He slipped through the crowded room, his eyes darting from face to face in an attempt to find the one he sought. As he passed, the revelers seemed to dissolve away. If not by conscious will, then by instinct alone, the party goers kept their distance from the dark form that glided through their midst.

If asked, Jensen would have said that he had chosen black clothing because it was practical. It would blend in with the shadows. It would not show the stains of John’s passage through the tunnels. Of course, Jensen would have been lying. He had chosen the outfit for the effect it would have. There was an esthetic appeal in the image of John stalking through a room like some dark angel bent on revenge, black cloak billowing out behind him like a pair of furled wings. Besides, he had known it would make John incredibly uncomfortable, and that he could not resist.

People were everywhere, a colorful whirl of ball gowns and masked faces. Beasts and birds, angels and devils, they flitted maddeningly about him, none of them the right one. His palm itched with the desire to grab his guns and open fire on the crowd. Eliminate these useless ones who kept him from finding her. A laughing young woman in a cat-eyed mask stumbled into him, grabbing onto his arm and casting an appreciative glance at his masked face. His hand was halfway to her throat before he could stop himself, and he muttered a silent curse as she backed away from him. Damn, he was simply no good at subterfuge.

Hands clenched tightly at his sides, he tried hard not to look dangerous as he made his way to the wall. She was the guest of honor. She had to be here somewhere. Trumpets sounded from the rear of the room, leaving John to shake his head at this man’s pompous nature. Then she walked in, and he couldn’t think of anything at all.

She had told him to look for a white dove. Undoubtably, he had found one. She stood at the top of the staircase, her hand resting lightly on the arm of a man dressed all in black, a bear mask covering his face. Even from a distance, John could make out the tremble in her fingers that no one else could see. Slowly she made her way down to the waiting crowd, craning their faces up for a look at the future Lady Alamain.

God, she looked like she was floating as she made her way ever closer. The white silk of the ball gown flowed out from a tight bodice that was covered in gold beadwork. The princess neckline plunged to reveal the firm swell of her breasts while the off-the shoulder sleeves emphasized her elegant carriage. No one else on earth could be that beautiful, he thought to himself, his blood roaring in his ears. The fact that her face was covered by the ornate mask of white and gold feathers was meaningless, he would have known it was her simply by the grace with which she moved.

She had seen him the moment she walked out onto the second floor landing. It was if he were the only one in the room, every other human being fading away into the background. His blue eyes blazed at her, a beacon in that sea of humanity, and she wondered that she was the only one to see it. A half-mask covered the top of his face, but did nothing to conceal him from her. Then a small smile curved her lips, and she allowed herself one second to wonder who had picked out the costume he was wearing. He would never have done it himself, of that she was certain.

A black bird, he had told her to watch for. A black bird, he was not. The mask did indeed have black feathers that swept back over his forehead and down the back of his head, the feathers mixing with dark locks of hair to become one. But while the feathers were black, the eyes were set off by fine gold and red threads that emphasized their exotic shape. As if to complete the image, a dark cloak spread over his broad shoulders, the soft material pooling about him like half-closed wings. Beneath the folds of the cloak, the red satin of the lining glinted. When he raised his head to look up at her the material shifted so that he seemed to stand in a pool of fire. Hysterical laughter threatened, and she wondered who had had the audacity to send him to her masked as the phoenix.

She was surprised when she found that they had reached the bottom of the stairs, and allowed Mikos to lead her through the bodies that pressed in on them from all sides. Numb to everything but the need to see him, she was swept along as she tried to get a glimpse of his tall form above the crowd of people. Suddenly, he was there, and she could breathe again. She watched as the people scattered from his path. Noted the play in the muscles of his thighs as he paced toward her. Felt the panic rise as she realized that he wasn’t going to stop, his every movement a promise of destruction

Without realizing he was doing it, John cut through the crowd, bearing down on her like a tidal wave about to hit. An instance before impact, her eyes caught his and he pulled up short. Those eyes had flashed a warning, and he knew she would never forgive him if he didn’t secure the children first. He stood amidst the throng lining the long aisle that led up to the banquet table at the front of the room. He stood and he watched as she passed him by. His hand crept behind his back to rub against the cool wood of a pistol grip, his own religious icon, his direct line to God. If his brother was to be sacrificed at her alter, then so be it.

