Her heart raced in her chest, each beat painful, as it seemed to reverberate through her body. She was aching, her head pounding in rhythm with her heartbeat. Panic bubbled in her gut that she tried to ignore, to push back, but it was no use. She had no idea what time it was, no idea how long she was out. She was confused, sore, disoriented. 

 

Slowly, she sat up in bed. The mattress felt like fluffy clouds, and John’s intoxicating scent clung to the pillows and the sheets. She strained her ears to hear, but it was dead silent, except for the soft sound of air swishing from the window. Her panic eased a little when she saw she was still fully dressed, wearing the god-damn summer dress from last night. 

Was it last night? As she contemplated what to do, she heard footsteps off in the distance, calculated and exaggerated as they grow near. She held her breath when the knob across the room turned, the door opening. 

 

Oh no. 

Oh no. 

Oh no. 

 

What was going on? Where was John? The moment she saw him, memories start to trickle in. Fernando touching her, John’s in the cabin. She remembered looking at him, screaming as he grabbed her, that man’s hand over her body, his words, and then there was nothing. 

Blank. 

 

He was wearing the exact same thing as last time she saw him. He passed the doorway when he saw her sitting up, his hand still grasping the knob, but after a moment he let go of it and took a few steps toward her. Instinctively, she grabbed the blanket and pulled it up, shielding herself, despite the fact that she was all clothed. Her act brought a smirk to his face. He paused and stared, but he didn’t speak. She was not sure what to do, or say, so she just stared back. 

 

After a moment, the corner of his lip twitched, revealing his white teeth. 

"You're awake. Welcome back." 

"Where’s John?" Ugh, her voice sounded like sandpaper and felt just as raw. 

"I was worried," he said. "You've been out for a while." 

"You’ve been worried...what a joke," she glanced around the room anxiously. 

"Where is John?"

"If I were you, I wouldn't worry about John so much.." 

 

Oh, God… 

 

"I can’t move my legs," she suddenly noticed

"I know. The drug will wear off in a few hours." Those words stalled her as her stomach sank. 

She gaped at him. 

He drugged her. 

 

Was she drugged? That panic surfaced again so quickly that she could feel it viciously rising, bile burning her throat. There was blood on the wooden floor, and it trickled in a long river to the bathroom.

"What did you give me? Who’s blood is it? Where the hell is John?!"

“So many questions, Principessa. If I were you, I would conserve my strength. God knows you'll need it.”

 

He flipped on the radio, gauging how close the search was to him. “You have less than one minute to make your choice,” he told her. “We have twenty minutes to make it out of the state and get to Italy before this place would be swamped with policemen.” 

She pushed her hands through her hair. “Where’s John?” 

He offered her his hand. “You can stay here with John, try to insert yourself back into your life of lies, or you can come with me and find out how far the rabbit hole goes to get your answers.” She shook her head. 

“I can’t.” She breathed hard. 

“You can. You can do anything you want, and fine, I’ll take soldier Black with us, he might be of good use to me.” 

She released a manic laugh. “This is fucking crazy. You’re crazy!” 

“Is that your professional opinion, doctor?” Stare cast over the rising sun; she shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” 

 

“Even if it means discovering the truth about your past?” he said, and his gaze nailed her. “The absolute certainty of uncovering everything Stefano kept from you?” It was there in her pensive eyes, the longing, the desire to unmask that which terrified her. Curiosity alone wasn’t enough—to a perfectionist like Marlena; this was the promise of her story. 

 

“They’re going to put you to death. And I swear to God, Fernando… I will be there to watch.” He took her hand, closing his fingers around her wrist, feeling her fast heartbeat.

“I hope you will be.” ‏staggering her feet, she stood up, her legs wobbled and he held her close.

"Let go of me, I'm not going anywhere with you."

Not letting her take one more step, his hand slid up, covering her mouth. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

Desperately, she tried to pull in oxygen, but she was being smothered by the palm of his hand. She tried to fight him, she tried to shove him off, but he was too strong, too determined. 

 

Spots flashed in front of her eyes. 

She was dying. 

Suffocating. 

But amazingly, her will power was stronger. “I said you’re coming with me,” he grunted into her ear, and she wept. Her nose burnt, and her lungs ached. Colors overtook the spots flashing in front of her eyes, and warm waves roll through her core. 

 

“Yes,” he grunted quietly as she clamped down on him. “Relax. That’s a good girl.” 

Just when she was about to pass out, he removed his hand, and she gasped in a mouthful of much-needed air. He held her tightly as she twitched. Catching her breath. As soon as the last tremor faded and she got some of her strength back, She pushed him away. Their eyes met. Hers were confused and frantic. 

