ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME TWO
━━ ❛ 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 ❜

chapter no. 059!

❪ 𝚃𝚆⠀   : ⠀ 𝙳𝙴𝙿𝙸𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙳,
𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷, 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙶𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙵.     ⠀𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙻𝚄𝙳𝙴𝚂
𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝙸𝙲 𝚅𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 & 𝚆𝙴𝙰𝙿𝙾𝙽𝚂. ❫

❝ LOVE. ❞
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﹙ MARCH 4TH, 2018 ﹚

     EVERYTHING WAS RINGING— ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING. Cara Valentine couldn't hear a thing except for the sound of thunder roaring in the distance. And it sounded lightyears away.

     All was a hazy blur in shades of grey, red, and black. She could feel her body moving forward, feet trudging slowly. Then, as if time had finally caught up and slammed into her, she stumbled around the SUV and ran to Owen's side. The ringing was fading. Her vision came into focus, and she dropped to her knees.

     "Owen, Owen, Owen," she breathed, grabbing at him desperately. Resting his head in her lap, she pressed her hands to where the shot hit him in the neck. The bullet had gone straight through the skin. "Hey, look at me. Look at me."

     Owen's eyes drooped as he struggled to meet her tearful expression. The corners of his blood-covered lips tugged upward. "Lyn..." he coughed hoarsely, blood bubbling from his mouth and running down his cheeks.

     "Shh shh," Cara shushed him, shaking her head. "Don't talk, don't talk. Just look at me, okay?"

     Uneven, shallow, and slow breaths barely left his lips, and he blinked, unable to speak. He could feel more blood creeping up his throat, and it burned. Time was running out for him, and he knew it. So, using his last shred of strength, Owen reached up and placed his cuffed hands on her cheeks. He was trembling as he wiped away a tear, unintentionally smearing blood on her skin.

     Their eyes locked, and Cara's face instantly twisted in despair. Owen couldn't speak, but she knew what he wanted to say to her at that moment. She knew.

     Words got caught in her throat, and she let out a sob, leaning into his touch. Strands of her hair stuck to her face, and a few pieces got caught in her mouth. "I know... I know," she choked out, shivering in the cold of the rain. Her attempts to stop the bleeding failed, and his grip on her cheek was loosening. "I'm right here, okay? Right here."

     "Love."

     The word was scarcely recognizable as it left him. It was so quiet that she nearly missed it.

     Everything blurred together once more, and her bottom lip quivered. Love.

     The rain descended fast, and she was soaked, covered in water and Owen's blood. It was gradually washing off, but with her hair wrapped around her like the cone of a lampshade, hiding her from sight, the blood covering the right side of her face lingered.

     "Love." Cara echoed quietly, more tears rolling. Thunder boomed overhead as the rain poured harder. Owen's hands fell to the asphalt, and she shook her head. "No... No. Talk to me. P-Please, talk to me," she whimpered, feeling her walls crumble as she watched the life leave his eyes.

     A sea of police officers and the BAU agents rushed out the backdoor, splitting off into groups. Jumbled and panicked voices flooded the parking lot, and people ran to Captain Marvinhill's side. Just like Owen, he'd been shot in the neck and was bleeding out. Someone shouted into their radio, asking dispatch to get an ambulance to their location.

     Unfortunately, it was too late. The Captain was already dead.

     Hotch ordered Luke, Tara, and Rossi to go around the left and Morgan, Matt, Blake, and JJ to the right sides of the building to search for the shooter. Meanwhile, Spencer was desperately searching for Cara. She was nowhere in sight, and the pit in his stomach sank further and further.

     "Come on, Ara. Come on," Spencer muttered, opening the doors of the black SUV that Marvinhill, Officer Bellamy, Cara, and Owen had been in. His heart paused when he saw it was empty. The ex-couple was nowhere in sight. "Shit."

     Pressing his lips together, he rounded the vehicle and walked to the other side. He'd only made it two feet before he stopped. Yes, he'd found Cara and Owen, along with Officer Bellamy, but he didn't think it'd be like this. The scene in front of him was gut-wrenching.

     Cara was sitting on her knees on the ground with her back facing the doctor. Her platinum blonde hair was slumped over her shoulders, and she was hunched over. Two blood-covered hands hung from her upper thigh, barely brushing against the asphalt. Every inch of her frame shook as she administered chest compressions, and Spencer could hear her whispering.

     "Talk to me."

     Spencer detected an aching desperation in her voice as he neared closer.

     "P-Please."

     Once he was standing next to her, he was met with the dead face of Owen Sánchez. Blood was dribbling from the corner of his pale lips and sliding down his cheek and jaw, dripping onto the ground. His eyes were glossed over with a thin, white film, and the breath hitched in Spencer's throat.

     Feet away laid Officer Bellamy— dead.

     "No, no, no, no, no, no," Cara was pleading and pressing down harder with each compression. Pausing, she shifted and tilted Owen's chin, opening his mouth. She pinched his nostrils shut and covered his mouth with hers, blowing air into his lungs for one second. With blurry vision, she retracted and waited to see if his chest rose, but nothing.

     No.

     Hands shaking, she pinched his nostrils and gave a second rescue breath. Her lips were covered in blood, and she wiped it away, waiting for him to physically respond.

     He never did.

     Out of the three places he was shot, his neck was the most significant source of blood loss, and she couldn't stop it. She knew he was long gone, but she couldn't let go. No matter how much she wanted to back away, she couldn't. She couldn't leave him.

     "Owen... Owen."

     He remained unresponsive and unmoved.

     "Come on. Talk to me, please."

     He was gone.

     Spencer's expression morphed into one of empathy and pain, and he lowered himself to the ground. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he frowned when she immediately returned to giving Owen's lifeless body chest compressions. Under her breath, she began to repeat, "No. Talk to me, Owen. I'm right here. T-Talk to me."

     Nothing.

     But she kept going.

     It was unclear how long she sat there with Owen, blood spilling everywhere while she continued administering CPR. Spencer was behind her with tears in his eyes and trying to pull her away, but she wouldn't let him. He didn't want to yank too hard and hurt her. It was still unclear whether she'd been shot or injured. The weather was too rough, and there was too much happening for him to assess her present physical state fairly.

     Soon, the rest of the team arrived, and a few gasped.

     "Is that..." Tara trailed off, glancing at JJ and Blake. Neither responded; their eyes were locked on the scene before them.

     Matt and Luke shared grim expressions.

     Rossi was the first to walk forward, tucking his gun away. "Figlia mia," he called gently. "Let go of his body." Silently motioning for Spencer to back away, Rossi inched closer.

     Hotch was the next to move. "Cara, you need to let go." He could hear her crying with forked words weaving their way between sharp intakes of air.

     "Ara, I've got you. You need to let go." Spencer gulped, watching how she collapsed onto Owen's chest when he released her. "Cara..." A lump rose in his throat when he heard her pleading with Owen to talk to her, even when she knew he couldn't.

     It was heartbreaking.

     Cara blinked several times, trying not to break into a fit of sobs as her chest tightened. The pain she felt was indescribable as she stared at her first love. The side of her cheek was resting against his chest, and she stared up at him. He was her first friend outside of Le. He was her first real anything.

     That final thought made her sit up and start the chest compressions again.

     Spencer's heart broke at the sight, and he ran a hand through his hair. He didn't know what to do.

     "Morgan," Hotch said without looking over his shoulder.

     No other words needed to be exchanged. Morgan knew what was being asked of him, and he holstered his gun, striding over. He was the only one who could do this.

     Without warning, a set of arms wrapped around Cara's waist. "No! Let me go!" Her feet left the ground, and she blindly grasped at the burly arms holding her. Hot tears streamed down her face, and she kicked angrily, desperately trying to break free and run back over to Owen. "No! NO!" Sobs fell from her quivering lips, and she hunched forward.

     "Get her inside," Hotch instructed, eyes downcast as the woman's sobs got louder. He couldn't watch anymore.

     "I just want to hold him, please, let me hold him," Cara sobbed; the backs of her heels kicked into Morgan's legs, and he grunted. Despite how small she was, the blonde sure as hell knew how to put up a fight. "No! LET ME GO!" Morgan felt a lump rise in his throat at the distress in her tone. He could quite literally hear her heart breaking the closer they got to the precinct. "No! Derek, let me go!"

     Morgan swallowed harshly. "I'm so sorry, Pretty Girl."

     His words did nothing to ease her pain. Cara didn't care what he said; she didn't care what anyone said.

     Owen Sánchez was dead.

────

     TONIGHT WAS NOT THE NIGHT FOR SMALL CHIT-CHAT— NOT FOR CARA VALENTINE. The only thing on her mind was the events that took place precisely an hour and two minutes ago, and how Michael Le caught the entire team off guard and killed Owen. But maybe that was the point. Keep them on their toes and their eyes on an illusion instead of the prize.

     Ever since Cara had been dragged into the precinct and forced to use the showers typically utilized by the police officers to wash off all the blood, she'd been deathly silent. Not a single emotion was etched onto her face or reflected in her eyes.

     She was blank.

     Stoic.

     All crying had ceased.

     She didn't talk to anyone before, during, or after the shower. Once dressed, she separated herself from the masses and burrowed away in an empty interrogation room. Someone occupied every other office, room, or hallway, and she needed to be alone.

     Coincidentally, Cara confined herself to the same interrogation room she occupied years ago. It was somehow a full circle moment yet not.

     Once she'd closed the door behind her, she curled into a fetal position at the back right corner of the room. It was a position she knew well from her time in captivity. It was her instinctual attempt at protecting herself and her heart from further damage. From there on, she hadn't moved.

     Feet away, outside the interrogation room, stood Hotch and Rossi. Spencer was changing out of his blood-stained clothes while the rest of the team was with some of the officers and C.S.I. techs outside or giving statements.

     The two observed the woman that no one had yet to approach. With her legs pulled up to her chest, Cara cradled her head in her arms. It was difficult to tell, but if one stared long enough, they'd notice how her body was shaking. The sight broke Hotch and Rossi's hearts.

     It was a deathly silent four minutes before Rossi sighed. "Sánchez, Marvinhill, and Officer Bellamy were a warning. Especially Sánchez."

     Hotch inhaled deeply, hands resting in his pockets. "We both know who did this. Le's panicking," he said, taking in Cara's heartbroken state. It hurt his heart to see her this way. It hurt to see her in any kind of anguish.

     "No. He's getting overconfident. He knows or thinks we're getting close," Morgan said, entering the interrogating wing. Neither Hotch nor Rossi turned his way or addressed his disagreement. "How long has she been like that?"

     Rossi inhaled deeply. "Roughly half an hour. She's in shock."

     In front of the two-way mirror, Morgan took the empty space on Hotch's right. "If Le hadn't effectively and emotionally paralyzed her before, he definitely has now."

     "Yeah. He has," Hotch muttered, crossing his arms.

     "With one of our best leads dead and the other in shock, what do we do?" Morgan asked, glancing at the pair. At this point, he was running dry and out of ideas.

     The Unit Chief met his stare. "Garcia's trying to secure a copy of the security footage from one of the techs."

     Morgan raised an eyebrow. "There's footage from the back of the precinct?"

     "Yup. Audio included," Rossi mentioned, not averting his eyes from Cara. Concern was etched into his facial expression and he was stifling another sigh. Whenever Cara reached an emotional breaking point, he knew the best thing to do was let her work through it.

     It was similar to the aftermath of an intense panic attack or flashback.

     It was always better if Cara was left to fight her way out of whatever she was experiencing. If anyone touched or attempted to talk to her further, a panic attack could ensue. It was best to let her be.

     "Figlia mia..." Rossi whispered remorsefully, pressing his lips together. If he could take away the pain and grief and experience it for her, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

     Morgan swallowed harshly at the Italian man's broken tone and looked at Cara's unchanged figure. He almost felt useless right now. None of them knew what to do. The unexpected shooting had shaken everyone. There weren't any ideas left to entertain and Cara had made it abundantly clear that she was done being asked what she thought while the rest of the team failed to contribute anything meaningful to a conversation.

     Currently, they were at a standstill.

     "I'm hoping that maybe..." Hotch's voice got caught in his throat, and he quickly cleared it. "I'm hoping that maybe the footage will show us something, anything. I hate saying it but we're grasping at straws at this point."

     "And we're playing right into Le's hands. He wants us to have nothing; he wants Cara to feel like she has nothing. The longer this lasts, the more danger she and we are in. If Sánchez, Marvinhill, and Bellamy were taken out that quickly and without warning, anyone could be next," Morgan pointed out.

     Rossi huffed, drawing the attention of the other two. "He's not coming for the team. He's coming for figlia mia."

     Maintaining his stoic nature, Hotch stared at him questioningly. "And Reid. What about Le's jealousy? What did Cara say yesterday about Le using his obsession with her as a facade when his real motivation is his jealousy toward Sánchez and Reid? Le just took out Sánchez."

     "Well, she stated that Le's obsession is still valid and relevant. She just doesn't believe it's one hundred percent genuine and his entire motive. That applies to jealousy. It's valid and relevant, but not his entire motive," Rossi shrugged, briefly making eye contact.

