Disclaimer: This chapter does contain violence and profanity. I'm just warnin' ya! 

Chapter 27


As much as Sam would have liked to taken time to heal and come to terms with her family affairs, sadly there isn’t much time for it. Sunday is all the time she has and when Monday rolls around quicker than ever, she has to place her personal issues to the back of her mind so that she can concentrate on work.
Since the case was slowing down, the Chief has tasked her with the challenge of trying to get the help line for the abused victims up and running curtsey of Adrian’s donation. She wisely chooses not to argue that it’s more of a job for a PR rep than a Deputy police officer since that would only result in him placing her on trivial jobs and that would surely bore her to death. 



When she finally gets around to taking her lunch, breaking tradition Sam actually ventures out into the small cafeteria area of the station with it’s own little kitchen desktop to have her sub sandwich. Much to her disappointment though it’s far from peaceful as her sworn nemesis looms over her table. 


“What is it Hanson?” she groans swallowing the bite slowly and straightening her shoulders to match her cold expression.
“I’ve heard you’ve been digging up my past,” he states, placing his lunch and phone onto the table before taking a seat in the chair opposite her. 

Sam raises an eyebrow at the statement. Surely he must be aware of that. That is of course why he sent her that ‘message’-the one that had her evicted from her own apartment. Maybe this is just one of his stupid games?

She gives a small inconsiderate shrug of her shoulders and casually asks, “really?”

“You and I both know that you’ve violated my privacy Torres. Don’t play coy with me. I could go to the Chief with this, you know. You peeked at my file, didn’t you? Saw I grew up in a care home and went over there with lies to get some dirt on me.”

“So why don’t you go to the Chief?” she evenly questions, challenging him.
It’s a gamble she’s taking-that’s for sure. There could be serious consequences if the Chief did find out about this but logic reasons that if Hanson wanted to go to the Chief, he would have already; he wouldn’t be chit-chatting to her about it. 

“What else did you find, Sam?” he retorts, throwing her slightly off balance but she quickly regains. 


Her eyes sheen with triumph, after all, she does know one thing that he wouldn’t want coming to the light of day. 

“Oh not much…Just that you’re Santiago’s chew toy,” she smirks. 


“Was. I was his…’chew toy’. I’m not associated with those people anymore, Sam. It’s my past, everyone has one and I’m not especially proud of mine. I’m sure there are some things in your past too that you wouldn’t want dug up either, so all I’m asking is that you respect my privacy,” he concludes sincerely but Sam doesn’t quite buy it. 

“Yeah but the difference with my past and yours is Hanson that I wasn’t friends or associated with a wanted criminal unlike you.”

His expression falls into one of mocking hurt, “Sam…how was I to know at that age what would become of men like him? I know you don’t possess much compassion or sympathy, Torres but surely even you can understand how a kid from the wrong side of town with nothing to lose can easily end up in a gang.”

She regards him with narrowed eyes but says nothing causing him to sigh softly and shake his head.

“Really Sam? You’re a damned good cop, I know we don’t always get along but I can admit that much. When you came here a newbie and took that promotion within a few months, I hadn’t expected you to last past a year but here you still are; and making far more progress into the Santiago case anyone else has done before. I respect that. I respect you and that’s why I can’t believe you’d go and do something like this. I guess I was wrong when I thought you had a code of moral conduct.”

Sam can’t help but frown at that. There’s nothing wrong with her morals. It’s never steered her wrong before and she lives strictly by her morals. How dare a sneak like him question her?!

“My morals are in the right place-are yours? Just get on with it, Hanson. So you know I talked to your former care worker. What are you going to do about it?” she crisply questions.
She won’t take his bait. She knows he just wants to steer the subject away to her but she won’t let him. This has to stay on track.
“Well…I’m not going to the Chief about it. Not this time anyway. If there is a next time then I’ll reconsider but right now, I just want to call a truce.”
“ ‘A truce’?” she echoes.
“Yeah. I’ll let you do your work, won’t get in your way until you crack the case-”
“What’s to say I will?”
He snorts, “of course you will Sam. And until then, in return I’d like you to respect my privacy and respect me as a fellow colleague.”

