>“Mikos, he’s sick! My God, you can’t think he’s faking this!” she said, looking up at him with anger in her eyes.

The boy did look ill, doubled over on the bed as cramps shook his entire body. That pale face had a grayish cast, and he worried for the first time that he might have done permanent damage to the brat.

He had been so certain that the boy’s ‘convalescence’ had been a ploy. A plot of some sort to allow him to stay in the company of his sisters. He had allowed it to continue because he really couldn’t care less about the children and what they did. But the woman.... She had been on very good behavior this last week, not even uttering a word of protest when he had informed her of his decision to announce their engagement at the Christmas ball. She did it out of fear. He had no illusions about that. He had no illusions about her at all. Fantasies.... Well, that was another issue.

He stared down on her, a patronizing smile on his face. The way she hovered above the boy, as if somehow she could protect him. He could break her slender body on a whim, yet still she crouched before him, daring him to deny her. He toyed with the idea. It has been his intent to have him returned to his own room tonight anyway. The little charade of his injury had gone on long enough, and he had no wish to allow Marlena to grow complacent. She had to learn that any kindness he chose to grant her could just as easily be taken away. Removing the boy would have reminded her that even so small a thing as where her children slept was a decision that was his to make. Sometimes the smallest cruelties were the most fun.

The brat gave a low moan, breaking Mikos from his reverie. Damn! He did not want to have to waste his time dealing with another man’s sick children. He did not want them here at all, but he could abide their presence as long as he was not forced to look at them. Trying to feign concern, he asked, “Is it serious?”

She turned away from him, her hand going out to gently push back the boy’s sweat dampened hair. “I think it’s a stomach virus, Mikos. I don’t think you broke any bones, if that is what you are worried about. But I should stay with him. Make certain that is all it is. Please?” she begged, forcing herself to look up at him.

He grunted in irritation, not wanting her to think he gave a damn what her wishes were, yet worried about the boy all the same. Her children were his only weapon. With them, he could push her to do so many things. But if he pushed too hard, if he broke one of her precious babies, he feared that she might end their little game. He would not allow that to happen, at least not until they had a child of their own, binding her to him for all eternity.

The vision brought a smile to his face and with a shrug he reached out to run a finger down the line of her jaw. The play of the muscles in her neck was intoxicating, and it was all he could do not to allow his fingers to continue to caress that soft skin. Reluctantly, he drew back. “You know how important your children’s safety is to me, Marlena. Of course I will allow you to stay the night. But… after this, you will owe me a favor,” he said in a voice as smooth as silk.

She did not deign to reply, her defiance earning her a chuckle as he made his way to the door. “I look forward to seeing you at breakfast, my lady,” he mocked, stopping to give a half-bow from the doorway. His eyes fixed on hers, he pulled the door tightly shut, the click of the lock his final comment.

“Mom, is he going to be all right?” Sami whispered anxiously from her perch on the bed opposite Eric.

“He’s going to be fine,” Marlena assured distractedly, her attention on her son as the cramps continued to convulse his slender frame. Damn Stefano and his plan. She never would have allowed Eric to drink the foul mixture if she had known just how bad his reaction would be.

“I’m already feeling better,” Eric muttered, looking up at them to flash a weak grin. “But I don’t think I will ever have the urge to smoke cigarettes, that’s for certain.”

“Honey, are you sure you’re going to be able to walk?” Marlena asked as she ran her hand over her son’s back in a soothing motion.

He nodded, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. His pale face hung down as if the effort were too much for him, but he struggled determinedly to his feet. “The cramps eased off almost half an hour ago, Mom. If it means we’re getting out of here, I’ll run if need be.”

“Go easy, sweetie. We’ve got almost an hour before Ivan gets here. You should rest,” she replied, relieved that Eric wasn’t feeling quite as bad as she had feared, but worried still by the grayish cast to his features.

“Just want to wash up,” he answered, walking slowly in the direction of the lavatory.

Her concentration on her son’s slow progress was interrupted as Carrie came over to sit next to her. Taking one of her mother’s hands in her own, Carrie asked softly, “Do you really think this is going to work, Mom?”

Flashing her daughter a quick smile, she squeezed her hand and replied, “It had better.”

Three days he had sat waiting for the supply drop. Three endless days he had spent separated from her only by this god damn sheet of iron. He could wait no longer. His time was up. He could feel her need for him calling out to him from somewhere deep inside. She needed him. She needed him now.

With a sudden flash of panic he grabbed the heavy metal tank in both hands and slammed it into the half-cut doorway. The impact of metal on metal boomed out like a church bell, echoing off of cold stone walls until the very air itself seemed about to crack. Again and again he rammed against the door, his screams rising to match the rolling thunder of his blows. Finally the dented tank slipped from numbed fingers and he fell to his knees, looking up with hate filled eyes at the source of his frustration. Iron alone could not keep him out. He would not let it. Putting every ounce of energy he had left into it, he gathered his feet beneath him and drove his shoulder hard into the mocking face of the metal. He had to get to her. He had to get to her now.

The metal didn’t budge, the laws of physics indifferent to the needs of one mere human. Sobbing for air, he allowed his legs to collapse, his body sliding down the rough surface until he crouched, kneeling on the ground, his unshaven face hollowed and empty. She was slipping away from him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

With a sudden cry he slammed a heavy fist against the unyielding metal, as if rage alone would achieve what muscle and fire could not. He was too weak. He was going to lose her because he was too weak to stop it. A low moan rattled through his chest as he forced himself to his feet and stumbled toward the last of the tanks. The only thing left for him to do was keep going. Keep moving. Keep searching. She would be behind the metal wall. She had to be. And if she wasn’t, he would burn the castle and everyone in it.

She paced the room, wondering for the millionth time whether something had gone wrong. Ivan should have been here by now. He should have been here an hour ago! God! She could not believe that she was relying on a plan by Stefano Dimera of all people when it came to the safety of her children!

