Chapter 78: Going Under

The air was unnaturally still, a suffocating silence that swallowed the world. Three shots. That's all it took to end their lives. Pam stood frozen, watching the officers arrest Eric, her ears still ringing from the gunfire. As Alcide read Eric's rights, her world disintegrated the moment the silver handcuffs snapped around his wrists. He went with the officers willingly, a silent acknowledgment that their lives were irreparably shattered.

Pam had never felt anything so devastatingly raw. The sight of her Maker destroying everything he cherished, for her sake, inflicted a pain that cut deeper than she could even explain. Guilt consumed her as she recalled Sylvie's death— that was fleeting sorrow compared to the bottomless abyss she faced now. Sylvie's death had cast a shadow over Eric, poisoning their bond and forcing her to leave him to heal alone. She didn't want to be a standing reminder of what he had done. But this time, Pam wished she could feel his pain, certain it would kill her. It would be a merciful end compared to living with the guilt festering within her, consuming her heart and mind. This was Pam's fault. Olivia's death was a sacrifice she felt utterly unworthy of.

Upstairs, the club descended into chaos. Fangtasia was overrun by heavily armed police officers, a storm of troopers arresting everyone in sight. The reason didn't matter; they never needed one. Pam watched as Alcide instructed a lieutenant to "spare her," nodding in her direction. How fucking honorable, keeping his word. In truth, this was her real punishment. Instead of being taken with her Maker, she was condemned to stay behind, forgotten, destined to witness the destruction of everything they held dear.

Numbly, she watched Eric be taken prisoner by Alcide Hervaux's filthy and vile hands. The Viking warrior did not resist; there was simply nothing left to fight for. Pam stood amidst the wreckage of her world, watching it burn and crumble piece by piece while she remained untouched, a ghost among the living. The gnawing pain in her chest felt like she had died, too. Eric paused briefly at the door, his eyes dark and soul shattered, but his words were clear, "When no one's looking, get her body. Feed her your blood."

He said it in old Norse, their love language. That was his goodbye.

Pam's heart broke as she grasped the weight of his final command. The pain was unbearable, a haunting reminder that the nightmare was far from over.

One by one, they vacated the ruins of the club, leaving the building empty and ravaged. The silence settled like a heavy shroud over what was once her kingdom. The shock coursed through Pamela's body, leaving her with the bitter, unyielding reality. She knew she had to act. If she stayed, dawn would find her and finish what the night had begun.

Changing into clean clothes from a stripper's locker, she donned black jeans, DC heeled sneakers, a mesh crop top, and a Fangtasia zip-up hoodie. The outfit was hideous, reeking of cheap body mist and cigarettes, but at least it wasn't covered in mud. At the end of the hall, the office was a disaster zone—shreds of crumpled dollar bills, paperwork, scattered bins, torn ledgers and books, and thirty years of clutter strewn everywhere. Their computers, including Olivia's laptop, were gone. On the one working TV screen, she watched as the coroner wheeled a body bag out the side exit. Quietly, she followed.

The world outside felt abhorrent and unnatural, more so than ever. Hating every second of her existence, she had followed the ambulance all the way to the hospital. Hidden between dumpsters, she waited until a janitor walked by, then pulled him into the shadows and tore open his neck. She couldn't remember the last time she had fed like this, in the wild, like an animal. Pocketing the man's access security fob, she stepped out from behind the dumpsters in the loading area of Shreveport's Hospital and entered through the backdoor. The hallways were quiet and deserted. Alone, she walked, trying not to tremble. Eric was gone. Olivia was gone. The club was gone. Everything was gone.

Her sleeves were soaked with blood tears. She couldn't fully grasp her Maker's final command, despite replaying it endlessly, trying to piece together what had gone wrong. There was nothing. Tonight had been inevitable. Eric's last words were all that held her together. To find Olivia and feed her vampire blood could mean only one thing: she had to turn her.

Pam was going to make a childe, a sister. It wasn't the transformation that scared her, but the possibility of failure. Olivia was already dead. You could raise the dying, yes, but not the dead. Pam had watched her die, by Eric's hands, forced to witness him choose and kill the woman he loved to save her. Again. She couldn't fail him now, not after everything he had sacrificed. Pam wasn't just scared—she was fucking terrified.