     "Honestly..." Morgan's blunt tone made both men pivot toward him. "Valentine's his motive, point blank period. Nothing else. She's all he wants and that's enough to motivate him."

     Rossi's eyebrows lifted and he puffed out his cheeks. "Try telling that to Reid without him punching a wall or snapping. Kid's going to start it up again if this continues to spiral."

     "All of us might," Hotch muttered, frowning. The longer he kept his emotions bottled up during this case, the more likely he would lose it when he saw Le. Similar to everyone on the team, he, too, had dreamt of getting his hands on Le and putting Le through the pain he unleashed on Cara.

     Neither man beside him replied. They knew it was the truth.

     The BAU team was gradually inching its way to a breaking point. It was different, though, compared to how they felt when Cara was missing.

     Back then, they felt helpless and broken.

     Now, they were helpless, frustrated, and exasperated.

     Morgan swallowed harshly for another time, his gaze on the blonde unwavering. With the solemn silence overtaking the interrogation wing, his thoughts were getting louder. He could still hear Cara's screams and protests.

     "No! Let me go! No! NO! I just want to hold him, please, let me hold him. No! LET ME GO! No! Derek, let me go!"

     It'd be a long time before he'd forget that moment. The sound of Cara's voice breaking and trembling and her desperate tone. She'd been pleading with Morgan to let her hold Owen. That's all she wanted, and she was robbed of it. That's how Morgan saw it, anyway.

     In an attempt to escape his mind, Morgan cleared his throat. "We should check in with Garcia. See if she was able to swindle a copy of the security footage."

     No further words were exchanged among the three. They walked away from the two-way glass, each glimpsing back at Cara a final time. She hadn't moved.

     Outside the wing and in the middle of the precinct's first floor, JJ was exiting the women's restroom and heading to the conference room. Some team members had wrapped up their conversations with the few Vancouver officers who hadn't excused themselves or left work altogether and the emotionally unavailable and resilient C.S.I. techs.

     The reality that the Captain of the Vancouver Police Department and one of its respective officers were murdered on site was slowly sinking in more. News reporters had been outside, hammering on the windows and pleading for just a bit of information on tonight's shooting. However, they were promptly escorted off the premises by some of the police officers who'd come in to help and replace those who left. Additionally, Matt, JJ, Tara, and Morgan assisted in removing the press.

     Now, the parking lot was empty and only filled with squad cars, vans, and police tape sectioning off the back parking lot. Only those authorized to be on the property were present.

     JJ was halfway across the floor when she heard her name.

     "Hey, JJ!" Spencer called, grabbing the woman's attention. He'd finished speaking with the C.S.I. techs and downing his second cup of coffee within the last two hours.

     Spinning on her heel, JJ's gaze eventually fell on the doctor. He was leaving the kitchenette. "Spence, hey," she greeted, running a hand through her hair. "How's Cara?"

     The two met in the middle of the floor near an empty desk.

     "Uh, I don't know actually. I was coming to ask you. I haven't seen her yet. She's in the interrogation wing, right?" Spencer received a nod, and he hesitated to awkwardly add, "You were the one who helped her earlier with... you know..."

     Pressing her lips together, JJ slid her hands into her pants pockets. Even she didn't have to be a genius to know what he was implicitly asking her.

     "She didn't say anything to me, Spence." She frowned at his soft sigh. "She hardly nodded when I asked if I could help her shower, but that's it. I don't believe she was fully here mentally after Morgan brought her inside."

     Spencer mirrored her frown and glanced at his Converse. It made sense why Cara wasn't responsive or engaging with others. She was in shock and dissociating to protect herself from the trauma she experienced.

     "She's going to need you more than ever."

     His response was automatic. "Yeah, I know." His head lifted. This was a no-brainer for him. He never had to think twice about being there for Cara. It was something that came to him naturally. Deep down, he knew this time would be different. "Was... Was she hurt during the shooting?"

     Before the blonde could respond, Morgan approached with Hotch and Rossi following.

     Once he was close enough, the dark-skinned man patted Spencer on the shoulder. All Spencer could muster up was a slight nod of acknowledgment. Then, he continued walking.

     "Meeting in the conference room," Hotch told the pair as he went by.

     JJ managed to give him a nod. "Got it."

     Lastly, Rossi only provided them with brief eye contact. There was no use in faking a smile. He didn't have anything to offer right now.

     "No..." JJ began, watching the trio head to the conference room, "she wasn't. There were bruises on her knees, but I think it's from sitting on the asphalt with Sánchez."

     A breath of relief fell from Spencer's lips. "Okay, good. Well, not good per se, but—"

     JJ chuckled. "I know what you meant. Now, quit talking to me. Go see Cara," she said, pointing over her shoulder to the interrogation wing.

     An unconscious smile appeared on Spencer's face and he nodded. Slowly, he inched away and gave her an awkward wave before speed-walking toward the wing.

     Chuckling again, JJ shook her head. One foot in front of the other, she went to the conference room.

     Familiar voices floated the closer JJ got, and she readied herself for the discussion on tonight's events. When she entered, the first person she locked eyes with was Penelope and the woman was dramatically gesturing for her to shut the doors.

     Okay...

     JJ did as she was told with a confused facial expression. After, she made her way to Penelope's side where Morgan was, too.

     "What's up?" JJ asked, raising an eyebrow.

     Hotch and Rossi were at the front of the room. Matt, Luke, and Tara stood on the left side of the table while JJ, Penelope, Morgan, and Blake were on the right. A TV stand was positioned in the middle of the three evidence boards. The TV was wirelessly connected to Penelope's laptop. Two separate surveillance footage were pulled up, one above the other, with the same date and time stamp— 03/04/18 and 8:59 p.m. The cameras were from different angles.

     JJ pointed at the TV screen. "Is that surveillance footage from the back lot?"

     Both Blake and Hotch nodded.

     "Yeah, Garcia managed to secure a copy from one of the techs," Matt answered.

     This time both of her eyebrows raised, and JJ looked at the analyst. "That was fast," she commented.

     A sweet and innocent smile painted Penelope's lips. "Who can say no to moi?" she remarked, resting a hand on her chest.

     In response, Morgan smirked and rubbed her shoulder.

     Glancing around the room, JJ blinked. "Have you guys already watched it or..."

     Tara shook her head. "We were waiting for you, Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan."

     It was obvious who was missing from the conversation, and the blonde immediately understood that it was intentional. This was the only way the team could dissect what happened without interference.

     "But not for Reid or Cara."

     Luke was the first to shake his head in confirmation.

     "It's better if Cara's not here to see the footage," Hotch said, inhaling sharply. A few members frowned at the comment while others bit their tongues. "Reid can watch it privately if he wants to later."

     "Which he probably won't," Rossi remarked.

     Shrugging, Morgan straightened his posture. "He's gonna be glued to Valentine's side."

     There was a brief pause and Blake took the initiative to steer the conversation. "Now that JJ's here, we can start," she announced.

     Subjectively, Blake was mildly against surveying the surveillance footage. It didn't sit well with her— watching the assassination of two members of the VPD, one of them being the Captain and Owen Sánchez. It didn't sit well with her that they were about to witness Cara's final moments with someone important to her.

     Little did she know, many of her colleagues felt the same way.

     "Right," Hotch said, nodding. "Garcia."

     Blinking, Penelope snapped back to life and remembered what they were doing. "On it!" she quickly replied.

     As the team prepared to watch and dissect the footage, Spencer was on the opposite end of the building. He'd made it to the interrogation wing and was slowly approaching the five rooms.

     At the time Cara was arrested in twenty-thirteen, there were only three. Since then, construction was done and two more interrogation rooms were added. Each was numbered and Spencer had a feeling which one Cara was in. If he was correct, he doubted her choice was intentional.

     It was the second door on the left side of the darkened wing. The label "S19" welcomed him and Spencer didn't know how he felt seeing it again. He never thought he'd re-enter this area of the VPD.

     Realizing how slow he was moving, he picked up his pace. Within three seconds he was at the familiar two-way window.

     The moment his eyes landed on his girlfriend, Spencer let out a shuttering breath.

     He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to handle this. When he lost Maeve, his first girlfriend five years ago, he didn't know what he wanted. He knew he needed space and time to grieve alone, but he and Cara weren't the same. What he needed back then might be the opposite of what she needed now. However, he wouldn't know until he tried and asked.

     Spencer took in her physical state of being— how she was leaning against the wall of the far right corner of the room; how he could see her shaking from the other side of the window; and how she had curled in on herself and shifted into the fetal position. It was saddening.

     The first thought that came to mind was that the fetal position was understandable given the circumstances. It provides better protection to the brain and vital organs than simply lying spread out on the ground or sitting normally, so it's clear why it's an instinctual reaction to extreme stress or trauma when the brain is no longer able to cope with the surrounding environment, and in essence "shuts down" temporarily.

     Shaking his head, Spencer readied himself to be the best he could be for Cara. He readied himself to provide her with whatever support and understanding she needed.

     Whatever she needed— he was going to be right there. He wouldn't leave her and would never dream of it.

     Spencer stepped forward and curled his fingers around the doorknob, hearing a soft click.

     Once he entered the room and shut the door, his feet robotically moved toward her. He didn't have to think twice about it.

     At the sound of footsteps approaching, Cara didn't have to check to know who it was. It was who always checked up on her regardless of the circumstances. Rossi and Hotch did, too, but not in the same way Spencer did.

     Dropping down, Spencer placed one of his legs in front of hers and the other against the wall. He leaned forward and lightly touched her knees to gauge her comfort with physical touch. The last thing he wanted was to upset her further.

     Almost instantaneously, Cara leaned over and allowed Spencer to cradle her body. She didn't untangle herself from the fetal position; however, one hand gripped Spencer's leg in front of her while the other flew up to his arm and curled her fingers around it.

     "I'm so sorry," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

     Nothing but the sound of labored breathing could be heard for a few seconds before Spencer heard her whimper. The hold they had on each other tightened and he blinked back tears, pulling her closer. A sob left her mouth and Cara broke down, body trembling. This was the first time she'd cried since the shooting.

     Allowing his instincts to take control, Spencer began drawing random shapes on her back. In response, she completely collapsed against his chest. He repeated the action, murmuring gentle phrases of comfort to her.

     "Hey, hey. I've got you. I'm not leaving. I'm right here. You're right here. It's okay. You're safe."

     Cara kept her eyes squeezed shut as she began to sob harder. The space in her chest where her heart was physically hurt. It hurt so much, and she didn't know how long she'd be able to withstand it.

     "It hurts," she choked out.

     Spencer pulled her as close as he could until there was no room left. He kissed the top of her head. "I know... I've got you," he found himself whispering again, wincing at the feeling of her cries rattling against his chest.

     Cara was holding onto Spencer as if he was going to be ripped away at any second. What she didn't register was how he was holding onto her just as tight. They were equally as scared to lose the other after tonight.

     Gradually, the sobs became quieter and Cara stopped shaking. Her breathing slowed, but the tears didn't stop flowing. The feeling of Spencer's finger drawing shapes on her back and the sound of his soothing words helped calm her down enough.

     Neither knew how much time had passed or how long they sat there, but they didn't care. Cara was just grateful for the silence surrounding them and that Spencer voluntarily sat there and let her safely break down.

      After a few more minutes, Spencer decided to say something.

     "I know that you're likely blaming yourself for what happened... don't. I know you, Cara. I also know tonight was not your fault," he stressed, silently praying to God that she was hearing him. "It's not your fault."

     Her bottom lip began to tremble, and she shook her head. Every fiber of her being disagreed. She appreciated the effort; truly, she did. Nonetheless, it did nothing to ease the pain.

     An unrelenting feeling of grief and guilt hit her again. All she could focus on was the vigorous despair spreading throughout every inch of her body.

     This was all her fault.

     It was her fault that Owen was dead. She was the one who selfishly brought him to Vancouver. She re-painted the bright red target in the center of his forehead. She was responsible for his death, and nothing she did could change that. Nothing anyone told her could change that.

     Just like her father, it was Cara's fault that someone else she loved died. And that fact was what hurt the most.

     This was on her.

     Cara couldn't fix what'd been done. It was too late. The shot had been taken. Owen had dropped and bled out in her arms. He'd spoken his final word. They'd had their final conversation. It was done.

     "Love," she mouthed into her curled knees. The word wasn't audible; she didn't want a soul to hear her. "Love."

     It never ceased to further break her every time she lost someone she loved so violently.

     Abruptly, an unnerving realization dawned on her and it made her tense. Loved so violently... My violent love.

     The meeting point with Le had been written out for her the whole time. It'd stared her in the face, and she missed it.

     "Cara, you just compromised a crime scene," Hotch stated sharply, walking around the woman and staring down at her with a stern expression. It'd taken convincing on his part for Pillay and Deschenes to stay downstairs. He'd guessed the woman had gone upstairs, and he was correct.

     Morgan followed the Unit Chief, being the first to remark on what the blonde was holding. "Valentine, what is that?"

     Without a word, Cara turned to Act Two, Scene Three, page seven. What she'd come into the house for was right there. Just like she knew it would be.

     Hot tears blurred her vision, and she gripped the inked pages tightly. "My violent love," she whispered, reading over the words rewritten at the top of the page. It was his handwriting. She knew it was; she'd recognize it anywhere. The page he'd written on was still pressed down and sunken around the letters. There was a double line drawn under the word "love." This was done recently.