He sticks out his hand in offering and Sam can only eye it suspiciously. Her life would be a lot easier if Hanson would quit his teasing and jabs at her everyday but at what cost? What if he’s the only way to Santiago? Or what if other evidence comes to light that’ll mean she has to dig more into his history? But then again, having him think she’s on his side or at least neutral may mean he slips up…It’s a long shot but better than refusing it and having him go to the Chief or get more suspicious.
She knows as soon as she shakes his hand, she’ll regret it and even his smirk twangs a sense of skepticism. Before she can say anymore, Shawn rises to make himself a cup of coffee, while Sam finishes the last of her sandwich.

Before he returns however his phone lights up at the incoming text. She glances across at the flat screen while his back is turned.
The sender is just named ‘Paul’ which isn’t the least bit suspicious but the what she can see of his message is: ‘Rendezvous 19.30 Thursday.’

She realises it could mean a multiple number of things but only one thing jumps to mind-the warehouse. She quickly snaps her gaze away just in time to see Shawn returning. Mumbling a quick goodbye or something to him, she strides out of there in a daze and back to the comfort of her own office.

Slumping her head into her hands she tries to reason with herself. After all this message from ‘Paul’ could mean something totally different. Except why use the word ‘rendezvous’ then? That’s usually reserved for shady business dealings right? And ‘Paul’? Really?! That has to be Paolo Santiago. His number set as a common name to disguise his true name. Sam imagines herself explaining it to the Chief or even to Briggs and it sounds absurd. Ludicrous. Like a woman clutching her last straws. But her gut tells her this is something at the very least. Definitely not nothing. But as to the significance of it- her gut unfortunately isn’t that revealing.

But where and what could be happening on Thursday?

Sam’s gasps in surprise. Of course! The shipment. John had said from the video that Santiago’s expecting a shipment in this week at the warehouse.
Oh god this is big! This might be it! Holy shit.
Sam can hardly contain her excitement as she reaches for the door to get Briggs and the Chief, but then she stops suddenly, allowing her arm to fall flat. How the hell would she explain this? She can’t possibly explain to the Chief why she has the inkling of capturing Santiago this Thursday. And if she can’t explain it to the Chief then there’s no way in hell he’s going to waste the department’s already tight budget for something that may not even be worth it. Still, despite all the practicalities, Sam just can’t be expected to let it go.
Well at least she has a few days to try and figure out what to do. A few days that she definitely needs.




The days pass faster than Sam could have anticipated and Thursday creeps up on her before she knows it. She’s antsy- she knows and Adrian knows. For the last 2 days he’d been asking her tirelessly what was going on but she’d mumbled the same answer about being exhausted from work or working on a new lead for the case, so he’d dropped it not being able to get much out of her distracted mindset. It isn’t so bad until this morning when she leaves her toothbrush in the kitchen sink.
He pulls it out with confusion and creeps into the bedroom where she’s getting ready for work.

“So I guess you’ll be brushing your teeth in the kitchen then. Maybe even start using the washing up liquid as toothpaste, perhaps?” he teases as she buttons up the unflattering uniform.
“Huh? Oh! That’s where that went,” she exclaims taking it back and into the bathroom to replace it in its proper place.
“Sam? What’s going on, really?” he asks, “what’s this new lead you think you have?”
Her forehead wrinkles in thought as she frowns and admits to him, “I can’t really explain right now but if it even is something then it’ll be over by tonight.”
“ ‘Tonight’?” he frowns replicating hers.
“Yeah, so I’ll be a little late,” she mutters lacing up her standard black shoes. 
“Okay,” nods Ade but as she’s loading her gun into her holster he can’t help but add, “be safe.”
She glances up and strides over to, taking his face in her hands and kissing him long and hard.
“Wrong profession for that baby,” she winks but noting his concern she adds, “don’t worry, I’ll be okay. And tonight I’ll show you too.”
With that promise in mind, she gives him another peck on his stubbly cheek and leaves for work.


At work she’s even more jittery and when Briggs asks what’s wrong she bites her lips not to reveal her wild accusations.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Sam?” he asks, concern dripping in his tone.
“Mmm yeah. Has Callaghan said anything about the surveillance?”
“No…why? Is there something wrong with it?”
“No, I was just wondering if anything new has come up.”
Gale shrugs and replies, “not yet but he’s keeping a close eye on it considering last time.”
“Okay, good…that’s…good.”
“Anything else, Ma’am?” cautiously asks Briggs.
“Why’d you say that?” she retorts, her eyes sparking in curiosity.
“Oh, it’s just you seem a little…on edge today.”

