#when she met john���s gaze he quickly lowered it and withdrew his hand as well

[cagedbycravings]

Iron Necessity

Chapter: Trust 

Warnings: Language, Violence

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC’s and the plot. 

"Convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies." — Friedrich Nietzsche

If there was one thing Mactavish learned about Margaux Levèsque, it was how painfully meticulous she was. They'd jumped through more hoops and ladders than he imagined a contact having. From walking into a pool of water to prove they weren't wearing a wire, to responding with strange hand gestures, he remembered what Price had mentioned when Nikolai was dropping them off at their first location. Margaux's mind is like a puzzle box. It is her most endearing trait as much as it is her most infuriating.

Finally, with their clothes drenched and patience thin, they arrived at a tiny apartment. Price had raised his hand to knock whenever the door opened. Cautiously entering he, Mactavish, and Anderson prepared themselves. A woman stood at the window, eyes focused on Nikolai's Pave low.

"Margaux." A small smile tugged at his whiskers as Price waited for her to turn. It had been years since they last saw each other and yet, she hadn't appeared to have aged a day. Her rich copper skin, her vibrant hazels, her toffee brown curls neatly braided. "It's been too long, mon trèsor." (…my treasure.)

"That it has." Anderson and Mactavish exchanged glances, not quite certain of the softness in their Captain's voice. Familiar hazels narrowed in their direction.

"Vous êtes certain qu'on peut leur faire confiance?" (Are you sure they can be trusted?)

She eyed the two men suspiciously. 

"Avec ma vie même, Margaux."(With my life, Margaux.)

Price saw that his words did little to soften her expression as he cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him.

"We need to talk about the girls."

Cillian tapped his pen with increasing irritation as he watched the front door from the dining room table. Esmèrie hadn't been found in 12 hours. She traveled light and could remain out of the house for days at a time making him question how someone with no training could do so while leaving no trace along the coast of southern Rio. His patience was wearing thin. He'd been too lenient with her. And she took advantage of his kindness. Just like that bitch she calls a mother. The door swung open as two armed men dragged a village elder. Cillian glowered at the man, ordering his chin to be lifted.

"Where is she?" Cillian hissed in Portuguese. "Where is she? I know she gave you the net."

The old man's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he sputtered. "S-She g-gave my p-people the net t-to save our water. I…have not seen her since."

Cillian nodded before glancing at the two-armed men. "Take him back to the village.” 

Turning on heel, he slammed open the sliding glass door. Gripping the wooden railing, he steamed. Then it hit him...the coves. When they flew in, he’d seen the way she’d look at them. Her eyes narrowed with focus. But the current was too strong to swim. She had to have a boat, something small and discreet enough to drift to and from the villa they stayed in. 

Ghost began to wonder how she wasn't cold or tired. Esmèrie kept her distance from him wadding in the bioluminescent waves. He extended a gloved hand towards her. She hesitated, her eyes shooting from his hand to his face. "I'm not gonna bite you." She could practically hear his smirk beneath his balaclava. A wave broke their stare just long enough for him to consider diving in for her. Esmèrie resurfaced with a gasp, her eyes carrying the same reluctance she'd shown for the last hour.

"Who sent you?" Her accent was more pronounced, striking a higher octave while she raised her voice above the crashing waves. "Was it…Cillian?"

He glowered as she flinched, inching herself away from him. That name had been highlighted in the briefing. The lithe Irishman who he'd yet to see interact with Esmèrie, holding some leverage on her family. "No, he didn't." His hand still extended, he watched her anxiously eye him.

Overlooking her shoulder, she knew the swim to her alcove would be precarious this late at night. The ocean's temperature had dropped increasingly as the sun faded making her trip even just a kilometer from the shore too risky.

"Come on now, dove. I'm sure you're freezin' out there." It was the gentlest he could make his voice sound and judging by Esmèrie's uncertain expression, he needed to practice. He sighed and was just about to pull his hand back whenever she lifted herself, slender arms holding her dripping body against the jagged edge. She had a clearer look at his balaclava, her eyes drifting to his olive colored long sleeved shirt with matching cargo pants and military grade leather boots. "If you take a picture it'll last longer, dove."

He chuckled at the flush across her cheeks. "No, it's not like that. I just…my Parrain used to wear boots like those…" Her voice drifted off as she eyed his mask. "Are you…" Her eyes grew wide at the shadow behind him as Ghost caught a glimpse of someone holding an M9 to his head.

