THE WAR CAMP WAS NOT
what Aella expected it to be.

She and Peeta had been told to prepare themselves—to ready up—a half hour before they landed. They'd flown through the night but neither of them had gotten much sleep. Aella was more than thankful to hear they would be landing soon and when she opened up those boxes of beautifully crafted knives she took her time strapping them all in. She savoured the feel of the holster at her waist, of the one around her thigh and the one at her back.

When she sheathed her machete behind her back she felt powerful. It was a strange type of power but one she was no stranger to. She welcomed it—embraced it—did everything to hold on to it in order to ignore the way her fingers were trembling. She reminded herself over and over again who she was and what she had overcome. She told herself that she was a survivor and that she was a fighter and she took one final look in the mirror, at the tight braid she'd fixed her hair into, at the loose curls framing her face, at the icy fire that danced in her eyes.

She was Aella Barnes. She was the Victor of the Hunger Games and she was a survivor. She would not be afraid.

She expected her and Peeta to be escorted from the aircraft straight on to a truck and driven to wherever their squad was within the Capitol. She didn't expect to be following a commander—Peeta right beside her—through the camp that was more like a city. They walked by soldiers of varying Districts, of medics and commanders and volunteers. All manner of people who had come together to fight for a cause watched she and Peeta walk through their base.

Aella knew they were watching and so she lifted her chin higher. She wondered if it was some kind of morale boost. If Coin had orchestrated this to boost the troops in a time of need. She supposed she would never find out, not as she recognised the woman they were being led to.

Commander Paylor looked at Aella and Peeta as the man guiding them cleared his throat. The woman looked better than when Aella had seen her last despite the advancements in the war and yet she couldn't help but smile at her. Paylor returned that smile as she looked at Aella briefly, at the blades strapped to her and the machete behind her back, "Aella Barnes," She nodded in mild astonishment, "it's great to see you again... and I do believe congratulations are in order. I offered them to your fiancée when I met him before his squadron left for the city."

"Thank you Commander Paylor." Aella said bashfully, overly aware of her engagement ring sitting on her finger. She didn't want to take it off but the bare necklace around her throat was there incase she wanted to put it on that for safer keeping, "Commander Paylor this is Peeta Mellark. Peeta this is Commander Paylor of District Eight."

Peeta's eyes widened mildly as he looked at the woman, "District Eight?" He parroted and Paylor only nodded. Peeta's throat bobbed before he said, "I'm sorry for your losses."

Commander Paylor gave him a pressed smile and replied, "Same goes." But then she fixed her gaze on Aella once more and said, "Shouldn't you both be resting?"

Aella barely managed to suppress the words she really wanted to speak—the quip that they should've been resting but their President was a bitch who didn't care for them. Overthrowing Coin would take careful plotting. She couldn't walk into the middle of a war camp in the height of battle and start badmouthing the woman who was leading this whole operation. She didn't want a war within a war but...

Her lips curved into a small smirk. Peeta sensed her move out the corner of his eye—looked to see her lifting her chin while wicked amusement danced in her eyes. Gone was that genuine happiness on her face meeting Paylor again. Gone was the Aella he'd gotten to know. He stared at the Aella everyone had warned him about—the lethal woman who fought with a Goddess at her side.... He stared at the Huntress and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit nervous to hear what she was going to say.

She hummed, "Well we were but President Coin thought it be best to join our comrades out in the field, to really show the Capitol and President Snow that we are...recovering."

Her words were so carefully spoken. Genuine, with an ounce of hatred...it was like poison.

Commander Paylor nodded and said, "I have to admit I was surprised when the Mockingjay arrived here. Even more so when Odair did a few days later."

Peeta, to his credit, did not tense when he heard Katniss being spoken of. Aella relaxed slightly inside—breathing an internal sigh of relief.

"You have all done so much for this rebellion already." Paylor said to them both, "No one would've even battered an eye if you sat out the war. You deserve it."

Aella nodded in thanks and said, "It seems not everyone thinks like you do, Commander Paylor."

And that's all it took. Aella saw those seeds of doubt sprout in Paylor's eyes. It's all she would say in the matter for the time being but she knew there were plenty of people around who heard her. The male Commander still standing beside her, the four men and women Paylor had been talking with when she and Peeta had interrupted... one of them was bound to talk and in a war camp...

It would spread faster than fire.