“Mom? What time is it? Shouldn’t we have heard something by now?” Sami asked, looking up at her from the bed she now shared with her sister.

Forcing a smile to her face, she tried not to let her own worries infect her children. They had enough to deal with as it was. “It’s almost 11, Sami. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute now. It’s going to be okay. Really,” she soothed, hoping the words sounded more certain than they felt.

“We looked all over the room, Mom. I don’t think there is a secret passage,” Eric commented uneasily.

Marlena glanced over at her son, sitting in the middle of one of the beds with his arms wrapped around his legs. Though he was still a little pale, she was relieved that he finally seemed steady and alert. When the time came, he would be ready to move. If the time came…

Before Marlena could form a reply, a cultured voice echoed out at them from the direction of the fireplace. “Secret passages are supposed to be hidden. It’s what makes them ‘secret’.”

“Ivan!” Marlena exclaimed, running over to peer into the big fireplace. Where a brick wall used to be, there was now the grim visaged face of the young butler.

“We are running very late, Madam. Dinner ran over and the van’s battery died. I really think that it might be best if we wait for...” Ivan trailed off lamely as Marlena stepped across the smoldering remains of the fire and brushed by him without so much as a glance in his direction.

“Let’s go, kids. We are getting out of this madhouse right now!” she called, sticking her hand out to help Sami through the awkward passageway.

“Which way, Ivan?!” the tall blond snapped at him, and for an instance he was at a loss for words.

Feeling that the entire situation was rapidly spinning beyond his control, Ivan simply swallowed hard and pointed. “The way out is to the right, Madam. But really… I think it might be best...”

He gave up trying to argue as the woman efficiently relieved him of the flashlight and started off down the passageway, her children following close behind. With a resigned sigh, Ivan shoved the passage door shut and quickly followed. At least he had had plenty of practice at taking orders from women in his tenure with the beautiful Ms Vivian. He didn’t know why he had thought his dealings with Dr. Evans should be any different.

Jogging past the swiftly moving children, he finally caught up with the tall blond. “Um, Madam. We have to take a short detour through the kitchen in order to reach the outside. It should be empty at this time of night, but perhaps it would be best if I take the lead?”

“Of course, Ivan. Just… hurry,” she answered simply, her apprehension rising with each second they spent in this house. Something was going to go wrong. She could feel it. Oh, dear God, she prayed silently. Please let my children be okay.

After several minutes of silent walking, Ivan pulled to an abrupt halt. Glancing over at the determined woman, he tried one last time to postpone the inevitable. How on earth did he ever allow Vivian to talk him into this?! “Madam, once we leave the passageway, there will be no turning back. The snow was starting to fall heavily before I came in to get you and we are already running late. Perhaps it really would be best if we waited another week before we...”

“Ivan, I cannot stay in this house one more minute, much less one more week. If the snow is falling, it will cover our tracks. No one will see us as when we make a run for the van. Correct?”

“Correct, madam,” he reluctantly replied, recognizing that there was no way he was going to get out of doing this.

“Then let’s go!” she whispered fiercely.

With a heavy sigh, he held a finger to his lips and lifted a latch on the paneled doorway that led into the pantry. Silently, his charges filed in behind him. Trekking soundlessly through the empty kitchen, they were quickly out the back door and running through the snow shrouded night.

Mikos paced irritably within the confines of his private office. It was almost midnight, yet still he could not sleep. Something was not right within his household. He could feel it. Could sense the wrongness, pervading the very air of the castle.

Maybe it was the woman. Somehow, all of his thoughts now seemed to be of her. Maybe he had been wrong to allow her to stay with the children. The boy did not need her. He hadn’t needed her after the beating and he most assuredly did not need her now. They were manipulating him. Playing on his sympathies. He could not allow her to think that she had such power over him. He would not allow her even that small hope.

“Sir? Is there a problem?” a voice called from the doorway, interrupting his train of thought.

“Dimitri? What are you doing here?” Mikos replied shortly, looking over at his head of security.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just making my final rounds for the night and saw the light was still on,” the big blond responded, taking a rapid step back in reaction to the angry look on his boss’ face. Mikos had a quick temper and Dimitri had no desire to incur the man’s wrath.

“Anything amiss? Marlena and her children, they are secured?”

“I saw nothing unusual, sir. The room was quiet and the door still locked. Do you want me to check again?” Dimitri answered, hoping fervently that he hadn’t missed anything. Mikos seemed tense, even more suspicious than usual. Now was not a good time to be making any mistakes.

“She’s playing with me, Dimitri. That woman is up to something. I can feel it. She’s not the type to just passively accept her fate, yet this whole week she has gone out of her way not to insult me. Not to anger me. She’s up to something, and I think it is time I teach her the folly of resisting me,” Mikos said, talking as much to himself as to Dimitri.

With a sudden shake of his dark head, he nodded for Dimitri to follow him. “Let’s go,” he ordered tightly, moving quickly out the door. Confidently he strode from his room, moving rapidly through deserted corridors as he made his way to the children’s bedroom. Both the boy and his mother would be returned to their own rooms immediately. It would be their punishment for thinking they could lie to him. Manipulate him. They would learn the hard way, that was something he would never allow.

He came to a silent halt before the big wooden door and quietly inserted his key. With a sudden lunge he swung the door open, hoping to surprise them in the plotting of some mischief. An empty room greeted him. For a moment he stood frozen, stunned by the site. She could not be gone. She could not.

“Find them,” he hissed.

“Sir?” Dimitri questioned hesitantly from behind, unable to see around the big form blocking the doorway.

Whipping around, Mikos slapped the man hard across the face. “Find them!” he roared, his face twisted in fury.

His hands clenched tightly at his sides, Mikos stepped back to allow the now thoroughly frightened man to scurry into the bedroom. Wordlessly he watched as the younger man ran through the room to check the bathroom, radioing for backup as he did so. As Mikos had already known, he found no sign of the missing family. The sound of running feet jarred Mikos from his contemplation of the pain he would visit on his security chief if he allowed the prisoners to escape, and he stood aside to allow a platoon of guards entry into the room.