His were venomous and victorious. “You almost killed me,” she hissed. 

He smirked and tucked an errant strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Let’s go.”

“I’m not leaving without John...why are you doing this…?” she asked aloud, but it was not intentionally directed at him. He got closer and palmed her face. “You know why—you know why you’re here. To demand the answers he kept from you.” 

 

A tear slipped free, and she blinked away the wetness. She was not crying; her adrenaline was running high. 

Good. 

It will help cancel out her pain. “We’re leaving, Marlena. Now.” and everything faded away as it came.

 

Not again.

 

*****

 

Light flickered against her eyelids. The pain of her injured wrists pulled her from the shadows. Her lids were heavy, like she’d slept too long, suffering a morbid hangover. When she was able to pry her eyes open, Fernando was close. 

 

Marlena flinched away. In the dim lighting, she noticed he was clean and shaven. The scent of fresh shampoo and soap pervaded her senses, a welcoming comfort before her internal alarm snapped her fully awake. 

 

“Where am I? Where’s John?” she demanded. But one look around the room clued her in. Lit candles illuminated the small room, making it feel cozy. Romantic, even. Her stomach pitched.

 

“I’ll power up the generator soon,” Fernando answered her unspoken question about the candles. Her back was propped against the bed headboard. Fernando held a wet washcloth to her wrists. “I was going to let you sleep it off, but you were starting to scream in your sleep.” 

 

She snatched the cloth from his hand. “That tends to happen when you’ve been kidnapped,” she snapped. He didn’t rattle. His mouth tipped into that smug half-smile of his. 

“Where’s John? Where are we? Answer me!”

“We’re in Italy. John is still unconscious; you’ll see him soon. Now take a shower, Towels are in the closet. Everything you need is already in the shower.” He stood.  

 

She watched him exit the room, shutting the wood panel door behind him. She tossed the cloth and jumped to her feet, and immediately sway. Using the wall to right herself, she crept toward the door and checked the handle. 

Locked. 

From the outside. 

Fuck. 

 

She was in a house in the middle of a wooded area. She found a bottle of water on the dresser and drank half of it down before rationalizing that it could be drugged. She waited to feel any disorienting effects. Once the fogginess started to clear from her brain, she drank the rest and tried to recall how she got here. 

 

What has happened to John? Did they cross over a state line? Yes, Fernando said that was part of his plan—to get outside of Salem in twenty minutes. But how long ago was that? 

 

She unbuttoned her grimy dress. All her clothes went into a wastebasket near the toilet. It took too long for the water to heat. She dove into a cold shower, thankful to feel something clean against her skin. Halfway through bathing, the water began to warm, and she assumed this was due to the generator Fernando mentioned. As she washed her hair, she filtered every piece of data he gave her, processing his words, the scenery, her predicament. She needed more information. She needed to see John. She needed to suppress her fear and do what she was trained to do: listen. 

 

Marlena shut the water off and stepped onto the chilly hardwood floor. Towel wrapped tightly around her; she looked for clues. The whole bathroom was paneled in light and dark reclaimed wood. The shower and sink were white porcelain with contemporary fixtures. The candlelight reflected off a tall vanity mirror, setting the space in an ambient glow that she’d otherwise appreciate if not for the fact that they were trapped. 

 

She has to stay sharp. She has to outwit him. With that in mind, when the bathroom door opened, she was primed. Ready to take on Fernando with the only weapon she has. She was not prepared for the impact, however. 

 

Fernando stood in the doorway shirtless, unashamed. John laid on a small sofa in the small living room. She tugged her towel higher, wrapped it tighter, and made a step towards her man. “Ah-ha, not yet,” he remarked, blocking her move. She bristled, but she bit her tongue, forcing herself not to react. 

He crossed his arms. “Don’t squeeze your towel too tight. You’re many things, Marlena. Demure isn’t one of them.” His gaze traveled over her body, and she felt the press of it as if he was physically touching her exposed skin. 

 

She cleared her throat. “I need clothes.” He pushed off the door jamb and stalked forward. She backed up, but he reached her before she had a chance to retreat. 

He brushed a finger across her shoulder, down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Then he grasped her wrist and brought it up to inspect. 

 

Deep-red bands wrapped each of her wrists from where the cuffs bit in. “Sit on the chair,” he said. 

She arched an eyebrow. “Clothes. And I want to attend to John,” she demanded. Without warning, he gripped her waist and hoisted her onto the counter. She dug her nails into his arm, but he easily pried her off, turning her hand over between them. 

