Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for the cliffhanger! But I got your attention, didn't I? ;)


Chapter 37 – Bleed For Me (Part Two)


She hated how he called her “my little darling”. She felt like she was living a real-life Silence of the Lambs – only her ex-husband was the creep this time.

He continued to pull her by her hair, not bothering to slow down to accommodate her much-slower pace now that she was pregnant. She knew he didn't care; she and Lance had heard them talking.

He was going to kill her baby first, then Lance – and then probably her.

“Oh Addy,” he finally said as he pulled her into the kitchen. “What a predicament you've found yourself in, huh?

She tried to speak, but the gag prevented her from doing anything but mumbling.

“Can't talk?” he asked, a disgusting smile on his face. “Let me help you with that.”

He reached behind her head and her skin crawled as his hand brushed along her ear and neck as he untied the bandana. She waited until the perfect opportunity, when he pulled it off her face and his face was inches from hers, before she spit in his face.

“Sick freak,” she stuttered, her mouth sore from having been gagged.

She watched him smile as he wiped her saliva from his cheek, before he reached up again to grab a handful of her hair. She cried in pain as he pulled her head down, leaning into her until the tip of his nose was pressed against her cheek.

“You little bitch,” he whispered. “You've always been a little insubordinate, Addy. I used to like that about you. To tell you the truth, I still do.”

He laughed and she could hear him inhale a breath, smelling the scent of her freshly washed hair.

“I'll bet he likes that, too,” he said. “I've been watching you guys a long time. You two seem like the perfect pair. You move, he moves. You keep him in line, he keeps you in line...”

Her breathing became heavy as she felt the handle of the knife and his hand holding it brush against her stomach.

“I could end it all – right here, right now.”

She whimpered when she felt the metal edge of the knife press lightly into her skin – enough so she was aware of it, but not deeply enough to cause injury.

“You wouldn't,” she said.

“Wouldn't I?” he asked. “I wouldn't do it because I know how it feels, right? That's exactly why I would.”

She felt him dig the knife in a little further and resisted the urge to burst into tears. One wrong slip and she knew he would break skin.

“He has everything that's mine,” he growled in her ear. “My wife. My child. My life. He took it all away from me. But I can take it away from him just as easily.”

That's when she felt him slowly start to move the edge of the knife across her stomach.

“How'd you do it?” she said suddenly, in a panic to attempt to distract him. “How did you do all this, Marc?”

“Easy enough,” he said with a chuckle. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. “You're a good assistant Addy, but you're so stupid. So gullible. You don't think your little Loverboy actually wanted Mackenzie, do you?”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“It was supposed to be a simple enough plan,” he said. “Mackenzie needed help and I was in a position to give it to her – as long as she did something for me in return. Imagine my joy when she agreed. She was all too happy to come back to New York and break you guys up.”

“That was you,” she said.

“Of course it was,” he said, and she could tell that he was getting enjoyment out of it. “You heard him tell you that he didn't kiss her willingly that night. All she had to do was make a special appearance at that party, without you seeing her. Lucky for me that she was able to get him alone. I mean it all fell into place so...perfectly, Addy. You stepped in at exactly the right moment. Right on cue. It was a director's dream scene.”

It all fell into place to her then. He had been telling the truth, as he had said, but it went farther than that. It had been a set-up. Mackenzie had come back with the intention of getting Lance back – but only because she was forced to. It was all about getting Addy away from him.

“You want me,” Adeline said.

“It's not that I want you, per se,” he whispered in her ear. “I just don't want him to have what was supposed to be mine. So I'm going to take care of that.”


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Lance had watched helplessly as Marc had dragged his pregnant wife out of the room by her hair. He felt even more out of control than he had before. At least when she had been in the room with him, he could see what was going on, even if he couldn't help her. Now that he had dragged her out of the room, he couldn't see what Marc was doing to her – or if he was hurting her.

It was clear his objective was to make Addy miscarry the baby – and have Lance watch as it happened before he killed him.

His instinct had been to fight, if only to save her and his unborn son. The only thing that stopped him was knowing that it would make things worse for her. With the handcuffs, he wouldn't be able to move anyway; he would only further piss off Marc, and he would take it out on Addy – if he didn't simply kill her right then and there.