“Well?” he asked, his calm voice an obvious threat to those who knew him well.

Pale-faced, Dimitri stood in the center of the room, anxiously attempting to find some way of deflecting the big man’s anger. His eyes lit on the dead remains of the fire and he noted the scattered ashes and faint signs of a footprint on the hearth itself. Oh, no. It wasn’t possible. It simply wasn’t possible that they had left through the tunnels. Almost afraid to prove himself right, he moved cautiously over to the mantel and twisted one of the decorative florals in a clockwise motion. He felt more than heard the release of the lock and tentatively bent down to push against the warm bricks at the back of the firebox. Smoothly the bricks fell away from his touch, revealing the dark recesses of one of the many passages that dotted the old castle. Christ! He was a dead man.

Straightening, Dimitri ordered his guards down the passageway and then called for additional men to blanket the courtyard. As an afterthought, he ordered that the men stationed in town be alerted and that the only road out of town be blocked off. He would seal the perimeter and then he would have his men go over every inch of territory until they were found. They had to be found. It was his only hope of staying alive. Finally, there was nothing more he could think to do and he forced himself to turn and meet the dark eyes of his employer. Swallowing convulsively, he finally managed to croak out the words. “We will find them sir. They can’t have managed to go very far.”

Mikos shrugged away the news. “You told me you had secured that passageway, Dimitri. It appears that you lied. How am I to know that you aren’t lying to me again?” he questioned softly, stepping into the room and silently closing the gap between them.

Dropping his eyes, Dimitri studied the carpet beneath his feet. “Sir, I had the deadbolt installed myself. That passageway was locked from the outside. If they got out through the passageway, they had to have had help. I swear to you, this is not my fault.”

Reaching out, Mikos placed his forefinger beneath the man’s chin and forced his head up. Finally, Dimitri raised his eyes to meet Mikos’ own. The man was actually trembling beneath his touch, and Mikos finally allowed himself a small smile. Gently, he stroked his thumb down the side of the man’s neck, following the path of the jugular vein. The blood pumped wildly beneath the fragile skin as Mikos watched the gray eyes cloud with panic. Finally, Mikos dropped his hand and leaned in. Very softly, he said, “If they are not back before the night is over, I am going to make you scream before I kill you.” Without another word, he turned and stalked from the room.

His mind knew that she was far above him. He knew the tunnel itself must snake through the mountain for more than a mile before it reached the lofty peaks on which the castle sat. His mind had expected nothing but the empty blackness which it had received. But his heart… His heart ‘needed’ her. It ‘wanted’ her. And his heart hurt because she was not there. With a muttered curse at his weakness, he turned to gather his weapons. He would have her back. He would have her back tonight, and when he did, the hurt would stop.

His face expressionless, he yanked a black T-shirt on, the thin cotton instantly plastering itself to his sweat-slickened body. He tied his lank hair back and smudged his face and arms a sooty black that would blend in with the shadows. Finally, he checked the knife in its sheath on his right leg, the Glock nine millimeter he wore around his waist. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed the pump action 12 gauge and slung it across his shoulders. In close quarters, the shotgun would tear through flesh and bone like a meat grinder, messy but effective. Finally, he scooped up the flashlight and tried to focus his thoughts on the mission. Tried to dismiss the fear as he thought of the risk to Marlena and her children. Tried to ignore the raging desire for revenge and destruction that burned through him as he thought of the men who had taken her. He searched for the calm center that would allow him to move without hesitation, to act without thought. With slow deep breaths, he focused on the mission. Go in. Get her out. Kill anyone who gets in the way.

He smiled an evil grin and decided he was as centered as he needed to be. With the flick of his thumb, the beam from the flashlight blazed out, cutting through the darkness that held sway behind the iron wall. Careful of the still glowing edges of the jagged hole, he slipped silently inside the tunnel and began to make his way through the darkness. And if the fear and the anger were still with him, then so be it. It would simply make it that much sweeter when he stuck his knife into Mikos Alamain’s heart.

Plunging through knee deep snow, she clutched Sami’s hand tightly in her own and glanced over her shoulder to make certain that Carrie and Eric were right behind them. The cold wind bit through the thin material of her jeans and the wool sweater she wore seemed to do little to keep out the frigid air. But despite the frozen landscape, a smile lit her face. They were free. At least for this moment, they were free from the men who had sought to control her life for far too long. Her hand dropped to her belly as she swore to herself that the child she carried within would never know the fear and pain that her other children had been forced to endure. They were going home. Going back to the man she loved. And she knew in her heart, he would never allow anyone to threaten their family ever again.

The dark shape of a panel van loomed up before them and they rushed to climb through the door that Ivan yanked hurriedly open. Scampering into the back, Marlena pulled her children to her and they huddled on the floor, surrounded by baskets and crates. Shivering with the cold, she wrapped her arms around her children and prayed that they would make it through the castle gates.

The van’s engine roared to life and Ivan allowed himself a brief glimpse back at his charges before he shifted into first gear. “The guards don’t search the van. Just stay down and stay quiet and they will never know you are there,” he whispered over his shoulder.

Driving slowly through the now raging snow storm, Ivan eased to a stop before the main gate. With a curt gesture to the cold sentry, he motioned for the gates to be opened. It seemed to take forever before the ponderous doors cleared the roadway, but finally Ivan was able to pull through and begin the long drive down the winding mountain road. “We’re clear,” he finally whispered out, as the lights of Castle Chërnobog finally faded behind the thick curtain of snow.

Stumbling forward, Marlena settled herself into the passenger seat. “Drive faster,” she hissed urgently, the sense of being pursued making the small hairs rise on the back of her neck.

“The roads are too bad, Dr. Evans. We shouldn’t be out here at all,” Ivan replied, though he found himself picking up speed anyway as the woman’s anxiety began to infect him as well.

“Man, it’s really coming down out there,” Eric said, standing up and bracing himself against the side of the van in an effort to see where they were going.