 

He used the soft light of the candles to inspect her bruised wrists. His touch was too intimate, her body on high alert, so aware of him and every caress of his sure fingers over her porcelain skin. 

She hated that. 

She struggled to breathe. 

 

He was silent as he reached above her head to gather alcohol and gauze from behind the vanity; he seemed to know his way around the house. 

The placed was warm and homely, but deserted, the air was stuffed as if it was closed for years. 

“You need to leave me alone. I must check him up; he has been unconscious for far too long.”

She said, shaking her head, “and don’t touch me.” 

His fingers traced the sensitive skin beneath her scraped wrists. “Even a sadistic hunter prefers healthy prey.” 

She tried to snatch her hand away, but his grip tightened. 

“Hold still.” 

 

She straightened her spine. “You’re enjoying this. Getting off on my pain.” 

“Nothing has ever gotten me hotter.” A devious smile twisted his lips, as he glanced John “He would wake soon enough.” 

Her pulse sped as he treated and bandaged her wrists.

“Why are you doing this?” She tried to think, to process, but he was busy with her wounds. 

“Doing what?”

“Helping me”

“Hold still.”

She stared at his chest, a big wolf’s head, and another small one was looking back at her. 

“What does it mean?” She said, and he glanced down. 

“It’s none of your business.” She knew nothing of his past or where he came from; she was hoping to get him talking.  

”You took me away from the people that I love, you barged into my life and made it a living hell, so I’m making it my business ” 

“It’s my past.” And that was all he said. She swallowed an ache. “And what about your future? What do you want from us?” A muscle feathered along his locked jaw. 

 

“You’ll know when the time comes.” He finished wrapping her left wrist, and she pumped her hand into a fist. “How can you expect us to stay here without knowing what in the world you want from us? You want to use us for something, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Because you obsessed over some connection, we had in the past. And then you fantasize about John giving you these codes you keep mentioning. And you keep us until you made it happen.” He rested his hands on either side of her thighs, his face too close to hers. Shadows danced over his face. The flicker of candlelight casts his features in the dark, predatory. 

 

“There are too many contingencies to account for them all. I had to focus on the most likely ones, but we—you and I, Marlena—we were always a contingency. What we’re working through now are the variables to determine our exact outcome.” He held his gaze. She found and wrapped a stray thread from the towel around her finger. 

 

“I have a life of my own. I’m sorry for your troubled past, Fernando. But kidnapping us is not the answer. It may feel like brilliance, even mimic it, but it’s still madness.” His head tilted slightly, bringing him even closer.

 

“One man’s madness is another’s genius. Is that what you’re saying?” Her shoulders tensed, his nearness unnerving. 

“You kidnapped us, you drugged us,” she said, her eyes strayed to John, the accusation clear in her raspy voice. 

“Where is your genius in that?” 

“Patience, principessa. You’ll realize it soon enough.” He lowered his head and inhaled deeply, breathing in her clean skin. 

 

The pulse of his breaths against her shoulder vibrated along her body like a current, humming with a warning. Fernando pulled away, putting a small space between them. 

 

Then, reaching for the white candle, he slowly swept a finger through the flame. 

“Touching you is like daring the fire to burn me.” He taunted the fire, deliberately toying with the wick until the flame is almost snuffed out. Then he moved in. His hands slid along the counter, eating the distance separating them. His thumbs make contact—the slightest touch to her thighs, but she felt the impact rock through her. 

“Fernando-“

“You’ve always been too tempting,” he said. “Alluring, seductive… making me question myself. Seduction is one of your sins, did you know that? Are you aware of your power?” 

 

She licked her lips, completely aware of the way he was watching her mouth. This was a complicated matter, though; how far to push him without going too far, without pushing him over the edge. It could just as easily backfire. She needed more time; she needed to keep him talking, willing to take that risk.

 

“I’ve never felt weak until you happened,” he said, inching her towel up her thighs. “That can drive a man crazy. The want. The need. Craving what you know is bad for you.” She stopped resisting and let his hips pushed her knees apart. 

 

“I’m not yours to crave. What bad things are you going to do to us?” His hand traveled eagerly up her back; then he pushed his fingers into her damp hair. Restraint unleashed, he fisted her hair and tugged, exposing her neck. She closed her eyes against the feel of his mouth touching down, his lips and tongue coaxing her to give in as he kissed a blistering trail over the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He paused when he reached her ear. 

“You are the bad thing.” Her eyes opened. She pulled back and stared into his pale gaze. “I’m tired of this game, Fernando.” 