So he sat by while he watched his wife being dragged out – hoping that Addy would cooperate with Marc long enough that he could figure out a way to get them out of this.

Once Marc had finished dragging Addy out of the room, Mackenzie looked in Lance's eyes, holding her index finger up to her mouth in a silent “shush” signal.

She made her way over to him, peeking out the door cautiously before kneeling next to Lance and leaning in.

“I'm going to take the gag off,” she whispered, close to his ear. “Don't cough, don't gag, don't scream, don't sneeze, don't even breathe...” She lifted the gun in her hand, placing the end of the barrel against his temple. “...or I will fucking shoot you, Lance. Do you understand?”

He nodded in agreement, and in one movement, she pulled the bandana out of his mouth, letting it hang around his neck.

“I'm going to get you out of this,” she whispered.

“And I'm supposed to trust you?” he whispered back. “I'm handcuffed. You've got a fucking gun to my head.”

“Do you have anybody else offering to help you out here?”

He was silent.

“Yeah, I didn't think so,” she whispered.

“I see you finally lost your last marble,” he said, continuing to speak in whispered tones, not knowing when Marc would come back. “I should have believed Addy when she said you were up to no good.”

“You think I'd do this by choice?” she asked, peeking out the door once more.

“What, kill me?”

“I'm not going to kill you Lance,” she said.

“I might believe you if I wasn't staring down the barrel of a gun right now,” he said.

“You're staring down the barrel of a gun because I'm at the end of my rope and hanging on by a fucking thread,” she said. “And if you do anything to give me away, I will kill you before he kills me and I swear to God, Lance, I will still manage to find a way to fucking haunt you in both of our afterlives.”

From her tone and the way she sounded like she was ready to snap at any minute, he knew she was as scared for her own life as he was for theirs.

He was surprised when she reached behind him and he heard the handcuffs unlock.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Shut up,” she said harshly. “Don't talk, just listen. There's been a change of plans, and it's you and me now.”

“You and me?” he asked.

“I'm going to distract him,” she went on. “I'll get the knife away from him. You're going to wait for that perfect moment, and then you're going to strike. He won't expect it. You have to pretend to still be handcuffed. And you can't say anything to Addy – not a word. Do you hear me Lance? She's too much of a risk. She'll get too freaked out and she'll mess it up.”

He nodded, still confused – he couldn't tell if Mackenzie was his captor or his savior anymore.

“Don't fuck this up, Lance,” she said. “If you fuck this up...we're all going to die.”

“No pressure, Kenz,” he said.

“He'll kill all of us,” she said. “Without a second thought. He's Jeffrey Dahmer in different clothing.”

“How did he get you to do this?” he asked. “Kenz, how did it get so bad that you'd get yourself into something like this?”

“I don't have time to explain,” she said after hearing a noise and peeking outside the door. “He's coming. I have to gag you again. Don't screw this up, Lance.”

He reluctantly allowed her to stuff the gag back in his mouth, holding his hands together behind his back so it would appear that he was still handcuffed, in case Marc checked. He could hear his footsteps coming down the hall.

He looked up to Mackenzie, and she looked back at him sympathetically.

“I'm sorry,” she said, barely above a whisper.

He was about to narrow his eyes at her in an unspoken question, wondering what she meant – but she took him by surprise when she reached up and slapped him across the cheek.

“And that's for leaving me six days before our wedding!” she yelled, watching him reel from the surprise hit.

“Look at that,” Marc said as he came into the room, holding Addy in front of him by her shoulders. “We walked into a little lover's spat.”

Lance grit his teeth against the fabric of the gag, waiting for the sting in his cheek to go away. If he wasn't under strict orders not to get them all killed, he'd have yelled at her that a warning would have been nice.

“That looked like it hurt a little,” Marc said, closely to Addy's ear. “I liked it.”

Lance glanced up enough to look in her eyes. She was no longer gagged, but she was completely silent. He could see the tears in her eyes, and the look of fear she gave him. It made him wonder exactly what Marc had done to her while she was out of the room, out of his sight. If he had threatened her, or hurt her, or worse...touched her, in any way that made her uncomfortable.

The thought gave him exactly the rage he needed to form a plan in his head...and now all he needed was for Mackenzie to get that knife away from Marc.


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“How long are you going to drag this out, Marc?”