Mikos stopped at the front of the room and turned to face the crowd, gently touching his lips to the hand of his future bride. John watched unmoving, the gun slipping from its holster and into his palm seemingly of its own accord. If the man touched her again, he would die.

Marlena grimaced and tried to make it appear a smile. With the slightest of tugs, she pulled away from Mikos’ grasp. Ignoring her disobedience for the moment, the man simply nodded his head in the direction of the orchestra and held out his hand to accompany her in the first dance of the evening. Hoping her distaste did not show, she reached out to accept and stepped down to the ballroom floor. She hated the feel of him against her bare skin and he knew it. With a smile of satisfaction, he crushed her tightly against his chest, his hands digging into her tender flesh almost as if he wished to mark her as his own. He whirled her away and she closed her eyes, trying not to retch.

The gun was in his hand, its reassuring bulk urging him to finish it now. He saw thick hands sink down into white skin that shrank from the touch and his decision was made. Stepping forward, he sought a clear line of fire. She whirled around once in a cloud of white and gold and then was lost to him amid the flow of couples who now joined in with the waltz. His gun still nestled beneath the folds of the cloak, John drifted back to the wall and waited for her to reemerge.

“Mikos, where are the children?” she whispered harshly in his ear, the panic causing her to push the man regardless of the way he might react. John was here. He would not wait, of that she was certain. She had to know where her children were and she had to know now.

“I promised you that your children would attend,” he said softly, nuzzling her ear and enjoying the scent of her perfume. “You don’t doubt that I am a man of my word, do you?”

She almost slapped him then. Almost pulled away to provide John with the opportunity she knew he was waiting for. Only her children could keep her in this man’s arms. Allowing the anger to creep into her voice, she pulled her head back to look into Mikos’ face. “If you do not send for them right now I will walk off this dance floor in a manner that will leave no doubt in anyone’s mind what I think of you, Mikos. Do you doubt that I am a woman of my word?”

For an instance his step faltered and the smile slipped from his face. She would do it. He had no doubt of that. If he could not prove that her children were alive and well, she would put an end to the charade he had so far forced her to act out. Perhaps it was time to remind her of what it was that she had to lose. Tightening his grip on the slender form he held in his arms he pulled her to him. Glancing up, he caught Dimitri’s watchful eye and gave him a sharp nod before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You know my greatest pleasure is to fulfill your every desire, Marlena. Your children are on their way in as we speak,” he murmured in silky tones.

She looked up to read his eyes just as the music came to a stop. Polite applause sounded throughout the room and as she absently joined in her eyes locked onto three slight forms standing in the entryway of the big hall.

This is simply too easy, Mikos thought in amusement, watching as her eyes lit up at the sight of her children. He had always known that emotions were a weakness. Love appeared to be the greatest weakness of all. She would do whatever he ask of her for as long as he held her children. Over time, she might even come to enjoy it. He rather hoped that it would take a very long time for that to occur. She was so much fun when she was unwilling.


“I want to see them. To talk to them. You promised me that!” she said, turning to look up at him with eyes that made him burn.

“Why of course you can see your children,” he replied with a slight smile, motioning her forward with a casual sweep of his arm. “As always, I am yours to command.”

Stiffly she walked toward the stairs, catching a glimpse of John’s brooding form lurking against the wall to her side. He seemed to drift along, staying even with her slow movements without trying to approach any closer. With a silent plea, she urged him to wait just a little bit longer. Oblivious to Mikos’ presence, she jerked away as his hand came to rest possessively on her bare shoulder. At her sudden movement, John seemed to surge toward her only to be halted by the cry of a familiar voice.

“Mom!” Sami called out, her voice rising above the din of the crowd as she stormed down the stairs toward the familiar figure of her mother.