     Now, she understood what Owen's final word meant. She knew what the word "love" meant, and the double entendre it held between the two of them.

     Owen didn't just say it because he still loved her. He said it because there were three people, now only two, who knew the location of where that word originated. That's why "love" was underlined twice.

     And it was where Le was most likely hiding and waiting.

     A final set of tears landed on her kneecaps, dampening the expanding tear stains. Gradually, her jaw slackened and the grip around her legs loosened. From the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, her muscles slowly relaxed one by one.

     An eerie feeling spread across her chest. Her heart released the twinges of panic, sadness, frustration, pain, remorse, guilt, shame, and grief that it'd been clutching onto with an iron fist. It moved past those emotions and embraced the burning hot essence of anger.

     However, it wasn't the type of anger that made someone's nerves rattle violently against their bones or made every part of them burn to the point where the pain became ignited.

     No.

      It was the type of anger that made someone inhumanly calm.

     Unsettlingly calm because Cara knew what "My violent love," and "love" meant now. She knew.

     Beside her, Spencer felt Cara's body tense and relax within the span of four seconds. It was quick and he nearly missed the shifts in her body language. Part of him was second-guessing himself and thinking the abrupt changes had been all in his head.

     Unbeknownst to him, he needed to catch these changes.

     Spencer kissed the top of her head and squeezed a bit tighter. "It's not your fault," he repeated.

     "Thank you," Cara whispered, finally breaking the silence she'd been keeping.

     The sound of her voice brought a small smile to Spencer's face. "It's true," he said, kissing her head again. "What do you need right now? What can I do to help?"

     The question made her heart swell and the grief and anger took a backseat for the time being. "I don't, I don't know," she admitted, untangling herself from the fetal position.

     The hand gripping Spencer's leg and the hand holding his arm let go. Cara fully leaned the right side of her body into him and snuggled her face into the crook of his neck. Both of their arms were enclosed around the other— hers around his torso; his around her back and in front of her knees with his fingers interlocked. His head rested on top of hers.

     "That's okay. You don't have to know," he reassured her. "Whatever you need from me, I'll do it."

     "Thank you," she said, wholeheartedly meaning it. If she didn't have him and his support, she didn't know if she'd be able to get through this case and come out of the other side sane. That applied to Rossi and Hotch. Her other friends were important and helped as well. It wasn't the same, though.

     Cara wet her lips and let out a soft breath. Now that she calmed down a bit, her thoughts were beginning to wander. Bits of that night and moments with Owen were playing on a loop. Their interactions had been hostile yet filled with unspoken care.

     The ex-couple went through a lot together; they experienced the most crucial and developmental parts of their lives together. Despite the betrayal, hurtful words and actions, and sabotage, and despite what kind of terms they were on— Cara and Owen cared for each other. Hell, to a small extent, there was still trust. They knew each other like the back of their hands until today.

     Until today.

     There was no more tomorrow for Owen Sánchez, and that fact made Cara's heart ache.

     A random pop song none of them knew was playing on the radio. The seats and windows shook from the speed bumps as the car was steered toward the main road. Everyone jostled from side to side and metal clashing could be heard in the backseat. The movement had caused the handcuffs around Owen's wrists to clash together.

     The air conditioning was pumping through a few filters in the SUV, whistling loudly and clouding over the sound of nearby airplanes taking off. It was oddly peaceful for three-fourths of the passengers. The only one who felt everything but peace was Cara, and she was driving her thumb into her left wrist.

     It was difficult to articulate into words what she was feeling. All she knew was that there was a sinking, gut-wrenching tightening in her chest.

     Perhaps she was beginning to regret bringing Owen to Vancouver. Perhaps she knew, deep down, that his presence would cause Le to escalate. And perhaps, even deeper down, she wanted that and chose to bring Owen to Vancouver selfishly.

     Suddenly, there was a nudge against her left leg, and she flinched. Blinking, her head turned, and she saw Owen wearing an inquisitive expression. His eyes flashed to her wrist and back to her.

     Immediately, she stopped rubbing and smoothed her palms against her grey dress pants. A single eyebrow rose as she returned his stare.

     Owen tilted his head to the left and gave her a knowing look. His sour demeanor had vanished. He'd picked up on her declining mood.

     Instead of offering him an answer or reaction, she averted her line of sight. Now, she was gazing out the window and restraining herself from peering behind the car. Part of her wanted to ensure they weren't being followed. However, she didn't want to startle anyone in the vehicle or alert them to her growing paranoia.

     Blinking, Cara felt more tears rolling down her face.

     "But every time you hurt me, the less that I cry. And every time you leave me, the quicker these tears dry..."

     Finally, the all-too-familiar feeling of eyes watching her emerged, and Cara met Owen's somber gaze. This eye game of tag-you're-it was irritating.

     "Quit staring," she hissed, nudging his foot with hers. "And I swear to God, if you say you like the view, I'll punch you."

     A cocky smirk lined his cheeks, and Owen ignored his present feelings. "I don't have to. You said it for me."

     Rolling her eyes, Cara forced herself to glance away. All she had to do was wait until they got to the precinct. After that, he would be the team's problem and not just hers.

     Inhaling sharply, Cara gulped.

     Spencer heard the gasp for air and lifted his head. "What is it?"

     The words left her before she could stop them, "The last thing I told Owen was that I'd punch him."

     Eyebrows raising exceedingly high, Spencer blinked. That sounded about right. "Why'd you say that?"

     "He wouldn't quit staring at me," she replied, squeezing her eyes shut. It was then that she remembered that she and Owen hadn't been alone. Marvinhill and Officer Bellamy had been in the SUV with them. Officer Bellamy died during the shooting, but Cara didn't know Marvinhill's status.

     Suddenly, she removed her head from where it was nestled in the crook of Spencer's neck. Tears no longer blurred her vision and she met Spencer's gaze.

     "W-What happened to Marvinhill? How is he?" she asked, clearing her throat. The question came out of nowhere and Spencer was not prepared to answer. In response, his eyes widened slightly. "What?" she sniffed and brushed away the remaining tears on her cheeks. Her stare narrowed. He was holding back. "Why did your eyes widen?"

     Spencer tried to compose himself, but couldn't fully mask his confusion and shock. "You don't..." he trailed off, knitting his eyebrows together. "You don't remember?"

    Cara stared at him with a blank expression. "Remember what?" He didn't say anything, and it irritated her. "Spencer, spit it out. Remember what?"

     It pained him to tell her, but he didn't want to lie. Besides, she would know if he lied. So, he spoke as gently as he could. "Marvinhill..." he wet his lips and shook his head. "Marvinhill was killed during the ambush. He was shot."

     The revelation caused every nerve in her body to freeze, and guilt snaked its way into her system. Her stomach plummeted, and Cara found her line of sight landing on the wall opposite them. She didn't know how to process this information or what to think. Part of her thought she was going to be sick.

     Regret quickly washed over Spencer's face. He wished he hadn't said anything at all. However, he'd rather her hear it from him than an officer or other team member.

     Approximately a minute and twenty-five seconds of silence passed. Neither moved or made a single noise.

     Now, Spencer wore an uneasy expression and was waiting for her to say something, even though he knew she likely wouldn't. Cara's face had fallen, and she was as pale as chalk, frozen to the spot.

     If she was already blaming herself for Owen and Officer Bellamy's deaths... This did nothing to ease the self-blame and guilt.

     Audibly inhaling, Cara's shoulders heaved up and she felt her lungs constrict. Shakily exhaling, she reached for her wrist and drove the pad of her thumb into it. The action didn't make her feel better, but it was habitual and, unfortunately, comforting.

     Spencer's eyes darted from her wrist to her face and back. It was the default response to easing her anxiety.

     "Ara?" he asked softly, frowning.

     An eerie silence answered him and he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. Her deep blue, slightly bloodshot, and puffy eyes had a faraway look, and she didn't blink. She was almost unresponsive.

     In Cara's mind, she was stuck at a standstill. At the moment, there was nothing left in her to react. A knot was in her chest and it hurt.

     The other day on the jet with Hotch, Spencer, and Morgan... Her thoughts were correct. She was right. Things were only going to get worse.

     He'd done it again. Michael Le found another way to take something and someone from her.

     This time, he targeted her first friend and lover and the Captain who didn't believe her and didn't believe she was worth a dime yet came around to tolerating her. Le murdered them and an innocent woman without hesitation. The succession of bullets proved that.

    When Cara finally got her hands on him—

     "I need to get out of here," she blurted, sitting up.

    Again, Spencer was taken off-guard by her abrupt and unpredictable behavior. She didn't even address what he told her. "Out of here in terms of the room, the interrogation wing, the precinct..."

     "This... This room. I just... I want to be with the rest of the team for a bit," she said, meeting his concerned gaze. Before she determined her plan and shared it, she wanted to take a moment to be with everyone. As of right now, the team is in one piece and safe.

     Spencer stared back at her for ten seconds, deducing whether or not she was being forthcoming. Luckily, her tone of voice and body language in no way suggested that she was lying.

     On his end, he was worried she would end up pushing herself further than necessary after tonight's events. Whenever it came to this case and the team, she was selfless. She was always sacrificing her comfortability and boundaries. For once during this case, he wished she would care for herself equally enough. However, he told her that whatever she needed, he'd do it.

     "A-All right," he found himself saying, "let's go."

     The conversation ended there and the couple untangled themselves.

     Spencer pushed himself off the floor and dusted off his dress pants. A small and supportive smile pulled at the corners of his lips and he extended a hand to Cara. The smile grew when she broke into a minuscule one at how he wiggled his fingers. Like yesterday, he mirrored the gesture she did whenever she wanted to hold his hand.

     A blush dusted her already pink cheeks and Cara grabbed his hand, allowing him to help her stand. "Thanks," she muttered, peering up at Spencer after she gained balance.

     Leaning forward, he squeezed her hand. "You're welcome," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm here for you, whatever you need. I promise."

     The act and his words provided Cara with a tiny sense of reassurance and comfort. The sentiment was true and Spencer meant every syllable.

     Rather than saying "thank you," another time, Cara nodded. He returned it.

     From there, the couple exited the interrogation room and interrogation wing. While they did, Spencer opted out of asking Cara if she'd intentionally picked the interrogation room she occupied years ago. This wasn't the right time.

     It took twenty-six seconds to get from the wing's entrance to the conference room. The doors were shut upon arrival and Spencer's eyebrows furrowed. Perhaps the team was still having the meeting Hotch mentioned to JJ earlier.

     Spencer opened one of the doors and motioned for Cara to enter first. She shot him a small and weak smile before entering. There was a pit of anxiety building up in her stomach. Deep down, she believed she was about to be bombarded with a series of delicately worded questions. What she didn't believe or imagine was the reality and sight that welcomed her.

     All conversation came to a haste stop and the sound of rain and thunder echoed across the space. The booming noise was coming from the front of the room where Hotch and Rossi stood.

     Cara slowed her pace and approached the end of the conference table. There was unspoken tension in the room and nobody moved. It felt like she and Spencer were intruding on a private and intimate moment they weren't meant to know about.

     Her gaze swept over the group. Matt, Luke, and Tara stood on the left side of the table while JJ, Penelope, Morgan, and Blake were on the right. Everybody looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Penelope was sitting at the table with her laptop angled oddly.

     What—

     It was on the far end of the table, but with the help of her contact lenses, Cara saw what the team was watching on the analyst's laptop. Right there, six feet away, was the surveillance footage of tonight's shooting. Two different angles were in separate boxes with one above the other. Cara hadn't noticed that the footage was also displayed on a TV.

     The first security camera was positioned above the back doors of the precinct. It showed Captain Marvinhill and Cara approaching the doors. They were soaked in water and there was a considerable amount of distance between them. It was clear that Cara was falling behind.

     The second security camera was positioned on a nearby lamppost. It only showed the backside of the precinct and the driver's side of the SUV. Officer Bellamy was exiting the car.

     Since everyone involved, minus Cara, died, there was no one left to explain what happened. In the team's eyes, Cara's explanation wasn't coming anytime soon. So, they had to find it elsewhere.

     Cara's feet planted firmly on the carpet and she didn't move. She was frozen. She couldn't look away from the video of Officer Bellamy exiting the black SUV. This was seconds before the gunshots were fired.

     Spencer's head reeled back, and he stared at Hotch and Rossi incredulously. Someone should've texted him a heads-up that the team was going to watch the surveillance footage. If he'd known, he wouldn't have let Cara into the conference room.

     Blinking, Cara bounced her stare from Marvinhill to Bellamy to Owen's unopened car door and back. She repeated the motion twice. Then, she noticed that Owen's mugshot had been added to the glass evidence board. Her face fell and she looked at the footage playing on a TV.

     The recordings were reminders of how she was responsible for three people's lives. It wasn't only Owen who died— Captain Marvinhill and Officer Bellamy were also dead. The two had families and lives outside of their profession. Each presumably had loved ones who would soon be notified, if they hadn't been already.

     Cara didn't know Officer Bellamy yet knew her death was going to haunt her. She knew it would.