"We're sending out a second rally of troops to the front lines today," Commander Paylor changed the subject hastily though Aella still saw that doubt lingering in her eyes, "I think they'd like to know they're going out with the likes of yourself, if you'd be interested in rallying them before you left?"

Aella's eyes turned warm and she nodded, "I'd love to."

Overthrowing President Coin or not, they still had a war to fight. There were still men and women who had left their Districts behind, their homes, their families, for this cause. For a cause Aella herself had campaigned for. Most of them wouldn't return, the least she could do was meet them and offer them her personal thanks, offer them some kind of words of encouragement.

Commander Paylor saw that warmth in her eyes and nodded, "Great," she said, "there in the square receiving orders now."

"After you." Aella responded and Paylor led the way.

Peeta didn't stray from her side. He kept up with her pace in his silence and Aella glanced at him worriedly, arching a brow lightly in silent question—are you okay?

Peeta blinked twice—I'm okay—and she saw his lips twitch at the corner trying to offer her a smile. She pressed her lips together and ran her hand over his arm in a comforting manner. He felt her fingers tremble lightly but wisely didn't react. She was just as nervous as he was—even if she was hiding it remarkably well behind her old alter ego.

"How is District Eight?" Aella broke the silence as they walked. Her voice was steady despite everything she had endured there.

"Healing." Paylor replied, "Our population is...well, it's not brilliant, but thanks to your warning we had seven additional minutes of evacuation time before the second wave of bombs hit." She explained, "Our death toll would've been in the thousands as opposed to the hundreds so thank you for that."

Aella's throat bobbed, "You say it as if I was the one who warned you."

"If you hadn't of been there we'd of been caught unawares."

If we hadn't of been there it wouldn't of happened, she thought but she stopped herself from saying it. That kind of guilt was heavy on her shoulders—she didn't need to feel it.

"I still don't really remember what happened that day." Aella responded truthfully, "But I do remember Piper..." she sucked on her tooth, "did...did she make it?"

"She did." Commander Paylor replied, "And I'm told she asks about you frequently."

Aella swallowed thickly as she held Paylor's gaze while they walked, "I had every intention of going back for her. I would've... she deserves to have a life of peace after what she's been through. She's the reason I'm here. Her and all the other children across the Districts like her. They deserve a better world. They don't deserve to live in a world of tyranny and corruption."

"No," Paylor agreed, "they don't."

"After the war is over," Aella said looking at Paylor with promise, "if she wants to, I'd love to adopt her."

Commander Paylor placed her hand on Aella's shoulder as they slowed to a stop. She looked at the young Victor, gave her a pressed smile, and nodded, "I'm sure she'd love that."

Aella smiled—pure and genuine. Paylor saw the hint of sorrow, the pang of guilt. Silence consumed them and it echoed loudly in Aella's ears. Until—

"It's Aella Barnes!"

She turned her head and gasped softly. Across the square stood a sea of people. Men and women of all ages stared at her in complete shock and awe and for a brief second all she could do was stare back. Hundreds of her comrades gathered, prepared to fight to the death in the war she'd helped to start.

Her mouth dried while she looked at them all. Not even Peeta's hand on her shoulder helped.

Aella's throat bobbed as the crowd parted for her. It was just like stepping inside that hospital in District Eight when they'd all stopped to look at her. The same awe-filled faces were staring at her, hope gleaming in their eyes.

Not even Katniss had rallied the first lines of troops that had already left to fight. Aside from Commander Paylor—who had commenced the start of their march into the Capitol—no one had spoken to these people.

Honour danced through Aella's heart and soul as she slowly walked through the gathered crowd. She acknowledged each and every man and woman who she saw. Some extended their hand out for her to take, some merely whispered her name in passing as she walked by. The Huntress has come to fight with us, they whispered, the Phoenix has risen again. Some even whispered their congratulations, looking at her engagement ring.

She walked until she the crowd no longer parted for her and instead stood around her in a circle. She came to a slow stop as she turned on her heel to look at everyone gathered before her. By her side, her fingers curled into a tight ball and trembled gently—the only sign of her anxiety. She stood before a stationary truck, the back pulled down and crates on the floor beside it, as if these people had stopped loading the supplies to stare at her.

She couldn't see everyone that had gathered from where she stood—and the small, terrified, part of her was grateful for that—but she knew they deserved to see her when she spoke out to them. In silence, Aella climbed on the crates, hands shooting out to help her, and she stepped on to the back of the truck. Her breath hitched in her throat when she truly saw how many people had gathered, how many of them had prepared to go into war.