With a start, John dropped his eyes and tried to quell the rising urge for action. Slipping back into the shadows that draped the marble walls of the ballroom, he smoothly returned the pistol to its resting place against the small of his back. His hands shook as he clasp them before him and he hissed out a long sigh of relief as he realized how close he had come to ruining his chance to get the children clear without the risk of violence. Silently he held his place as he watched Sami fling herself into her mother’s arms, two figures that could only be her siblings following close behind. As the children ran to their mother, he stood in the darkness and watched.

This made it worth it. All of the worry, all of the waiting, all of the fear. To see her children, to hold them tight against her, that was worth anything to her.

“Mom, we were so worried about you!” Carrie exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her mother’s shoulders.

Happy tears glistened in Marlena’s eyes as she struggled to breathe, Sami’s tight embrace making it difficult. “You were worried about me!” She chuckled. “Well, I was worried about you. Are you guys okay?” Disentangling herself from Sami’s death grip, she held her youngest daughter out at arms length and swept her eyes over her three children, searching for any sign of harm.

“They are just fine, Marlena,” Mikos’ low voice broke in. “Now, if you could stop making a spectacle of yourselves, there are people here who I would like you to meet. Lest you forget, the purpose of this party is to introduce the new Alamain bride to her subjects.”

“I am not leaving my children,” Marlena shot back, her eyes narrowing in anger.

With a nonchalant gesture, Mikos waved two guards forward. “If you are very good, perhaps you will get to see each other again before the children leave. But I promise you, if you make a scene, you will not see each other again for a very long time.”

His tone was even, but Marlena could sense the threat that lay behind his words. She bit back a sharp retort, but found herself unable to let her children be led away from her. Not yet, it was simply too soon.

“Perhaps I could entertain the children in your absence,” a deep voice cut in smoothly.

Turning in surprise, Marlena found herself confronted by the one person she would least expect to come to her rescue. Stefano Dimera, resplendent in a dark tuxedo, a lion’s mask complete with fur covering the upper portion of his face. Before she realized what he was doing, he had raised her hand to his lips and gently brushed a kiss against her skin.

Startled, she jerked away, noticing the twinkle in his eyes as she did so. John trusted him, she had to remind herself. If John could trust him, perhaps she could too. “Thank you, Stefano,” she replied cautiously, her stomach twisting in rebellion at the thought of putting her children in Dimera’s care.

“Then it is settled,” Mikos broke in impatiently. Latching a firm hand around her wrist, he virtually dragged her off into the crowd. The last Marlena saw of her children was a view of Stefano walking away from her, her children following close on his heels.

“May I have this dance?” asked the voice that she heard in her dreams.

Marlena swung away from the boring diplomat who had volunteered to keep her occupied while Mikos stepped away and looked up into the warm blue eyes of the man she loved. It was all she could do not to step into his arms and hold on with all her might. Instead, she merely gave a graceful nod and placed her hand on his proffered arm. With a half-bow he led her out into the middle of the dance floor and took her ever so gently into his embrace. For a long moment he simply stood still in the middle of the floor holding her body pressed against his own. God, it felt so good to finally have him with her. Tears glistening at the corners of her eyes, Marlena tilted her head up and whispered in his ear. “Honey? This is not how people waltz, you know,” she said softly, a laugh that was half-sob echoing in her voice.

Reluctantly he pulled back to hold her at arms length. So softly that she could barely feel it, his left hand skimmed across the dark bruise that was beginning to show against the pale skin of her shoulder, evidence of the strength in Alamain’s grip. It took an effort for him to draw his next breath as every muscle in his body seemed to tense. He would not let her leave his arms again. Not until she was safe. “I love you,” he rasped out, so softly she could barely hear. He dropped his head from her gaze as a single tear escaped to trail down his cheek. Even more softly, he breathed, “I’m sorry.”