     Unlike Bellamy, Cara knew Captain Marvinhill personally. Marvinhill and Cara had a rocky past. From the day she was arrested to now, they went through drastic changes in their dynamic. They weren't close yet he still meant something to her. After all, he helped save her.

     That final thought struck a chord inside her, and Cara inhaled deeply.

     Beside her and spread across the conference stood ten stunned individuals waiting for a reaction— waiting for something.

     Darting her gaze from her laptop to Cara and back, Penelope gasped. "Oh, shoot," she whispered, quickly shutting the lid. The computer had been wirelessly connected to a TV in the room so the footage disappeared when she closed it. The rain and thunder stopped.

     Cara had only been present for less than five seconds. That fact didn't matter, though. She already knew what the team was doing. It didn't take a genius to figure out they were reviewing that night's events. They were searching for answers.

     Someone called her name, but she ignored whoever it was. Instead, she walked forward and to Penelope's side. She re-opened the analyst's laptop. Automatically, the videos popped up on the large TV screen again.

     A lump rose in her throat, and Cara swallowed harshly. Reaching forward with a trembling hand, she pressed the space bar to resume the footage. Both angles played simultaneously to help with the audio.

     Fine. The team wanted to see what happened, so here it was.

     "Valentine! Bellamy, Sánchez!" Captain Marvinhill yelled in the videos. The storm slightly muffled his voice but was audible enough that anyone could understand. "Let's go! Hurry—"

     From only one angle the team could see Cara trekking backward and spinning on her heel. Not a word or sound came from her.

     Hotch and Rossi glanced at the blonde. She didn't meet their lingering gazes.

     This was the first time the team was watching the footage. They'd fallen into conversation approximately thirty-five minutes ago and didn't manage to start the videos until seconds before Cara and Spencer arrived.

     "—up," Marvinhill grumbled, shaking his head. He presumably went to follow Cara but was stopped.

     A loud pop shattered the atmosphere and all those watching tensed. Cara almost jumped and instinctually curled her fingers into fists.

     A bullet had flown through the air and hit Marvinhill in the neck. Blood fell from his mouth. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and shut. Blood splattered across the asphalt, but was quickly washed away in the storm. A heavy thud echoed in the dead silent conference room as Captain Marvinhill's body hit the ground.

     Presently, Cara flinched at the sound and visual. A painful lump rested in the back of her throat and she pressed a hand over her mouth.

     In the video, the sharp pop made Cara skid to a halt. She was about to round the trunk of the SUV. It was obvious that she was taken off guard.

     At the same time on the second camera, Officer Bellamy and Owen were locking the car and about to round the front of the SUV. Bellamy was holding onto Owen's upper right arm as they moved. The shackles of the chained handcuffs on Owen's wrists clashed together. Neither spoke to the other.

     There was a second sharp pop that was much closer this time. Everything following happened in a matter of six blurry seconds.

     The next bullet struck Officer Bellamy in the chest and she immediately released Owen. Another shot was sent and hit her in the forehead before she fell to the ground.

     Two more shots.

     From both perspectives, Cara and the team saw the SUV windows being destroyed. Glass shattered and flew everywhere. The bullets went straight through the windshield and back window of the car— right toward Cara.

     It appeared Cara had a sixth sense as she ducked in the nick of time. She had her knees bent and her backside pressed against the car. "Owen!" she shouted, staying low. It was difficult to tell, but she was lightly holding her hands to her ears. The gunshots were almost deafening.

     On the left side of the SUV, Owen was already abandoning the front of the vehicle and going to the trunk. He started moving when Bellamy hit the ground. "Lyn! I'm coming, get down!" he yelled quickly, "Stay low! Stay low!"

     More tears clouded her vision and her chin trembled behind her hand. Cara did her best not to shake her head or break down in front of her friends. It was almost impossible. Her heart rate was spiked, and her shoulders tensed.

     Then, the dreaded part of the video began. The final three gunshots were fired. Each bullet struck Owen Sánchez: Once in the neck and twice in the chest. The sky lit up with lightning in the background and thunder boomed overhead.

     One of the bullets went straight through his chest and grazed against the left side of the SUV. The noise caused Cara to cover her ears and pull a few inches away from the side. A few sparks flew.

     The stray bullet soared until it hit something off-camera— an empty squad car tire.

     That's when the shots stopped.

     Five seconds later, the team watched Cara struggle to get up as one of her hands was pressed on her right ear. She was wincing and slowly trudging forward. Then, the reality of the situation seemed to hit her and she stumbled around the car. Nobody saw how her eyes widened at the sight of Owen bleeding out on the ground. It was too blurry. Immediately, Cara rushed over and dropped to her knees.

     "Owen, Owen, Owen," Cara breathed, grabbing at him. Everyone witnessed her rest his head in her lap and press her hands to where the bullet hit him in the neck. "Hey, look at me. Look at me."

     Due to the camera angle and the weather, Owen's facial reaction wasn't visible. All anyone could hear was him saying, "Lyn..."

     Hand flying to her mouth, Penelope choked back a sob. This was devastating. Cara had been forced to watch her first love die in her arms.

     The sound of Cara shushing Owen echoed through the speakers. A distant thunder slightly muffled it.

     "Don't talk, don't talk. Just look at me, okay?"

     Pressing her lips together, Tara looked down at her shoes. In a way, she felt like she was invading Cara's privacy by watching the recording. It didn't sit well with her.

     The rest of the group watched Owen reach up and place his cuffed hands on Cara's cheeks. He was assumably wiping a tear away while smearing blood across her cheek. The action caused Cara to let out a sob.

     "I know... I know," she choked out. "I'm right here, okay? Right here."

     Those two words got to Luke and JJ the most. Luke pinched the bridge of his nose and looked elsewhere. JJ turned to the table and placed her palms down. Tears involuntarily came to her eyes. A shaky sigh left her lips and she tried to force the waterworks away.

     Every person in that room had experienced an event similar to what Cara just went through. Each of them had either held a loved one in their arms while they died, witnessed a loved one die, or found a loved one dead.

     There was no monopoly on death and loss. Everyone got their fair share.

     On-screen, Hotch and Rossi noticed that something was verbally shared between the ex-couple. It happened so quickly that they had to look at each other for confirmation. Whatever it was, it wasn't loud enough for the camera to pick up on it.

     Blake noticed it, too, but bit her tongue. It was difficult to deduce whether she was seeing things as they were.

     Thunder roared overhead and the rain poured harder. Owen's hands fell to the asphalt, and Cara shook her head. "No... No. Talk to me. P-Please, talk to me," she whimpered.

     Morgan grimaced and folded his arms over his chest. The fact that all of them were standing there and watching tonight's horrors with Cara present greatly bothered him. They needed to see the tapes, yes, but it wasn't necessary for Cara to re-live the experience.

     It wasn't right.

     Yet nobody was stopping it.

     On the other camera feed, while Cara was pleading with Owen, Vancouver police officers and the BAU rushed outside.

     Panicked voices flooded the parking lot, and officers ran to Captain Marvinhill's side. Just like Owen, he'd been shot in the neck and was bleeding out. An officer shouted into her radio, asking dispatch to get an ambulance to the precinct. Unfortunately, it was far too late.

     "Alvez, Lewis, Rossi, and I will go left, and the rest to the right. We need to locate the shooter. Reid, find Cara and Sánchez," Hotch ordered, gesturing with his hands.

     From there, the agents split up and went their respective ways.

     Neither camera showed where the two groups went to. It only showed Spencer running to the black SUV that Marvinhill, Officer Bellamy, Cara, and Owen had been in.

     "Come on, Ara. Come on," Spencer could be heard muttering as he opened the car doors. It was empty. "Shit."

     In the first video, Spencer rounded the SUV and walked to the other side. He was no longer visible. In the second video, Spencer could be seen rounding the SUV and arriving on the other side. He came to a halt when he saw the scene before him.

     Cara was sitting on her knees on the ground with her back facing Spencer. Her hair was slumped over her shoulders, and she was hunched over. Owen's blood-covered hands were hanging from her thigh. She was shaking while administering chest compressions.

     "Talk to me. P-Please."

     The pain Cara felt in her heart was one she thought couldn't get any worse, but she was wrong. So wrong. The pain she felt stung and chipped away at every inch of her being when she heard her voice breaking. Her vocal cords were straining themselves in the storm.

     Spencer glanced at the blonde, and he swallowed harshly. Her eyes were drowning in a flood of tears that she was doing her best to hold back. The look of defeat and sorrow on her face was heartbreaking.

     "No, no, no, no, no, no," Cara was pleading and pressing harder on Owen's chest with each compression. Pausing, she shifted and tilted his chin. She covered his mouth with hers and blew air into his lungs.

     Owen's chest didn't rise.

     Despite the rain slightly disfiguring the footage, the team could see Cara's blood-stained hands shaking. She pinched Owen's nostrils and gave him a second rescue breath. When she pulled away, her lips were painted red, and—

     Without warning, all footage was stopped and the TV screen turned black.

     "What happened?" Matt asked first, glancing toward Penelope.

     "Movie time's over," Morgan replied firmly. He'd relocated from his original position beside Blake near the glass evidence board. He stood behind the technical analyst next to an unmoving Cara Valentine. "We don't need to see the rest. She—" he tipped his head to the left at the blonde, "—doesn't deserve or need to re-live this. We're done. It's done."

     All eyes trailed to Cara but she didn't look at any of them. Tonight had severely taken her off-guard. If someone told her in the morning that her first love and first friend would be shot by the man who groomed and abused her, she wouldn't have gone. Cara would've found a way to find Le without involving Owen.

     Yes, they easily got on the others' nerves. Yes, they had a love-hate relationship. Yes, Owen betrayed and lied to her for years. Yes, Cara lost a part of herself and her heart when she and Owen were broken up. Yes, no matter how much time passed, their bruised story wouldn't be erased.

     Regardless, they had a lot of history together; they shared part of their life; they knew each other. There was still care and love between them that would never go away— even in death.

     Death.

     On the opposite side of the room, Rossi and Hotch were observing her every move. More than everyone else, they knew when Cara was dissociating and isolating herself. She'd already begun to do that during the case and Owen's demise only reinforced it. The signs were showing and they'd witnessed the signs frequently during her time in recovery.

     Other team members were picking up on it, too— especially after Blake's speech earlier.

     Meanwhile, Spencer was noting every twinge, movement, sound, and expression. Cara's abrupt behavior in the interrogation wing hadn't left his mind. Something was up other than the obvious. Something wasn't right, but he wasn't trying to read too far into things. Grief and trauma wasn't a linear experience. How she was behaving and operating might be perfectly normal. He'd never been around when Cara went through moments of grief the way Rossi and Hotch had. So if those two weren't overtly concerned, he would try to do the same and follow their lead.

     "Cara?" Rossi noticed the woman's unwavering gaze on the empty TV screen. Flashes of the ambush were likely playing on a loop in her mind. A frown tugged at his lips. "Cara?"

     Usually, he waited for her to come back to him as she fought her way out of whatever she was experiencing or feeling. He wouldn't attempt to talk to her further than he had because a panic attack could ensue. However, Rossi wasn't going with the norm.

     She blinked. It took a moment to drag her attention away from the television. Eventually, Cara met Rossi's stare and swallowed harshly. Her thumb drove into the pad of her left wrist and she let out a raspy breath.

     "I um," she was struggling to form a coherent response. The way Rossi called her name went straight over her head; she hadn't heard what he said. All she knew was that she was being addressed. "I didn't, uh, I-I don't wa..." Darting her stare to the blackened TV screen and back to him, she faltered. Tears fell down her cheeks and she was silently crying for help. Owen's wide and glossed-over eyes wouldn't leave her brain.

     Recognizing the very blatant signs, Rossi's face dropped and he quickly walked over. Morgan and Blake moved out of the way so he had a clear path to the blonde. Garcia scooted closer to the table. When Rossi reached Cara, he placed his hands on the sides of her arms. Cara's lack of focus and obvious disorientation from how she was lightly swaying side-to-side was always a red flag. A panic attack could be avoided if he intervened now.

     "Figlia mia, deep breaths, yeah?" Rossi raised an eyebrow and gave her an encouraging smile. His voice was low and gentle. "I'm right here. You're safe, all right? You can feel what you're feeling without judgment."

     Blinking again, Cara didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say, but she knew she would spiral mentally if she didn't. "Fa male," she whispered, meeting Rossi's empathetic and patient expression.

     Traditionally, Rossi spoke to her in Italian when she tried to argue with him or refused to do something. And usually, she hated it. Cara never initiated a conversation in Italian until now. It was likely because she didn't want the team to know what she was saying. It was her attempt at being vulnerable and honest without separating herself, and Rossi recognized that. Despite their present circumstances, she was trying to incorporate some of her coping strategies.

     "Lo so. Lo so, figlia mia," he reassured her, nodding.

     If he was taken aback by her speaking Italian, he didn't show it.

     Glances were exchanged around the room. No one understood a word being spoken. This was almost the equivalent of when Cara, Rossi, and Hotch had silent conversations with minimal facial expressions and eye movements.

     "Lo odio," Cara said firmly, feeling a wave of anger hit her. It was true. She hated Michael Le and tonight strengthened the hatred. It was a fact that she wouldn't deny. "L'ha fatto di nuovo."