The atmosphere shifted as Esmèrie's eyes widened in fear. In seconds, Ghost gripped the gun, yanking the man's arm forward as he turned. He placed well aimed kicks to subdue him. Removing the M9 and firing. The shot rang out, an eerie silence swallowing the cove. Ghost turned to face Esmèrie, expecting her to scream or worse yet, launch herself back into the water. Instead, she glanced towards the dead Black Dahlia member at his feet. Slowly lifting her hand forward, he read the dread in her eyes. Gripping her hand and lifting her out of the water, his eyes drifted down her dripping wet suit. She flushed and averted her gaze, hand gripping her wrist. The irritation in his breathing was evident as he scanned the cove. Any number of Cillian's men could arrive to harm them. They'd need to act quickly. There was an off beaten path leading from the ledge to cove. He faintly detected a means to escape whenever the screeching of a car reached their ears.

"Find the girl. Shoot anyone that stops you."

Price and his team knew to expect trouble the moment they saw the estate filled to the brink with Makarov's men. Margaux seethed upon seeing her brother Sabien enter the house, cell phone attached to his ear.

"Bâtard!" (Bastard) She hissed.

"Margaux, what do you wanna do?" Price asked through his earpiece.

"We wait until nightfall then we'll land, swim across and go through the garden." Margaux's knuckles cracked as she rounded her fists.

Night couldn't come fast enough for the team as Margaux took some time away from camp to eye her family home. From this angle, its beauty was untainted. Her favorite season was approaching as she long awaited the ocean's crisp kiss to welcome her each morning. Visages of her daughters playing amongst the rocks came to mind. Their world was so pure and simple back then. An excellent education, good food, and lots of love were all that was necessary to keep them safe. Margaux had planned to take over the family business while also tending to her father in his ailing memory. She could finally slow down, tell Price the truth about-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a crunching leaf as she withdrew her Desert Eagle, ready to shoot.

Anderson held up his hands, freezing in his tracks. "Didn't mean to disturb you, ma'am."

Margaux sighed and replaced her pistol in its holder. "You didn't. I apologize for that."

Anderson shrugged. "It's a tense time."

Margaux smiled. "Still, shooting you would have been like shooting one of my daughters. They are right around your age."

"Twins?" He asked as he ambled towards her side.

"Mhm. Born five minutes apart." She chuckled tilting her head, eyes closing. "I had them in a bar on the border of France and Belgium. Just 12 hours before, I called John in a panic. He was by my side throughout the entire birth. He brought me home and took care of the girls and I while dealing with the chaos that was my family."

She could practically hear Anderson's soft faced smile as she turned to him. "Why do I have this feeling you'd get on well with my Elyse?"

A crimson tinge lit up his cheeks, as he glanced down bashfully. "Funny you say that, because we just so happen to be mates." The fear of implying disrespect struck him as he stammered. "B-but I can assure you there's no funny business."

Margaux tilted her head knowingly. "Is that so? Well even if you did so happen to dip the biscuit, as a French woman, I can appreciate knowing that my daughter has chosen so well."

Anderson blinked curiously at her flirty tone as she giggled. Allowing her innuendo to fill the space between him, she barely contained her laughter behind her hand.

"Do you mean…oh…"If his face were any redder, he'd turn into a tomato. Anderson nodded, thanked her and awkwardly excused himself as she giggled just as Price appeared from the tall grass behind them.

"What are you up to my pearl?"

"Making certain to get a rise out of your exceptionally British men."

An amused glint in his eye, he wrapped her arms around her waist, pressing himself against her ass. "You mean like how you did when we met in Sierra Leone?" Suckling at her ear, he pressed her closer as she shivered.

"You mean when I threatened to take off your head with my legs?"

"Mhm. You're the only woman who I've ever allowed to smother me with her minge." He nibbled at her neck as she bit at her lower lip, hand slipping between the two of them, fingers near his protruding zipper.

"Mm…John, I need this."

"I know you do." His nibbles turned to kisses as he pulled her into a passionate kiss. She turned, one hand snaking upward to his hair, the other hand unzipping him before slipping her hand inside. Price shuddered at her touch. "Margaux," His voice turned husky as she gripped him, pulling away just enough to watch his reaction. His eyes closed, a heavy exhale escaping his lips, he hardened in her hand. "My pearl," He breathed, alarm overtaking any pleasure he felt. Cradling her wrist, his eyes fluttered open. "We can't. Not like this."