Suddenly aware that they were beginning to draw notice, he wrapped his hand around her slender waist and led her smoothly into the first steps of the waltz. Her eyes never left his face as they seemed to float across the floor, their bodies moving together without the need for conscious thought. He knew that she wouldn’t do what he asked even as he ground his plea. “Come with me,” he begged in a soft voice, trying to guide her in off the dance floor.

“John, I can’t,” she whispered back, digging in her heels and refusing to be led. “The children are here. He will hurt them if I try to leave. You know that!”

No longer able to meet her eyes, he ducked his head and said tightly, “Dimera will bring them. We have to meet in the corner of the sitting alcove. We’ll all go out together, Marlena.”

“John, he watches me too closely. He will notice the second I move from this room. I will never leave here unnoticed. Take the children out of here and then come back for me with your men,” she replied, plastering a fake smile on her face as she looked over to nod a greeting at a passing couple.

“There are no men, Marlena. Bo’s stuck. We have one chance at this because Alamain is going to notice as soon as anybody leaves. We go together because there won’t be a second chance,” he said, pulling her closer to him. Knowing it would make it harder for her to refuse him.

For just a second, she allowed herself to rest against the warmth of his chest, listening to the strong steady beat of his heart. Closing her eyes, she shook her head no. “The children have to be safe,” she whispered.

At her words, she could feel his grip tighten around her and for a moment she feared he would simply lift her up and carry her bodily from the room. Then she went pale, her eyes catching a glimpse of Mikos’ worried face eagerly scanning the crowd, no doubt in search of her. “John, you have to go,” she said, panic showing in her voice. “Mikos is coming, you have to go now!”

“Not without you,” was the determined response. Beneath the soft silk of his shirt her fingers felt the muscles bunch tightly in anticipation of coming violence. She watched as his face hardened and his eyes went dark.

“John, please!” she pleaded, suddenly recognizing that he had every intention of fighting this battle out here and now. Alone against a dozen guns, he would stand no chance at all. Reaching out, she placed her hands gently on the sides of his face, holding him until he was forced to meet her eyes. He would do anything for her. She had always known that. Now she would make him prove it.

Her voice calm and low, she held his gaze and said softly, “For me, John. I want my children safe more than I want anything else. Do this for me.” He froze in place, staring into her eyes as if to burn the look of her into his mind. Mikos’ heavy bulk began pacing toward them, irritation evident on his face. Still John held his ground, unwilling to relinquish the feel of her fingers against the skin of his face. Finally, in one gentle movement he took her hands in his. Bending his head, he brushed a single kiss against each of her palms and then walked swiftly past her to lose himself among the still twirling dancers.

She didn’t turn to watch him leave her. She couldn’t. Instead, she stood motionless as Mikos plowed his way through the crowd to her side.

“Who was that?” Mikos snapped, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

She looked up at him, her face a calm mask. He could not hurt her. Not anymore. John would take the children out. He would see them home. The possibility that he would fail her in this did not exist. She merely had to stall Mikos long enough to see her family safe. After that, nothing he could do would touch her.

Turning from Mikos, she began to make her way back to the big table at the front of the ballroom. She was not surprised when he reached to link her arm in his own. “I asked you a question,” he hissed, anger showing in his voice.

“Some dreary acquaintance of that boring diplomat you left in charge of me,” she answered coldly, knowing how he hated it when she failed to be properly fearful in his presence. Knowing how it would keep his attention focused on her. His fingers tightened painfully around her wrist and she suppressed a smile at how easily manipulated he was proving to be.

John stood pressed against the wall, watching as Dimera casually led the children around the edges of the ballroom, chatting amiably with Eric about God new what. Sami and Carrie trailed in their wake, and as John watched, Carrie reached out to take her younger sister’s hand in her own. Without any attempt to disguise their purpose, two of Alamain’s guards walked beside them. Though dressed for the ball, the way their eyes roved over the crowded room left no doubt that their business was the protection of the children. Their protection or their imprisonment, it was one and the same to the guards.

