"What do you mean she's alive? Why didn't you tell me before we dug up this grave?" The sound of an angry male voice woke Wren.

She was in some sort of box, who-knows-where, trapped by Akram's cronies. Her knuckles whitened as she clenched her fists angrily and slammed them against the wall trapping her. They'd grabbed her and apparently tried to kill her like her life didn't even matter. Still, she contained herself and listened.

"I checked when we grabbed her, and she's still alive," another voice answered, equally as annoyed.

"You said that overdosing the drug would kill her. If she's alive, then you should have told me and we could have finished her off. I suppose I'll just have to do it now..." Footsteps approached the box, but the second speaker stopped his partner.

"No! I can't stand the sight of blood."

"What are you talking about? You're a killer, aren't you? What kind of killer can't stand blood? And if we aren't going to knife her then what do you suggest?"

"So she's alive. Who cares? We'll just bury her anyway. It doesn't matter. She won't be after we bury her, and we've already dug the hole."

"Fine. Help me lift this stupid box then," the first voice growled.

The box she was in shifted and she felt herself being lifted. Her hands scrambled for purchase, and she put her feet out, pushing against the box to keep from being jostled too much. Then she felt herself being lowered into a hole. The box hit the ground with a thud, and then something landed on top of it. Dirt.

Finally, panic overrode the anger she'd felt. She pounded on the top of the box and screamed, but it was useless. No one else was around. No one would hear her. All she got for her trouble was laughter from be people who were burying her alive.

She stopped fighting and let her head fall back against the wooden bottom of the box. Screaming now would just waste air, and there was already a good layer of dirt over her box. The steady sound of more dirt landing above her increased her fear. I'm sorry I left you in the bathroom Dylan. I let my guard down and now I'm probably going to die, so I'll admit, at least to myself... I could use a bit of help. Apparently I can't take care of myself, and if you'd show up right about now, I wouldn't object. At all. I'd probably thank you. Profusely.

Then the remembered something. My knife! She felt for it, praying it was still attached to her skirt. It was. Yes!

The complete darkness was starting to get disconcerting, and her eyes hurt from peering into it, so she closed them and began to dig at the wood above her. It was too solid. Some part of her knew that, but she didn't stop, because she needed to cling to the hope that it would work. If she gave up she would just sit there until she ran out of air and began to suffocate.

Already she could feel her lungs struggling for oxygen. The air was getting stale.

She couldn't hear the shoveling anymore, but it didn't matter. They'd probably finished burying her. But that's not right... it was a deep hole. The shoveling didn't die out, it just stopped. Her hand dropped to her side and she lost her grip on the knife. Her mind began to go blank, but she refused to black out this time. "Dylan..." she whispered.

When she saw light again, she was sure she'd died. Someone's arms encircled her and she fell into their warm embrace. So this is what heaven is like. Looks strangely like earth. She blinked, trying to clear her head. Her hand throbbed, and her head pounded. But that doesn't make sense. If I'm dead then why do I feel pain?

"Wren?" a voice asked.

She looked up and found herself staring into Dylan's eyes. "Hi," she whispered, and realized her throat was parched. "You saved me."

He hugged her tighter. "Of course I saved you. I'll always come to your rescue, whether you need me or not."

Her head rested on his shoulder. "What happened?"

"They tried to bury you in on top of someone else's coffin. When I saw them throwing dirt into the hole I thought... I was sure they'd already killed you. But the weirdest thing... I thought I heard you call my name."

She smiled and lifted her head up to look at his face. There was so much concern in his eyes. More than concern. Love. It surprised her. She'd never thought anyone would love her, even as a child. Deep down she was still that same insecure person, but she'd learned to fight for herself. To keep herself safe so she'd never have to rely on anyone else. To hide that insecurity.

Almost getting buried alive made her realize just how stupid that notion was. She would always need the people she loved. It was the way she was, even if she didn't want to admit it. Her strength didn't come from her own power, it came from the people around her.

Growing up wondering if her family really loved her had conjured so many doubts about other people that she eventually had to come to terms with the fact that she didn't trust people to care about her, and it had prompted her to spend her life trying to prove that she could do everything on her own.

In a way, being part of a rebellion had been the best thing that ever happened to her and her family. It had strengthened them in ways that never would have happened otherwise, and she was only just realizing how much that had changed her. Her confidence and ability to work with different teams of people came because she'd learned to recognize those she could trust and those she couldn't.

I can trust Dylan. It was a slow realization, but once the thought crystallized in her mind, she knew it was true. He hadn't followed her to the store because he didn't trust she could take care of herself, he'd followed her because he cared. And the second she got him out of the way, she'd opened herself up for an attack.

"I'm sorry. This is my fault," she said.

Dylan frowned. "You almost died! You can't apologize for that." He pointed to the unconscious, handcuffed forms of her captors. "They did this, not you. If anyone should apologize, it's me. I followed you and made you think I didn't trust you to take care of yourself, and..."

She kissed him before he could finish the sentence. "If I can't blame myself then you can't either," she said with a smile. "I'm just glad that you came for me."

"Was the kiss a one-time thing, or..."

She crossed her arms and cast a mock glare at him."Figure it out."

He laughed, but she could see worry in his eyes. He stood and helped her to her feet. "The police are searching the area, you know."

"How come they haven't made it here yet?" Wren asked. "We can't be that far out."

Dylan chuckled. "We're a mile out from the road, but they started from the opposite end of the graveyard."

"How do they even know I'm here?"

"I tipped them off." He nudged one of the men on the ground. "Someone has to put them in prison, and we aren't exactly fit for the job."

She rolled her eyes. "They're going to ask so many questions. Can't we just leave before they get here?"

"We could, except that your family is worried sick. Anne is freaking out even more than the rest of them, since she knows why you're a target. It would be cruel to leave them worrying like that."

She looked toward the road. "I know. But they'll be keeping an extra close eye on me, and the police will probably keep me as a witness. I might even have to testify. Things will get complicated, and there's no way I won't end up on the news after this." A groan escaped her. "So much for keeping a low profile."

Dylan's hand rested on her shoulder. "Amanda... you just escaped death by a hair. If you'd been in that coffin much longer you would have had brain damage or worse. It's a miracle I found you in time. I know that's affecting you. You can't just ignore this and try to keep moving. I can see how terrified you were... are. Go to your family. We can handle complications as they come, but right now you need your family just as much as they need you. Sometimes you have to think about yourself just a little."

His words broke the surreal mood she'd been in. All my life I did this. I hid the pain by being weird or silly or pretending I was happy so that no one would know. So they wouldn't worry about me. Her throat tightened and she bit her lip, holding the tears in.

"I thought I was going to die. I thought Akram had finally killed me," she whispered.

Her legs gave way under her and Dylan pulled her into his arms. "Let it out. Holding it in just makes things worse."

The tears broke free, and she clung to him, afraid to let go, until the tears stopped and she fell asleep, exhausted.

Dylan carried her back to the patrol cars and waiting ambulance. They took her, wrapped her in blankets, and drove off before he had a chance to get in with her.

The police had questions, but he didn't bother to answer them. Instead, he told them where to find Akram's hired assassins and drove away, following the ambulance to the hospital.