“Then stop playing and tell me what I want.” His hold in her hair tightened as he gripped her upper thigh with his other, forcing her against him. 

 

The abrasive rub of his jeans between her legs made her gasp, and she thrust her hands out. Marlena planted her palms on his chest, keeping a span of air between them. “Let me go—” His mouth captured hers in a ruthless kiss, swallowing her plea.

 

She pushed at his chest, hating that he kissed her. His fingers dug into the flesh of her backside, pulling her harder to him, her struggle only fueling the fire. Her nails found purchase in his skin, and she clawed for freedom. He absorbed the attack as if he was feeding on the pain. She located the scratches on his shoulder and nailed the wound with her fist. His guttural roar filled the cavern of her mouth before he broke away, breaths heavy. 

 

“Let me go,” she demanded. “I want out of this sick game.” He took her hand and flattened it to his chest, covering the scratches beading with red. “You’re here—right here—because you chose to be. This is where you belong; you’re going to help me to bring him down. He will pay for what he did.”

 

“Bring who down? What are you talking about? I didn’t choose to be your captive… your victim.” 

“What did you want to be, then?” ignoring her questions “My love slave? Fucking like animals?” His laugh was hollow. “I hardly think that would be good enough for the respectable Dr. Evans. Or maybe it’s the other way around. You thought I’d reveal to you, your dirty secret.” He moved in closer, thrusting his erection hard against her thigh. “Tell me. What did you think this was about?” 

 

She hated him—She hated the way his words fracture her mind. The way his touch seared her flesh. She hated the ache deep within her, the confusion he brought into her life. “I hate you,” she whispered. “Why are we here?!”

“You hate everything but me.” 

“Stop fucking with my head—” her hands became fists that beat at his chest. 

“It has been too long since I touched a woman's body.”

Blind punches landed anywhere she could strike. Fernando groaned and pulled her off the counter. His strong arms hauled her forward; then she was against the wall. Her back made contact as his body pinned her, his hands trapping hers above her head. Her lungs fought for oxygen. 

 

“Is this your attempt at gaining control?” he said against her lips. “Let’s see how mastered you are.” Keeping her wrists locked together, Fernando freed one of his hands. He slid it down her arm until he reached the towel. With a quick tug, her only barrier from him dropped to the floor. She was more than naked; she was bared. 

Exposed. 

Vulnerable. 

 

“Do you hear that?” He pressed at her body, his fingers clamping her chin. His lips were uncomfortably close to her cheek. The muscles in the back of her throat tightened as she prepared to grunt her answer, but she stopped herself. 

 

What if this was a test? What if he was goading her into disobeying him? She shook her head. 

“Listen, Principessa…” She squinted her eyelids together and tried to calm the pounding in her body, so she could really focus. The sound was quiet, just barely above a whisper. “Marlena… Marlena… Marlena…” John said her name over and over. It was like someone was standing on his throat, and he was exhaling his final breath. His last words.

No, she wanted to scream.

 

“John!” Her eyes darted to the brown sofa at the corner of the room, it was dimly lit, but she could see his fingers moving. 

“Let me go! He needs my help! What good would he be to you if he’s dead?!” She froze, and he rubbed his nose along the bottom of her jaw. Fernando was breathing her in. “Next time I come for you, I want you to ask the right question.”

She nodded, the movement causing his fingers to tighten around her chin until she whaled up. “Next time, I might not stop” He moved in closer and licked across her bottom lip. “You look so fucking sexy...I might let him watch.” She held in her sobs, but they racked her whole body. 

“Go” he left the room.

 

John’s eyes shot open. The only thought on his mind came flying out of his lips, “Marlena!” 

“I’m here!” she yelped, wrapping the towel around her body once more, her knees hitting the floor in front of the sofa. 

 

She could relax a little now. He was awake, but in what state? 

 

“Oh my God.. Doc…” his fingers flattered her cheek “you’re- you’re alive” He whispered, she waited for him to finish caressing her face before she spoke, “Of-of course I am.” 

He said nothing; his lips parted with no sound coming out.

“He-He shot you...in the head… I saw it; you were bleeding… the cabin’s floor, it was covered with blood...your blood..oh my god, I don’t understand any of it.”

He didn’t even look in her direction. He just moved his hands in his hair, confused. 

 

“John?” He still didn’t answer, so she grabbed his chin, trying to turn him to her. The burns and cuts on her wrists stung, but she ignored the pain. She needed to find out what was going on. 

 

“Look at me. I’m alive; I’m right here with you.” The softness in her hazel pools brought him tranquility he forgot he could have. 