Lance remained silent with his head hung to his chest as Mackenzie spoke.

“As long as I damn well want to,” he responded from his seat next to Addy.

Lance sighed, adjusting his arm slightly to relieve the ache. He had been holding his arms behind his back for over an hour already, not moving more than an inch at a time, in an attempt to pretend that he was still handcuffed to the bars of the crib. His eyes kept cutting to Mackenzie, trying to urge her to hurry and get on with whatever her plan was, but so far, she had only looked back at him and remained in her spot on the chair a few feet away from him.

He had watched for the past hour as Marc had sat beside Addy, continually torturing her with the sight of the knife. Every few minutes, he would pull her to stand from the chair and take her out of the room – sometimes to the bathroom, sometimes he wouldn't say where he was taking her. Every time he would return with her, she looked even more afraid, even though every time he didn't think it was possible.

He had also noticed that while she remained quiet, she winced every few moments. She didn't have to say anything to him for him to know – the contractions had started again. This time they were bad, and consistently spaced apart.

He knew they were running out of time.

“Can we move on with this already?” Mackenzie asked tersely. “I have a life I'd like to get back to at some point.”

Marc chuckled. “Oh yeah, and what does that include exactly? Your career isn't exactly flourishing, baby.”

“Neither is yours...baby,” she responded.

Marc pressed his lips together at her sass. “We'll get on with it when I want to. I'm running this show, Mackenzie.”

“And you never let me forget it,” she responded. “Shouldn't I get something I want out of this, too?”

“You're getting what you want,” he said. “Money. Don't forget about that. His blood won't even be dry on the floor before I pull out my pen and sign that check. Then you can put your poor mother in a home and move to Barbados for all I care.”

At the mention of Mackenzie's mother, Lance looked up – now it all made sense. Mackenzie's mother had been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's ten years before he had met her, when she was only in her early 40's. By the time that Lance had met Mackenzie, her mother was already starting her tragic climb downhill. He remembered the first time he had ever met her mother – she was nervous for him to meet her to begin with, and warned her of the possible strange behavior. It had shown the first day he spent with the two of them, when an hour after he had introduced himself to her, she couldn't remember his name.

He hadn't seen the woman in over two years, but he couldn't imagine how bad it had gotten since the two of them broke up. Obviously, it was so bad that she needed full-time care – and Mackenzie would do anything to give it to her.

“Maybe I don't care about money anymore,” Mackenzie said. “Maybe I want something else.”

“Like what?” Marc asked.

Lance watched as a sly grin came to her face.

“I want to kill her.”

His heart stopped briefly.

“Really?” Marc asked, his interest piqued. “Care to elaborate?”

Mackenzie glanced at Adeline a moment, shooting her a resentful look.

“She took what was mine,” she said. “Like he took what was yours. They're both selfish. You want him dead...and I want her dead.”

“An hour ago, you wanted me to let them both go,” he said.

“An hour ago, I didn't have a reminder of what I could have had sitting right here next to me,” she said. “And an hour ago, I didn't have a reminder of who stole it from me sitting across from me – pregnant with his kid. Maybe I realize now I want them to suffer as much as you do.”

Marc smiled. “I like this side of you, Kenz. It's hot. Maybe I am a sick fuck.”

Adeline watched on as Marc stood out of his chair and walked over to Mackenzie, her breathing becoming heavy and her eyes wide.

“You've got the gun,” he said. “Have at it.”

Lanced watched silently as Mackenzie looked up at Marc with a smile.

“I don't want the gun,” she said. “It's too quick. I want it painful. I want the knife.”

Those were the only words Lance needed to hear – now he knew her angle. Now was the time to kick the plan into action.

“I knew there was a part of you that was as sick as I am,” Marc said, handing her the knife.

Lance watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye, watching as she stood up to face him with a smile on her face. It was then that he remembered exactly how good she was at what she did – she was a born actress who could play almost any part she was given, and this was no exception.

“I guess it took a while to kick in,” she said, giving him a flirty look. “Maybe after we're done here, we can clean up the mess, dump my mom in a home, and make that trip to Barbados ourselves.”

He watched her, and he could see her strategy play out brilliantly in front of him. She inched closer to him, holding both the gun and the knife in each hand as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled him closer to her and grinned as she moved his lips down to her mouth, wrapping him in a sensual, seductive kiss.