The disappointment in her eyes was present for a moment before she blinked it away. "You're right. We need to go."

The moon granted them favor, embracing them as Margaux led Price, Mactavish, and Anderson out of the water. They darted through the garden following the cobblestone walkway along the winding entrance into the hidden crawl space. It would lead them to her father's office as Margaux scanned the room, waving them up. "Watch the door." Price motioned to Anderson who nodded as he looked through the sheer room divider.

Margaux typed rapidly at the keyboard, opening file after file, searching for any trace of where Esmèrie could have gone.

"We've got company." Anderson whispered, lifting his M4A1.

Price and Mactavish readied their M4A1s as Anderson watched the shadow grow closer. They held their breath, the room silent as the shadow stopped mid-step in front of the room divider before turning its back.

"Mon Dieu!"(My God!) Margaux's gasp startled the three as they shot their attention to her. "Non, non, non bèbe, non!" (No, no, no baby, no!) She trembled, tears spilling from her eyes as she barely muffled a sob behind her palm. Price knelt to her side, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "Margaux my pearl, what is it?"

Drawing in a sharp breath, she swallowed her cry. "Esmèrie contacted Black Dahlia." Her lip quivered as she bit at her lower lip until she tasted blood.

Mactavish glimpsed his mentor's face seeing the color fade from his cheeks made the younger Captain question just what kind of trouble this Esmèrie was in. His eyes looked grim.

"Contact 12 o'clock." Anderson whispered.

"Margaux, we have to get out of here."

She blinked away her tears, drawing in a short breath. "Not without my bastard brother."

She walked towards Anderson, scanning the guard standing with back turned to them.

"If we can get to the west wing, we can corner Sabien. Then it's just a matter of extracting information."

They made their entrance in the fog of a flashbang as the four shot their way up the grand staircase and into the west wing. Pressing themselves against separate walls, they waited for Margaux to toss another flashbang before storming the bedroom door. Inside, a stout looking man sat in front of the fireplace. His lackluster brown eyes didn't move from the picture in his hand. Margaux advanced cautiously, Desert Eagle pointed as the sound of gunfire from the hallway gave way to the crackling fireplace. She rounded his chair, pressing the gun to his temple. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't blow your brains out."

"Because you don't know where Esmèrie is, do you?" His lackluster brown eyes hazily rose to meet her fiery hazels.

"Where is she?" Margaux's voice hit a guttural low.

"The last wire transfer went to Rio. That was over a week ago. " He nonchalantly swallowed another gulp of his whiskey.

"How'd she get there?"

Sabien smirked. "You don't know? She contacted that attack dog you lost control of."

Margaux pressed the barrel deeper into his temple. "Tell me brother, how do you sleep at night? Knowing that your children are safe in their beds at home with you rather than them being spread all over the planet?"

Shame creeped into his eyes as he looked away taking a sip of his brandy. "I slept well with that comfort. But my children are not here. They are in Russia," He couldn't contain the venom in his voice. "Serving as collateral in your child's place."

"Collateral?"

"Oui. Makarov has grown impatient. He won't wait much longer until…" His voice dropped off as the sound of gunshots reached their ears. Price rushed into the room, eyes ablaze at Sabien. "We have to go. The Russians have us outnumbered."

"Call Nikolai." Margaux watched Price nod before pressing his earpiece.

"Guess we'll have to catch up another time, sis."

A cruel grin etched into her features, heightening the fear in his heart as she tilted her head. "Why wait any longer brother? You're coming with us."

Sabien's eyes widened as he reached for the Glock on the table next to him. Margaux one step ahead pistol-whipped him. His unconscious body leaned forward as she whistled for Anderson and Mactavish to enter the room. Mactavish lifted the stout man over his head. The gleam of light from Nikolai's chopper drew their attention to the nearest window.

Margaux removed the photo in her brother's hand. Eyes softening as she saw Ciel resting in Esmèrie's lap, grins on their faces as her father played at the family piano. Folding the photo into her pocket, she stared at her brother's bleeding face. "Tell Nikolai we're bringing a plus one."

