He leaned over the table, meeting her gaze and said, “Clearly Jarod’s crazy,” before turning away, knowing he had her attention now. “It’s my opinion that it’s the only explanation for his carelessness. The question is why…why has Jarod gone of the deep end. And how did he manage to…”

“Wait, stop,” Parker interrupted, “Just how in the hell did you get back in here?”

Lyle turned so that he faced her. “I believe the Triumvirate, as well as your father; see me as a man who is willing to literally sacrifice his own flesh and blood for what he believes in.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “As opposed to kidnapping, embezzling,” she paused, crossing her arms, “murderer.” Lyle looked at her with an innate smugness that irritated the hell out of her.

“It’s all perspective.” He stepped closer to her desk, unravelling the bandage wrapped around his thumbless hand. “Some see a missing thumb. Others four perfectly good fingers. Having a hell of a time to get this thing to heal over but like I said, sacrifice…Did you know that they actually offered to transplant my big toe to recreate a new thumb.” Lyle found the idea amusing.

“Nobody creates quite like you, Bobby,” Parker said stonily, her features carefully arranged in a mask of indifference.

“Tell me, Parker, exactly what are you willing to sacrifice?”

The Centre, Present minus 18 hours

He saw her as he stepped into the lobby, surrounded by sweepers. She was dressed for corporate kill. She looked delicious, despite the fact that she wasn’t Asian. There was nothing like the intoxicating feel of power that made his senses came alive.

“You have their location?”

He gave her a slick smile, filled with promise and she reciprocated. Her smile just as predatory and he had to remind himself that she had after all risen to Directorship and wasn’t without skills.

“Yes, we should be onsite tomorrow.”

She nodded in satisfaction and stepped to the side, giving him leave to go. He allowed her this brief power play as he stepped past her, the sweepers closing ranks around him. Let her win this round but when he had Jarod and his sister, he’ll take her to his cabin and show her what real power is before he’ll kill her.

Present minus 18 hours

Outside, snow had started to fall. She saw the flakes fall silently past the window even as she stepped into the room. Her bare feet sank into the warm, thick carpet and the fabric of her robe fluttered against her body. The fireplace was warm against her back when she came to a stop before the bed, her shadow dancing against the hard planes of his face. His eyes burned with intensity even as he shifted, the glint of gold on his ring finger flashing in the glow from the fire. She felt the weight of her own ring on her left ring finger. It felt….weird. To know that she belonged to him and he to her.

Their eyes locked and he didn’t speak or move as she stepped closer and then sat down beside him. She could read the quickening heartbeat in his throat and her own pulse quickened to match his. Jarod visibly swallowed and then whispered her name, his voice deep with burning passion held barely in control.

He leaned toward her, even as he said her name again. And then his lips were pressed on hers and she felt his arms close around her. Her breath caught and then came in short, shallow respirations, echoing his own. It asked acceptance and trust. The kiss was a beginning, it begged no restraint and she opened herself to it. It was almost disappointing when after what felt like an eternity, he pulled back.

She wanted to protest. She wanted control. Her body ached with need.

Silence surrounded them with warmth even as Jarod’s hand traced her cheek, his touch feather light and she shivered. He closed her eyes with soft kisses and her other senses opened up. Her body recorded his every move, every breath and every heartbeat. She felt the pause when he unfastened her robe before he pushed it back from her shoulders.

She let the robe slid from her arms and she opened her eyes, watching him. She was again aware of his power over her. Her tightened grip she had - to be in control - slipped. Sex had always been a game to her as she possessed and controlled. Now it was something more, something different and alien. Something that felt so very right and despite that knowledge her throat tightened in fear. She was afraid that Jarod could love her too much, that she would never be able to return that love.

She felt so close to tears even as he turned her, laying her down on the bed. She allowed her control to open even more and she unlocked the darker, more remote part of her. She remembered her mother and the gift of love she had so unequivocally received from her, given without judgement. And there she found her answer and she felt her constraint dissolve. She will love and give, not because it was expected but because she wanted to.

He stretched out next to her and she felt his need even as her own rose to new heights. His smile was gentle even while she drowned in the depths of his eyes. He traced her lips and then she pulled him down and this time her kiss was demanding and filled with an ache that transcended her current need.

She surrendered herself to it completely.