She inhaled for four seconds—Dr. Steven's breathing techniques echoing in her head—and held for five. She closed her eyes briefly. You can do this, she told herself, you're strong and you're a survivor, you can do this. She acknowledged the thought, let the truth of it settle in her bones, and she exhaled for four more seconds before she opened her eyes.

She had never been one for instruction. She'd never followed it, never taken well to it. She didn't need it now to know what to say to these people. They looked at her with awe, yes, but also with fire in their eyes—the same fire that had danced in her eyes for years. She recognised herself in their faces, in their anger and sorrow and grief. She was one of them and she always would be.

So Aella cleared her throat, lifted her chin and spoke out to the crowd, "We find ourselves here—together—today with one common goal, one common enemy. President Coriolanus Snow has ruled and dictated our lives for many, many, years. He's given orders to arrest and punish and torture and kill and has ruled our Districts with fear..."

Murmurs of agreement sounded across the crowd as they nodded their head in agreement with her words.

"That tyrant has broken us and beat us over and over again for sixty long years but we stand here today, unified, to bring him and his corrupt government to the ground!"

The murmurs grew into favourable cheers as the people shouted with her.

Aella lifted her chin higher seeing their fire dance, their hunger for justice shine. Her cobalt blue eyes lit with that cold icy flame as she continued, "We stand to fight. To fight for a better world free of corruption. Free where we can live without fear of our children being marched off into the Hunger Games to die for his entertainment!"

They cheered again, louder this time.

"Never in almost seventy-six years have all thirteen Districts come together and fought as one. But we stand here together to make history. To write the tales our children's children will tell in years to come of how we won this war!" Aella could barely breathe for the pounding of her heart but she continued. She grabbed the hilt of her machete and withdrew it from her holster, thrusting it toward the sky, "So join me in making history, join me in tearing down this corrupt government built and ran on fear. Join me in overthrowing our President, Mr. Coriolanus Snow and give him hell, just like he has us!"

Weapons of all kinds were thrust into the air as cheers and applause rang out across the war camp. Everywhere Aella looked she was met with that dance of fire, of determination. She lowered her machete and listened to the cheers, to what she had created in these people. She spared a glance at the small circle of people standing right before her, at Commander Paylor who was watching her with a proud smile, nodding in agreement with her words, at the man beside her who was continuing to rally the people and keep them going, and finally at Peeta.

Her jaw clenched as she met his gaze. Every video he had seen of her, every speech she'd made, every rally she'd done in order to win these people's support was true. It came solely from her heart—no where else. Aella wanted this rebellion, this war, she believed in it and its cause more than anyone he knew because of what it stood for. That better life she had wanted for herself since she'd been reaped almost seven years ago, justice for herself and her family for what President Snow had done to her.

And Peeta found that he wanted it, too.

Aella watched as he pressed three fingers to his lips and rose them into the air in salute—the three finger salute. Her breath tumbled out of her, eyes flaring in mild shock but she didn't let it show. Instead, she nodded deeply while holding Peeta's gaze and she did the same. She pressed her fingers to her lips and rose them in response for everyone to see and soon enough they copied, a silence rippling across the camp while they saluted to the war, to their comrades, and to the people they had already lost.

When the vans went out and the soldiers walked into combat they went with that promise in their hearts. The promise that Aella Barnes had given them that glimpse of, shown them what it could become. They reached the front lines, weapons turned to Snow, to his Peacekeepers and shouted that promise aloud for everyone to hear and remember.

For a better world.

• • •

Aella and Peeta hardly spoke as they rode out to their team. In the back of an enclosed van they sat with two guards in near silence as Aella leaned against the back wall and twirled one of her small hunting knives between her fingers. The sharp point against her callused fingers was enough of a bite to keep her steady, focused. To remind her why she was walking into the middle of a war.

She knew Peeta watched her every move with the knife but he didn't flinch. The scrape of cold metal against her skin should've sent her spiralling into a land of torture and pain. The scars on her left forearm tingled in memory but if anything, the bite of the knife kept her grounded. It had been a coping mechanism long before the weapons were used against her, she knew it and Peeta knew it, too.

Still, her silence made him uneasy. It took him back to their days in the cells where she'd just lie against the cold floor and wouldn't speak. He didn't like that she was slipping back into that dark place so he looked at her and said, "That speech really got them going."