     Pure contempt filled his chest. Rossi was on the same page with how she felt toward Le. "Lo so. Lo prenderemo." It was inevitable and would happen. They would catch Le and he'd be put to a stop whether that was by going to prison or dying. The latter was preferable.

     "Lo voglio morto. Non la passerà liscia se uccide Owen."

     Everyone's ears perked at the words "se uccide." It sounded unnervingly close to suicide. Unfortunately, no one knew what she said.

     "Non lo farà. Lo prometto," Rossi promised, lightly tugging her toward the conference table. He brought her to the seat she'd been occupying since arriving in Vancouver days ago. "Let's sit down and get you some water."

     Cara allowed him to lead her over and sit her on top of the table. Her feet rested in a chair and she shook her head. "I-I don't want water," she muttered, wiping her tears. For now, she was done speaking in Italian. In general, she was done with everything— the case, the theorizing, the questions— all of it.

     "It might help ease the tension in your chest," he replied knowingly, taking the water bottle Spencer quickly passed across the table.

     When it was held out to her, she pushed it away. "No. I feel like I'm going to be sick," she explained, shaking her head again.

     "Fine," Rossi sighed, placing it on the table. "I'm leaving it there. What do you need? What can I do to help? What can we do?"

     Cara responded so fast she almost cut him off. "Don't play the goddamn video again. Everyone wanted to know what happened. Now that you've seen it, move on." Rossi opened his mouth and this time she cut him off. "Don't ask me for any more ideas or theories. I mean it. I said it once and I'm saying it for a final time— stop. I have nothing left. I'm done. Either contribute something consequential or don't fucking talk. Being back in Canada is hard enough and now with Owen and Marvinhill..." She inhaled sharply and ran a shaky hand down her face. There was exasperation laced within each word. It was almost impossible to verbalize that Owen and Marvinhill were dead— not to mention Bellamy. "Just stop."

     The only people Cara ever snapped at the entire time she'd known the team were Hotch and Rossi. Outside of them, she always did her best not to snap at anyone. In the past, snapping led to questions of concern which meant lying because she didn't want anyone to worry about her and Cara didn't like lying. If possible, similar to snapping, she avoided it.

     However, things were different now, and she was almost at her breaking point. If she didn't know where Le was and wasn't trying to silently assemble a plan, she would've reached it. The only thing keeping her going was anger and retribution.

     Rossi shut his mouth. There was nothing to say. The team had unintentionally pushed her too far again and hadn't listened to her previous statements. No one was respecting her and her simple boundaries.

     The first to break the stringent silence was Hotch. "Done," he said with finality. "Everyone in this room will adhere to your boundaries." He could hear the brokenness in her tone and identify the signs of her approaching an emotional breaking point. If he could, he would do whatever possible to prevent her from getting there.

     Immediately, everyone nodded in agreement. The last thing anyone wanted was for Cara to further isolate herself and push them away. There was an even higher chance that she would attempt to hand herself over to Le to protect the team given Owen's death. It happened in the past, and she would do it in a heartbeat if it came to her choosing to leave with Le to keep all of them alive. Everyone knew and wanted nothing more than to avoid putting Cara in a position where she felt forced to choose.

     A deep frown spread across Spencer's lips and he averted his stare to the carpet. If he didn't know that what she needed the most right now was space, he would have gone to her side and rested a hand on her shoulder. He would have wiggled his fingers to make her feel the tiniest bit better and held her hand. He would give her a gentle look, silently telling her that he wasn't going anywhere, and supported her, but he didn't. Instead, he kept his distance and planned to wait until she made it clear that she wanted or needed him— just like at the Valentine home. None of this was about him right now. It wasn't about any member of the team.

     "Got it. Uh..." Luke trailed off, attempting to start a discussion but he didn't know what to say anymore.

     Penelope quickly flashed her stare to him. Her melancholy demeanor momentarily disappeared. "Newbie, shut up! Rose said not to f-ing talk if you don't have anything consequential to contribute."

     Jaw slackening, Luke's head reeled back an inch. "What? Garcia, I didn't even—"

     Covering one of her ears with her palm, Penelope waved him off. "La la la, not listening to you! Shut up!" she sang.

     The brief banter lightened the mood a bit. A few people chuckled. Then, it went quiet again.

     Morgan huffed and decided to take the reigns on this. "I told Hotch and Rossi earlier tonight that I believe Le's getting overconfident," he shared, causing all the attention to go to him. "He knows or thinks we're getting close to finding him. I also said that Valentine is his sole motive. Nothing else. She's all he wants and that's enough to motivate him. Now, with Sánchez out of the way, she's more accessible."

     Immediately, his statement made Spencer tense. Morgan's words, as true as they were, infuriated him. The mere suggestion that Owen's death was Le's way of bringing Cara closer to him made Spencer want to put a fist through a wall.

     "I agree," Rossi said, glancing away from Cara's stiff figure. Her chin rested in her palm and she stared blankly at the wall. Her side profile faced everyone. "In Le's mind, Sánchez might've been the last barrier he needed to break before initiating the final part of his mission. As much as I flat-out hated him, I knew when it came down to it there wasn't much Sánchez wouldn't do for Cara. The same applies to her with him."

     Those last seven words caught the blonde's attention but not a sound left her mouth. Deep down, it was true to an extent. If Owen's life was truly on the line, Cara would've done everything she could to save him. That wouldn't even be a question.

     Tara, Luke, Blake, Spencer, and Matt glanced at Cara. She didn't react to Rossi's comment.

     "Okay, sure. Yeah, that makes sense, but let's take into account what happened tonight," JJ spoke, brushing her hair over her shoulders. "The shooting and killings... Le might be spiraling. I mean, shooting at a police precinct where Cara, Sánchez, and all of us are at? Not to mention dozens of local police officers who are searching for him? Everything he's done has been meticulous and intentional until now. This feels desperate."

     Tara was quick to chime in. "Sánchez's presence could've caused Le to snap. Maybe his coming here wasn't something he predicted."

     Cara almost shook her head. Out of all the opinions and schools of thought, Morgan was the only one taking the right train.

     Nobody really understood what was happening, and she didn't blame the team. After all, this wasn't their life— not in the way it was for Cara. None of them met Le or knew him personally. There was no way anyone could grasp how ugly and bloody things could get.

     "Or the shooting was a planned risk," Matt proposed, folding his arms. "Le knew there was a chance he'd be caught but chose to still fire the gun. In his mind, Le had to take out the one person left who could help us find him."

     Planned risk... Planned risk.

     Cara's eyebrows drew into a jagged line as her thoughts began to race.

     At the prison, Owen had lied to her and Marvinhill twice. Each time, they called him out on it but he insisted he was telling the truth. Neither believed him.

     Perhaps Owen suspected that Le was going to come back at some point and possibly murder Shirzad and Johnston. Perhaps he knew his head would inevitably be back on the chopping block when Le returned. Perhaps Owen knew he would die regardless of anything he did or didn't do. And with the revelation that Le murdered Shirzad and Johnston, his suspicions were confirmed: Owen was the next to go. He knew and that's why it appeared as if he'd lied.

     "Do you know where he is?" Cara questioned, getting straight to the point.

     Disbelief flooded his nervous system, but he remained visibly calm. "Know where who is?"

     Cara blinked, unamused. Nothing more needed to be said.

     Owen sighed. "No, I don't know where he is."

     "I don't believe you."

     "I don't care."

     "Have you heard from Le?" Marvinhill spoke before the blonde could retaliate.

     Finally, the ex-trafficker's stare met the Captain's. "I don't hear from anyone. I know you've already checked my visitor's list and call logs— which don't exist because I don't talk to or see anyone."

     "Did you know that Johnston and Shirzad were going to be murdered?" Cara asked next, raising an eyebrow.

     "No." It wasn't a complete lie yet Owen's chest leaned forward, and his left foot tapped quietly on the floor.

     The action wasn't lost on Cara, and she stood taller. "Liar," she stated not a second later.

     Rolling his eyes, Owen gave her a look. He was annoyed.

     "It's the truth."

     Marvinhill snorted. "The truth my ass," he mumbled, also aware of his tells.

     "Believe me or don't. My answer is no." Again, his chest leaned forward, and his left foot tapped quietly on the floor. His countenance was void of all emotion.

     "Owen, for fucks sake," Cara grumbled, running her hands over her face before sweeping her fingers under her eyes to brush away any fallen mascara. She was reaching her tipping point with him already. "If you're going to lie, put some effort into it for me. Please."

     The tips of the ex-leader's ears raised again, and she took note. Ear raising was a common physical sign for people who were naturally aggressive and on guard. It was an instinctual physical reaction he often had. Most people didn't pick up on it.

     "I'm not going to argue with you. I gave you an answer," he said, leaning forward further. "If you don't like it, kiss my ass."

     Yes. Owen knew.

     He knew the whole time that he'd be killed before he ever helped Cara or the F.B.I. He knew Le would never allow him to help. Regardless, Owen didn't put up much of a fight leaving the prison.

     In hindsight, Cara should have clocked his behavior more. She and Owen knew each other like the back of their hands. It was a fact that she couldn't deny all these years later. It was true yet she still didn't pay more attention to him and his behavior. She'd been too preoccupied with getting answers and bringing Owen to Vancouver to properly assess the situation. Her selfishness had blinded her— which was out of character because she was constantly selfless and sacrificing pieces of herself for others.

     Chasing after Le was affecting her in a way she should've expected.

     And she was playing right into it and him.

     Shutting her eyes, she momentarily buried her head in her hands. Goddammit. She should have paid more attention. She should have kept herself in check, too.

     This was a time when mistakes couldn't be made. If she kept this up, everything Le wanted would come to fruition.

     "Le's smart." All conversations came to an end. The room went silent and the team's attention went to Cara. Her voice was quiet and muffled behind her hands, but everyone heard her clear as day. "He's not spiraling. Everything he does is calculated. He doesn't let rage or jealousy dictate everything he does. It fuels him; it rarely controls him. He controls it."

     Nobody spoke. It was obvious that she wasn't done. There was more left to say.

     "Owen's death was planned," Cara continued, dropping her arms and lifting her head. It took four seconds for her vision to come into focus. "Le knew I would go to Owen for help without any of you. He knew I would selfishly bring Owen here because I'd be able to get him to open up more outside prison walls. He knows my thought and decision-making process. He knows I go into a different mindset when it comes to him. He knows I self-isolate because it's easier to shut down and push people away rather than rely on others to help me.

     "So what I did... It was a predictable move. None of this was by chance. Le didn't get lucky. He set the trap and I walked into it. I played right into his game and watched the first person I loved die in my arms as a result."

     What Cara purposefully left out was that she only walked into the trap, she hadn't triggered it to actually trap her. She still had a chance to escape, walk past it, and make her way to the cage awaiting her arrival. Once she walked inside the cage, that's when she would be trapped.

     She also left out how Owen knew he was going to die. That tidbit contributed absolutely nothing to the conversation. Either way, it didn't change anything; it was too late.

     Swallowing harshly, Penelope stared at her closed laptop. The analyst needed this to be over for the sake of her best friend's sanity. Le had to be caught and stopped.

     "Owen..." Cara felt her chest tighten as the words got caught in her throat. "Owen's dead."

     There. She said it. She spit it out.

     "Captain Marvinhill and Officer Bellamy are dead."

     Spencer, JJ, and Penelope's eyes widened. In unplanned unison, Tara and Blake frowned and slid their hands into their pockets. Matt and Luke exchanged glances while Morgan looked at the evidence boards, trying to distract himself. He still felt guilty. Lastly, Hotch and Rossi shared apprehensive looks.

     There had been an unspoken expectation that Cara wouldn't directly acknowledge or state that any of the three were dead. Turns out that wasn't true.

     "They were removed from the playing field because Le willed it to be so. Their deaths were planned, intentional..." Cara trailed off, finding her mind going blank. There was nothing left for her to say. "That... That's it. That's all I've got." She shook her head and rubbed the skin between her eyebrows. A headache was coming her way.

     "All right," Hotch said, taking hold of the discussion. He didn't want Cara to force herself to participate unless it was absolutely necessary. In his opinion, she needed to be protected and given the space to process what she endured. However, he was aware that wasn't likely going to happen.

     While the team gradually began to assess their options and new ideas, Cara lost herself in her thoughts and Spencer tried his best not to get lost in staring at and analyzing her. It wasn't right or healthy regardless if he felt like something was wrong. Eventually, his focus was taken off her entirely. Eventually, no one was focused on her. Cara was left to her own devices and battling her psyche.

     All of the events from the last seventy-two hours were replaying. From the news that Johnston died in a burning car and Le called it into the police to the news of Shirzad having been murdered off River's Trail at Riverside Park to flying from Quantico to British Columbia to Cara realizing Shirzad's body was left outside her childhood home and finding Macbeth and pictures of her with Le as a child in her old house to having to share her entire backstory with Le to visiting Owen at Headingley Correctional Institution and making him come to Vancouver to the unexpected shooting that ended with three out of four people dead— all of it. Flashes of everything were replaying and suffocating her. It was too much. This needed to end.

     And it would.