A sharp knot formed in her throat, the scream she held inside was burning, knowing that if she fell apart now, there was no one left to put her back together. She couldn't face Eric in jail and tell him she had failed his one and only request. Her Maker's final words were all she had left of him, and she'd be damned all over again if she didn't follow through. She was going to find Olivia's body, feed her blood, and turn her. It was the only shred of hope she had. Otherwise, she'd be alone. Utterly, hopelessly, irreversibly alone.

Faith in her Maker's final words was the only thing moving her. She didn't let her mind think of Eric caged in a silver-coated holding cell. Or how the human justice system was going to prosecute him into oblivion. Or how the Authority and the AVL would turn their backs on them. Or how their enemies were just lining up to take one last stab between their ribs. Her Maker was right - power had a cost. It hands you all your dreams, but one day reckoning comes knocking. And when it does, it takes everything.

Alcide sparing her hadn't been merciful at all. This was far worse than death.

After unlocking the back door with the janitor's ID, Pam followed the hospital signage through the maze of the hospital's backend corridors. She encountered a poor security guard, whose neck she immediately snapped. She shoved his body in a supply closet and then found the morgue. The ID worked on this door too. Inside, it smelled heavily of formaldehyde and ethanol, but the room was exactly the same as she remembered. There was a vampire morgue attendant who worked here ten years ago that sold fresh corpse blood.

The place was deserted. The metal tables were empty and the sinks were cleared, which meant her body hadn't been processed yet. Pam wasn't too late. At least her organs would still be in the cavity. Her shred of hope grew by an inch. Opening the mortuary chambers one by one, Pam checked toe tags. With every pair of old wrinkled feet, she pulled out from the freezer, her hope shrunk back down a little. What if she wasn't here? What if the coroner took her to a different part of the hospital? What if somehow they knew she was coming and was about to be ambushed?

Then: pale pink nail polish. Chipped. Small feet - feet that were smaller than Pam's. She pulled the tray a little further, the lump on her throat strangling her. A claw mark on the thigh in a dull purple scar colour. Glitter and red river mud on her hands. Strawberry blond hair adorning her face like a halo. Her lips were blue. The body of the dead woman lying on that tray was smaller than the giant that had fallen in that basement. Olivia took those bullets for her. Eric lost another love for her.

There were three clean holes in her chest. Eric at least had the decency of not shooting her in the heart. No, instead Olivia suffered chest wounds causing to drown in her own blood. The irony was not amusing. It was heartbreaking.

Eric would never forgive Pam for this.

There was only one thing left to do. The bite on her wrist did not sting. Pam dropped her essence between Olivia's blue lips, holding her chin down with her free hand. Despite washing them thoroughly in the club's bathroom, her own hands were still stained red with dirt, with clay under her fingernails. Some sins couldn't be washed away so easily.

When no one's looking, get her body. Feed her your blood. Her hope was no longer fading. It was instead uselessly pooling at the back of Olivia's throat. This was pointless. Dead bodies don't fucking drink. She wasn't the one who pulled the trigger, but Pam couldn't help but feel responsible for Olivia's death. Time and time again, Pam accused Eric of breaking this woman, but in the end, Pam was her undoing. And she knew if she couldn't fix it, she would fail her Maker. Eric may have forgiven her for Sylvie and swallowed the pain, but Olivia was different. He would never forgive Pam for this, and she didn't know if she could live with the guilt. If Olivia didn't rise with her, Pamela knew she wouldn't survive another night. This was it.

Carefully, she scooped the frail body in her arms. Olivia's head bobbed forward as if she was a child curling up against her shoulder. Pam let out a shaky breath. Olivia was cold, limp and dead. Pam was going to put her in the trunk, drive home, dig a hole in the backyard behind the deck and bury her. They'd sleep in the dirt together, be made one together under her favourite rose bush. And then tomorrow, they would rise together, get Eric out and paint this fucking town red. Her entire existence hinged on whether or not she could raise the dead.

As she moved away from the fridge wall, a wave of tingles crawled all over her skin. For a split second, her senses narrowed on the body she was carrying. Dead. Sleeping in soil was bad enough, but hopefully, the earth would warm her up a bit so at least Pamela wouldn't have to sleep next to an ice cube. Walking between the laboratory tables, there was a sound following her that was not the clicking of her heels.Thump thump-

Pam looked down at Olivia, her arm still dangling heavily. Get her body. Feed her your blood. A small blow of air hit her forearm - the dead body let out an exhale.