Her hard stare didn't break away from the knife in her hands, "It doesn't matter," she said, "most of them are going to die anyways. Won't even get the chance to see the change that they're fighting for if we win."

"Is that what this is about?" He asked her. When she didn't respond he pressed his lips together and said, "The guilt?"

Aella's jaw clenched as she looked at her hands. She didn't have an answer for him, not really. There were too many thoughts—too many feelings—running through her mind as they sat there and drove out into the Capitol and she tried to not let them consume her. She tried to keep herself from crumbling, from completely shattering under the fear. Just sitting in a van with Peeta and two others was enough to trigger her claustrophobia.

The man sitting next to Peeta handed him a heavy duty gun—the same one Aella had been taught to fire prior to her visit to District Eight, "Your weapon, solider." He said.

Aella paused twisting her knife as she looked at the man through her lashes and said, "What?"

Peeta was frozen as he stared at the gun being handed to him. Aella could see his fingers trembling, could see the pure fear in his eyes. They drove over a bump in the road and something inside the van clattered. Peeta flinched in response and closed his eyes, kept them closed. Aella saw his lips moving, whispering something to himself, and her gut twisted in dread.

First her, now him.

"Peeta, open your eyes." She said to him. His lips continued to move for a few more seconds before he opened them and stared at her. She nodded as best she could, trying to look reassuring, "It's okay," she said, "no one is going to point it to you, or to me. Okay?"

He barely nodded. She wanted to reach out and place her hand against his knee but she knew better. His shoulders were far too tense. She offered him a sympathetic smile and said, "I'll carry it, okay? You don't even have to worry about it."

The man holding Peeta's gun looked at her, "President Coin—"

She fixed him with a hard glare, "I'll carry it."

"But—"

She reached forward and grabbed the gun out of his hands and laid it across her knee silently before looking at the man sat beside her and said, "Mine?"

With a harsh gulp, the man handed Aella her gun and she fastened it at her side with expert ease. She tried to ignore the feel of it under her hands, tried to block out the memories of the last time she'd held a gun, of that night she'd shot five Peacekeepers in front of Peeta because she thought she was going to die.

She pushed it all away and let the anger and rage wash over her. It filled her veins with killing calm and before they knew it the van was lulling to a slow stop.

Peeta's eyes found Aella's and she saw his fear—saw his weak grip he had on reality and she clenched her jaw harshly. Fuck President Coin for making them do this, for putting them through all this trauma to make herself look good. Her rage was white hot as the van doors opened and their two guards jumped out. They gestured for them both to follow and Peeta moved to stand but before he could Aella grabbed his hand gently.

"I swear, Peeta, I won't let anything happen to you out here."

Peeta saw past the anger, the rage, and saw that woman he'd befriended in those cells. Saw the person who had told him all about her life when they were scared, cold, and alone. He saw her vulnerability, her own fear, and he swallowed thickly before nodding.

Aella let him climb out first. She needed a minute to compose herself before she faced anyone.

She hung her head and released a deep sigh, her knee bouncing in succession, "Come on, Aella," she muttered to herself, "you can do this. You're safe. You can do this."

She repeated it over and over again as she climbed out the van, taking the hand that was offered to her and stepping out into the street. The sun beamed down on her from the sky but provided no heat. Cool air nipped at her skin but no breeze floated by. She drank in her surroundings, searching for any sign of danger, for ways to escape, for any places to hide. Already destruction had befallen.

The high built apartment blocks were crumbling, monuments had been torn down. The road was scattered in debris. She walked around herself in a circle as she remembered the high buildings, the narrow streets. Unwelcome memories flashed through the forefront of her mind and she squeezed her eyes shut to get rid of them. She was drowning in a sea of water, dodging thousands of poisonous arrows, scaling a building with her bare hands while deathly black oil rose up, up, up to chase her.

No. No, none of that was happening. She was just standing in an abandoned street. There was no danger. She was safe.

She opened her eyes to make sure and that frightened part of her sighed in relief. Instead, she clenched her jaw so hard it hurt and looked to see Peeta's lost eyes already on her. He had one guard by his side and the other stood next to her, watching her intensely as he held a small black bag in his hands.

"What?" Aella sneered at him, "You think I'm gonna run?"

The guard merely shrugged his shoulders timidly, "I don't know you." And then he handed her the small bag.