     With not many options left, Cara knew what she had to do. She'd known an hour, eleven minutes, and seven seconds ago. She had to confront Le and end what he started decades ago. Owen gave her his location. All she needed to do was get there.

     It was time to take matters into her own hands. Involving others was no longer necessary. She saw what happened when she did that.

     The Her vs. Le mentality was back.

     An idea— a bad one— crept into her mind, and she didn't think twice about deciding to go through with it.

     Maybe she should have.

     It was the only plan she'd managed to come up with, though.

     Maintaining the stoic yet emotionally conflicted expression she'd been sporting, Cara discreetly turned off her ringer and left her phone and smartwatch on the conference table under a stack of files. Then, she soundlessly slid off the table.

     Spencer, Matt, and Blake caught the movement first and watched the blonde head for the door. Her feet were dragging on the carpet, and they could practically feel the despair she embodied. Tonight was too much. All of it was catching up to her.

     "Valentine?" Blake called softly, frowning when the woman met her gaze. "Is there anything you need?"

     By now, everyone's attention was on the woman in question. They all wore looks of concern. The conversation was at a pause.

     Cara's eyes ran over the group, and she seared the images of their faces into her brain. There was so much she wanted to say to each of them, but she couldn't if she wanted to get away with this. She couldn't tip anyone off, including Rossi, Hotch, and Spencer. They knew her body language best. So, she settled on a reply that wasn't a lie and didn't change a single thing about her presence.

     "I just..." she swallowed thickly, blinking back a new set of tears, "I need a minute."

     It'd been a while since she'd been consciously manipulative and Cara didn't like it. She just kept telling herself that it was necessary. No one else would die because of her and the ongoing war with Le. It was up to her to end all of it.

     Immediately, the team nodded in unison.

     "Figlia mia, come back in your own time," Rossi said, giving her a supportive smile. The sight of it filled her with more guilt, but she didn't show it. Not a single sign of duplicity was on display.

     Hotch quickly added, "We're not going anywhere, all right?"

     The reassurance almost made Cara reconsider her decision, but she didn't. She couldn't.

     "Ara..." The nickname was soft-spoken and filled with care. Cara locked eyes with Spencer and automatically felt her chest tighten. Goddammit. An uncomfortable wave of déjà vu crept over her shoulders. It took everything not to break right then and there and drop the act. If anyone had the potential to change her mind, it was him.

     There was an unspoken question written into his facial expression. She didn't have to ask to know what he wanted to say. "I'm going to be okay. I..." Cara intentionally flashed her eyes to the empty TV and faltered. Spencer followed her stare. So did everyone else. "I-I just need a minute."

     When Spencer looked back at the short-haired woman, he noticed how she'd blanched and was fighting the urge to cry. Her lips were twisted to the side yet somehow forming a frown. In a way, she looked like she was going to be sick, and he didn't doubt it. She told Rossi that she felt like she was going to be.

     He should've known. Spencer should've known Cara reuniting with the team so quickly after Owen's death was a bad idea.

     Being surrounded by so many people likely wasn't helping her anxiety or easing the grief and guilt. If anything, he imagined it was making it worse— especially following reliving the shooting.

     "I'm here..." Spencer reminded her, giving her a small and reassuring smile. Cara met his sincere countenance. Both of their hearts broke when they locked eyes but for different reasons. "Whatever you need, remember?"

     Cara forced the lump in her throat down and nodded stiffly. It hurt lying to him and the others. It did. However, her anger toward Le and her grief outweighed that. There were more important matters to tend to.

     So, she blinked again and expertly mimicked the mannerisms she innately did whenever she was upset and avoided interacting with others. Cara ducked her head and swiftly stalked out of the conference room, not meeting a single person's eyes as she maneuvered her way to the restroom.

     The team last saw the wooden door closing behind Cara as she entered the women's restroom. Not a glance back was spared.

     And none of them were the wiser. Cara had fooled them all perfectly.

────

     SHE WAS GONE. Again. She wasn't there— she wasn't anywhere. The BAU team and Vancouver police officers had searched every inch and crevice of the precinct and parking lot for Cara Valentine and come up with nothing except for an empty parking spot filled with broken glass. Other than that, Cara was gone.

     Vanished.

     Disappeared.

     Gone.

     It'd taken the BAU precisely fifty-nine minutes to notice how the woman's absence felt unusually odd. None of them had seen her exit the bathroom and reappear elsewhere in the precinct. It was only when JJ went to check on Cara that they realized she wasn't there. The interrogation wing was vacant, too. Then, Rossi found Cara's phone and smartwatch on the conference table under a stack of files. She was unreachable.

     "I-It doesn't make sense. Why would she leave?" Spencer stuttered out, frantically darting his wide eyes across the approaching group. In his brain, he was hopelessly trying to piece together why Cara didn't confide in him. They talked about this. "W-Why would she go out of her way to lie, steal a police vehicle, and leave without telling anyone?"

     It took a considerable amount of self-control not to say, "Without telling me?"

     It didn't need to be said, though. Everyone could tell the brown-haired doctor was taking Cara's absence and lack of communication personally. All of them were, but it was recognized that this went deeper for him.

     "Maybe Valentine's handing herself over again like Blake suggested," Matt voiced, gesturing to the woman on his right. He and Blake briefly locked eyes.

     "But how would she know where Le is?" Luke asked, raising an eyebrow. The rest of the team, minus Penelope, was re-entering the conference room. They'd all split up in their search for the elusive blonde. "Who told her, Sánchez?"

     Matt loosely shrugged, nearly breathless from running about. "I mean, maybe. Marvinhill's dead. So is Officer Bellamy. Nobody knows what was shared between them at the prison or on the way here. Valentine didn't say."

     "Perhaps there's surveillance footage from the prison," Tara proposed, glancing at the colorful analyst who hadn't left the room.

     Much to everyone's dismay, Penelope shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Rose said they met with Owen in one of the private visiting rooms. There aren't any security cameras or audio available there."

     JJ blinked and turned around. "When'd she say that?" she asked, wondering if she'd blacked out and missed a conversation.

     Hotch, Tara, and Spencer were wondering the same thing.

     "Well, technically she didn't..." Penelope admitted, tipping her head to the right. "She'd texted me when she and Marvinhill arrived at Headingley."

     In unplanned unison, Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan grumbled, "Dammit."

     Penelope frowned and stared at her brightly lit phone screen. The text messages between her and Cara reflected on her glasses. There was a sinking feeling in her chest, and she was clinging to the hope that wherever Cara went she was safe.

     "We've got something."

     All heads swiveled to the open doorway of the conference room. One of the onsite technical analysts, Justin McGregor, stood there with an uneasy facial expression. He was shuffling his feet awkwardly.

     That wasn't a good sign.

     "Show us," Hotch said, already on his way to the entryway.

     With a timid wave, Justin motioned for everyone else to follow him.

     The rest of the team gradually trailed after him and Hotch. Spencer was in the lead with Rossi. Morgan and Penelope were the last to leave the room. Morgan had helped Penelope out of her chair and was walking with her hand in hand. It didn't need to be said that they were all anxious and afraid.

     Within a minute, Justin and the team reached the opposite end of the precinct where the surveillance room was. Unfortunately, it wasn't a big room and the other techs had to leave to provide more space. Regardless, everyone was still squished together. The small office had been designed with the idea of four technical analysts occupying it, two at each desk with varying computer screens on a wall. It wasn't made to hold over seven people— max.

     "Is uh..." Justin glanced over his shoulder and almost knocked heads with one of the F.B.I. agents. He blinked rapidly and leaned back. "Oh, hi."

     At the startled tone, Spencer glanced at him. It wasn't until then that he noticed how much of Justin's space he'd invaded. Spencer was slightly hunched over and hovering above the man's shoulder. "Oh, hello. I'd uh, I'd back away if I could, but you know..." He pressed his lips together and awkwardly shrugged.

     In the background, Justin could hear two other agents bickering with each other. He recognized one of the voices belonging to Penelope, whom he'd been working with since the BAU arrived in Vancouver.

     "It's fine. Is uh," Justin raised his voice so the rest could hear him. "Is everyone comfortable?"

     There was a unanimous nod of agreement, and a few answered, "Yeah."

     "Justin, just show us the damn video!" Penelope called from the back, elbowing Luke for a fourth time. A look of disgust overcame her. "I don't like being this close to some people."

     Luke's jaw dropped, and he let out a laugh. "Cold. That's cold and rude, Garcia."

     "I don't care. As Rose says, cut your cheeky sugar-honey-iced-tea and shut up."

     "Is that your way of saying shit?"

     Before Penelope could reply, Hotch intervened. "Garcia, Alvez, shut it down. Re-focus."

     Immediately, the two complied and the chatter died. This was not the time to lose focus. None of them knew how much time they had left to find Cara in one piece.

     "You can play it now," Rossi told Justin, jutting his chin at the monitor facing the group.

     "Right..." Justin said, averting his stare to the computer. He double-checked the volume and played the surveillance footage.

     The camera's viewpoint originated from above a door that led to the police officer's locker room and showers. To the left and about fifteen feet away was the door to the women's restroom. There was a date and time stamp in the upper right-hand corner of the footage— 03/04/18 and 11:44 p.m. This occurred mere minutes after Cara stepped away from the team and the conference room.

    No one was around or near the camera. A few officers could scarcely be seen in the background. Light chatter and police radios reverberated. Approximately thirteen seconds of absolutely nothing happened before there was movement.

     The door to the women's restroom cracked open. Due to the camera's angle, it couldn't be seen who it was but everyone knew. Two seconds passed before a blur of blonde hair and white clothing darted from the restroom to the locked door below the camera. In precisely four seconds, Cara had typed a code into the box on the door and disappeared inside.

     It all happened so quickly that Justin re-played it for the BAU.

     After re-watching, JJ briefly shut her eyes. When she and one of the Vancouver officers guided Cara to the showers earlier that night, the officer had input the code for the door. Unbeknownst to the officer and JJ, Cara memorized the combination. That's how she got in.

     "What's behind that door?" Hotch asked, not taking his eyes off the monitor.

     "A hallway that leads to the officer's locker room and the showers," Justin answered, clearing his throat. "Some of our weapons and equipment are securely stored back there as well."

     Weapons? Equipment?

     "What kind of weapons and equipment?" Rossi asked before anyone else had the chance to.

     Justin stifled a sigh. "Respirators, handcuffs, lightweight hard body armor, portable ballistic shields, lightweight batons, breaching tools, firearms, grenades, extra charged tasers, bulletproof vests, helmets, hazmat suits... you name it. All of which are stored behind bulletproof and locked cages. However..."

     Raising an eyebrow, Morgan darted his eyes from the footage to Justin and back. He didn't like the way this guy was talking. "However what?"

     "Not every officer was thinking clearly tonight," Justin said softly, a frown visible. "Our Captain was just murdered and a few of my colleagues had to carry his body to an ambulance. Some... Some officers were in shock and emotional. So when a few left, not all of them properly stored their weapons or equipment away."

     Hotch closed his eyes. Dammit. On top of stealing one of the SUVs, Cara stole more police property before leaving. The chances of the police being on her side in this case were dwindling, and they needed the police to be on the same page as the team. It was the best and cleanest way the case could be worked, solved, and closed.

     Spencer gulped and glanced at the ongoing footage. A minute had passed by and his girlfriend hadn't reappeared. There was a lump in his throat and a weight resting on his heart. His anger from earlier dissipated. Now, he had a bad feeling about all of this and felt like they were wasting time. The longer the team stood there, the longer Cara was on her own and potentially with Le already. Nonetheless, Spencer stood there and kept watching because the tape could help. He was praying it would.

     "What's missing?" Tara asked, unable to withstand the rigid silence any longer.

     "A bulletproof vest, two SIG Sauer P225 pistols with TLR-1 tactical light attachments, a Mora Garberg Knife M-12635, and a baton."

     A collective breath was held. Theoretically, Cara was more than armed enough to take Le out— more than armed to take out most people. If she wanted to, the blonde could cause some serious and lethal damage. It wasn't a comforting or reassuring fact.

     The only person who didn't understand all the names and technical terms was Penelope. She was left in the dark with only a slight idea of what was taken. "What's a Mora Garberg Knife?" she asked, darting her eyes to each of her friends.

     "Mora stands for Morakniv," Spencer replied automatically, not reciprocating her stare. The weight on his heart doubled. "Morakniv Garberg is a powerful full-tang knife designed to perform the toughest tasks. It's manufactured in Mora, Sweden, and made with two types of steel— stainless and carbon. It's regarded as a hunting knife to be reckoned with by many. It's a multi-purpose knife with a very functional drop-point blade. From prepping camp food to lacerating skin, it provides strength and stability in every cut. Ergo, it's efficient in lethal situations."

     Penelope's eyes widened and the underlying message sank in. "Oh," she squeaked, fiddling with the rings on her fingers.

     Basically, it's a knife that Cara could use to kill Le or Le could use to kill her.

     Suddenly, the door re-opened and Spencer stood taller. "She's back," he and Rossi announced, facing the computer.

     Cara was exiting the hallway and slipping on her black trenchcoat. It'd been taken off before she took a shower and left in the locker room. A few dark splotches were visible, likely from damp or dried blood and rain.