Thump thump

"No fucking-"

Thump thump

Pamela dropped Olivia's body flat on the floor, and it hit the sterile tiles like a heavy sack of flesh and bones. She must be going fucking crazy-

The body rolled on her stomach about 4 seconds too late to be an effect of gravity. It had moved on its own.

"What the fuck?!" Pam took a step back, both shocked and for some reason, disgusted.

A groan came out of the body, and she could swear it groaned "ow." With her sneaker, she poked Olivia's bare shoulder. The body then rolled back instead, facing her. Olivia's eyes were open and glossy, staring right back at her.

Thump thump.

"You dropped me?" Olivia's voice was hoarse, her jaw moving unnaturally.

Pam's soul almost jumped out of her body. "You're alive?!"

Her lips curled, her face coming alive. "What can I say? I'm hard to kill."

Thump thump.

The noise was her heart beating. Olivia wasn't a vampire. "How the fuck are you alive? I watched you die!"

Olivia moved slowly to her side evidently trying to get up and failing at it. "Help me up and I'll tell you," she extended her hand, asking for help.

The vampire didn't move but instead examined Olivia's chest. Where there were holes before, now sat dark purple scars that matched the claw mark on her thigh. She had somehow healed. How could the dead heal, without being undead? This was wrong-

"Is that what fairy blood does?"

"Yes and no. Help me up?" She shook her hand dangling mid-air.

"Tell me what the fuck is going on!"

Thump thump thump

"Pamela! Help me up!" The definitely not-dead woman yelled back impatiently.

Ignoring every instinct inside herself, Pam yanked Olivia's arm up until she stood. Her skin was lukewarm yet gray. "What are you?" She said behind her fangs.

Pam had gone through too fucking much tonight. She wanted answers and she wanted them right fucking now. Olivia couldn't stand on her own, her legs barely locking into place, so she held onto Pamela's forearms for dear life.

"You know what I am."

The way she said it, with the same stoic and annoying boldness she always had, sent her chills down her spine. Was she only so confidently fearless because she knew she couldn't die all along? No.. It couldn't be. Could it?

Pam took a moment to watch Olivia's legs tremble, trying to take baby steps. Leaving her arms, Olivia grasped the edge of the metal examination table with all the strength she could muster. Every movement her body was able to conjure seemed to come a little easier than the one before. But Olivia remained calm, her heart beat strong. She took slow and controlled deep breaths. Her feet now moved slowly towards the end of the table. It was like watching a phoenix rise - and not for the first time.

"How many times have you died?"

Olivia stopped, raised her head and glared at her through her knotted amber-coloured hair. "Twice too many."

Pamela's lips parted, but she had no words. She couldn't even formulate a follow-up question; she was so unbelievably dumbfounded.

"It's the bond," Olivia continued with a heavy sigh. "Our blood bond is different, it makes me immortal."

"But you aren't a vampire."

"No," Olivia tried to take a bigger step, and her knee almost buckled. She stood at the edge of the table now, her hands tightly grabbing the counter. She had red clay under her nails too, guilty of as many sins as Pamela.

"You're immortal without turning," Pamela repeated. This was absolutely fucking absurd. It's not how it works - there's a trade for a reason! "You get to live forever, go out in the sun and eat fuckin' donuts without turning? That's not fair!"

The gift of immortality came at a great cost. You had to give everything that made you human, the sun, food, your family, your job, your life. And this bitch just got to keep it all?

Olivia glared at her again. Her body started to shiver. "I'm sorry, would you like to take the bullets next time?"

The woman made her way to the edge of the examining station, and her body curled over the industrial steel sink. Olivia dry heaved loudly once, then twice, before her body retched liquid. There was a loud metallic clink that followed. Pamela approached out of curiosity, only to see a shiny disfigured silver bullet sitting at the bottom of the sink. Her body was rejecting the silver ammo lodged inside her.

When no one is looking, get her body. Feed her your blood.

"He knew this would happen. You knew…." Her mind was racing, putting it all together. "You two planned this?!"

And most importantly - no one FUCKING told her?!

She watched Eric pick that gun thinking her whole world would end. Alcide Herveaux had given Eric an option that Nan Flanagan hadn't. When he raised his arm in her direction and shot at Olivia without mercy, Pamela could see the pain and anguish in his eyes. But here she stood. Immortal.