She rolled her eyes and gestured to herself, to Peeta's gun she was already holding, to her own strapped to her back and said, "Haven't I already got enough to carry?"

He handed it off wordlessly and she had no choice but to take it with a scowl on her face. She already knew what was inside. She'd seen the medics back at the base camp pack it and hand it off to the guard. Vials of sedatives, needles to inject and far too much medication for both she and Peeta to settle their raging anxiety and shared tendency to try to maim and kill when under blind panic.

She shook her head to herself and stepped out from behind the van, walking toward Peeta. She kept her eyes on him as the guard came to her side, "Peeta—"

He shook his head and the uncertainty that danced in his eyes made her gut clench. His gaze was becoming foggier by the second, "I—I don't think I can do this, El, everything is getting hazy again."

She shoved the bag strap over her arm and grabbed his hand, squeezing gently in reassurance. His fingers were loose in hers until he responded, curling them into her hand softly. She was about to configure some lie to reassure him but the way his eyes shone made her pause. The words he'd spoken to her after Finnick had left echoed in her mind.

'You don't need to pretend to be okay for my sake, you know?'

Her throat bobbed and she lowered her voice to a quiet whisper—loud enough so only he could hear—and said, "My name is Aella Barnes and I survived the Hunger Games twice."

And then Peeta said, "My name is Peeta Mellark, my home is District Twelve."

"Yes." Aella nodded softly, "Keep going."

He did and she guided them forward toward the group of soldiers gathered she hadn't yet allowed herself to look at, listening to Peeta recite those words over and over again. She didn't care that the guards had stopped, didn't care that everyone was watching them, she merely kept her eyes on Peeta until she heard a bow string groan and Gale's voice.

"Okay, stop."

And she did just that. Peeta continued to talk to himself, his eyes mercifully on the ground and his hand still relaxed in hers but Aella looked at Katniss Everdeen and her bow with hard eyes, "Put it down."

"Hold up," Said the voice she'd spent hours dreaming of since he'd left. Finnick stepped between Katniss's bow and she and Peeta with an arm raised in surrender, "Everyone relax."

"What are we doin'?" Gale asked.

Aella eyed him over Finnick's approaching shoulder. She let that icy fire dance in her eyes as she stared at each and every single one of them gathered. At an unfamiliar woman, at Boggs who stood there with a clenched jaw, and at Katniss who's bow was still drawn, "Putting your weapons down, Gale," she told him firmly in response to his question while still glaring at Katniss, "that's what you're doing."

And then Finnick was in her face and his sea-foam green eyes were staring into her soul. The air was stolen from her lungs and his calloused fingers were cupping her cheeks, swiping over the fresh scar near her eye he had never seen before. His brows were drawn in, confusion dancing in his irises when he looked at her and said, "Ella, what are you doing here?"

She heard his tone—the dread that sluiced through his words. The fear. She felt it. All she wanted to do was crumble into his arms and tell him she couldn't do this, that she'd rather him put a gun to her head and shoot her than make her stay out here in a place where all her nightmares occurred. But she didn't. She steeled her gaze and clenched her jaw as that unfamiliar woman walked over to them with her uncertain eyes on Peeta.

Aella stepped out of Finnick's hold. He watched her guard shoot straight up. Her back was ram-rod straight and the Huntress stared out at them as she put her arm around Peeta in protection and shoved him behind her. She eyed the cuffs in the woman's hands and snarled.

Finnick had never seen her behave like that before in his life. He took a step back at the promise of violence that danced in her eyes and every alarm bell pounded in his head. But Jackson continued to walk toward them and if she saw the threat in Aella's eyes she ignored it.

"Stop!" Katniss said suddenly, "Stop, don't...don't go any further."

Jackson froze, only five or so feet from Aella and Peeta, and she looked at Katniss. Finnick turned, too, still shocked seeing Aella behave the way she was. It was such a wild, murderous, type of protection. The way she had shoved Peeta behind her and guarded him with her whole body. Finnick had no idea what was happening to her but Katniss did. She remembered what Aella had said to her that day she and Johann had visited her in the hospital about her trauma response.

That, and she was the only one who had spotted the sleek short dagger clutched in Aella's hand.

Katniss walked over slowly, hands raised in surrender and she looked at Aella only.

Jackson was a stranger to her and when she walked toward them with cuffs in her hand, it trigged Aella's trauma response. They all knew she had taken beating after beating for Peeta alone, that she did anything to protect him while they were in the Captiol, that she'd shot five Peacekeepers when they'd tried to separate them. If Jackson had been a step closer, Aella would've slit her throat or stabbed that dagger into her heart without second thought.