     On the camera, everyone watched Cara close the door soundlessly and finish putting her coat on. As she did so, the fabric brushed aside her white blazer. A quick flash of dark grey steel could be seen tucked in her pants and it didn't take a genius to realize it was one of the missing pistols.

     No one seemed to notice Cara's presence, but she didn't wander far. All it took was a sharp turn to the left for her to disappear completely from view. There was a narrow hallway separating the wall where the locked door was and the other wall where the women's restroom was located fifteen feet to the left.

     "Figlia mia..." Rossi muttered, shaking his head. "Dammit."

     Penelope's mouth opened and closed repeatedly. "She..." That was all she could get out. Words weren't coming to mind anymore. It was confirmed that the woman did, indeed, steal weaponry from the Vancouver PD. This was not looking good.

     "Did anybody else see the gun?" Tara asked, looking to her colleagues for assurance.

     Blake was the first to give her a nod of confirmation. Matt and JJ were next.

     "She's desperate," Spencer breathed, swallowing harshly.

     "No. She's on a murderous mission," Morgan corrected him. And honestly, he didn't blame her. It just wasn't the right way to go about this.

     The sound of Morgan's comment made Spencer turn on his heel. Well, as much as he could turn in the tiny space. His eyes narrowed at the dark-skinned man who simply ignored him.

     "Are there any other angles? Footage?" Hotch questioned, disregarding the budding commentary.

     Justin shook his head. It didn't need to be said that locating Cara Valentine was a top priority. "No. That's all we got. She managed to evade the rest of the cameras inside and out."

    Eyebrows furrowing, Matt glanced at the technical analyst. "How's that possible?"

     "Cara studied this building for the Scorpions. She once knew where all the cameras and hidden spots were," JJ answered, briefly looking over her shoulder.

     Morgan shook his head. "No. She knows where the cameras and hidden spots are. She knew what she was doing."

     "Yeah, and she did it anyway knowing the repercussions. She..." Hotch promptly bit his tongue. He briefly shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Whispers of the conversation he and Cara had in Kamloops echoed in his ears.

     "It did, but I don't care. This has to end, Aaron."

     "It does, but not with you dying or being taken. If Le gets his hands on you, either of those outcomes becomes a reality. Recklessness is not the solution nor will it help. You cannot afford not to care, Cara."

     "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

     "Just... Don't do it again. We have no jurisdiction here, and law enforcement will not be so understanding or forgiving. You've come a long way, Cara. Don't allow these murders or Le to be the reason you stop caring about yourself. Rely on your family to help. Talk to us, all right?"

     Thankfully, before Hotch's mind could wander too far, Spencer cut in.

     "We have to find her," the genius said firmly, his eyes not leaving the looped surveillance footage.

     "Where would Le go?" Luke asked, sweeping his gaze over the team. "It's gotta be somewhere significant to both of them."

     Matt managed to fold his arms across his chest and stated, "He wants a grand reunion."

     "Exactly."

     Tilting her head, Blake hummed. "It would also have to be nearby. Some place Valentine can get to easily and knows well."

     JJ withheld a sigh. "Well, that could be a short or long list," she pointed out. "We know nothing about her history with Vancouver or where she's been here."

     "And it could be related to the Red Scorpions or something exclusively shared between them," Tara added, nodding at JJ.

     Morgan turned to the right, immediately shifting his focus to the uncharacteristically silent Italian man. "Rossi, you've spent more time with her than anyone. No one knows her the way you do." His words easily caught the man's attention. "Where would she go? Has she ever told you anything about her past with Vancouver and Le?"

     "No. She's never spoken about Vancouver."

     The answer to Morgan's questions yielded nothing but disappointed countenances.

     "Thank you, Mr. McGregor," Hotch said, giving Justin a curt nod. "Guys, let's table this in the conference room."

     It wasn't appropriate to discuss the details of the case with the technical analyst present. At best, it was insensitive. The rest of the team knew that and obeyed the Unit Chief's order.

     One by one, the agents exited the cramped surveillance room single file. First, it was Penelope followed by Morgan, Luke, Blake, Tara, Matt, JJ, Rossi, Hotch, and Spencer. No words were exchanged as they made their way back to the conference room. It wasn't until the double doors closed behind them that the silence broke.

     "All right. What are known Red Scorpion locations nearby? Let's start there," Hotch announced, positioning himself at the front of the room. Rossi stood on his right.

     "The Pink Dolphin, Castaway's Mansion, Balmoral Tower, Abbotsford Auto-Mall, Bellevue, Surrey's Guildford Mall, and the Walnut Grove shopping plaza. All of those are within an hour's drive," Spencer said, recalling every location he knew of.

     Matt's eyebrows drew in. "Do any of those have a direct connection to Valentine?"

     "Only the Pink Dolphin, Castaway's Mansion, Balmoral Tower, Abbotsford Auto-Mall, and Bellevue. The other two are related to past gang-related incidents," JJ informed him.

     "Out of those five, the Pink Dolphin, Castaway's Mansion, and Bellevue were searched as recently as yesterday. Nothing was found," Hotch added. "Balmoral Tower has been searched as well. Again, nothing was found. For the Abbotsford Auto-Mall, I highly doubt Le is hiding out in a public setting. If his goal is to reunite with Cara, alone and privately, he wouldn't have it at a mall."

     Blake chimed in with, "We need to remember that they could meet somewhere only the two of them know about."

     "Or it could be somewhere only Cara, Sánchez, and Le know about," Tara said.

     Luke snapped his fingers and pointed at her, agreeing.

     "Does anyone think she knew where Le was before the shooting?" Penelope asked, sitting down in her seat.

     Immediately, Spencer shook his head. "No. No," he said stiffly with a tone of finality. "If she did, she would've said something to me at the very least."

     JJ frowned. "Spence..."

     "No," he repeated, adamantly shaking his head. "We agreed that she would communicate when something was wrong or related to the case. Cara doesn't want to be in Canada longer than she needs to be. If she knew where Le was before visiting Sánchez and his death, she would have said or done something. Sánchez likely disclosed Le's location or information that led her to figure out where Le was. His death pushed her over the edge and she shifted into that Her vs. Le mentality. She came up with a plan and decided to execute it alone."

     There was an unspoken hard line drawn as he talked. In the genius' eyes, there was no world where Cara wouldn't confide in him about this if she knew beforehand. It wasn't possible. No amount of persuasion would change his mind.

     "Okay. So operating on that thought..." Morgan began, averting his gaze to the other members of the team. "I think we should revisit Valentine's earlier information about her and Le's history. She might've unintentionally mentioned a potential meeting spot."

     "Agreed," Luke nodded.

     Hotch and Rossi locked eyes. Both recalled the contents of that day's mini-interrogation. No potential locations were mentioned.

     Spencer remembered every detail and word of the conversation and everything Cara shared. If prompted, he could recite it verbatim, and never relay any potential locations. Nothing had been mentioned.

     That was going to be a dead end and a waste of time and breath.

     While Spencer went to inform the team not to waste their time, Blake wandered over to the glass evidence board. Her eyes were locked on the photo taken of Act Two, Scene Three, page seven, in Macbeth again. Le's rewritten the words stared back at her— specifically the double line drawn under the word "love."

     This particular piece of evidence still had her attention. And again, yes, it made sense why Le chose to leave the original copy of the book that Cara read to him the day he took advantage of her. It was a dig at their past and a reminder he hadn't forgotten about their relationship; he hadn't forgotten anything and wanted to ensure that she hadn't either.

     It made complete sense yet something kept itching at Blake. It felt more essential than ever. There was so much more to be said about those three words and the double lines, but she couldn't figure it out. It was beginning to irk her.

     It felt like the answer to where Le was and where Valentine went was staring her in the face, but she was too blind to see it.

     With her eyes trailing across the photograph and darting to the mugshots of Michael Le and Owen Sánchez, pictures of the Valentine home, and the crime scene photographs of Shirzad and Johnston's bodies, Blake pursed her lips. She traced every feature on Le's face, aimlessly searching for whatever her subconscious was screaming at her to notice. Eventually, she moved to the photos of the Valentine home. Then, onto the crime scene photographs. Lastly, Owen Sánchez's mugshot.

     And that's when she stopped.

     Blake stared at the deadpan expression on Sánchez's face. Her head tilted to the side. Creases spread across her forehead. Sánchez was Cara's first friend and love... Cara and Sánchez dated for five years... Le never liked Sánchez and his relationship, both platonic and romantic, with Cara... Regardless of Le's distaste, the three of them— Cara, Sánchez, and Le— were undeniably connected... The Red Scorpion's connection didn't matter; their own history connected the trio... Their own history... Wait.

     Aside from Cara, Sánchez had been the only one left who could help locate Le and he likely knew where Le was. During the viewing of that night's shooting, Blake noticed that something was verbally shared between the ex-couple. However, it'd happened so quickly it was difficult to deduce whether she was seeing things as they were. Additionally, whatever was shared wasn't loud enough for the camera to pick up on it.

     But what if Sánchez had been telling Cara Le's location?

     "Garcia, can you pull up tonight's surveillance footage?" Blake asked, pivoting to face the group.

     All conversation came to a pause.

     "Oh, uh, s-sure," Penelope stammered, caught off-guard by the sudden question. "Why?"

     "I need to check something," Blake said, not providing further detail. Despite the camera's audio not picking up on the conversation, that didn't mean lip-reading wasn't an option.

     Side-eyeing her, Rossi tilted his head. What was she on to? Whenever it came to cases, Blake and Tara tended to be the ones who made connections others hadn't. That fact has been proven multiple times over the years. Spencer did too, but not when his emotions were involved.

     Penelope was closing the recently opened tabs on her laptop, confused. "Okay," she replied questioningly, rolling back her shoulders. With a few clicks of the keys, she put the video recording on the TV. She turned the volume all the way up and pressed 'play.'

     The sound of rain and thunder roaring filled the space. An empty parking lot was all that could be seen from the two angles provided. This was before Cara, Sánchez, Marvinhill, and Officer Bellamy arrived.

     "No. This is too early," Blake said, shaking her head. "Can you jump to when Valentine runs over to Sánchez?"

     Penelope blinked, bringing herself back to the present moment. She'd slowly been tuning out; she wasn't keen on re-watching Owen's death and Cara's reaction. "Uh, okay," she stuttered, heart tightening as she fast-forwarded the footage.

     On the laptop and TV, the video resumed.

     "Owen, Owen, Owen," Cara breathed, grabbing at Owen. The team re-watched Cara rest Owen's head in her lap and press her hands to where the bullet hit him in the neck. "Hey, look at me. Look at me."

     Eyebrows knitting together, Morgan grew confused. Why were they re-watching this? Where was Blake's mind heading?

     Due to the camera angle and the weather, Owen's facial reaction wasn't visible. All anyone heard was him saying, "Lyn..."

     The sound of Cara shushing Owen echoed through the speakers. A distant thunder slightly muffled it.

     Matt and Luke shared glimpses of confusion.

     "Don't talk, don't talk. Just look at me, okay?"

     Swallowing harshly, Spencer briefly glanced away from the TV. All this did was remind him that Owen's death and Cara's departure were directly linked. Le planned all of this as Cara said. Le knew that Owen's death would be what sent Cara over the edge and brought her to him.

     Owen reached up and placed his hands on Cara's cheeks. He was assumably wiping a tear away while smearing blood across her cheek. The action caused Cara to let out a sob.

     "I know... I know," she choked out. "I'm right here, okay? Right here."

     And just like the first time, Blake witnessed the silent verbal exchange between the ex-couple. It happened so quickly that she almost missed it.

     Thunder roared overhead and the rain poured harder. Owen's hand fell to the asphalt, and Cara shook her head. "No... No. Talk to me. P-Please, talk to me," she whimpered.

     "There," Blake breathed, glancing at the team. "Right there." Everyone stared at her with bewildered expressions. No one understood the point of what they just did. The video kept playing in the background.

     "What?" JJ asked, confused about what she was supposed to be looking at or noticing.

     The only ones who had an inkling of what was going on were Hotch and Rossi. They had also caught the silent exchange between Cara and Owen both times.

     Blake huffed quietly, suppressing a groan. "I..." She shook her head, trying to find the proper way to explain what she was thinking. "Garcia, can you go back six seconds? Zoom in on Valentine's face, up the exposure and brightness, and slow down the footage." There was no use in focusing on Owen in the scene. Given his position, a clear reading of what he was saying wasn't possible.

     Her request made Spencer walk toward the TV, desperately wanting to see what his fellow doctor was. "What?" With a sense of purpose in each step, he rushed closer.

     "Blake, what is it?" Hotch asked, darting his line of sight between the paused footage and Blake. Clearly, she was onto something.

     Wordlessly, Penelope did what was asked of her. She re-winded the video six seconds, paused and maximized it, and zoomed in on Cara. The image was significantly blurry and composed of muddled dark grey and navy pixels before it shifted into focus. It wasn't in HD, but it would do. Penelope upped the exposure and brightness and reduced the speed of the video.

     Unlike before, the group could vividly see the smeared blood decorating Cara's right cheek and how it almost resembled the shape of a hand. Strands of her short platinum blonde hair stuck to her face, and a few pieces were caught in her mouth. She was soaked, covered in water and blood.