Sam deflates. What the hell is she doing questioning the loyalty of Gale?
“I’m fine but…I think I may head over to the warehouse this evening. Just to make sure…nothing’s out of the ordinary.”
Briggs frowns slightly but nods, “alright, want some company?”
Sam considers the offer. Would it be worth it? It may be better to have some back-up but-
“I mean, I had a date but I could always-”
“In that case, no. Go on your date, it's not worth missing your date. It’ll just be some routine checks.”
“Still…maybe I could swing by. What time are you going over there?”
“Hmm? Oh around 7.30.”
“I might be able to do that. The table’s booked for 8 and I was picking her up but I guess I could swing by a few minutes before then and-”
“Briggs. Seriously, it’s fine. If you can’t, I’ll be fine,” she assures him.

Gosh, a few days ago she seemed so sure but now…doubt nibbles away in her. And she sure will feel sorry as well as stupid if Briggs misses his date to accompany her to an empty warehouse. Besides, she’ll just have a look around and if it seems like a deal’s going down then she’ll just call for backup then. No point in sacrificing someone else’s perfect evening for her silly hunch.
He shoots her a smile before she dismisses him and returns back to her dreadful paperwork.



That evening before Sam goes to catch her bus, she grabs a slice of pizza and a cup of steaming, sweet, rich coffee before making her way to the stop. She’d changed at the station into a spare pair of jeans and a loose grey tank top she usually keeps, but her gun is still snuggly fit into the back band of her jeans-the one accessory she hasn’t parted from. It’s bright out, so on go the shades and she can’t help but pray that her assumptions are nothing. After all, she did promise Adrian some fun tonight and she so desperately wants to make good on that promise. He’s not the only one with needs and after sex with him, almost 2 weeks feels like a lifetime. Her thighs subconsciously clench as she imagines his bright blue eyes filled with lust, while that thick dark hair he keeps perfectly combed is tousled and mussed in the throws of their heated affair. Her body warms at the direction of her filthy thoughts and she has to quickly shake herself out of them. After all, she is sat on a public bus and despite the camouflage of her sunglasses, it’s just not appropriate.

Getting off at the last stop, she makes the short 10 minute walk to the abandoned docks. Tucking her sunglasses away she assess the seemingly desolate area. Everything remains clear. A sharp breeze bristling through causing Sam to zip up the flaps of her leather jacket. It’s not much but it keeps the bit away. Her boots slowly trail a path around the wall of the warehouse where around the corner she hesitates for a moment. Peeking around the corner with one hand around the back of her waistband at the handle of her Glock, she deems it safe and emerges to the entrance.

The faded sign and dreary brickwork retain the same tired, rundown look as always and nothing seems out of place. Well, figures Sam, she in early. This would be a good chance for her to scout the area and hide for the stake out. Unlocking the grey shutter she struggles to push the rusted piece of metal up high enough to slip inside. Fumbling around, she pulls down the switch for the 8 feet long lights above to flicker on. One annoyingly keeps flickering on and off but with no way to control it unless she plunges the entire expanse into darkness Sam tries to ignore it. The place is deserted as she’d expected and hoped; bare and empty she glances up at the installed security cameras with comfort at the knowledge that her colleagues would be watching over her. Nothing seems out of ordinary, which has Sam sighing in relief as her shoulders and spine relax again.

In her state of ease and her mission to seek out a hiding place, she doesn’t hear the light footsteps behind her and in a matter of seconds sharp hot white pain explodes from the back of her head, jerking her forwards into blind darkness.

The first thing Sam feels when she regains consciousness is the tingling sensation at her fingers. Twisting her hands, she realises with horror that they’re tied at the wrists above her head and her body immediately has to struggle to balance on her tiptoes to relieve some of the weight at her arm sockets. Next comes her sense of smell and noise. The place smells stale but nothing rancid, though her ears detect the distinctive sound of footsteps slowly, steadily pacing the hard floor near her. As her eyes finally blink back the dark spots blurring her vision, through the bright lighting she finds she’s still at the warehouse, except she’s got company.

