"Down, girl," Tasha teased as she cocked her head, her eyes rested on Michelle who was gripping her side firmly. Blood seeped through her shirt, into her shawl and quickly stained her hands. The excess blood dripped onto the floor beneath her, instantly tarnishing the white tile.

Michelle gritted her teeth to keep herself from crying out. Her gaze shot up to Tasha's once the woman aimed the gun at her head.

"The holster," Tasha began, "I want it. Take it off. Now."

"You've already shot me," Michelle hissed. "Even with me down you think I'm a threat? I'm flattered."

"I said now!" the woman bellowed.

With Michelle's right hand still tending to her wound, her left hand traveled down to her waist in attempts to unhook the black holster. Tasha wasted no time and immediately yanked the blood splattered material from her. A small, silver, handcrafted sharpshooter slipped out in the process and landed on the hard tile. Michelle bit her lip once the holster made contact with her gunshot wound, she grimaced and rested her head against the glass door behind her.

Tasha lied the holster down onto the island bar, her gaze sauntered across the weapons that rested snuggly in their own pockets. Michelle eyed the weapon that sat a few short feet away from her before snapping her eyes back to Tasha's.

"Taser, handgun, pocket knife..." Her gaze bored into Michelle's. "Is that it?"

"I should've done it," Michelle croaked.

"I agree...but we've already been over that."

Michelle slowly removed her palm from her side, she groaned as dark blood spurted from the area, it stained her hand even further after she swiftly recovered the wound. The crimson blood glistened under the moonlight that poured into the kitchen through the side door.

"Stop being such a pussy," Tasha scoffed. "I'm sure you've taken worse hits while in your line of work."

Michelle's ears perked up at her assertion and her eyes narrowed. "And what exactly is my line of work?"

"Can we leave out the part where you feed me bullshit?" Tasha sighed. "Everyone in this room is quite aware of what it is that you do. This," she motioned towards the rotting corpse that rested motionless in the neighboring room, "is what you do. Michelle Russel, you worked for Versa Vice Sensus for about ten years until, suddenly, you up and lost your shit. Now you're being hunted...like a dog."

"You work for the agency too?"

"You catch on fast," Tasha nodded.

"And I suppose you and the cop over there don't have kids?"

She clicked her tongue and grinned, "I barely know the guy. I was assigned to help him keep tabs on you. The two of us and a few others, we were supposed to keep you on a short leash. We still are. And, while we're being honest, as I'm sure you've gathered by now, I'm not pregnant either, but...I guess we're similar in that respect."

Michelle's light brown eyes immediately darkened as they made contact with Tasha's. Her gaze discretely traveled towards the floor at the weapon that rested nearby. She quickly reached for it, her fingers swiftly wrapping snuggly around its silver handle, however, her movements quickly ceased once Tasha rose to her feet and aimed her gun at the center of Michelle's head.

"I've been in this game longer than you, little girl. If I pull this trigger I will not miss do you understand me?" Tasha asserted, her pointer finger straining against the black trigger of her handgun. "Put it down, bitch unless you want me to put some more holes in you." She narrowed her eyes when she noticed Michelle's hesitation, she inched closer to her and spoke through gritted teeth, "You really think you can kill me with that before I pull this trigger? Are you a betting woman? If you're so sure of yourself, then please, by all means...humor me."

As much as Michelle wanted to cut off the woman's oxygen supply and allow her to die a slow, panicky, painful death, she knew that Tasha was right. The chances that she'd be able to shoot her before she herself was killed was a little slim to none. Michelle clenched her and dropped the sharpshooter to the floor, the weapon scrapped against the tile before finally sitting idly.

"Good girl," Tasha whispered. She quickly slammed her foot into Michelle's jaw almost instantly knocking the woman backwards. Michelle's head banged against the glass door so violently that neither women were surprised when it shattered into a million pieces. The cool night air that whistled through the trees came flooding into the home.

Michelle squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to prevent herself from falling unconscious. Once she lifted her eyelids the room spun around her, her head was absolutely pounding, and she was disoriented beyond belief. For a second, she had forgotten about her gunshot wound entirely.

She scooted away from the broken glass beneath her, her hands dripped blood as the shards dug their way into her palms. Michelle's lips formed into a snarl once she finally spoke, "Why didn't you kill me? I mean, I have to admit, this hurts like a bitch, but the bullet only grazed me, this isn't exactly the best way to end my life. And if you've been in the game as long as you claim you have, you'd know that."

Tasha chuckled, "Don't worry, you're gonna die, you can be certain of that, and trust me, I want to, especially after what you did, after what I walked in on...I wanna blow your brains out. But, I won't...I'm not going to kill you, however, someone will. I can promise you that."

Michelle soon let out a laugh of her own, "Maybe you didn't hear the little speech I gave your partner in crime over there, but you and him, you screwed up, and I mean royally screwed up. I'm not dead and neither is my husband and because of that, you've caused quite a mess, put the agency in a tough spot. You think they're just gonna forget all that?"

