A/N: This is gonna get super wierd if you've not read my main fanfiction Dangerous Silence (I know, shameless self promo), but to clearly understand what the hell is exactly going on, please read it. Puh-leeze?

Okay, now those who have read the 15th chapter of Dangerous Silence, this takes place after it, okay? Okay.

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  Royalwoods441
Sakshidshah24
Ididntdietho
afiyaedwards123
believe-and-dream
Spongeboblaugh
babyliciousdelirium
Erorrisst
brokenbeauty133
dilwidit
PurpleJP
LillyRikkard57
-ambrosian
maddycolton
spicy_cup_noodles_
charlatte98
waiting_4_a_miracle
JaneMontague
Augousta
Lacreation
dendandun
shadowofthoughts
KhushiSoni15
AnnSumesh
subconciousness
SirRobObsessed

  ^I know this might seem totally rude, but I think you might like this oneshot...only if you want...I'll totally get it if you don't wanna read...I'll just go...and if you read this, then thanks so much :)

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   Something had gone wrong. She just knew it. There was cold dread in the pit of her stomach and combined with the near painful throbbing of my head, she was feeling slightly nauseous already. And she had just woke up.

  A strong stink of rotting fish entered her nostrils as she took a breath deeper than the last, and her face scrunched up immediately. She tried to lift her hands to cup them around her nose and mouth, but a cold metal around them kept them in place. Her stomach clenched and adrenaline shot through her viens, as her brain took it as a sign of danger. And there was danger. Plenty of it.

  She opened her eyes to find herself in a room which she recognised as a warehouse, one with fish all around. That explained the stinking smell. What that did not explain was why she had been handcuffed to a chair and why Lord Dalgliesh was standing in front of her, a smug, victorious  smile on his face. The cold dread just got freezing and rage shot through her, propelled dangerously by the adrenaline coursing through her.

  But before she could open her mouth to shower the choicest of curses upon Dalgliesh, he spoke. Dangerous words. Words which made her pale and the fear intensify. Made her curse herself for being so naive, for falling right into his trap.

  For believing the message because she thought it was from him.

  For ruining his life's work, all because of her stupidity.

  For handing over his file to Dalgliesh, even if unknowingly.

  For breaking his trust.

  Dalgliesh gave her another smile and held up a plain blue file and the fear made her dizzy despite the adrenaline.

She had been seen last taking the file down the front stairs. The whole staff would have seen her. She had taken the file, but she had been alone. And suspicious of the message, which could have been easily mistaken by any unknowing person as fear. Or worse, guilt.

   She had been missing for a whole day now. He would have been searching for her. But why, was the main question. Had he concluded that she was a victim of his nemesis' plans, or a traitor? If he came, would he believe her again? Did he still trust her, or did he think that she had betrayed him?

  Her eyes threatened to water and she bit on her tongue to keep the tears inside. She was not going to be weak. Not in front of her enemy.

   She was going to be strong. She would show Dalgliesh that she was not going to let him break, to know that she could have crushed him by betraying his trust, after the coldest, uncaring man she had ever known, had decided to trust her, to care for her enough to show his vulnerable side to only her.

  She was going to make him believe her. Trust her again. Love her again. And no matter what, she would not fail. Not for her own sake, but for the sake of the man she loved. Loved, and cared for, even if she tried to deny it all the time.

  She would make sure that he was not broken. That Dalgliesh would fail to crush his enemy through his lover. That their love would be stronger than his hatred. She was going to survive this.

  With new resolve, she silently ran her fingers over the tight metal handcuffs restraining her hands behind her, looking for flaws or a way to open them.

  Dalgliesh stood there silently, leafing through the file as she pulled at the handcuffs, ignoring the blood trickling out from the cuts due to the sharp edges of the metal. She was going to get out of there. She had to get out of there, to him. To make sure he still believed her. Trusted her. To make sure he still loved her.

  Her hands pained, the pain unclear through the throbbing in her mind as she continued pulling at her restraints.

  Minutes passed like hours and the blood trickled down her fingers, drying up and her wrists felt numb.

  Get out of here.

  Get out of here.

  Get out of here.

  Meanwhile, the Lord waited, looking amusedly at her pathetic attempts to get out of the handcuffs. They were pure steel; she would never be able to open them without the keys. Ambrose had really chosen well; she was average looking, yet she was smart and witty when required. He clearly remembered how nicely she had managed to get him riled up. He could have actually punched her, he had been that angry, but she had surprisingly got out of the way in the nick of time.