“Couldn’t wait until morning to see me, Hanson?...How sweet,” she sarcastically spits glaring at the bastard. He flashes her a grin; one that sends shivers down her spine-it's not one of his teasing ones, its a sordid quirk of his lips while his eyes remain dead and lifeless. She’s never seen him like this and it honestly scares her.
He tsks and comments, “your defence mechanisms are become tiresome, Torres. You’re scared and you hide behind your dry…humour.”
Sam snorts despite knowing it’s true while she rolls her eyes and retorts, “ ‘scared’? Of you Shawn? I don’t think so.”
That’s when Sam realises that it’s not just Hanson that she’s with.
As the stout, wide man with an all too familiar face steps into her line of vision and whispers something in Hanson’s ear. Sam’s so stunned that she’s too distracted gaping instead of trying to eavesdrop. For years, she’s been staring at his picture, of drawings, blurred CCTV images; but never in person. From those images, she’d never be able to tell his tanned skin is like leather, his black hair is thick with gel, but his clothes are impeccable. Wearing some fancy silk black shirt, gold chains, swanky blazer, slacks and shined shoes; she has no doubt that he’s been revelling in his dirty blood money. 

“I always knew you were a rat, Hanson. You spineless bastard,” she cries venomously. Hanson’s eyes flash with anger so deep that were she a weaker woman, she’d be cowering by now. Lips pull into a dark scowl before he forcefully smothers it into a smirk.

“See that’s where you’re wrong Sammie,” he smugly retorts.
Stepping away from Santiago, Sam wearily keeps her eyes trailed on him as he nears her. Close enough to attack, but hostage 101 classes has taught her that despite her screaming instincts she shouldn’t attack unless she has a clear way of escape. Besides, she’s actually curious as to what he has to say.
“Oh and what exactly do I have wrong, Shawn?” she flatly asks.
His smirk widens and when he steps behind her, the hairs of her neck prickles. As does the rest of her, which has her realising that, she’s been liberated of her jacket, shoes,gun and even sunglasses. Dammit, so now she has no real weapons on her.
“I don’t work for Paolo here,” he whispers, loud enough to have his words echoing off the walls.

“What?!” exasperates Sam. What the hell does he mean he doesn’t work for Santiago? The evidence is right in front of her.

“Actually puta, Shawn is the...how you’d say…man behind the mask,” injects Santiago, his gravel like voice grating through Sam’s eardrums. The shock of his words almost has her ignoring his insult.
“Paolo, be nice,” barks Shawn before soothingly explaining, “you see, Deputy. When we were younger as you so cunningly found out, Santiago and I were part of the same gang. Except those sons of bitches merely considered me a runt. They wouldn’t listen to me when I explained my plans to aim higher than some graffiti and petty theft. They were happy staying low life criminals but I have ambition and Paolo was the only one willing to share that. We lay low. Paolo would be the muscle, the image and I…I would be the brains; the Intel, the planner.”
Sam’s breath catches as it all makes sense. Jeez, she just figured that Paolo was one of those ‘don’t judge a book by it’s cover’ guys. He doesn’t look smart enough to evade the police for so long, to successfully run a wide underground crime ring but everyone just figured that he had brains behind that sleezy gettup. Now though, it’s so obvious.
Hanson. The man’s smart, manipulative, deathly. Sam has to give him that. Up until a few months, she just figured him to be the all American boy; the blonde hair, blue eyes, the cheeky attitude. Of course, it’s all just an act.
No man who has the past he has, comes out unjaded.

“Why are you telling me this, Hanson?” she gulps, fingers stretching to try relieving some pressure. She sees Santiago’s face fall into a cross between a pout and a scowl, which has her all the more curious.
“I meant what I said Samantha. You’re a good Deputy. Very good. In fact, 3 years ago, as you know I was going for that promotion myself and when you got it, I was so damn pissed. Then you started to get too close to capturing Paolo. Too close, Sam. I don’t like being unprepared. I don’t like people prying into my business. Not one bit. And usually those that cross me, end up in pieces at the bottom of the river or in the incinerator,” he shrugs.
Despite her resolve not to give over to panic, Sam’s heart accelerates. Oh God, she can’t die now! And not at the hands of Hanson!

“But…” Sam’s body tenses at the word, “you’re too valuable to lose Sam.”

Sam’s breath gushes at that, her lungs deflating. What the hell could he mean?

“A Deputy who’s smart, skilful and…female would be…ideal...Think of the expanse of territory we could have. The money. I want you to join me Sam. You could be richer than your wildest dreams. Anything you want, would be at your feet. Anything…”

Sam’s heart stops.
All thoughts vanishing from her mind.
What the fuck is he babbling on about?!
Join him! Is he serious?! Or just high off his own illegal shit?