Dew dripped down the silvery strands as hazel eyes dilated, pulsating with fear. Sweat glistened on her forehead, her mouth parting, the words failing. She could hear the ominous scratching as something predatory approached her twin. She'd been unaware, blinded by naivety, of the danger approaching. The shadow of something crawling closer to her, as the webbing began to encircle her legs. Her splayed arms writhed as Elyse felt the Esmè's burning tears prick at her eyes. A distinct anger flowed through her veins as her gaze sharpened towards the disembodied voice against her naïve sister's ear. Threats of what was to come causing her sweet sister to tremble. Elyse's voice failed as she tried to scream. In the meanwhile, the shadow eclipsed her twin. Her wide set eyes fluttering closed as the venom from the web seeped into her flesh. The pain registered over her features as she released a cry that tore Elyse apart.

"I'm sorry, Elyse. I'm so sorry."

Elyse struck the punching bag in front of her. A loud smack emitted with every punch. She'd grown accustomed to the stares at her ever-growing athletic figure. She was shorter than expected, her curves more stubborn than she would have liked. The gym despite it's gossip about her taking enhancements, her sexuality, and her general distrust as a non-member of the 141; provided an air of release. As she rolled her neck before resuming her blows on the punching bag. The visage of her twin crying out made her blood boil. Every night for a week that dream came to her. She needed an outlet, somewhere she could hit something without consequence. The gym was quiet today, the 141 members sticking to their side of the gym. She'd just landed a reverse kick whenever a whistle reached her ear. Shooting a glare towards the entry to the gym, she watched as Gary strode towards her. "You looking for a sparring partner?"

Elyse lifted her brows in surprise. "You're back?"

Gary chuckled. "Yep. Just got back this morning. So, what do you say?"

Elyse thought a moment. They were of similar builds. He wasn't quite as tall as the other SAS members, as she witnessed just how well he'd learned to use his lean build to his advantage. "Let's do this."

Their jabs cut through the air as the two dodged and blocked each other's strikes. Elyse had just delivered of a round of kicks to Gary's mid-section, whenever he grabbed her leg and swung her towards the floor. Pressing her weight on to her hands, she backflipped before charging him. He anticipated her moves, knowing quite well how much more comfortable she was with Krav Maga. He'd learned to spot more vulnerable areas to exploit over the years. She'd managed to, tuck herself behind him, slipping him into a headlock as he broke her hold, bringing his fist to her face. Her forearm blocked it at the last second ready to strike with her own blow whenever their legs crossed causing an awkward descent onto the faded blue gym mats.

Gary landed first, his back emitting a loud smack. Elyse tumbled next, catching herself by pressing her hands on either side of him. The pause lasted only a moment, his cognac brown eyes linked with her hazels; their breathing ragged, sweat dripping from her toffee brown curl onto his cheek. The intensity weighed on them as Elyse caught herself leaning closer to him.

"You two need to get a fucking room." Royce hissed in disgust as he lifted himself the sparring ring ropes.

Elyse shot a look towards the American as Gary felt his heart race. There was something about being near a woman so ardent. Her body hot with an inner fire. Margaux's words echoed in his mind as he felt a surge of blood rush to his nether regions. Even if you did so happen to dip your biscuit, as a French woman, I can appreciate knowing that my daughter has chosen so well.

Shifting uncomfortably, so as not to reveal his current predicament, he gently pushed her off.

"I'm not made of glass, mate. If you need me to get off, just tell me." Elyse playfully nudged him. "You alright? Your face is rather red."

Gary nodded, propping his legs up in a way that he could casually lean against them in hopes of not raisingany suspicions. To make matters worse, Archer whistled for their attention. "Captain wants to see you two." Seeing the grave expression on Archer's face dissipated any feelings of salaciousness as Gary rose, following Elyse out of the gym.

"Go.Onto.Base?" Margaux accent thickened, her brow raised.