 

“Why don’t you lie back down? He gave you some heavy drugs and—” 

“I saw you..you were dead.” 

“John, I don’t know what happened but- “

 

“She was the perfect set up.” 

Their heads turned to see Fernando leaning against the door frame, “and she was so annoying, Dios mio...and Black...Black...Black...you were the perfect fool.” Striding, he came closer. She flinched, and John noticed the slight change in her demeanor. 

 

“You stay away from her!” He raged, supporting his tired body he tried to push himself up and failed. His body was heavy; he could barely move his head.
 

“Don’t be a hero, Black; it’ll be hours before you’ll be able to move again.”

 

“Who did you kill?” She stood up, ignoring John’s fingers that tried to wrap around her arm. She knew he was a killer, she knew what he was capable of, but now it was too close to home. 

He laughed again, his sinister laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh, Principessa, she looked so much like you, but she had none of your sex appeal. No-ne.” he broke the word.

“Hattie…” she breathed out, her eyes lowered to the ground and back to John. 

“Yes, yeah, that was that bitch’s name.”

 

Letting John grab her hand, she was pulled back. He knew she would lash out, and he needed to keep her rage intact. Fernando was dangerous, and he was in no position of fighting him in his condition. 

 

“Why?” His word trembled with anger, “Why did you kill her?” His mind took him back to the cabin. To the trail of blood on the floor. 

“I had to know. I had to make sure you were telling the truth about the coordinates in Italy.”

“You fucking bastard!” John yelled. 

 

He turned to the other side of the room, completely disregarding John’s anger. Taking a few steps, he stopped in front of the sofa. 

“I’m glad you’re awake, John. Last time we talked, you missed our show.” He started again as if nothing had happened. As if he didn’t just confess he had killed a woman. 

 

“Marlena.” Fernando's hand closed around her arm as he pulled her to her feet.

 

His skin touching hers, his palm wedged her legs apart, and her body was fighting. The ache intensified at the feel of his hand, finding her instantly. She quaked under his touch and arched.

“Look at her, Black,” he whispered as he expertly slipped his fingers between her thighs. “Utter one claim that you didn’t kill people.”  

“I did not do such a thing. Leave her alone. Let's talk.”

Fernando could hear her pleading in the breathless moans she tried to hold back. 

 

“He is a murderer Marlena—say it. A murderer.” She bit her lip, refusing to give in. 

 

“It wasn’t his fault,” She finally said when her body trembled. “He was Stefano’s pawn.” The sound of his zipper lowering sent fear coursing through her veins. 

 

“Fernando! I’m warning you!” He screamed. 

 

Her heart knocked painfully against her chest wall. “You’re so strong, Marlena. So damn strong and stubborn, but you are a fool” She could feel him stroking himself, and her eyes flutter closed — the ache built into a sharp pain in her head. 

 

“The bad things you’ve done. I should despise what you are.” She gasped for air; her skin scorched everywhere he touched. She opened her eyes, and there in the vanity mirror, she glimpsed the tattoo between his shoulder blades. 

 

“Get the fuck away from her!” John tried to get up again to no avail. 

The inked Phoenix, it was on his back too. 

 

“Look at me.” he snarled. She did. 

“Leave her alone, Giovani!”

“Like you left Neomi alone!? Like you left Leonardo alone?! No… no John, you see, this is payback time. I promised you, you will pay.” He gritted his teeth, turning his head to look at her. He couldn’t miss the tremor of her lips.

“Fernando listen to me, he doesn’t remember any of it-” She raised her voice when he screamed; “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Huh? Am I supposed to be okay with him killing my wife? My child?!!” 

 

There was silence in the room, the humming of the night took over. She breathed heavily and stared at him, her eyes widened. 

“Don’t try to deny it, Marlena. I was there. It happened right outside…he shot them right in front of me.”

Fernando released the hold on her arm and dragged his legs to stand by the big window. 

Her body trembled with adrenaline but something inside of her believed him. He stared out the window into the void of the night. It was dark, too dark to even spot a tree.  

 

The gurgling sound startled her, John’s eyes were shut tight, his body shook uncontrollably on the sofa. “John!” She rushed to his side, “John! Oh my god, what is going on? John!” Placing her hands on his chest, she could feel his heart pounding, under his lids, his pupils disappeared to the back. He couldn’t stop shaking. 

 

The blonde man stood by the window, his eyes fixated on the darkness ahead. As if he couldn’t hear her pleads. 

“Fernando!!! Oh god! Look at him!”

 

He didn’t. 

Closing his eyes, he said calmly; “He's having a memory, and soon, he will have none.”