"I wouldn't put it that way," her head was still hanging low near the sink, taking deep breaths with her eyes closed. "It was my idea, but Eric didn't want to do it. In fact, he forbade me."

"That's what you two were fighting about weeks ago?"

Instead of answering, Olivia's torso started undulating again like a cat trying to throw up a hairball. More liquid came up her mouth, another metallic debris hit the sink. Death didn't really become her.

"How could you possibly have orchestrated it all? How did you know Alcide would strike tonight?"

"I didn't," Olivia raised her gaze off the drain of the sink. She had a tear or two running down her cheeks. Pam couldn't say if it was all the vomiting or something else. "I just baited Alcide into hurting Eric. I didn't know when he would strike, or that he'd kill the Magister,"

Right - Jorge Alonso was dead. So much had happened since the werewolf cop interrupted their lives that she had almost forgotten. They were about to be in deep deep DEEP shit for that.

"But I know Alcide, I know how he thinks," she continued. "I knew he would only be happy with one outcome, so I planted the idea you gave me in his head."

"That I gave you?"

"Sylvie."

Guilt plagued her once again. This wasn't the outcome Pamela wanted when she told Olivia about Sylvie, in fact, it was the very opposite. "Well, your plan was fucking stupid. Eric and I had the wolves handled. Didn't he tell you?"

Olivia shook her head. "Whatever it is you two did, I'm sure it wouldn't have worked."

"Oh, fuck you-"

"You and Eric forget that Alcide Hervaux isn't just a werewolf. He lives like a human. He worked for the DEA, he has an extensive career in law enforcement, all of the people working this case are human, his father is one of the biggest businessmen in Florida, and he has friends in high places just like you and Eric do. He isn't just a wolf, Pam, he is the law. And you can't simply kill the law."

"Okay, dramatic," she rolled her eyes.

Part of her hated that Olivia was right. Had their plan worked, and Alcide stuck with his loyal dog minions, Eric and Pam could have stopped them in that basement. But Alcide surrounded himself with humans just as much as wolves. He didn't live in isolation with his kind like many werewolf packs or vampires did. Alcide led a perfectly balanced double life. All the work Eric and Pam secretly did to control the wolves had gone to waste. They would eventually win the war, but sure as fuck lost this battle. Maybe Pam didn't hate Olivia for winning, just herself for failing.

"Why did Eric forbid you then?"

"Because there is no way of knowing how immortal I actually am. He was afraid it wouldn't work."

"You orchestrated your own death without knowing if you'd wake up again?" Pam knew Olivia was crazy, but not this level of crazy. Thoughts were spiralling in her head. Olivia had puppet mastered all of this… "To what end?"

Instead of answering, Olivia threw up again - and with it came out the third and final bullet. She sighed loudly with relief and rested her forehead on her forearm. What a fucking insane plan she conjured. But maybe she wasn't crazy. Maybe Olivia was ten times braver than most vampires she knew. Pamela unzipped her Fangtasia hoodie and wrapped Olivia's shivering naked body with it.

The hybrid freak stood up, taking a deep breath and testing out her clear silver-free lungs. The two stood close, bodies equally cold, hearts equally on fire. "To absolutely destroy Alcide's credentials," she smiled. "That's how you end the law."

Pam had walked into that morgue with one plan but was going to walk out with a very different one. Her life wasn't over just yet, just momentarily derailed by this woman's mad genius. She wouldn't turn Olivia into a vampire tonight, but there was one thing they would do: they would paint this fucking town red.

The rush of adrenaline made the air taste sweeter. The end was close, she could taste that too. Olivia rushed to her house where she got quickly dressed. She put on one of the many black skirts and black blouses she owned. They all looked nearly identical for a reason - no camera would be able to date pictures or footage of her by the clothes alone. Finally, weeks of lying in bed awake running his exact scenario had paid off. She could barely believe any of this was real.

She then washed the dark red gunk of her hair - if it was blood or mud, she didn't want to know. Her body still shivered with the coldness from the basement, from dying. She could feel the eerie feeling of darkness creeping up her skin, the void still filled the hollowness of her lungs. With a small soft bristled brush, she scrubbed the red from under her nails with hot water. For whatever reason, that took the longest.