     The image of Cara was frozen until Penelope pressed 'play' again. This time, everything played in slow motion.

     Each raindrop that landed on Cara was visible and traveling slowly. Her bottom lip began to quiver. The rain descended quicker and the blood covering her body washed off at a snail's pace. Her short hair was wrapped around her, preventing the blood on the right side of her face from disappearing. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

     Eleven seconds passed before Cara's lips moved, forming a single word that wasn't audible.

     "What did she say? Garcia, is the audio muted?" Luke asked, darting his eyes to the analyst.

     Penelope gave him a blank stare. "No, it's not muted, Newbie. You hear the rain still, don't you?"

     "What she said isn't loud enough for the cameras to pick up over the sound of the storm," Tara spoke, stepping forward. Luke didn't have a chance to reply.

     Blake nodded in agreement. "Yes. Garcia, can you play it again?"

     The isolated clip was re-played and Blake studied the movement of Cara's lips. Once it ended, she had Penelope play it again, and again. Each time, she mimicked the blonde's mouth movement and tried to recreate what she said.

     Finally, after the seventh re-play, Blake got it.

     "Love."

     A discomfiting silence filled the conference room. Still, no one understood what the point was of all of this.

     Hotch and Rossi knew the point was to figure out what Cara had said. Beyond that, though, they were lost.

     "I don't get it..." Matt trailed off, waiting for someone to explain what the brown-haired woman was alluding to.

     "Blake, you're a force to reckon with and I respect you, but can you just tell us what the hell you're seeing? 'Cause clearly, we're missing it," Morgan said, motioning to the rest of the team.

     Rather than answering him, Blake turned to the glass evidence board. The singular word "love" was on a perpetual loop in her mind. It could mean a multitude of things given the context of the situation. However, knowing that Cara struggled with saying, "I love you," and didn't utter the word "love," often, Blake assumed she was repeating what Owen told her.

     It made sense that Owen's dying word would be "love." After all this time, he still loved Cara. Yet, it simultaneously didn't make sense. Owen wasn't the type to lead with emotion and have his last dying word be associated with such a powerful emotion as love without a greater purpose. It could be a double entendre reflecting the double line under the word "love" in Le's rewritten quote from Macbeth.

     The word "love" was a double entendre.

     As Blake thought earlier, Le never liked Sánchez and his relationship, both platonic and romantic, with Cara. Regardless of Le's distaste, the three of them— Cara, Sánchez, and Le— were undeniably connected and the Red Scorpion's connection didn't matter. The trio was connected by their own history and by love.

     "Castaway's Mansion is where Owen told me he loved me for the first time. I was eighteen. Outside of Owen and I, the only person who knows about that instance is Le. He overheard us. So choosing Castaway's Mansion as the location for his message was a dig at Owen and I's relationship."

     Suddenly, a realization struck Blake and an audible gasp left her mouth.

     Immediately, all attention flashed to her. Everyone stood a little bit taller.

     "Blake, what is it?" Rossi called, removing his hands from his pants pockets. Anxiety and anticipation were crawling all over him. They needed to figure out where Cara was before it was too late.

     "That's it," she said, eyes wide. "Love. That's where she is."

     Spencer blinked, wholeheartedly clueless for once. He didn't understand any of what Blake was saying. He was too blinded by his emotions to think or see clearly. His own love for Cara was distorting his thought process.

     "Valentine went to Castaway's Mansion."

     The room was deathly silent and still. No one spoke and no one moved an inch. Each agent was trying to figure out how Blake came to this conclusion. Castaway's Mansion had been searched numerous times and nothing had been found. It'd been searched as recently as yesterday.

     Blake could practically see the wheels spinning in her colleagues' heads. None of them were going to make the connections she had quick enough.

     "I believe Sánchez knew Le would kill him so he told Valentine something that led her to leave. Sánchez said something to her before he died and she repeated it in the surveillance footage— love. Valentine wouldn't abandon or betray anyone on this team of her own accord. We all know that. What she would do, though, is bring the fight to Le to keep us safe or for revenge. Sánchez's death was a means to an end."

     "How's this correlate with her going to Castaway's Mansion?" Morgan asked, eyebrows furrowing.

     Tara folded her arms over her chest and averted her gaze to Blake.

     Taking a deep breath, the doctor pointed to the photograph of the page from Macbeth. "Act Two, Scene Three, page seven— My violent love. The double line drawn under the word "love." I have a theory and it's somewhat of a stretch, but we have to find her."

     Spencer's brain was flooded by a wave of thoughts, memories, facts, and theories that he was trying to make sense of. Slowly but surely, he was beginning to connect the unspoken dots.

     "Agreed," Hotch replied, chin upturning. "Explain."

     Rossi nodded. "All ears."

     "I mean, I'll take what we can get," JJ shrugged, massaging her temples. The stress of this case along with her worry for Cara was giving her a major headache.

     Blake cleared her throat before beginning. To get to the point quicker, she was going to have to simplify things. "Three people are crucial to this case— Valentine, Sánchez, and Le. They are forever and undeniably interconnected. Yesterday, Valentine discussed how Le once used his obsession with her as a facade when his real motivation was jealousy toward Sánchez hence the message he left in twenty-fourteen. She stated that while she believes Le's obsession is valid and relevant, it isn't genuine and his entire motive. The same can be applied to jealousy. Presently, Le's obsession with Valentine and jealousy of Sánchez both make up his overall motive for getting Valentine back. Got it? Nice."

     Nobody had a chance to react or confirm that they were following along.

     "Reid's place in Valentine's life doesn't factor into this. Michael Le has not shown any direct acknowledgment to or of Reid outside of the poem left at the Valentine home two days ago. It was a simple taunt to gain Valentine's undivided attention. Le hasn't targeted or gone after Reid when he's had plenty of opportunity to over the years. Reid isn't relevant to him. Only the other Founding Fathers and Stephen Leone acknowledged Reid's existence and role in Valentine's life. Le's only ever fixated on one man in Valentine's life— Owen Sánchez.

     "Sánchez stated himself that Le wasn't a fan and kept an eye on him. From the jump, Le disliked him. After all, Sánchez was Valentine's first friend and love. He was the first person to win Valentine over in a way that Le knew, deep down, he never could. He was the first person Valentine ever confided in. The pair dated for five years and knew each other for twenty. Sánchez's existence has always threatened Le's place in Valentine's life. I don't believe that ever fully changed or left Le's mind.

     "Now, as I stated previously, three people are crucial to this case— Valentine, Sánchez, and Le. They are forever and undeniably interconnected, and not because of the Red Scorpions. They're connected by their own history and by love."

     Blake paused and gave the team a moment to breathe and catch up. After five seconds, she resumed.

     "It's important to note that this theory heavily relies on the fact that these three behave similarly."

     That comment appeared to garner everyone's attention the most.

     Immediately, Spencer's eyebrows formed a jagged line and he snapped out of his thoughts. "Did you just—"

     "Hear me out," Blake said, raising a hand to signal him to stop talking. Spencer reluctantly shut his mouth. "Everything Le does has a double meaning. Everything Valentine does and says isn't done without purpose, she almost always has an underlying double meaning or message. The Red Scorpions, specifically Le, trained her better than that. Her words from the first interrogation at the BAU. Most things that Sánchez does or says tend to have a double meaning. He learned that behavior from Valentine.

     "All three of them are methodical and well-trained. It's part of the gang mentality they learned and adopted. They are cold, manipulative, and reserved. I'm not saying that's who Valentine is now. It's who she was and learned to be. That being said, collectively, none of them do something without meaning.

     "The double line drawn under the word "love,"" Blake said, pointing to the photograph on the board. "The quote's representation is surface level. We all know what it represents. However, the double underline is where Le's double meaning MO comes into play. Stick with me."

     Luke choked out a light laugh and rubbed his jaw. "We're trying."

     The two locked eyes and she gave him a nod.

     "Back to the surveillance video. Given that Valentine struggles with saying, "I love you," and hardly says the word "love," I am operating on the assumption that she was repeating what Sánchez told her. Now, it simultaneously makes sense and doesn't that "love" would be Sánchez's dying world. Yes, he still loved Cara. However, he doesn't lead or act with emotion. So why would his last dying word be associated with such a powerful emotion without a greater meaning? I believe it's a double entendre that reflects the double line under the word "love" in Le's rewritten quote from Macbeth.

     "Valentine shared with us yesterday that Castaway's Mansion is where Sánchez told her he loved her for the first time. Outside of them, the only person who knows about that moment is Le. In twenty-fourteen, he left a message at the mansion because it was a dig at her and Sánchez's relationship. So, altogether, three people knew about the "I love you" confession. Now, it's only two like there are two lines under "love." Sánchez's final word to Valentine confirmed a lingering suspicion she likely had— Le is at Castaway Mansion. Only three of them knew what that word meant."

     All was quiet as it was sinking in that Blake had cracked it. Once again, she figured out the impossible.

     "And she went to meet him there... to finish what he started twenty-three years ago," Matt said remorsefully, catching the crestfallen expressions circulating amongst the team.

     Penelope's head was in her hands and Morgan was rubbing her back. Luke was staring at Owen's mugshot with a deep frown. JJ, Blake, Tara, and Rossi were now gathering their things.

     "Yeah, she did, and without saying a word," Spencer grumbled, running a hand through his hair. They talked about this. He thought they were on the same page. Apparently, they weren't. Owen's death changed things, and he should've paid more attention to her abrupt and unpredictable behavior. He sensed something was wrong, but kept that to himself and now she was nowhere to be found.

     Hotch grabbed his phone off the table. "I'll alert the officers. We're going to Castaway's," he stated firmly, exiting the conference room.

     At that, the remaining team members, minus Penelope, grabbed their belongings. They had to get to Cara before something irreversible happened or she was captured again. Time was of the essence.

     "Let's just pray we get there in time," Rossi muttered under his breath, stalking past everyone and out of the room.

     From then on, every second counted.

𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆   ───   ❪ CRIMINAL MINDS ❫
vol. two:     𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚂,       ²
╱ ✹     ▬▬     ❛ © CARDIIAC     2024. ❜
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𓄹 ━━━ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓! ࿐ ໋₊ ˖

╭⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀╮

Figlia mia ━━ My daughter
Fa male ━━ It hurts
Lo so. Lo so, figlia mia. ━━ I know.
I know, my daughter.
Lo odio. L'ha fatto di nuovo. ━━
I hate him. He did it again.
Lo so ━━ I know
Lo prenderemo ━━ We'll catch him
Lo voglio morto. Non la passerà
liscia se uccide Owen. ━━ I want him
dead. He won't get away with killing
Owen.
Non lo farà. Lo prometto. ━━ He
won't. I promise.

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     hey everyone!! i hope you all enjoyed the fifty-ninth chapter!

     WE'RE NEARLY AT THE END!!! ONLY ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO UNTIL THE EPILOGUE!!! WE'VE NEARLY MADE IT!!

     rip own sánchez. not sure if you'll be missed, but thanks for serving as a human shield for cara! (kidding!!! i actually love owen as a character, what he represents to cara, and his dynamic with others (mainly rossi tbh). he wasn't in a lot of chapters, but his mark has been left. rip to all the leaders of the red scorpions! only one founding father left to go...)

     practically everyone in the last chapter guessed that owen would die, and you all were right! however, did anyone see marvinhill and bellamy's deaths coming?? let me know.

     truthfully, the only scene i've published in any chapter out of all my books that has made me physically cry is owen's death scene. every time i read it, i tear up. the scene itself has been written, edited, and finished since 2020 so i've been holding onto it for years. (can you tell it's taken me forever to get close to finishing this goddamn book?) now, the scene is here for everyone to read and i hope it evoked emotion out of at least one person. i think it's tragically beautiful.

     i look forward to seeing all of you in the next chapter! it'll be out soon!!

     ★ BONUS: ❛ two people ❜ ━━ by gracie abrams is the most accurate song that describes cara + owen's relationship. the lyrics for the song are beautiful and i'm obsessed with it. my favorite lyrics are ❝ now to make sense of half of a decade... feels like walking alone on the freeway 'cause you know everything that could kill me and you know, you know every inch of my body, ❞ and ❝ don't know what to say, two people can change; don't think we're above, might happen to us. isn't it strange? we'll die anyway. ❞

     edit time no.1 ━━ edits of screencaps i made for this chapter and the next one!!

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     edit time no.2 ━━ given owen's passing in this chapter, here's a gif manip edit i made of cara + owen years ago:

     meme time ━━ both of these make me cackle, my sense of humor is broken.

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˒⠀𝑹𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹. . . ▬⠀⤸

Thank you all for taking the time out of your day to comment on this story. It means a lot and helps the story be spread to a broader audience &&& allows me to grow as an author. All I ask is that people vote on each chapter, please. As a creator, it takes time to write and develop stories. Especially ones such as this that take a while to write and dedicate time to. So please, vote on every chapter. It means a lot more than I could ever express.

Don't forget to vote & comment!

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˒⠀𝑪𝑶𝑷𝒀𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻. . . ▬⠀⤸

❝ All Rights Reserved.
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