"Stop right there..." Emily commanded, all the more threatening for the lack of raising her voice. What they lacked in numbers, it appeared they made up for in fire power...

Alex scuttled backwards away from Ian to the other side of the mattress and the safety of being at Emily's side. She wasn't normally one to hide behind her wife, always wanting to stand on her own two feet and in her own power, but in that moment, she was glad for the shelter of Emily's more intimidating presence.

Killian made a sudden move towards them and Emily turned the gun on him, then Ian again, doing her best to weigh who was the more imminent threat. "You stay away from us." The whole time, her other hand remained steadfastly wrapped around Alex's.

Emily knew that, even armed, she wasn't going to be the winner in this fight and it was only a matter of time before they came to the same conclusion. She also knew that she would happily die defending her wife...

The uneasy armistice shattered moments later when Ian threw himself at Emily, attempting to wrest the gun from her. Emily managed to hold her own as she struggled against him, but in the process the pistol slipped out of her grasp and went skittering across the floor.

"Get her!" Moira screamed. "Get the gun!"

Killian's brothers went to their uncle's aid, the three of them together finally able to pin Emily to the wall by her throat. The gun finally spun to a stop at Killian's feet and he picked it up with an expression that seemed to suggest he was punching above his weight and he knew it... Which is perhaps why he made no move to point the weapon at anyone, merely staring down at it as if having a Come to Jesus moment.

Moira quickly grew impatient of waiting for Killian to teach them a lesson. She snatched the gun from his hand and elbowed him out of the way so she could aim it at Alex's head, an unspoken threat to both women.

"Please..." Alex begged for mercy – she didn't need Emily's cop instincts to know that the Doyles didn't have a single reason to keep either of them alive and she wasn't above begging for their lives if that's what it took.

Moira smirked, sauntering over to the burlap sack one of the brothers had dropped on the nearest dresser, pulling a small hatchet from inside. The small blade quite clearly announced that violence was always their plan in coming there that night.

Alex could feel herself blanch at the sight of the weapon. She could only imagine what kind of twisted act of backwoods justice they came here to enact, having come thusly armed...

"Killian..." Moira said, passing her son the hatchet.

She didn't specify what it was she expected him to do, staring expectantly at him until he asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"Make sure she can't pull a gun on us again..." she said darkly. It was clear from her tone that she didn't appreciate that Emily had managed to get one over on them, even outnumbered as they were, and she certainly wasn't about to let it go unpunished.

"No!" Alex cried, seeing as Emily couldn't plead for her life with the hand still around her throat making speech near impossible. She took a step towards her wife, not certain she'd be of much use in any sort of altercation with the two younger men but willing to do whatever it took to save her from further harm, but her momentum was quickly halted by Ian's hand wrapping around her wrist. He tugged sharply on her arm, pulling her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her like a vice, quite effectively restraining her.

In spite of being outnumbered and overpowered, Emily continued to struggle against her jailers until they grew irritated with her refusal to cooperate, earning herself a fist to her stomach. She dropped to her knees, gasping for air and trying not to think that this was it for her, that this was the way she died.

The brothers wrestled her struggling limbs until they could press her palm to the nearby side table, no matter how aggressively she battled their efforts. "Go on, Killian," Moira instructed, shoving him forward with no small amount of impatience. "Go on.

"Killian, don't!" Alex begged. She'd seen the way he hesitated upon receiving the hatchet, she could see that he was having second thoughts about what they were expecting him to do, and though she wasn't optimistic that they'd get away unscathed, maybe she could make him see some kind of sense. "Killian..."

"Killian," Emily said, trying to appeal to his better nature. Even if they'd never truly seen eye to eye, she wanted to believe that there was a kernel of goodness in the young man, some kind of moral compass that, in spite of condoning hitting women and children, drew the line just short of murder. "You don't have to do this..."

"Please, Killian! Please, don't!" Alex continued pleading.

"Do it, boy!" Ian urged, shouting to be heard over the women's pleading.

Heartbeat hammering away in her ears, Alex could swear time stood still in the next moment as she watched Killian swing the hatchet back and bring it down on Emily's hand, neatly severing three of her fingers. Emily fell to the floor, clutching what was left of her hand to her chest, blood spilling down her arm.

Alex managed to break free of Ian's stranglehold on her and vaulted over the bed to Emily's side, kneeling in front of her and cupping her cheeks so she could look in her eyes. "Emily!" she called her name urgently, "Look at me, Em. Look at me." She offered a weak but encouraging smile when Emily met her eyes, even if her gaze was bleary and unfocused. Her face was quickly going pale as shock and blood loss flooded through her. "Good girl, Em. Just keep looking at me, okay? Stay with me."

"She won't be shooting for awhile..." Ian remarked almost conversationally. He grabbed one of the dingy motel towels and tossed it at their feet.

"Maybe you understand my family now..." Moira said as the boys filed out the door, mere foot soldiers marching to their matriarch's orders. And, now content with the carnage left in her wake and quite confident her message had been wholly received, Moira bade them goodbye, "Safe driving you two."