The van suddenly slewed hard to the side, wheels spinning for traction as the vehicle almost skidded off the road. With a ‘thump’ Eric sat down hard.

“Damn!” Ivan exclaimed, the rising fear overpowering his typical reserve.

“Oh God! Be careful!” Marlena called out, grabbing for the dashboard in an attempt to keep her seat. “Are you guys okay?” she asked worriedly, trying to get a glimpse of her children.

“Yea, we’re fine. But I think I’ll sit down for the rest of this little trip,” was Eric’s wry response.

“Sorry madam,” Ivan muttered under his breath, his face pale with the strain of trying to keep the van on the road and moving. For long minutes they continued in silence, the only sound the occasional growl of the tires as they fought for purchase on the slippery road. Finally, the lights of town could be seen faintly gleaming through the hazy darkness. The road smoothed and Ivan was able to pick up speed. With a sigh of relief, he began to hope that this idiotic plan might actually have a chance of working. As he plowed through the center of town, he even managed a reassuring nod in the direction of his frightened passengers. He turned the last corner at the edge of the small village, making good time on the only road out of town. A smile was on his face as he thought of how pleased Ms. Vivian would be with his performance. At the sudden glare of search lights, the smile disappeared.

Marlena gave a sharp gasp as searing white light lit the interior of the van. Squinting, she could almost make out the faces of the dark forms that seemed to be surging toward the van. With a sudden lurch, she slammed forward against the seatbelt, and she realized that Ivan was hurriedly shifting the van into reverse. Her mind refused to recognize the significance of the roadblock and she simply held on tight to her seat and concentrated on surviving this moment. “Hold on!” she screamed out to the children, her heart hammering against the walls of her chest as the van veered sharply and slid around the corner on its way back toward the main street.

The rear end of the van fish-tailed wildly and Ivan yanked hard on the wheel in an attempt to straighten out. Almost as if it were in slow motion, the van continued to glide sideways, spinning in a 90 degree arc before coming to a crashing halt against the side of a building. The last thing Marlena heard was the scream of a child and then the shatter of glass as her head impacted against the side window.

A metallic glint winked at him from out of the darkness, and the shotgun found its way into his hands as if by its own accord. For a long moment John waited in silence for the whisper of movement that would signal his target. Whatever was ahead of him, the shotgun would bring down. But there was no sound, no hint of life. Ever so slowly, he eased forward, the evenly spaced bars of the gate becoming discernable as his flashlight played across the mouth of the tunnel. A door. Another damn door. God these people were paranoid, he thought with a grim smile. All that worry, and it wasn’t even going to do them any good. For a people so afraid of dying, they should really learn to pick their enemies more carefully.

His ears strained for the slightest sound as he crouched down and fixed his gaze on the lock on the door before him. Unlike the metal wall, this was a simple barred door, hinged on one side and held closed on the other by a thick loop of chain and a padlock. He considered blowing the lock. One shot would be more than enough. But he was close now. Too close to risk the noise of gunfire. Besides, if he destroyed the lock it would be as good as a sign telling possible pursuers exactly where he had gone. No. No need for gunfire. It was better to cover his tracks.

Silently cursing the delay, he pulled out a pen light and a small set of picks, fumbling through the bars in order to get to the lock on the other side. With steady fingers, he teased the tumblers into position and carefully popped the lock. The lessons of a misspent youth were sometimes beyond price, he thought ruefully.

Stepping through the open doorway, he pulled the gate carefully shut behind them, looping the chain around the bars in a way that would fool any casual examination. He found himself at a crossroads, the passageway splitting. With a glance at his compass, he chose the southern branch and moved out as rapidly as possible given the need for stealth.

Bo had come through for him. In one of their few lucky breaks, Bo’s turn as a grounds keeper had payed off. While he had shoveled snow and mucked out horse stalls, he had also managed to catch a glimpse of the object of their search. A blond haired beauty, gazing out through the leaded windows of the castle. The other workers had said she was there every morning and every night. The same window, day after day, staring off into the distance as if looking for someone who would never come. It had been Marlena at that window, Bo was certain. The same window, every day and every night. Third floor, southwest corner of the castle, third window from the end. It had been all the information John would need. He only wished that there had been some way to get a message to her. Some way to let her know he was close. Still, they had been lucky Bo had gathered as much information as he had.

Biting back his impatience, John tried to guess at where he was in relation to her room. The passageway snaked round and round, always seeming to move upward. He had to be close by now.

A sudden flash of light lanced out at him from the side, and he dropped instinctively to the floor, cutting his flashlight and holding his breath. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and he realized that the light came from a tiny hole in the wall, set just about eye level. The builders of the castle had evidently had a fine appreciation for the art of spying.

Cautiously, he rose from the floor and approached the eye hole. Blinking his eyes against the glare, he finally managed to focus his gaze on the sole occupant of a big room, the study if he had to guess. His mind was already matching his position to the floor plans of the castle as he noted that there was something familiar about the man who stood in the room. Short blond hair, pinkish face, a build like a Russian weightlifter. Damn, it was that asshole from the cliff top. At least the son of a bitch didn’t look too happy, pawing frantically through a pile of papers on the top of the desk that sat in the center of the room. If John had anything to do with it, the man would be even more unhappy before the night was over.

Dismissing the hireling from his thoughts, John moved stealthily on down the hall. One more floor up, and then he would have to start searching for some exit from the passageway. He had to make sure he was close to her, there was simply no way he could hope to roam the halls of the castle for any length of time without being discovered. Inconspicious, he was not.

Moving more slowly now, he studied the blank walls that surrounded him. Gods, she was close. He would almost swear that he could smell her perfume. He grit his teeth as he thought of her locked away inside this stone giant of a cage, and all because of him and the men who hated him. Briefly, he wondered what he had done to push Mikos Alamain to such extremes. Stolen his money? Killed his son? Fucked his lover? All viable options. Damn! If you were going to do something to drive a man to want you dead, it was only right that you should remember it. Of course, in the long run, Alamain’s reasons didn’t really matter. What mattered was that Mikos Alamain had made the fatal mistake of involving Marlena in his schemes. For that, there could be no forgiveness.