"It'll just be until we're ready to leave." Price placed his hands around her rounded fists. "Please, my pearl. Just give us a day to prepare." He knew not to poke a hissing viper when he saw one. Margaux was no exception; her darkened copper skin reminiscent of the sleek black adders he'd run into during his first tour in Sierra Leone. He'd grown to appreciate their seductive aura, finding solace in their hypnotic eyes. The day he was nearly attacked, was the same day he'd met Margaux. She'd finished an arms deal with the government and had just so happened to stumble across his path, stabbing the viper while never breaking eye contact with the younger Leftenant. She couldn't stand him at first. Attached like a lost pup she called him. As much as her words stung, it was the truth. He'd been smitten with her from the moment she withdrew her blade from the viper's neck, content with the blood on her finger-less leather cuffs as she ambled into the sunset. Any chance he had, he'd convinced Gaz to cover for him before slipping away to find her at the only decent pub in Makeni. After buying a few drinks, he'd cajoled her into conversation. From the very beginning she made him earn every glance, laugh, embrace, kiss, and eventually every moan he received. British accents aren't enough to entice French women she teased. He blinked, bringing him back to reality as he peered into her vexed hazel eyes.

"John…"

"Yes?"

"I'm not going to that cesspool of testosterone you call a base."

He released an exasperated sigh, feeling Nikolai's bemused stare and Mactavish's affronted glare from the front the helicopter. Sabien shuffled in the belt that bound his wrists and feet together. His voice muffled by the gag at his mouth. Feeling a moment of compassion, Price lowered the gag just enough to let him speak. "You will have a better time convincing God to allow Lucifer back into Heaven than you will convincing this stubborn cow to budge." Earning himself a venomous glare from his sister, Sabien almost willingly allowed the gag to cover his mouth.

Nearing footsteps attracted their attention as Elyse and Gary approached before standing respectively.

"At ease." He motioned to Elyse to come closer to him. Raising a curious brow, Elyse rounded the Pave Low to see Margaux.

"Daughter."

"Mother."

Their curt responses could cut through the near tangible tension in the air; making Price question if this was truly a good idea. His gaze passed from one seething gaze to the other. Their relationship had become tumultuous after Elyse enlisted as even their holiday visits had become strained under the tension of Margaux's decision.

"You left us." Elyse's voice hit a guttural low as she rounded her fists.

"Don't start with the accusations." Margaux rose slowly, shoulders tense, eyes austere as Price inhaled a sharp breath. "You are beyond your depths on this one, child."

"I did what was best for both of you." In an attempt to quell her rising anger, Margaux forced out a fiery exhale as she lowered her head. Margaux lowered her head, her eyes softening in contrast to the shifting of her legs. Price knew that stance, like a black adder readying a strike while luring prey with a false sense of confidence. "Separating the gem from her paradise was one of the most difficult decisions I've ever made."

"Don't give me that shit." Elyse turned her head in disgust. Now was not the time to be vulnerable to her manipulation. "She could have gone with you."

"You know she can't handle this lifestyle. She wasn't born to face this world." Margaux exposed her hands to her daughter, an attempt to seem vulnerable.

Elyse knitted her eyebrows, twisting her mouth in derision, arms crossed. "She's stronger than you give her credit for. Naïve but she still outsmarted those halfwits." She said pointedly towards her miserable looking uncle.

Margaux failed to keep the glimmer of amusement from her eyes as she sighed, turning her head away from her daughter.

Elyse glimpsed the fleeting sadness in her mother's eyes as her heart sunk. Her attempts to bury her empathy hadn't become exactly easier since she enlisted. She had hoped that the battlefield would desensitize her. Making killing, torturing, hurtingpeople easier. In some instances, this had proven to be effective. Her skills improved, she'd risen through the ranks faster. In other instances, however, her empathy towards the ones she cared for remained painfully intact.

The dissolving tension brought a sigh to Price's lips. "I'm glad to see that you two won't tear each other to shreds while we resupply. I understand the circumstances aren't perfect for a reunion, but there are more pressing issues at hand here." He turned to his goddaughter, a mixture of compassion and firmness in his eyes. "Your mother has found the location of your sister. She'll update you on all the details once you two get back to your sleeping quarters."

Elyse knew an order when she heard one, no matter how subtle it may have been. "Yes, sir." She nodded.

"Dismissed, Corporal." Elyse began her walk towards the female barracks as Price tugged at Margaux's hand. "Please go easy on her. She's just as terrified for Esmè as you are."

A sad smile crept onto her face, Margaux pressed a kiss to his face. "You really are too good to me, John." He smiled as he watched her catch up to Elyse. Mactavish, Anderson, and Nikolai turned to face him.

"Alright, lads. We've got a shit ton to do and not nearly enough time to do it all."

"Sounds like business as normal." Nikolai smirked.