John’s eyes darted to the front of the ballroom, and he could not suppress the flash of heated anger he felt as he watched Marlena in deep conversation with Mikos. Damn, he needed Bo and his men here. He could not get them all out at one time by himself and Marlena would not leave while the children were still at risk. His teeth ground together as his jaw knotted in frustration, but he allowed her to have her way. She would keep Alamain occupied while he got the children free. Once that was done, he would return for her.

Focusing on what had to be done, he threaded his way through the room toward the spot where Stefano was herding the children. Massive marble pillars rose 30 feet into the air, separating the ballroom in half and marking the end of the dance floor. Large round tables dotted the other half of the room, providing a resting place for wearied dancers. French doors lined the outer wall, thick drapes cutting off the chill of the winter air, hunter green providing a spot of color against the backdrop of all of that white marble. Those doors were going to prove useful as more than a mere decorative touch.

John smiled grimly to himself, watching the older man work. The guards were bored out of their minds, watching as Stefano swept Sami up in a loose embrace, guiding her quickly through a complicate dance step in a demonstration that ended with them standing in a shadowed corner at the back of the alcove. While he admired Dimera’s technique, John felt distinctly uncomfortable with the vision of Dimera’s arms around Sami, and his step quickened involuntarily.

Though bored, Alamain’s men were not inept. At John’s almost hurried intrusion, the man on the right flank shifted to face him, a vaguely suspicious look crossing his face. John simply gave him a distracted nod and darted his head around as if seeking something he had yet to find. Hoping the man would assume he was looking for the restroom, John judged the distance between the two guards and muttered an interpretable curse. They were two damn far apart. They were too damn alert. The chandeliers that dotted the room provided more than enough light to make his movements plain to both the two guards and the half-dozen guests who lounged at the tables at the front of the alcove. There was no way in hell he was going to pull this off.

As if she could sense his distress from the front of the room, Marlena’s head turned to stare directly into the darkened recesses of the sitting room. With a sudden uncharacteristic stumble, she tripped awkwardly into the path of an oncoming waiter, barely keeping her feet as a tray of empty champagne glasses went flying.

From the front of the room came the sudden crash of glass and a high-pitched scream that could only come from Marlena, and every eye shifted to search for the sound of distress. Every eye but John’s. The scream still echoed in the air as his fingers wove into the hair of the nearest guard. With a half-step back he yanked the man over his hip and sent him plummeting to the floor. An instance before the body hit John twisted forward, the man’s head still held firmly in his grip. The only signal that the man was dead was the muffled pop of his neck as it broke into pieces and severed his spinal cord.

By the time the far guard turned around and saw enough to be surprised, John was already halfway to him. The man’s hand slapped at the leather of his holster just as the heavy body rammed into him, taking him soundlessly to the floor behind one of the round tables. With an efficient jerk, John pulled his blade from between the man’s ribs. A perfect hit, directly into the heart. The man had died instantly.

Crouching behind the table, John quickly stuffed the body beneath the floor length tablecloth and rose carefully to his feet. His children watched wide-eyed as he stepped forward and kicked the body of the other guard under the row of heavy curtains. Ignoring them, he turned to Stefano. “Take the children out through the balcony. You know where to go.”

“Where is Marlena?” Stefano shot back, not moving an inch.

The need for haste grew with every wasted second and John stepped forward to wrap his big hand around Stefano’s forearm. “Please! We will be right behind you. Hurry!” he ground out, his hand tightening to a painful grip.

Resolve flashed across Stefano’s face, and he returned the fierce grip with one of his own. Slapping a hand against John’s shoulder, he leaned forward and whispered, “You better be,” in the man’s ear. Abruptly he pushed John away and snapped a nod at the children. Confused, they crowded after him wondering why John did not follow.

Sami trailed slowly at the rear of the procession, hesitating before John’s still form as if suddenly afraid to let him leave her. “Daddy?”

With a small smile that was meant to be reassuring, he gingerly reached his hand out and gently brushed her cheek. Unable to watch her walk away from him, he abruptly turned and went to get Marlena.