His musing about Alamain died abruptly as his light picked out the frame of a small doorway set low in the wall. Crouching down, he noted the dusty footprints that led out from the opening. Soot and ash, the scuff marks of many feet shimmering faintly against the gray stone of the floor. Somebody had been through here. Lots of somebodies and the marks were still fresh.

He killed his light and scanned the darkness with eager eyes, searching for the telltale sign of light through a peephole. There was nothing. His stomach clenching in anticipation, he clipped the light to his belt and drew his knife. Shotgun in one hand, knife in the other, he silently twisted the handle on the doorway before him. The wall swung outward on silent hinges and he stared into the void of yet another dark hole. Fuck! This was getting old.

Returning the gun to its place between his shoulder blades, he very carefully inched his way through the narrow passage. He cringed at the scuffling sounds his passing produced, and by the time he crouched down on the soft mat of a woven rug and flipped his flashlight back on, he fully expected to face every guard in the place. Instead, he found an empty room. He wasn’t sure whether to be irritated or relieved.

Cautiously he rose to his feet, his light flitting across the darkened room. It had been ransacked. Furniture was tipped over, clothing strewn all about. And the scent of Shalimar still hung in the air. She had been here. She had been here this very night.

He tore through the room, hunting for some sign of where she had gone. Searching for some clue that would lead him to her. Nothing. There was nothing.

Based on the clothes in the closet and those that littered the floor, he assumed that the children had been held in this room. The only sign of Marlena’s presence was the faint smell of the perfume that was even now fading away. Ignoring the implications of the demolished bedroom, he made his way swiftly to the door. His only hope was that she was still in her room. It had to be close. A room or two away. She would be there. She had to be.

Silently he bent down, easily popping the lock on the bedroom door. Ever so slowly, he cracked the open the door and studied the dimly lit hallway. Empty. Waiting for him. Beckoning him. Directly across from him was another door, a large iron key dangling from a hook beside it. He dismissed the door. It could not be her. Not if Bo was right, and the woman in the window was Marlena. Her room would be on this side of the hallway. A door away. That was all.

Barely daring to breathe, he eased slowly out the door and pulled it shut behind him, pausing only a second to make certain it was locked tight. Gliding across the carpeted floor, he halted before the next door down. Gently he twisted the handle, unsurprised when it refused to budge. He fought down the urge to simply kick in the door, pulling the lockpick from his back pocket instead. He didn’t even have time to open the case before the sound of heavy foot steps echoed down the hallway.

Damn! No time. They were coming fast. He took the only route still open to him, stepping across the hallway and ripping the dangling key from its hook. Trying to be quiet, he hurriedly slid the key into the lock, grimacing at the faint ‘click’ of the deadbolt. Replacing the key, he stepped into the darkened room and pulled the door softly shut just as the guards rounded the corner.

Slouching against the doorway, he tried to slow his breathing in order to hear what was happening in the hall. He was completely unprepared when a deep voice muttered out from across the room.

“Who’s there?”

“Is there any permanent damage?” Mikos asked coldly, staring down at the woman whose still form lay across the chaise lounge.

“A mild concussion is all it appears to be, Mr. Alamain. Her pupils are slow but reactive and I had to put a few stitches in, but she should be fine in the morning. Just in case, I’ll do a blood work-up, but I see no real cause for concern,” the elderly doctor replied.

“Wake her up.”

“It might be best if she is not put under any additional strain,” the doctor noted as he obediently bent down and began slapping lightly at the pale face of the woman.

“Where she is concerned, I will say what is ‘best’,” Mikos replied shortly, his temper barely held in check. For a moment, he considered taking over the job of slapping her into wakefulness, but he feared that once he started hitting her he wouldn’t be able to stop. The pain he would visit on her should be so much greater than that. Before he was through with her, she would wish that she were dead.

A low moan issued from pink lips, and her head fell to the side in an attempt to avoid the hands that struck at her. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and she found herself staring up at a face she didn’t recognize. “Where am I?” she muttered weakly.

“You are home, my love. Back where you were always meant to be,” Mikos’ deep voice growled out at her.

The doctor discretely moved away and Marlena was left to face the man who she had come to hate with every fiber of her being. “My children. Where are they? Are they all right?” she asked, panic beginning to filter through her dazed mind as she realized that the children were no longer with her. Instinctively her hand dropped to cradle her stomach, and she could only hope that Mikos did not notice the significance of the gesture. Oh dear God, she prayed silently. Please let the children be safe. Please let my baby be safe…

“Ah, yes. The children. I believe that they were becoming a distraction. Your little attempt at defiance suggests that you have not truly given yourself over to the idea of becoming my wife. Perhaps you will be better able to concentrate on fulfilling your duties to me if your children are no longer around.”

She swung her legs over the side of the couch, bracing herself with her hand in order to remain upright. “What have you done with them?” she hissed up at him, struggling to keep the darkness from closing in on her thoughts.

“I haven’t ‘done’ anything with them. Not yet, anyway,” Mikos replied with a menacing stare.

“If you hurt them...”

“I will do anything I choose to do, Marlena. It is time you learned that. And for now, I no longer have any desire to see or hear your sniveling brats! They are gone, Marlena. I had Dimitri ship them out to a different location as soon as you were brought back. They will stay gone until you learn exactly who is master here. When you learn to please me, I will perhaps allow you to see them again.” He gazed down on her angry face, waiting for the fear to take its hold. She was alone now. All alone. He did not think that she was a woman who could survive on her own. He was wrong.

She pushed herself to her feet, swaying dizzily but holding herself upright. This, this monster thought he could take her children from her? He thought he could take John? He thought he could destroy her life and then she would come crawling to him on her knees?! She gazed up at him, his smug smile making her see red. Lunging forward, she spat directly in his face.