It was the perfect distraction she needed to turn him around so that his back was facing Lance. Quietly and quickly, knowing he didn't have much time, he stretched his legs out until he got them right where he needed them.

It only took a swift move to kick his feet out and hook Marc's, sending him falling to the floor immediately.

Mackenzie moved out of the way, immediately placing her foot on Marc's back heavily, pointing the knife at him as Lance stood to his feet.

“Took ya long enough!” she yelled at Lance.

“Me? Took me long enough?” he asked. “I've been waiting an hour for you, pussyfooting around. And what was that slap?”

“What did you want me to do, send you flowers and call you my best friend?” she asked, handing the gun over to him. “I had to convince him that I roughed you up like I was supposed to.”

“Maybe warn me next time,” he said angrily.

“Can we do this a little later?” she yelled. “I'd like to not die right now.”

His arm tense, Lance pointed the gun down at the floor towards Marc.

“Get him up,” he said.

Addy watched on in shock as Mackenzie picked Marc off the ground and shoved him against the wall, not knowing how things had turned around so quickly.

“Go call the police,” Lance said, motioning to Mackenzie.

She paused a moment in reluctance, before handing the knife in her hand over to Lance and running out of the room.

“What are you going to do?” Marc asked with a smile as he stared in Lance's eyes and down the barrel of the gun, recovering from his fall. “Shoot me?”

“Maybe,” Lance said. “Or maybe I'll stab you with this knife and make it slow and painful. Or maybe I'll stand here and torture you for an hour like you've done to my wife, while I wait for the police to come and take your sadistic ass off to prison.”

“It doesn't matter,” Marc responded, smiling. “The damage is already done. She's in pain, Lance. Look at her.”

Lance looked over at Addy out of the corner of his eye, careful not to be completely distracted. It distressed him to see that her breathing had started racing, her eyes closed in pain, her lips pursed.

“She's in labor,” Marc said. “And it scares the hell out of you – because you know it's too soon. You know the risks. You're walking in my shoes now. You may have the upper hand – but I've done exactly what I came to do.”

“Don't listen to him, baby,” Addy finally said, breathing through the pain. “I'm fine.”

“She's not fine,” Marc said. “She's hurting right now – and you know that if you kill me, you'll hurt her even worse. You don't want her to see that.”

He felt his anger rise, and instinctively he pressed the gun further into Marc's temple.

“Lance, I'm okay,” she said. “Really. Do what you have to do.”

“You can't do it,” Marc whispered. “You won't do it. You're far too much of a chickenshit to do it.”

“You...shut up,” Lance growled, feeling his hands start to shake.

“Lance, focus on me,” Addy said.

He turned to her, holding the gun still at Marc's head.

“Do what you have to do,” she said. “You won't hurt me. I love you.”

He pursed his lips together and turned back to look at Marc, who smirked at him. He wanted to shoot him...he wanted to put an end to everything that he had gone through with this man and what he had put up with for two years. He had broken into his apartment; he had trashed his car; he had stolen the love of his life away from him, not to mention stalked and harassed him, twice already. He had finally reached his breaking point after staying so collected about the entire situation, and he wanted more than anything to end it.

He squeezed down on the trigger slightly, feeling his hands shake even more. The feel of the gun in his hand...he had hunted before, but this was different. He held this man's life in his hands, and with one squeeze of the trigger, he could take it away.

He grunted in frustration.

“I can't do it, Addy,” he said, lowering the gun.

It only took a moment. He had only taken a step away, and had glanced up at his wife to connect eyes with her. In the split second that it took, he saw her eyes go wide. Then he heard the scream, the sound of his name come out of her mouth, full of fear...and then he felt the arm wrap around him, bending him so that his back was against Marc's chest and the gun was ripped from his hands.

“Never take your eye off the ball,” Marc growled in Lance's ear. “You made a fatal mistake, pop star...and now you're gonna pay.”

Adeline watched in horror as Marc pushed him to the ground and held the gun towards him.

“Say goodbye,” he said, looking at her.

It was when Adeline heard the gun fire that she cried out – closing her eyes quickly. If she couldn't see it, it wasn't real. He wasn't dead. Lance couldn't be dead.