Her immediate irrational reaction is just to laugh; the kind of crazy laugh that has people questioning your sanity. It lasts for minutes and minutes and minutes. Finally when the bubbles die down she shakes her head and snorts through her nose in disbelief.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Hanson?! How twisted do you think I am? You think I would sacrifice my consciousness, integrity and morals to work for you?!” she growls hotly.
As if she could ever do that. Not to mention all the risks it opens up. Not just for her but also for…Adrian. Shit, shit, shit. She forces him out of her head before she can turn to mush. If she continues thinking about him, she’ll no doubt start thinking about their future or the one they wouldn’t have if Hanson kills her.

Hot anger freezes in her veins when Hanson pulls out a gun and trails it across her cheek to under her chin. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she forces her to relax and not consider how the safety’s off and cold metal presses against her supple flesh.
“You think you’re too good for me, Torres? Is that it? You fucking bitch,” he snarls lowly into her ear.
“No, I-I of course not, Shawn. It’s just that…” she grapples for something to say that would not get her killed, “I’m scared. I don’t want to get caught. I’d never survive in prison.”
Shawn’s body relaxes fractionally, enough for Sam to sense that she’s not going to be shot straight away.
“Pinche puta!-”
“Shut up, Paolo! God! Fuck! How am I supposed to think when you’re acting like a jealous little bitch?!” cries Shawn shocking Sam by his mood swings and the volume that has her ears cringing.
“But boss, she’s-”
“Which part of ‘shut the fuck up’, did you not understand?! This ‘puta’ is valuable. She has connections, brains, and doesn’t fuck up half as much as you do!” retorts Shawn sounding very much like a foul-mouthed parent scolding a toddler.

And just like a toddler Santiago seems to pout in fury. Where she not tied up, with a gun trained on her by a mentally unstable man, she may have found it funny.

With a sigh from Shawn, she seems to feel the exact moment his arm tightens on the trigger. The gunshot echoes throughout the empty room and Sam can feel Hanson’s body recoil slightly from it as she squeezes her eyes shut and gasps. She figures it’s the adrenaline that has her unable to feel the pain of the bullet but when her eyes reopen she sees the villain she’s been after for years lying in a puddle of his own blood. She can’t see where the bullet’s hit him but it’s somewhere on his face since most of the crimson blood flows from beneath his head.
Still in shock, she’s unaware of Shawn stepping away from her and looming over the body of his dead comrade. Her stomach twists in sick knots as she becomes aware that a man able to shoot his partner of over 2 decades will have no regret shooting a fellow colleague.

Extending the gun, Shawn shoots two more bullets into the limp body of Santiago before icily stating at the dead man, “I told you to listen to me, you greedy bastard.”

Sam’s body tenses when his deadly gaze switches from his former partner to her. She wriggles lightly as he nears, her fingers chaffing against the tightly coiled rope, trying to loosen it. A little more and she could slip through, but maybe not without drawing attention to her plan.
“So what’d you say, Torres? Partners?” he flatly questions gun still cocked and ready to shoot.

Sam sucks in a deep breath, if she says yes, she’ll never escape his grip even if she will get to keep her life. But what kind of a life would that be? A dirty cop? No, she’d rather die now. Besides…Sam glances at the camera’s in the corner discretely. Back up should be arriving soon, right? Surely they must have noticed something amiss. Unless Hanson’s done something to the cameras? However, even if he has, Briggs would check up on her right? Or Ade. Someone would notice her missing…right?
Sam shakes her head, tears of fear blurring her vision, “no…never.”

Hanson’s jaw clenches tight and Sam shudders at his calm anger. Before she can blink, he holds out the weapon and directs a bullet straight through her left thigh. Thankfully it doesn’t hit bone, but it does go straight through her thigh, causing blood to immediately soak through into her jeans. Biting back a curse word, the hot tears drop down her cheeks onto the concrete below and Sam tries so desperately to absorb the pain steaming from her wounded body.

“Think long and hard about my offer one more time, Torres. Or we’re going to see how many bullets it’s going to take to bleed you dry,” commands Shawn taking 2 steps towards her.

Sam grits her teeth, forcing her energy on prying her fingers from the rope, while balancing all her weight on her good leg. Fortunately she can feel the rope give ever so slightly, enough for her to think her reckless plan to work. She knows rationally that it’s idiotic and there’s an extremely slim chance it will work but what other option does she have? Hanson’s going to kill her and she owes it to herself to give this a shot.
Summing up all her courage and strength she lets out a slow long exhale, before shifting most of the weight onto her injured leg. Pain roars through her veins, her muscles vibrating in exhaustion as the blood runs through the denim material of her jeans even faster.