Mikos took a stunned step backward as she screamed out at him. “Nothing! I will give you nothing! Understand that anything you take from me will be by force! And I swear to you, if you ever hurt my children, I will see to it that you never go to sleep without the fear that someday I will come to you and I will make you pay. I swear this Mikos. I swear it on my life!”

“You bitch!” he roared, his open hand slamming her across the face. The force knocked her back against the sofa, her limp body tumbling to the floor. “You will beg to be with me before I am done with you!” he thundered, grabbing the front of her sweater and jerking her up to face him. She hung unresisting in his grip, her eyes rolled back in her head. Frustrated, he roughly shook her slim body, his fingers tangling in her long hair as he tried to force her to look at him. Finally, he gave up trying to rouse her. Staring down at her unconscious face, he whispered softly, “I will make you beg,” and then he crushed his lips against hers in a kiss that drew blood. Breathing heavily, he drew back and allowed her body to fall to the couch.

Wiping at his lips, Mikos turned to the guard at the door. “Take her back to her room. Lock her in and bring me the key. No one is to see her but me. No one is to talk to her. No one is to feed her. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir!” the frightened guard replied.

Turning back to the woman who lay across the couch, Mikos ran a possessive finger down the line of her graceful neck. “A few days alone, my beauty, and you will be screaming for me to let you out. I ‘will’ teach you to beg. It is only a matter of time.”

“Who’s there?” the low voice called groggily.

With the barest whisper of sound, John was across the room, his hand clamping down on the unseen mouth as his blade leaped forward to press against the soft skin of the man’s neck. He stopped the knife an instant before it drew blood as deep in his mind the voice finally identified itself. Dimera. Dimera’s voice, calling out to him from the shadows.

“It’s me,” John whispered, his voice coming out in a harsh rasp that was barely recognizable as human. Reluctantly, he pulled himself back from the heavy form on the bed, trying to stop his body’s shaking as the adrenalin coursed through him. The dim light from a table lamp suddenly cut on, dispelling the darkness and allowing his eyes to confirm what his ears already knew. Stefano Dimera, sitting up in bed and looking over at him in wide-eyed surprise. For a moment, his hand clenched more tightly around the hilt of his knife. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill him for the simple fact that he was not Marlena. A low growl rumbled in his throat as his mind tried to see past the raging bloodlust. God, he wanted to kill him.

For a moment, Stefano didn’t recognize the figure that stood before him. Crouched like an animal in the center of the room, bright eyes blazed out at him from a darkened face. Eyes and teeth, bared in a feral grin. It was all that he could see of the creature that stared back at him, hunger in its eyes.

“John?” Stefano questioned softly, sensing a danger but uncertain its source. “John. It’s all right. It’s just me. Put the knife away.”

Deep breathes. Just keep breathing. No need to kill. Not Stefano. Not now. Ever so slowly, John bent down and eased the knife back into its sheath. When he finally straightened up, his eyes were again sane. “Surprised to see me?” he asked, a faint grin touching his lips.

“I’ve been expecting you. Just not tonight,” Stefano replied, cautiously studying the man he had trained to be a killer and wondering if perhaps he had trained him a bit too well.

Almost casually, John shrugged. “I’m late. I know. Should have been here weeks ago, but Alamain isn’t half bad for an amateur. But now I’m here.... Where’s Marlena?”

The steel in the man’s voice belied his now calm exterior and Stefano knew that he could lash out at the slightest of provocation. Handling nitro would be less risky than trying to control the killer that now stood before him. But handle him, he would.

Rising from his bed, Stefano gathered his robe and walked slowly over to the decanter of bourbon that sat on the corner table. He needed a drink. He needed to put some distance between himself and that damn knife. He felt the burning eyes following him every step of the way. “Marlena is fine, John. I promise you,” he placated as he filled a cut glass tumbler to the brim. “But.... We didn’t know you would be here this soon. I… made other arrangements, John. She escaped from the premises earlier tonight. If all went as planed, she should be safely in the city by now, busy trying to contact you.”

“She’s gone?”

“You missed her by several hours. She should be safe and sound, even as we speak,” Dimera answered, managing a smile as he saw the tension in John’s face begin to ease.

“You sure?” John asked, unable to believe that it would be this easy. Safe. She was safe. So why was there still a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach?

Sipping at his bourbon, Stefano nodded his head contemplatively. “I’m certain that she and the children got out. I heard the commotion when their escape was discovered. I had hoped they would have the entire night before their absence was noted, but at the very least, I am positive that they made it out of the castle without problem.”

With a loud sigh, John gave a quick shake of his head, trying to make himself let go of the fear and the worry. They dogged him still, but he managed a tight smile. With two quick strides, he joined Dimera at the table, sinking down into one of the dining chairs. “I sometimes underestimate you, old man,” he said, raising the bottle in salute before downing a healthy slug of the fiery liquid.

“Yes, you do,” was the dry response as Stefano took the opposite seat. “What now? I myself am not currently in need of rescue. Mikos will no doubt release me once he understands that Marlena and the children are gone. I serve no purpose, and holding me would bring him nothing but trouble. It appears that you are a man without a mission.”

John shrugged, the possibility that he would be leaving here without Marlena never having entered his mind. “Now.... I guess I slink down the hall and gut Mikos Alamain like a fish. Don’t suppose you know where his room is?” he asked, looking over at Stefano with a cheerful grin.

Again the vague sense of unease ran through Stefano. John was unstable. He had always been ruthless. Willing to kill. But this.... This was something new. Something ugly.

“John, why don’t you let it go for now. Get yourself out of this house. Go to Marlena. I have more than enough information on Alamain to bring him to his knees. The man is no longer a threat. You need to get out while you still can,” he argued persuasively, hoping the man opposite him was still able to see reason.

John laughed, a harsh grating sound that was painful to hear. “You don’t really think I’m going to let that man live, do you? He took her! He took her children! He was going to make her marry him, for Christ’s sake!” he said, exploding from his seat as thoughts he had tried to avoid suddenly refused to be silenced.