“Guess I didn't forget to put the bullets in my gun,” Mackenzie said, holding the gun she had fired towards Marc's body, collapsed on the floor. “Bastard.”


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“Look directly into the light for me, please.”

Lance held the ice pack to his eyebrow, the cold causing shooting pains through it. He blinked a few times as he looked directly into the bright, tiny flashlight that the EMT was holding up to him.

“You can't stay out of trouble, can you?” the man said with a smile.

Lance smiled back, looking at the same EMT who had shown up to check him over the morning after the fire.

“It would help if I didn't have people trying to kill me every time I turned around,” Lance replied.

“Well, we all hope for that,” the man said. He lowered his flashlight after looking in both of Lance's eyes, placing it in his breast pocket. “She got you pretty good. Looks like you might have a slight concussion, but I wouldn't worry about it too much. How does your head feel?”

“Like I was run over a few times by a Mack truck and then run through a trash compactor.”

“Sounds normal to me,” the EMT said with a smile. “I'll tell you this – you were lucky. People waving guns around all over the place and you came out with hardly a scratch. Looks like you have a guardian angel on your shoulder.”

Lance smiled, even though he felt like dirt.

“You can load up on Tylenol for the pain. No more than three every six hours – or I'll be coming back for a third time with my stomach pump, my friend.”

“Bring beer, we'll barbecue,” Lance said, and the EMT chuckled.

“I hope I'm invited,” Detective Abrams said as he walked up to the two of them.

“For all I've been through, I'll hold a barbecue for the entire NYPD,” Lance said. “How is she?”

“Mackenzie's pretty shaken up,” he replied. “She broke immediately. Told us everything. He figuratively and literally had a gun to her head, playing her like a puppet the whole time. I don't think she would have done any of this if it weren't for him.”

“What's going to happen to her?” Lance asked.

“We're gonna work out a deal,” Abrams said. “Physically he barely touched her, but mentally he took her to the cleaners. I don't think she would be found competent to stand trial. I can't promise anything until I talk to the DA and her lawyer, but my guess is that any time she serves, it will be in a mental hospital – it'll be the best place for her right now.”

“What about her mom?”

“She'll be well taken care of,” he said. “It was a wonderful thing you did, offering to pay for a full-time, in-home nurse. I don't think we would have gotten a confession out of her so easily without you.”

“She did save my life, after all,” Lance responded. “If it weren't for her, you'd be dragging me out of here in a body bag instead of Marc.”

“I'm just glad it's over for you,” Abrams said. “I'm sure you echo that sentiment.”

“More than you know,” Lance responded.

When both of them went silent, they caught the tail end of a discussion between the two paramedics, turning to look at both of them.

“We've done everything we can to stop it,” one of them said. “But she's already at about 6 centimeters.”

“Okay, we'll have to transfer. Go ahead and get everything ready.”

“What's going on?” Lance asked, looking at the paramedic who had helped him. “Where's Addy? What's wrong?”

“We're going to have to transfer your wife to the hospital,” he said. “She's in labor and we've been unsuccessful at stopping it.”

“Where is she?” Lance shrieked, immediately standing up off the couch. “Is she okay?”

“Relax,” the paramedic said with a smile, grabbing Lance's arm to gently push him back down. “Watch that head injury there. She's still in the early stages so there's no need to become a maniac yet.”

“But it's too soon,” Lance said.

“It's a little earlier than we like but it's best for her and the baby,” he said. “Your wife has developed something known as gestational hypertension. Her blood pressure is too high and it could put her at risk for pre-eclampsia. Does she get stressed easily?”

Lance stared blankly, stifling a chuckle. “Clearly you don't know my wife. Easily is not the word.”

“Well, with everything she's been through today, I'm not surprised she's in labor,” the paramedic said. “We're transferring her to Beth Israel, but the ambulance will be full and you'll have to follow us.”

“I'll give you a ride,” Abrams said. “With a dead body in your house, a head injury, and a wife who stressed herself into labor, I think you're in no position to drive.”

“Alright, we'll be ready to go in about five,” the paramedic responded before walking away.

“This is all happening so fast,” Lance said. “My head is spinning.”

“Well, that could be the concussion,” Abrams said with a chuckle. “Come on superstar. Let's end this day on a positive note and go have your baby.”



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Story Tags: chris lance