Sara scrambled backward as Michaelson rushed toward her, snatching her collar and dragging her up onto her feet. "How shall I handle you, Sara?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice, his green eyes seeming to stare right through her. "Tell me, baby, how should I take care of you?" His lips curled upward into a cruel smile as he shoved her back against the wall.

"How do you expect to get away with this?" Sara demanded, gripping the pen tightly in her hand. "There are cameras in here." She just needed to stall, to say anything just to stall Michaelson and Darius.

"Yes, but they've been turned off," Michaelson said. "Couldn't have anyone watching us kill my uncle, could we?"

"How come no one's come to check on us?" Sara demanded.

Michaelson laughed. "Oh, Sara, when you have money, you have power. I transferred my uncle here, under his authority, because we have plenty of people in this prison, smuggling in drugs and helping us cover up some tattletales. No one's going to complain when they find Cant, on the floor of the visitation room. Darius had to kill him, didn't you, Darius? After all, he attacked your sister-in-law, didn't he?"

Over Michaelson's shoulder, Darius grinned. "I suppose we might as well go with that story, yes. Heaven knows why, though."

"I know, your father would have been the better choice," Michaelson groused. "But what's done is done. He'll be happy to know the man responsible for your brother's death is dead."

Sara remembered Clark Madden, Darius' father, showing up at Leah's wake. I loved Leah like a daughter. She was the perfect ray of sunshine for us. Leah had brought life to a house suffering decay, joy to a family that was half gone. Now Sara's own family was half gone, decaying, dying and falling away into nothingness.

But she doubted Clark Madden would approve of Darius killing a man to avenge Cedric, killing his innocent wife to get himself into a position to obtain that revenge.

Will Mom approve of what you seek to do? Leah demanded in her mind. Sara wasn't sure when her sister had become the voice in her head, but there she was, demanding to be heard and listened to. Would Mom want you to ruin your own life to get revenge for me? Nothing you do can bring me back!

Shut up, Sara angrily told her. Just shut up!

No, Leah insisted. If I shut up, what becomes of you? Sara, I told you I am with you always, in your heart and your memories. Darius didn't steal me from you. He can't. But he will steal your soul if you continue. Do you really want to lose that?

"Any ideas, Darius?" Michaelson asked, dragging Sara back to the present. "For dealing with Sara, the only witness?"

"Hmm," Darius wondered, scratching his bearded chin thoughtfully. Sara knew he was only acting; they all knew he was perfectly fine with killing her. "There are several possibilities."

"How can you kill me?" Sara demanded. "If you story is that you killed Cant to defend me, it won't look too good if I end up dead, will it?"

Darius shrugged. "It's not that simple, Sara."

"You see, money goes a long way in convincing people of something," Michaelson commented casually. "It can convince someone of anything, really. I'd say it does an even better job than the plain truth. It's more helpful than the truth, anyway." He traced his finger across Sara's throat, Sara wanting to shrink away from his touch but unable to do so. "So we're free to kill you."

I have no choice.

Sara drove her pen forward, aiming it up as best she could. Using both hands, she put as much force behind the object as possible.

The pen tip struck Michaelson's diaphragm, in the middle of his torso. He gasped in pain, eyes widening, as the pen broke the skin and sunk into his flesh. How far, whether it was in deep enough to be fatal, Sara didn't know. The pain and surprise written all across his face was enough.

The handler fell back, Sara yanking the pen out as he reeled backward. There was now a hole in his shirt, the edges fringed with blood. He hit the edge of the bench and toppled over, hitting the hard floor with a thud and a groan.

Darius' mouth dropped as he stared at Michaelson. He hadn't seen the wound, nor what Sara had stabbed him with, and Sara was glad of that, keeping the pen hidden against her leg. The tip dripped with warm, crimson blood, staining her jeans.

"What the –?" he managed, glancing up at Sara. "What did you do?"

"Self-defense," Sara choked out, her back still against the wall, eyes fixed on Darius. "It was only in self-defense and you know that. It's legal to kill in self-defense."

Darius growled. "Well, I'd like to see you deal with this." And he raised the shiv, still coated in Cant's blood.

Oh, damn.

Then he charged.

Sara could only assume he was cocky, thinking that because he was a hitman who had just murdered someone in front of her eyes, that he could kill her even after completely announcing his intention and his weapon. She hoped her assumption was true. Underestimating her was the only thing she had going for her at the moment.

She dropped to the floor, sliding down the wall to avoid his shiv, striking up with her boot. She hit him in a soft spot and Darius groaned, freezing for a moment. Switching the pen around in her hand so as to hold it backwards, Sara lifted it and thrust it into his thigh, hammering at the same spot several times, warm blood drops flying and landing on her hands and face, peppering her shirt.

Darius roared and swiped downwards at her. Sara rolled to the side, staggering to her feet and racing across the room, banging her hands on the door.

"Help! Help! Help me! He's trying to kill me!"