Present -1 hour

He could still feel her kiss on his lips. He smiled even as he grabbed a tub of Rocky Mountain from the freezer and placed it inside the basket he carried. The only reason he was at the Seven Eleven was their mutual agreement that they had to eat. He still couldn’t believe that she was his wife. He made his way to the front and after paying, exited the store. He hunched his shoulders as an icy wind danced in the almost deserted parking area, numbing his exposed flesh. An unfamiliar black van was parked in a darker corner, not close enough to his own car to warrant suspicion.

He took a step towards his vehicle and the door of the van slid open. Light glinted of metal and it drew his attention immediately. Terror gripped his heart and squeezed. Four sweepers emerged from the depths of the van, heavily insulated against the cold but still recognizable.

He dropped the bag of food and started towards his car, his hand fumbling for the keys in his pocket even as he cursed his luck. Footsteps sounded and he glanced behind him to see another sweeper round the corner of the shop. A body length separated them even as Jarod slipped on a patch of ice. He went down hard, his knee slamming into the asphalt as a hand closed on his shoulder, yanking him back. His elbow rose even as he allowed his momentum to continue and he breathed garlic as the air escaped from the man behind him. Keys finally out, he rolled into a standing position while the sweeper gulped for oxygen at his feet. The four sweepers had already spread, their guns lined towards his body. He ignored the guns as he ran towards the car. Footsteps sounded loud in the quiet and he was aware of his own harsh breathing as the cold seeped through. He got the keys into the slot when a sweeper slammed his body into the car. He grunted, feeling the key slice a long, thin line across his stomach. But it didn’t break and for that he was internally grateful. Using the car as a spring board, he spun and jabbed a fist into a leering face. The sweeper staggered backwards, into the line of fire of sweeper number two and three. He turned the lock and the door opened. Sweeper four rounded the car, screaming commands that Jarod ignored. The car started smoothly and he pulled away, not bothering to close the door. It hit the sweeper a glancing blow, sending him flying to the ground.

The car was colder than a freezer when he finally managed to slam the door closed. He reached for his cell phone, his concentration on the surrounding area. He couldn’t feel his fingers, couldn’t feel the numbers. His head aced from the bone numbing cold and his mouth was dry with fear for Parker.

Shit, come on. He finally managed to jab the correct sequence of numbers even as a town car swung behind him. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up, he repeated while nothing but a ring tone answered back. It felt infinitely long, a lifetime where he aged and reasons why she wasn’t answering ran unchallenged through his mind. And then the click and her soft, “What?”

“Get out of the house.”

She didn’t question and he closed the phone, all his attention now on the road in front of him as he led them away from Parker. He needed to buy her time, needed to let them send reinforcements, needed to let them forget about her. He was ten miles out when the town car finally managed to overtake him, cutting in front of him. It was his driving skills that saved him. He had slammed on the brakes and skidded across the road, slamming the car sideways into an embankment. The Town Car had already stopped as two sweepers emerged. Jarod tucked on his safety belt, feeling relief when the buckle was released and he tumbled from the car. His breath clouded in front of his face in quick succession, his body tight with fear and adrenaline. He made it past the first trees when a gunshot cracked. A piece of trunk beside him exploded into splinters and he ducked deeper into the woods.

He slowed his breathing, willing himself to calmness even as he evaded his pursuers. The cold was leeching into his mind. He couldn’t think, couldn’t sim a way out. He shivered even as he continued to move forward. His hands were blue with cold, his fingers tingling with a thousand pinpricks and then even that feeling disappeared.

He didn’t hear them anymore. He stopped, listened. Nothing. Careful, aware of each step he took, the crunch of snow underneath him, he moved forward and into a clearing. A branch snapped behind him, further back but still close enough to hitch his breath.

Please, please let Parker be okay.

He willed the sweepers behind him to call for back up, to pull all the Centre’s resources to him and to forget about her. He settled in behind a fallen trunk, burrowing his way into the snow until he was satisfied that he wouldn’t be seen.

And he prayed like he believed, prayed for Parker to be safe, for the Centre to leave and for himself to touch her again and to tell her one more time that he loved her. He made promises, that he would keep her safe, that he would tear down the Centre brick by brick if they harmed her, that he would kill Lyle so tortuously slow that the thumbless man would beg for death, that he would bury the Triumvirate so deep that their bodies would never be found.

A branch creaked and it jerked his head upwards and to the left. His eyes bored into the surrounding stillness, searching for any movement between the dark bark. He counted the minutes until he was satisfied that it had been nothing more but a fallen branch.

Darkness was now quickly descending…