Tasha hummed quietly, "Mrs. Russel, you're forgetting one thing you had when you gave that little speech of yours. You actually had leverage, a gun. But, not anymore. Pretty soon Mr. Everette will be so happy that I've got you he'll forget all about everything else. I'm the one with the leverage." She sprung forward and roughly forced the barrel of the gun against Michelle's temple. "And you? You're the one that's gonna die. Get up."

Tasha yanked her up by her arm and forced her onto the island bar. She pulled some rope from her purse and wrapped the course material around Michelle's wrist as tightly as the rope would allow. Michelle gritted her teeth when the woman forced her legs together and tied the binds around her ankles just as snugly as she did her wrists.

She then forced the gun to the back of Michelle's head and motioned towards the garage door. "Move. Now."

Michelle shifted uncomfortably, her eyes scattering all over her surroundings, the darkness that encompassed her prevented her from seeing anything. The sharp pain in her side reminded her of the gunshot wound that continued to stain her clothing. But while she was still bleeding, it had definitely slowed down and for that, she was thankful.

The brunette was well aware that she was in the trunk of Tasha's vehicle, she could feel the rhythmic hum of the car as it traveled along the smooth road. She didn't know where they were going, be she was certain that she didn't have much time. It was times like this that she was grateful for her backup weapon.

With her hands bound behind her back, she reached down and lifted her pants leg. She struggled to pull the leather sleeve from the blade of her knife as the handle bored against her ankle. Eventually, she moved her digits in such a way that allowed her to slide the sheath off with grace.

She kept the handle of the knife against her ankle to maintain sturdiness, she then pressed the rough rope up against the sharp blade and began to saw through her bindings. The rope slowly peeled away, her wrists gained some relief before the car jerked after the wheel of the car dipped into a pothole.

Michelle hissed one the knife sliced into her skin, leaving a lengthy opening on the dorsum of her hand. A small trail of blood ran down her wrists and seeped into the beige rope.

As Tasha drove on, Michelle noticed the high level of speed the car was going and she immediately realized that they must've been somewhere a bit more remote, definitely outside of town. She clenched her teeth and pressed on, rubbing the material against the razor-sharp blade. Just when she was cutting through the last piece of rope that bound her wrists, her entire body slammed towards the back of the trunk after the car was forcefully hit.

Tasha glared into the rearview mirror towards the vehicle that was closely riding her bumper. The car violently slammed into hers yet again, the car swerved ferociously and she fought to stay on the road.

"Fuck!" Michelle shrieked as the blade of knife forced its way into the palm of her hand. She bit her lip roughly and yanked herself free of the knife. Blood stained the carpeted trunk. She ignored the searing pain and forced herself to continue cutting through the rope, seconds later, the material dropped softly behind her, allowing her hands to move freely.

She gritted her teeth and tore through her black cargo pants, ripping a piece of clothing from her legs and wrapping it around her wounded hand. The brunette immediately began cutting through the rope that bound her ankles, the car jerked after they were rammed yet again and she nearly sliced through her leg with the sharp knife.

She pressed on, the rope peeled away piece by piece while the blade tore through it, but eventually, as if on cue, she felt the car jolt once more, only this time the vehicle spun completely out of control. Michelle's stomach dropped into the pits of hell once she realized the ground was no longer beneath them.

The drop was lengthy, it felt like an eternity before they landed, but once they did Michelle could instantly hear water splashing around them. She grunted when she crashed into the back of the trunk, the vast body of water that surrounded the vehicle was quickly swallowing it whole.

The brunette shook her head in order to stay conscious, her ears perked up at the sound of the horn of the car that was soon muffled by the water. She knew that Tasha was probably unconscious, if not dead, and while a part of her was grateful, the other part of her was worried about encountering whoever it was that got them in the predicament in the first place.

Her bruised hands cut through the remaining part of the rope. She tried to calm her nerves and prevent herself from panicking as thoughts of the water that surrounded them forcing its way into the trunk crossed her mind. She ran her hands along her surroundings while she bit her lip, she could only hope that there was a way out, the water was quickly rising, the car was sinking, and while she'd never experienced it before, she was almost certain that drowning had to be a pretty bad way to die.

It felt as though someone jumpstarted her heart once her fingers grazed along the small emergency trunk release that hung from the ceiling. Just when she was about to yank it, she heard water splashing nearby, she could still hear the sound of the horn blaring beneath the water, as she feared, the mystery person couldn't have been Tasha and whoever it was was swiftly approaching.

She gripped her knife, took a deep breath and yanked the emergency release, effectively springing the trunk door open. Water instantly seeped in and Michelle hoped out, lunging her knife at the man that floated in front of her. As the saltwater rushed to her body, her wounds reminded her of their presence and the pain that her adrenaline initially rushed away quickly returned.

The man grabbed her bruised wrists firmly and squeezed until Michelle finally let go of the knife.

"Michelle! Michelle!"

The brunette flipped her lengthy hair out of her face, her eyes strained against the water that made them sting. Eventually, her sight cleared and her lips curved up into a relieved smile once Lincoln pulled her close.

They listened to the bubbling water as the car sank completely. The cool water enclosed the couple and the moonlight shined on them while they struggled to stay afloat in each other's arms.

Lincoln brushed the hair from his wife's face before pressing a kiss to her sweat-beaded forehead. "It's me, I'm here."