“You’re right Hanson. It’s a good offer and I should take it,” she breathes, waiting for that exact moment his gun arm relaxes.
As soon as it does, there’s no time for second thoughts as she kicks out her good leg and knocks the gun straight out of his arm and somewhere towards the side.
Immediately she forces her body to sag, providing enough force for her fingers to dislodge themselves out of the rope without thankfully her popping her shoulders.

Hanson recovers quickly though. Way quicker than Sam had anticipated. Despite the panic, Sam forces herself to remain calm as she spots the gun on the concrete. She sidesteps towards it, her steps more like hobbles though with her injury. Circling each other, Sam presses backwards towards the gun while Hanson tentatively steps towards her.

“You’re making a big mistake here, Sam,” he lowly advices.
“Oh yeah? Well, seems like my life’s full of them these days,” she retorts just as evenly.
No, she can’t show weakness now. Despite her whole body aching, she can’t afford to acknowledge it. A few more steps now. Just a few more and she actually has something to defend herself with. See how he likes it being shot through the fucking leg.

“I’ve tried to be patient Sam but if you won’t take the offer then…I can’t let you leave here alive.”

He dives forwards, the exact time Sam spins and dives towards the gun. Landing on her knees, she almost buckles at the impact but grapples forwards for the weapon. Hanson clamps the ankle of her bad ankle, dragging her backwards as she yelps at the searing heat flooding through her.
She reaches forwards, however it’s just out of reach. Her fingers desperately try to claw for the black plastic, except it remains inches from her and slipping further away. Her feet push back, anything to try disentangle the parasite on her.
It’s useless though…
He manages to straddle her hips, flipping her over and pinning her arms above her as he reaches for the same gun.

“You son of a bitch!” she cries; twisting, turning, anything to try and get him off her.
Except his body suddenly freezes, his grip on her already grazed wrists tightening to uncomfortably painful.
“Don’t you dare talk about my mother that way!” he snarls, turning the butt of the gun to smash it across her cheek. Heat erupts from her cheek, the bones having crunched under the impact.
“Fuck, I should have known you were no good,” he says pointing the gun to her chest.

Sam’s breath catches, in one final attempt to survive her fingers dig as hard as possible into Hanson’s hand. He yelps just as he shoots. The bullet she knows misses her chest, thankfully, going instead just above at her shoulder, no doubt shattering some bones in the process.
Hands released, she has no time to dwell on yet another eruption of agony. Instead she ceases Hanson’s wrist that’s on the gun with both hands. Using a simple police manoeuvre to snap the gun out of his grip.
Taking it hastily, she doesn’t think before shakily aiming at his face and shooting.

Two, three…she doesn’t know how many clips she fires but it’s only when his body slumps towards the side that Sam realises he’s no longer a threat.

Blood’s splattered all over her face, her arms, every inch of her feels grimy covered in either his or her blood. Taking a shaky breath, Sam pushes his dead body off her and towards the side. Then using some of her last reserves of energy, she rolls herself onto her stomach with a loud grunt and howl of agony. Closing her eyes, Sam allows the fierce tears to flow down her cheeks as she prays for some kind of miracle. With her blood pumping out her body at an alarming rate and the lengthy distance towards the door, she knows things don’t look good but she has to be optimistic.

“Come on, come on, just a little more energy. God…please, please…just a little more. I can do this,” she mutters in reassurance, hoping for just a little more adrenaline. Just a little more to manage to crawl for help.

A metre from the door and she can’t do it anymore. She just can’t. Black spots swarm her vision. Her head feels like cotton and her limbs just…hurt. They feel too heavy to move. Fate accepted, Sam’s body falls flat towards the cold ground. Her visions and consciousness slowly fading away. But just as she does, delusions kick in and she feels she can hear the faint sound of sirens, people talking. Except…that can’t be true, she reasons.

With one more breath, sweet unconsciousness takes her away from the blinding pain. 

A/n yes, yes, you may hate me but may I point out-Hanson got shot in the face. Also, this update took some time because of works being done on the house. 

In my recent, personal news, I'm moving into my Uni accomadation this Saturday which is why I updated today since tomorrow is going to be crazy. Also since it will be Fresher's week, I have no idea when I'll be updating since I have no idea how much time I'll have writing! Ahhh, I'm so excited! 

Anyway this book is drawing near an end in case you guys missed the obvious. So I'll stop now since I'm dying to read your comments!!! xx