Stalking across the room, he dropped his head and ran a heavy hand across his eyes, shielding himself from a truth he was afraid to hear. “He didn’t touch her, did he?” he muttered brokenly, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

Stefano knew immediately what it was that John feared. Knew what it was that drove him. Keeping his voice smooth and even, he gently replied, “No. John, he never touched her. She is fine. I swear to you, he never laid a hand on her person.”

It wasn’t quite the truth, but it wasn’t a total lie either. Not that he wouldn’t lie if necessary, but John did have a tendency to see through him when he tried. As he had hoped, his words seemed to ease the tension a bit, and John dashed a hand across eyes that glistened with unshed tears.

“Good. I didn’t… I didn’t think he had done anything...” he finally managed to mutter hoarsely.

“Then you will let this thing go? At least for now?” Stefano prompted.

“Hell no. He’s a dead man,” was the terse response.

“He’s also your brother,” Dimera responded, wondering as he did so the merits of the act. Still, it might be the only way to make John stop. Make him think.

“What did you say?” John spat out, whirling around to advance on Dimera.

“I said that Mikos Alamain is your brother. Half-brother, at least. You share the same mother,” Stefano calmly replied. John’s reaction was not what he expected.

“Classic! Just fucking classic!” he said, shaking his head as if at some bad joke. “I should have known...!!” he almost shouted, his face twisting in fury.

“Keep your voice down, John!” Stefano hissed out angrily, rising to grab John by the shoulders.

The light touch was all it took to set the man off. With a snarl, John wrapped his hands around Dimera’s thick neck and slammed him hard against the wall. “I thought it was you! All along, I thought it was you! Some man I killed for you. Some bitch I fucked while I was working for you. I thought if I left you, I could leave this behind. What a joke that is, huh old man!? This is a family thing! It’s in my god damned blood!” He spat the words out, watching dispassionately as Stefano’s face began to pale beneath the slowly tightening hands.

His vision narrowing to a pinprick, Stefano began to panic. “No! John… stop...” The words wheezed out unintelligibly as he pulled helplessly against the hands at his throat. His vision faded to black and his knees gave out before he was allowed to draw in a deep gasping breath, his throat burning with the effort. As full consciousness slowly returned, he raised his head and searched for the form of his attacker, wondering what it was that had made him snap. Wondering what it was that had made him stop.

John huddled in the center of the floor, his knees drawn tightly up against his chest and his bright eyes studying Dimera with only the slightest hing of recognition. He looked like a beaten dog debating whether it was victim or prey. How many nights had Stefano stumbled from bed, awakened by the sound of screaming, only to find the boy huddled in the exact same pose? A single night would have been too many.

Knowing the man was still dangerous, Stefano moved slowly forward until he crouched by his side. Gently, he brought his hand to rest against one broad shoulder, noticing the shotgun that lay nestled there and how useless it suddenly looked.

“John?” he whispered softly, relieved when the man didn’t pull away. “John, come on. Can you hear me?”

“Sorry,” was the croaked reply.

“John, you can’t do this now. Do you understand? Marlena needs you. She needs you to go home to her. You have to hold it together,” Stefano said urgently, wondering as he spoke whether the news of the baby would push John over the edge or pull him back. He had all the answer he needed in John’s reply.

“I’m bad for her. You know that, don’t you? I’ll kill her, Stefano. We both know it. I’ll kill her just like I could have killed you.”

Stefano forced a chuckle that convinced no one of the humor of the situation. “You would never hurt Marlena, John. Even I know that.”

John shook his head, unwilling to acknowledge the words. “He took her from me. Do you understand that? I was right there and there still wasn’t anything I could do to stop it. I can’t protect her. Not from the violence that follows me. Not from the men that want me dead. Do you have any idea what I thought he might do to her? Do you?!”

“John, nothing happened. Marlena is all right. She and the children will be fine. You have to stop thinking like this.”

“What about the next time, huh? What about the next time I am too weak or too stupid.... What if the next time, she dies?” John hissed back, the pain of his visions flickering in his pale eyes.

“There won’t be any next time. Look, if you need to kill Alamain, then do it. If that is the price for your peace of mind, then just do it and forget about it. But you have to pull yourself together. You have to focus on what’s important. Your life is what’s important. Your life with Marlena. Don’t forget that.” Stefano watched the younger man worriedly, hating the despair, the hopelessness he saw in those eyes. Remembering that look from years ago, the boy staring up at him with ancient eyes as blood from his forearm had dripped down to stain priceless carpets.

“My life is shit,” was the cold reply.

Stefano stared at him, sickened by what he had heard. Putting his entire weight behind the blow, he backhanded John across the face with enough force to snap the man’s head around. “Don’t you dare say that,” he growled. “Not to me. Not after you took the only woman I ever loved away from me!”

“You don’t know anything about love,” John fired back, his head swinging around to fasten on Dimera’s face as the blood trickled down from his split lip. “Love isn’t about possessing someone. It isn’t about owning them. Love is about sacrifice, Stefano! That is something you will never understand!”

With a rough jerk, John pulled away from Dimera’s grip and shot to his feet. Yanking the shotgun from his back, he strode to the door without a backward glance.

“Where the hell do you think you are going?” Dimera asked tightly, as he too rose from the floor.

“To kill my brother,” John replied, turning to flash an ugly smile at his mentor. At the look on the old man’s face, he almost felt pity for him. Trying to ease the pain of the moment, he indulged himself in one last lie. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back,” he finished more gently before turning to the door. His hand was on the knob when he heard the sound of rapid footsteps approaching from the outside. Like a ghost, he quickly faded back to hide against the wall.

“Stefano?” Vivian called out, storming in and slamming the door shut behind her. “Stefano, what was your door doing unlocked...” An iron grip locked across her mouth and she was jerked violently off her feet. Helplessly she tried to scream, the dark blade of a knife plunging down toward her neck the most terrifying thing she had ever seen.