"Aella, this is Lieutenant Jackson—"

Aella shifted and it was then that they all saw the dagger in her hand gleam under the sun, "I don't care who she is."

Jackson went stiff. Finnick was frozen. From afar Gale and Boggs didn't dare move.

Katniss just stood there with her hands raised in surrender and said, "She isn't going to hurt you or Peeta."

Aella scoffed but it was bitter and harsh as she tore her gaze away from Jackson and glared at Katniss fleetingly, "Yeah, I've heard that one before."

Triggered. Jackson had triggered Aella. The realisation fired in Finnick's brain at a million miles an hour. How Katniss had realised it before he had, he didn't know but what he did know was that they needed to calm her down before she struck.

Everyone stood as still as death as Aella held her dagger in one hand and shielded Peeta with the other.

"Ella—" Finnick's voice was soft as he stepped toward her, his arm raised in a non threatening way but he froze the second he saw her flinch away from him.

His breath caught in this throat. His heart dropped so far into the depths of his stomach and pure agony sliced through him. She flinched away. She hadn't done that in so long.

"Everybody just stop." Aella's voice came out steady and hard as she looked around. Her eyes lingered on Jackson, on the cuffs in her hands and she said, "What are you doing with those?"

"I'm putting them on Peeta," Jackson said cautiously, "It's just a precaution."

Aella's eyes narrowed into slits, "Because you think he's going to kill you, right?" She questioned her, "Let me ask you. Have you ever met him? Do you know anything about him? Or do you just know what President Coin wants you to know?"

Jackson didn't so much as flinch, "I'm just following orders, soldier."

"I'm not a soldier." Aella responded coolly, "I never asked to join your military. I never asked to be here. Neither of us did," She gestured firstly to the street they stood in and then to Peeta beside her, "He's been fine since the moment we left Thirteen. If he was going to try and kill her he'd of done it by now." She jutted her chin towards Katniss.

No one had much of a response for her. The dagger was still in her hands and Jackson didn't seem to be willing to back down. Not until Boggs walked over and joined them.

"Aella." Boggs said to her, "Let Jackson cuff him. It's precautionary for now while we figure out what the hell is going on."

"I'll tell you," Aella said to him, "President Coin thinks it'll be good to use us to send a message to the Capitol that we're healed...that we're all shiny and new again." She finally sheathed the dagger, "Using us, Boggs, she forced us out here...like she did Finnick. None of us actually want to be out here. She doesn't care about our trauma, or what we went through in this city. All she cares about is her reputation, proving to the Capitol and the rest of the rebellion that we are a unified front no matter what Snow does to us,"

"It's all bullshit." She told him, tossing Peeta's gun through the air to him, "That's Peeta's. There's no mag inside. I know you wouldn't trust him to hold it anyway." Boggs caught it with one hand and Aella barely gave him a second before she was tossing the black bag through the air to him. It landed at his feet with a heavy thud, "Incase you need to sedate either of us. The medics left you instructions incase you get confused." She sneered. Aella looked at Jackson then, blue eyes dancing in an icy fire, and said, "Give me them stupid things."

Jackson hesitated, looking to Boggs who merely nodded silently. The woman handed the cuffs over to Aella and she turned on her heel, facing Peeta while murmuring to him softly. She slipped the cuffs on his wrists, apologising with each time she had to tighten them. With each passing minute Peeta seemed to be slipping further and further into a haze and Aella was fighting not to follow him.

She wrapped her arm around his shoulder when she had them on and she guided them forward. The group that had formed parted and watched silently as they walked towards the unused building they'd been sitting in. Finnick released a heavy breath before following her and one by one they all dispersed inside until it was just Jackson and Boggs left standing there.

Jackson stepped closer to her superior and lowered her voice expecting no one to hear her, "Should I cuff her, as well?"

Boggs' jaw hardened and rage rippled through his eyes. He remembered coming across that room they'd tortured her in when they'd searched for her. He remembered the leather restraints attached to the table, the metal shackles discarded on the floor. He wouldn't put her through that.

"No." He told her firmly, "Cuff her, Jackson, and she will kill you. She won't hesitate..and I won't stop her."

•    •    •

A/N; The old Aella is back and she's causing hell like always! See you on Monday for the next update.