a matter of waiting for the world to catch on fire. He flipped a card around his fingers nervously, scanning the area and trying not to throw up. His stomach was twisting itself in knots and Jack was tempted to call it off and force Dylan to wait and come up with a better plan when the car roared up the drive, coming to a screeching halt only a few yards from the front steps. The guards were slow to act as Dylan jumped out and slammed the door behind him.

"Here I am, Bradley!" His shout carried through the morning air. "Well? It's your move."

The challenge had the effect they had expected as all the men patrolling the grounds and inside the house rushed toward Dylan with guns drawn. Jack waited several moments for the last man to reach the front of the house before he left the safety of the woods and rushed toward the bushes at the side of the built on building. He moved quickly, using the cover to move around the building toward the porch where, with a reluctant look toward the front where Dylan was being forced to his knees and handcuffed, he bolted across and slipped through the door that had been left open in the rush. He kept low, remembering the floor plans and scanning the rooms with both eyes and ears. From outside he could hear Dylan struggling as he was dragged toward the house, and Jack took the risk and raced up the stairs two at a time.

The second floor had been modified from the original floor plans, but it was similar enough that Jack was able to find his well enough. The floor was deserted, and Jack's mouth was bone dry as he kept toward the wall and quietly made his way to the center of the building. The uneasy feeling remained stronger than ever, but it was too late to turn back now. Just as Dylan had said, there was a room in the very center of the floor with more locks then any inside door he had ever seen. Looking around, Jack reached for his lock pick and got to work. Turning the final deadbolt, Jack took a breath, sent up a quick prayer, and swung open the door.

His eyes widened as he came face to face with the barrel of a gun.