"Aye." Mactavish sighed before turning to Anderson. "Roach, come with me to the armory. I'm gonna need the extra hands."

Esmèrie winced, struggling against his vice grip.

"Dress quickly. We have to get out of here." She turned from his sight only to feel his grip at her burning wrist again. "No," He emphasized as if scolding a child. "You dress here. Last thing I need is you disappearing again." He shifted his gaze the other direction, holding her arm in place as she shrugged out of her wetsuit. She'd barely slid her scarlet tunic dress over her bra when the material snagged in her hair. She wriggled with it, using the hand in his grip as he looked glimpsed a tattoo on her right side. Her gaze snapped to his as he noticed her cheeks burn in embarrassment as he glanced away, a smirk evident under his balaclava. She'd began to struggle with her navy-blue thigh high stockings. Finally slipping her feet into her heeled boots, she attempted to comb through her hair with her fingers, sighing as she felt it already begin to dry. "Stick close to me. We gotta move fast. And don't run off." He pointed whisper made her swallow. "Are we clear?" She winced as his grip grew tighter. Reluctant to leave with the madman who just minutes ago was pointing his gun at her, she passed one final glance towards the ocean, an aching desire to do nothing more than return to her alcove, slip into her bed, and forget about the world that caused her such immense pain. He tugged on her arm, intense ambers waiting for her response. She nodded, swallowing any objections she held.

She'd only stepped closer to him when she felt Ghost shove her backward. His M9 aimed at the figures scanning the shoreline.

"There's Daniel." A gasp escaped the youngest and newest member of Black Dahlia. Esmèrie recognized the skittish brown-haired teen she'd known as Ardan. He'd been the most civil often bringing her shells from the beach when she was too depressed to leave Cillian's safehouse.

A gruff, irritated Irish accent reached their ears. "I can see that, you twit." Ronan, Cillian's right-hand man cursed under his breath. Turning his head towards the cove, he spit out his cigarette. "Go up there and check for any signs of her." The teen felt the older man shove him forward.

His flashlight neared as Ghost gripped the back of Esmèrie's head, nearly slamming her into the ground. She struggled, propping her weight on her hands however it didn't take much effort for Ghost to pin her beneath his weight. The flashlight passed over them, Ardan's breathing just mere feet from their faces. Ghost cupped Esmèrie mouth, gripping her just enough to prevent her from squirming. They'd remained undetected, Ardan's footsteps quieting.

Ghost peered around the corner, seeing the man return to the beach. "Let's go." Ghost breathed in her ear. Feeling another rush of heat to her cheeks, Esmèrie nervously found her footing as Ghost tugged her behind him. They darted towards the cliffside. The Black Dahlia members had their backs turned and with a bit of luck, he and Esmèrie slipped past. They'd managed to pass behind the parked car whenever Lochlan, a tall blonde with stubby forehead and pale green eyes spotted them. Kicking the door open, he fired at the two. Ghost grabbed Esmèrie shoving her forward into the forest. He began to fire, Lachlan's body hitting the ground with a final smack. Bullets sprayed from the blonde's MP5K as Ghost fired a deadly shot to his forehead. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Esmèrie's terrified hazels. When he didn't, his anger bubbled past his lips. "Fuck."

Esmèrie couldn't move her legs fast enough. Rushing from the gunfire, she made for the train station. If I could just make it to the lab. She had just rounded the corner seeing the open door to the last train of the night, her hopeful smile fading from her features. Grasping air where her backpack should have been, she panicked. Her bag must have still been in the cove. Her heeled boots slid in the dirt, her gloved index finger snagging against the brick wall she peered around. Her toffee curls stuck to her face, cheeks reddened from running, and her chest heaved with ragged breaths. Her eyes widened at Lochlan's dead body. Ronan was on his phone, his back turned as Ardan gaped at the dead mercenary. By a twisted chance of fate, the teen looked at her as she tucked herself behind the corner. Leaning to her side, she clutched the feather pendant at her neck, her eyes fluttering shut. Controlling her breathing, she gripped the wall with her free hand, missing the shadow enshrouding her body. A gloved hand gripped her face, hey eyes shooting open. Panic kick-started suffocation as she wriggled her body against the person behind her. Strong hands wrapped around her torso, a strange lull of ecstasy consuming her as she lost consciousness.