The Saints

Chapter 7

Chewing her lip nervously in the elevator up, Beth looked between the two men who'd picked her up. One was Russian, the other Italian; it looked like they were still working together. She knew what was going to happen when they got to that hotel room. They were going to kill her. She didn't have any delusions about getting rescued. If Daryl was smart, he'd stay away. She jumped when the bell of the elevator went off and the doors slide open. The Russian pushed her out of the elevator and guided her down the hall to a door. He knocked three times and waited. The door slowly swung open and Beth was pushed inside, two men were standing in the middle of the room, on either side of a chair. She swallowed hard as she was pulled to a stop, just in front of them.

"Good morning, Miss Greene," the Italian spoke. "I'm Cosimo Russo, and this lovely oaf of a man is Karol Ivanov, we've been looking for you." He snapped his fingers and Beth was roughly grabbed and spun around, forced into the chair.

"Hey! What's going on?" she demanded as he arms were roughly pulled behind her and tied to the back of the chair, her ankles tied to the legs. She glared up at Cosimo. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked. She'd been hoping they'd just kill her and leave, but now she was starting to think she'd made a terrible mistake.

Karol laughed as a rag was forced into her mouth and covered with duct tape. "We're going to kill you, don't worry about that," he told her, kneeling in front of her and lighting a cigarette. "But, we're going to wait for your Saints to get here, and then, we're going to kill them." Beth shook her head, tears starting to prick her eyes as she realized what she'd done. Cosimo and Karol laughed at her vain attempts to get away.

"They won't let an innocent die," Cosimo pointed out. "They probably already know you're gone and are already on their way here." He smirked and lit a cigar, taking a drink from his glass. "All we have to do is wait now, once they're dead, we'll kill you." They walked to the couch behind her and sat down, content to wait.

Beth was an idiot. Of course they'd come for her. She'd been stupid to think they wouldn't, and now, because of her they were going to die, the one thing she didn't want to happen. Tears fell from her eyes as she let her head fall forward on her shoulders. Daryl was going to die, and it was all her fault. How was she going to sit here and watch them die? Because of her? She shook her head, trying to get her mind clear. There had to be something she could do. Somehow she could get out. She tried, over and over again, to pull her hands from the ropes holding her arms to the chair, but she got caught. One of the men in the room stomped on her wrists and Beth let out a cry of pain. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping against hope that somehow Connor and Daryl knew they'd be waiting for them, that they'd have a plan. She'd break into a million pieces if Daryl died.

…

Connor pulled the car up to the front of the hotel and parked. Daryl stared up at it and sighed, looking at the room number one more time. "So, what's the plan?" Merle asked.

Daryl and Connor looked at each other. "Dunno," Connor admitted. "We don't usually have one."

Daryl rolled his eyes. That was the truth, they usually just went in, guns blazing, and hoped for the best, but now, now they had to make sure that Beth stayed alive. "Well that's fuckin' perfect," Merle complained. He sighed and rubbed his head. "I'll go in and pull the fire alarm, maybe that'll get a few of those bastards out."

Connor and Daryl nodded. It was their best shot, and their only idea. They climbed from the car, making sure their guns were hidden under their coats as they walked inside. The three of them climbed into the elevator and Connor pushed the button for the top floor. Nerves were twisting Daryl's stomach into a knot as he stared at the floor, trying to calm himself down. If Beth was hurt, or worse, those bastards were going to wish they'd never been born, there would be no merciful death for them. He'd make it slow, painful. If she was dead, he was going to lose it. Connor knew that too. His brother put an arm on his shoulder. "Have a little faith," he told him.

Daryl sighed and nodded his head, looking up when the doors slid open. They slowly walked down the hall, Merle waiting at the other end to pull the alarm. Connor and Daryl took their places on each side of the door. Connor looked down the hall, nodding his head at Merle. Their cousin pulled the switch and alarms sounded. The door opened and one man poked his head out as people ran from their rooms. Daryl knew this was the best they were going to get. He put a bullet into his head and stepped over the dead body, Connor and Merle following him into the room.

They didn't think, they just shot, Daryl tried to ignore Beth in the middle of the room, gagged and tied to a chair, tears streaming down her face. He couldn't think about her, couldn't look at her. Merle swore beside him as he took a bullet to the leg, his knee giving out. He kept shooting, taking out the man that'd shot him. Daryl kept his eyes on the targets. It looked to him like the bosses were hiding behind the couch. God, if they had to shoot at them for ten fuckin' minutes he wasn't going to be happy. "Son of a bitch," Daryl swore, feeling the sharp bite of a bullet digging into his hip. He hissed and kept shooting, his eyes momentarily leaving the fray when he heard Connor swear, getting hit in the leg.

Daryl growled, feeling another bullet hit his shoulder, but they didn't stop shooting. When their guns ran out, they grabbed more and kept shooting. Soon enough, bloody and beaten, only the bosses were left. Connor and Daryl grunted as they walked behind the couch and forced them into the center of the room, in front of Beth while Merle walked around and started to collect guns and money.

The boys pressed the barrels of their guns against the Russian and the Italian's heads. "And shepherds we shall be, for Thee my Lord for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand; our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. We shall flow a river forth unto Thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti."

Daryl put his gun away and walked over their dead bodies and knelt in front of Beth. She was shaking and staring at him, tears flowing from her eyes. "S'alright," he told her, reaching around behind her and cutting her hands free. She pulled the tape off and pulled the rag from her mouth as he cut the ropes around her ankles. He looked up at her and smiled.

"Daryl," she choked out, her hands going to her hip. Daryl's eyes landed on her hands and saw the blood pooling, soaking her clothes and staining her porcelain skin. Fear flooded through him. Beth had been shot.