  Yet he was slightly surprised when he heard that she had already got out of her restraints until Ambrose had arrived last time. He had expected her to perhaps wait for her knight in shining armor to come for her rescue, but she had instead rescued herself. She was brave. And for that he grudgingly respected her. Too bad Ambrose loved her. She was going to die.

  No, he wasn't going to kill her. Why would he want blood on his hands. Oh, not at all. He had already made sure that his men had testified against her. Planted the seed of the idea that the she was a traitor.

   He also knew that Ambrose was strong. He would never accept it. Unless his childhood insecurities came in the way of his love. A few pushes, a few wrong statements from his men's leader, a few fake evidences planted and the seed would take root. And once a seed started growing roots, it never required much to make it grow on its own. His insecurities, no matter however much repressed, would be enough.

  Dalgliesh smiled, the cruelty in it enough to make anything living want to curl up and whimper in fear. He was going to see that Ambrose was crushed, destroyed to dust, never to rise again. All becuse he was foolish enough to love someone, trust someone. Because that meant giving them power over you. To either love you back and nourish you, or stab you in the back and destroy you.

  A man entered in the room and she looked up at the noise of the door opening, her mind in a trance.

  Get out of here.

  The man approached Dalgliesh and spoke in a low voice. He stood up, picking up the files. Turning to her, he gave her a cold smile.

  "Goodbye, Mr. Linton. Enjoy the last hour of your life."

  A chill went down through her spine at his words, fear spreading through her. Dalgliesh was really going to kill her. He would never know that she was not a traitor. He would never know how much she loved him. Too much. Too much.

  Dalgliesh motioned to the man and he stepped towards her, taking out a cloth from his pocket. She became alert, frantically trying to get her hands free. As soon as the man came a bit closer, she kicked him in his knee, hard and he stumbled back, his hand on his knee.

  Dalgliesh gave a small laugh. She was definitely fiesty and reckless enough. Fiesty enough to kick down her employers cold walls and reckless enough to not care where that took here. Too bad she was going to die. She was something special and he respected her more than his enemy.

  She shot him a furious look and he was actually surprised. Not an ounce of fear for her death showed in her eyes. Only for something else. For someone else. She was brave. Too brave.

  It would be useless to become attached to someone who was going to die soon. The man had been instructed what to do. He would not fail. Even if Ambrose did not kill her, the men knew what to do. Taking one last look at her, Dalgliesh turned around and strode out of the room.

  The man moved towards her again, more cautiously this time and dodged her kick by an inch. She tried to scream loudly, but her dry throat made her voice raspy and thick, and the man quickened his steps.

  He would not like to be there any longer than necessary. Mr. Ambrose's men were already nearby. His Lordship had left for the Nemesis already. Quickly tying the cloth tightly so that she would not speak, he hurried out of the room, ignoring her muffled cries.

  When Dalgliesh did not do anything for hours, instead just going through the files he had, she had unknowingly relaxed herself, the adrenaline fading away soon. But when the man approached her with the cloth in hand, she panicked again.

  The cloth would ensure she would not be able to speak, would not be able to convince him of her innocence, that she had not betrayed him. And if he did not still trust her to even speak, then....she didn't even want to think about it. Mr. Ambrose disposed of traitors faster and as easily as her Aunt getting rid of poor suitors, but she didn't kill them. He did.

  The cloth was too thick. She could hardly breathe properly because it was not folded and covered even half her nose. Her breathing hitched, her body trying to pull in more oxygen than what was coming in through the cloth.

  She had hardly ever prayed in years. After the death of her parents, she had stopped believing in the Lord. If he would have been really there then he would have never orphaned her and her sisters.

   But now, she prayed. With all she had. She prayed that he believed her. That he still trusted her. That he would atleast give her a chance to speak.

  There were footsteps near the door. Someone banged the door on the wall so hard that the wall nearly shook, and she opened her eyes, caught in mid-prayer.

  One of the many men visible outside stepped in. Her heart thudded loudly as she sent up a last prayer.

  He was here.

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  I have no words.

  Feedback please, but no hate allowed.

  Don't forget to vote, comment and uh, not exactly enjoy.

  Yours truly,
  Ifrit5789.

P. S. Before you try to kill me, there will be a second part. So kindly put down your weapons. Yeah, good children. Yeah, keep it down. I'll go and write the next part. *Runs away from the mob*