Mikos watched as Marlena graciously apologized for creating a scene, diffusing the situation with a graceful smile and a light chuckle. That easy grace was in stark contrast to the stumble that had caused the waiter to drop his tray, and with animal cunning he suddenly sensed that something was wrong. He was at her side in an instance, grabbing her arm in an unbreakable grip as his eyes skimmed over the crowded room. Suspicion shot through his mind and he viciously twisted her slender wrist. “Where are the children?!” he almost yelled. His lips drew back in a snarl and he took pleasure in the tears of pain that sprang to her eyes. Oblivious to the stunned guests who were becoming aware of the scene being played out at the front of the room, he twisted harder and gave a rough shake that caused her whole body to shudder. Unable to help it, she groaned loudly, half expecting the bones to break under his brutal hold.

John could see the pain in her eyes even from the far side of the room. His shoulders seemed to broaden as the hate pumped through his system, the rage narrowing his vision to a red-hazed focus on the couple at the front of the room. He moved, his long strides carrying him quickly across the expansive room as his hands locked around the smooth grips of a matching pair of 9 millimeter Glocks. He could hear nothing but the sound of his own ragged breathing and the cold snick of the safety clicking off on the gun in his right hand. Then, as if from a distance, he heard her moan out, and he dropped all attempts at pretense as he bulled his way through the crowd, ramming aside anyone in his way.

Mikos smiled down into her face, almost enjoying her little attempt at defiance. Such an attitude most definitely deserved punishment. The children would be found and then he would teach her the price of disobedience. But there was something in her eyes. Something other than the pain and fear. Something more than mere defiance. Behind it all, somewhere deep inside, there was triumph. It screamed a warning to him, and his head shot up to again scan the crowded room, noticing for the first time the stunned stares of the hoards of guests. And then noticing something else. Panic ripped through him as he saw his father’s eyes stalking toward him in the form of a demon straight out of Hell. His face went pale and he pulled Marlena’s body to him as if she could ward off the vision that assailed him. Raising a trembling hand, he pointed and screamed. “Stop him! Bring him down! Dimitri, stop him now!”

And John burns.

Hands come up, pistols at the ready. He brushes aside yet another costumed body, sending the man crashing to the floor to lie stunned. The damned cattle are in his way. Two quick shots into the air, the sharp reports echoing back off of hard marble walls, and they are stampeding away in panicked flight.

A uniformed figure looms close and his right hand swings across his body to nestle in the folds of the man’s shirt. Three pulls of the trigger and blood mists the air, bullets tearing free of skin to leave gaping exit wounds in their wake. His hand swings clear of the falling form, his steps never faltering.

The left hand joins the right, the symphony of destruction building in volume as the back of a man’s head disintegrates. And he is running. Her face the only thing he sees. The only thing that matters. A shotgun booms its thunder, a body slams across his path. An old woman, eyes wide with shock and fear at the unexpectedness of her death. He rolls, eyes searching for the gun through the gaps in the running legs of his human shields. His guns bark out in concert, ripping through the guard at the top of the stairs. At least the old woman will have company on her journey.

And he moves, bent low. The crackle of bullets in the air, the sting of gunpowder in his eyes. Heat as a splinter of stone slices across the back of his calf. The crowd is thinning but he can’t see her. He needs to see her. He stands tall and fires, black uniforms now crowding the front of the room. Black uniforms aiming. Firing. Falling. The last vestiges of the human wall drop before the onslaught and he hits the floor hard as the bullets streak the air above him. Cursing as he fumbles for a clip, his only cover the sprawling bodies. Alamain must go down. Failure is not an option.

An eye in the storm as the gunfire slackens and he rises for one last charge, the clips sliding home in a hiss of metal on metal so sweet he can taste it. All that is left for him to do is to stand. To stand and to fire until Alamain is his to kill. His focus is so intense he never senses the heavy body until it slams into him from behind.

“I want him alive!” Mikos’ screaming voice rings out from behind the protection of a dozen armed men.