Olivia raced through the streets of Shreveport in her car. Her heart quickened as if it was trying to make up for all the beats it missed. Dying was not a pleasant feeling. It was a numbing blanket that covered you, that made you stop knowing where you ended and the abyss started. And the abyss was still enveloping her, somehow. She drove with the windows down, feeling the warm Louisiana brush her skin.

She was alive. God, she was alive.

She hoped Eric could feel it too.

Doing a quick turn into the small half-empty police station parking lot, Olivia parked the car and waited. She glanced at the shadows of the streets, waiting for Pamela to arrive. Her thoughts raced, calculating and re-calculating the impending actions, running through every scenario, every dialogue, twist and turn that could possibly happen from here on out. All while a burning determination settled in, sharpening the senses and focusing her mind with laser-like precision. She watched the bright white lights emanating from the Shreveport Police Station 03. From the windows, she could see the precinct was full of armed men in uniforms, and she could hear the babble of voices all the way from here. It was the sound of cheers, excited shouts, and triumphant laughter, all blending together in a wave of exuberance that could only happen after the raid of a vampire bar. They thought they won.

Oh, but she was going to end them all.

A dash of black crossed the corner of her eye, and suddenly Pamela stood near her car door. "Is she here?" The vampire asked.

"Not yet."

"Fuckin' Portia," she mumbled.

Olivia finally got out of the car, feeling every part of her body simmering with anticipation, like a storm gathering strength just beyond the horizon. It was her turn to thunder now. Pamela had changed clothes, now wearing a full black bodysuit and high-heeled boots, similar to what she wore before the Magister arrived, as instructed. There was a slight scent of bleach emanating from her.

"Is it all handled?"

Pamela's eyes were also transfixed on the building. Somewhere inside, in a silver-lined cell, was Eric.

"Yes, the whole basement is clear. No trace of blood anywhere."

Then, it arrived. The goddamn thing that started it all: the white Audi that she gave to Portia for helping her steal Eric's house deed. The same act that set this entire trail of falling dominos in motion. This was the final tile. It was a relic from a past not that long ago, but it was so fucking fitting that Portia Bellefleur would drive it here, that she couldn't help but feel a spark of deviant joy. Portia parked just ahead of the entrance steps, as Pamela and Olivia strutted across the paved lot. The lawyer got out of the car dressed in a black dress and matching blazer. Her hair was a bit dishevelled, but that was to be expected - she was woken up to work in the middle of the night by a call from Pamela. Those were never pleasant.

"Let's fucking go," she ordered. Not a hello or awkward questions.

Portia was wired and ready to go. Olivia couldn't help but smile. The trio marched up the stairs, and Pamela walked in first, pushing both front doors open with a burst that almost blew them off the hinges. Her forbidden plan had one final act.

"Let's end these fuckers," Pamela gave them a fangy smile.

No one in the precinct seemed to pay them any attention. The stupor of voices in the open concept section past the reception took over the entire building. The three women approached the two officers sitting behind the clerk desks.

"I want to file a complaint," Portia snapped.

The two men looked at the women dressed sharply in all black with annoyance. "Against who?"

"The Police Chief himself for negligence, systemic harassment of my client, unlawful arrest and failure to notify legal counsel."

"Just-"

"Shut up!" Portia barked at the officers. "If the next words out your mouth are not instructions to get to his office so I can yell at that pathetic waste of tax dollars, the next person I talk to will be the fucking Attorney General."

Pam and Olivia shared a pleased look.

"Ma'am-"

"Mike Trahan's office," Pamela repeated with her fangs out. "Now."

The two officers stood up, hands jumping to the gun on their belts. Olivia's heart trembled at the sight of the vampire-grade weapons. But Portia and Pamela did not back down. The lawyer pulled out her cell phone, started video recording the officers and continued to argue.

"Release my fuckin' Maker, you pieces of shit!" Pam demanded loudly, punching the counter.

All of this was intentionally planned chaos, a distraction. She knew that once the police officers realized what they were trying to do, all they had to do was stall and wait out the vampires until sunlight. It was already 4 am. She had to finish the mission before they could leverage the only move they had. Olivia quietly slipped away from the tumult and zipped down the east corridor, where the interrogation rooms and private offices of the higher-ups were. She remembered the God-awful place all too well. Olivia marched to the corner office at the end of the hallway, passed the unattended reception desk and pushed open the door marked Police Chief Trahan.