“John, stop!” Dimera barked from across the room.

“Why?” John asked dispassionately, looking up from the woman he held in his arms, knife firmly pressed against her throat.

“John, let her go. She’s your aunt,” Stefano said, keeping his voice calm only with great effort.

With a shrug, John glanced down at the frail body he held. “I care about that, why?”

“She helped me get Marlena out. She’s on our side John. Really. Let her go.”

John hesitated for a long moment before unceremoniously dropping the woman to the floor. He eyed her curiously as she almost sprinted across the room and latched her hands around one of Dimera’s arms.

“I’ll scream. If he takes one step closer, I will scream!” Vivian babbled almost hysterically.

“Vivian, please don’t scream,” Stefano soothed, absently patting at one of the hands now locked about his arm in a vicelike grip. “He is your nephew. This is Alexander. He came to get Marlena, it will be all right.”

“I will scream!” she repeated, shaking her head from side to side and taking a step back so that Stefano’s body was between herself and the beastly man beside the door.

“You should have let me kill her,” John noted, shooting Dimera a hard look.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Stefano snapped, “Enough. Both of you! Shut up!”

John merely raised an eyebrow and slipped his knife back in its sheath. Vivian peered around Stefano’s solid form, eyeing her ‘nephew’ uncertainly. Beneath all of the dirt and grime, there was a well muscled young body that did seem to bear a striking resemblance to old Illya Alamain. “Hmm. He does ‘look’ like he could be from the royal line. And his utter lack of gallantry in the presence of a woman is very reminiscent of Mikos,” she mused aloud.

John’s eyes darkened at the comment and he took a step forward, a scowl on his face.

“Vivian, shut up!” Stefano hissed desperately, knowing that any word that came from her overactive mouth was highly likely to result in her untimely demise. John was in no mood to deal with a lesson on the family history.

“Sorry,” she muttered, watching as the dangerous looking young man seemed to calm a bit.

“Vivian, why are you here? Not that your presence isn’t always welcomed, but...” Stefano trailed off, looking down at the woman in exasperation.

For once, Vivian thought before she spoke, and according to her thinking, now was perhaps not the best time to mention the recapture of Marlena and her children. “Hmm? Oh, nothing really. Just thought I’d drop by to say goodnight. ‘Goodnight’!” she finished cheerfully, plastering a smile on her face and attempting to sidle along the wall and reach the door without getting any nearer to the man with the shotgun.

“It’s after three a.m., Vivian. You did not come to wish me pleasant dreams. What is going on?” Stefano demanded irritably, deciding that he was getting far too old for this sort of silliness.

“Oh, nothing. Really. It can wait till morning,” she called over her shoulder as she prepared to make a run for the door.

John was rapidly tiring of this charade, and with one smooth movement his arm shot out to the side, shotgun in hand. Vivian found herself standing very still as the barrel of the gun lightly pressed against the skin of her breastbone.

“You have three seconds to tell me what’s going on, or I am going to turn you into wallpaper,” John stated flatly.

Vivian’s hand came up to tap against the side of the steel barrel and she shot a silent plea for help in Stefano’s direction. When the man merely shrugged, she immediately decided that perhaps honesty was the best policy after all. “Well.... You see.... It’s like this. There was a slight flaw in our plan, Stefano. It was a good plan. I assure you,” she said quickly, shifting to look up at John. “But, it was not without risk. And, well..., Mikos has recapture Marlena and her children, he sent the children away to a separate compound, and Marlena received a bump on the head in the accident and Mikos had her sedated and well… The whole thing’s just a big mess,” she finished with an outpouring of words that left both men stunned.

“What?” Stefano spat out, staring at Vivian as if she had just grown two heads.

She shrugged as if to say ‘you asked’ and felt a sudden sense of relief as the mouth of the gun dropped to point at the floor.

Shaking his head, John sagged against the wall. “Jesus,” he whispered softly, wondering if somewhere out there some asshole God was laughing at him.

As the reality of the situation sank in, Stefano took a hesitant step in John’s direction, suddenly realizing that this was the one thing that could have stopped him from making a suicidal attack on Mikos. For Marlena’s sake he would pull himself together. For her, he would make himself stop long enough to think. To plan. To worry about living at least long enough to get her away from here. With an encouraging nod in Vivian’s direction, he slowly approached the slumped form.

“We get her out, John. It’s that simple. Vivian can help. She can come back tonight when it’s dark, and she can help us get Marlena out of here. Right Vivian?”

“Oh! Well, yes. I mean, of course I will help,” she chirped brightly, once again easing slowly toward the door.

“Why not now?” John asked quietly, straightening up as he began running new scenarios through his mind. The kids. The kids were gone. Have to get them out separately…

“It’s almost dawn. You’re going to need some lead time. Besides, we want to make certain that Marlena’s okay to travel. Vivian, you can handle finding out about that today, can’t you?”

“Mm hm,” she said, nodding agreeably as her fingers wrapped around the door knob. Just as she was about to fling the door open and run, John looked over to fasten piercing blue eyes on her.

For a moment, he simply studied her. Looking at her, really looking at her for the first time, he seemed to search for some sign of kinship. “You are really my aunt?”

With a slight nod, she acknowledged the truth of it.

“Thank you. For helping with Marlena.... Thank you.”

Her eyes crinkled with the hint of a smile. “It was very… ‘interesting’ meeting you,” she replied.

“We will see you at dinner, right Vivian?” Stefano interjected, watching the woman closely.

“Of course you will. I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she said, chuckling as she walked from the room and pulled the door tightly shut behind her.

“Are you okay?” Stefano finally asked, cautiously leading John over to perch atop the bed.

Giving a dry laugh, the younger man wrapped his arms around the shotgun and allowed his tired body to fall back against the cool sheets. Staring up at the ceiling with sightless eyes, he said, “I’m fine, Stefano. For now, all we can do is wait. I have gotten very good at waiting.”

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