The sounds echoed in her mind, the vision danced before her eyes. Oh God, please not this. Please not John. There were too many guards. Too many guns. Not even John could stand against that many alone. Not alone. With a strength born of her sudden fury, Marlena wrenched free of the iron grip that held her against Mikos’ broad chest. Scrambling away, she lurched to her feet, her long legs tangling in the layers of the voluminous ball gown. She rose just in time to see Dimitri’s body ram into John from behind, snapping his head back with the force of the impact and taking him to the floor so hard that she could hear the thud of the body from where she stood.

The sound spurred her to movement, and she lunged at the backs of the guards before her, praying that she could buy John a sudden reprieve from this destruction she had sensed all along. Her attempt was halted before it began, Mikos’ heavy hand locking in her hair and jerking her back to again stand before him. Furious, she turned and went for his eyes, only to be stopped as he easily caught her hand, twisting her arm up behind her back until she thought the force would dislocate it. For an instance he merely studied her coldly, his fearful look replaced by a glimmering insanity.

“Oh no, my lady. You stay with me. You will always stay with me,” he hissed with a leering smile. Behind her she heard a thick grunt of pain as a fist slammed into fragile flesh. She closed her eyes on the sound and tried to hold back the threat of tears. She refused to see him fall.

The ground came up to meet him and John tried to twist away, take the brunt of the blow with a shoulder and come up firing. The arms that wrapped around his waist were unforgiving and the best he could manage was to turn his head and avoid a face-first impact that would surely have knocked him out. As it was, he thought his back was broken and a white haze clouded his vision. A low groan escaped his lips and he felt the warm trickle of blood beneath his ear. Stunned, he didn’t notice when the heavy body shifted off of him. He was made brutally aware that his attacker had shifted as the pain streaked white hot through his shoulder, his arm suddenly pinned against the small of his back in what should have been an unbreakable joint-lock.

That was a mistake. The pain burned through the haze of unconsciousness that had threatened. His gun was nowhere to be found, but his left hand whipped back to lock unerringly on the groin of the man who crouched above him. His fingers twisted viciously and he was rewarded with a high-pitched scream and the sudden release of his arm. Rolling over he kicked out, the force shattering the moaning man’s nose and splattering them both with warm blood. He scrambled forward on his belly, reaching for the Glock that lay ten feet ahead of him, knowing as he did it that he couldn’t reach his gun before the uniforms did.

He almost proved himself wrong, his hand closing around the familiar grip just as a booted foot crashed down on his wrist. His fingers went numb but his left hand lashed out to sweep the man from his feet. As he fell, John drove himself to his feet to meet the mass of bodies that surged over him. Just beyond the sea of flesh, he could see her standing. Her eyes opening to lock onto his. Watching helplessly. Waiting for him to come. Arms looped around his neck, too many to shake off. Desperate for a gun, he jammed a thumb in an eye. Oblivious to the owner’s screeching, his fingers clawed at the man’s holster, the weapon almost within his grasp. Then strong arms wrapped around his legs, and the weight of the bodies took him down.

The only sounds that broke the silence were the moans of the wounded, the weeping of the survivors and the harsh rasp of the man who lay pinned to the floor. Still holding Marlena’s arm bent awkwardly behind her back, Mikos slowly approached the still struggling figure, the sound of his footsteps echoing ominously in the silence of the room. He gave an approving nod to Dimitri, who stood dabbing at the blood that still dripped from his broken nose, and relinquished Marlena into his care. For a moment, Mikos simply stood before the heaving body, enjoying the sensation of having his rival laying helpless at his feet. As if sensing the scrutiny, John’s head tilted painfully back and Mikos was caught in the accusing stare of his father’s eyes. Very slowly a smile spread across his face. His brother was alive, this was simply too sweet for words. A feeling of power such as he had never known swept over him, and Mikos ordered quietly, “Bring them both to the conference room. Inform the guests that an assassination attempt was just thwarted, and then get them out of here.” With one final glance at the blue eyes that still stared up at him, he turned and strode confidently from the body-strewn hall. 

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