Inside, it was exactly what she hoped for. Mike Trahan, accompanied by two suited officers and one tall, broad-shouldered, uniformed and bulletproof vested, Alcide Herveaux. The place reeked of booze and cigarettes, with a half-empty bottle of scotch on the Chief's desk. The noise in the room instantly died once they saw her, but Olivia didn't really care about the Chief, or whoever else big shot was in that room. She looked straight at his face.

Alcide Hervaux.

He stood stiffly, colour draining his face as the quiet seconds went by. He stopped talking, moving, breathing. He had just seen a ghost.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" One of the officers asked. "Who the hell are you?"

Olivia marched across the office, and with all her anger, rage, hurt and might, slapped Alcide across his face. Her palm instantly burned after contact. Time stopped in the room.

"You are a real son of a bitch, you know that?" Her voice was a deadly cold bullet, ripping through the silence.

Alcide shuddered, taking a step back, the reality that his machiavellian plan had been a trap sinking in. His large hand covered the redness on his face.

"How?" He muttered under his breath.

Alcide Hervaux was baited into killing Olivia so he would arrest Eric for her murder. Except she was immortal. Here she stood, fully intact. Olivia made Eric testify to the one thing that could break him, and Alcide would be more tempted to hurt him than play the odds against Olivia in court. This game was never about her. It had always been about Alcide's hatred for what ran in Eric's veins. Now the credibility of this entire police department was blown to pieces. Olivia turned off the security tapes in Fangtasia weeks ago - there was no footage. They had arrested Eric for a murder without a dead body, and said body was breathing and living and pissed off in their very office. No prosecutor or judge on Earth would touch a case this convoluted, with witnesses testifying to the murder of someone who was very alive, especially after this precinct threw a fucking raid parade to celebrate. Whatever fake alibi she would come up with didn't even matter. His career was done. That is how you kill the law.

"Release Eric Northman. Now!" She ordered, not looking away.

"He is under arrest for the murder of a key witness, he ain't going anywhere," one of the officers replied.

Olivia was practically shaking. "Murder of who?"

"That's classified. Again who the fuck are you?"

Mike Trahan, who damn well knew who she was, finally spoke. "Alcide, explain yourself right fucking now!"

She looked at the Chief, whom she had met a few months prior when someone tried to burn down Fangtasia. "What kind of circus are you running here?" She asked bitterly. "Did you know his lawyer is out in your lobby with the attorney general on the phone?"

"Alcide!" Mike Trahan punched the table. "You arrested Northman because he killed his accountant!"

"What the fuck is going on? Who is she?!" The suited officer asked again, equally irritated.

"I am Mister Northman's accountant," Olivia said boldly, and this time, proudly.

Her gaze returned to Alcide's dark brown eyes. His mind, rolling thunder and violent lightning as always. But this… This was her storm. This was her power.

This was Olivia Carson.

And for the first time, he really saw her for who she was. Alcide took a step closer and she could feel the heat emanating from his body. His breath smelled like alcohol, and his body trembled with rage. He raised his hand to his chest, and with a loud snap, ripped his badge off the chain on his neck.

"Congratulations," he grunted.

When Olivia left the chief office after yelling at Mike Trahan and his Lieutenants for allowing such a blatant misuse of police power and resources and threatened to sue the entire department to smithereens, she triumphantly stormed out. Olivia was almost levitating. The precinct was equally as loud as it was before, but the tone of the voices had soured and angered. As she walked by the crowd of agitated officers, her mind was assaulted by the loud thoughts of hatred, fear, disgust and disdain from every officer in that building. They called her awful things, from fang banger, whore,traitor to criminal. But no one walked taller across the room.

The tall dark angelic figure was waiting for her when she returned to the reception area - Portia and Pamela were still barking at the officers like deadly pitbulls. The world went quiet again when she locked eyes with her vampire. The warmth of their bond set her soul on fire, burning away any remains of death that still lingered in her soul.

When Eric kissed her, Olivia never felt so alive.

AN: aaaaayyyy

a nice and loving little twist ❤️ congrats to the readers who figured it out, and thank you to all for not killing me after the last cliff hanger + delay in posting.

SEE U NEXT MONTH MUAH