For the first time Cristiano looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

His look was ferocious.

He believed she had gotten hurt.

Jasmine managed to sit up, panting, close to hysteria. She wanted to reassure him. She wanted to shout out he should concentrate on keeping himself alive. But the pain slicing through her body wouldn't allow it.

His face swam behind her tears, but she could see him. She saw his concern for her. He feared for her more than his own life.

With difficulty he was still trying to hold back the knife in Mateo's hands but his concern for her was allowing him to lose the battle.

The room was filled with their panting.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Alessandra sauntering into the room, a gun in her hands. Her scream must have alerted her. She gave her a once over, obviously assuming she was no threat.

She had a crazed glint in her eye and a satisfied smirk. She casually leaned against the wall and crossed her arms clearly enjoying the fight.

"You can do this, Mateo. Finish him off once and for all so we can fly back to Italy and take what is yours." She didn't display an ounce of regret.

No! She wanted to scream but word couldn't form past her choked throat, up through thick, cold dread.

Hopelessness filled her.

Jasmine realized the bitch was playing Cristiano from the beginning, planning to bring him down with her partner. They were behind all this...Mateo lured Sofia, used her vulnerability to accuse Zayn. He encouraged Cristiano to avenge Sofia by using Zayn as a pawn and distraction. Alessandra contributed to Sofia's death. Cristiano's revenge leads him to her and to her kidnapping.

But what they hadn't anticipated was him falling in love with her.

It threw them a curveball.

But they waited patiently for another opportunity, the next chance to claim their unfinished business. Everything that should have happened long ago.

Darting her glance quickly back to Cristiano, Jasmine witnessed his struggle to keep the knife from piercing his heart. It was so close, she was sure he was going to die right in front of her.

Hot protective fury washed through her.

She had to do something. Then she felt something hard and cold against her side.

The handgun!

Lifting herself on her elbow as the contractions subsided, she reached for it. Her fingers found the grip of the gun and closed around it. It was blunt and angular, huge in her shaking hands. She stared at the gaping, inky-black muzzle. The metal was cold in her hands. She could see her terrified eyes reflected in the gun's chrome.

There was nothing left for her to do.

Growing up her parents made sure she and her siblings did not just learn self-defense but how to handle a gun. She never thought she'd ever use one to but now was a good as time as any to try to see if her aim was just as good as it used to be when she practiced.

It was the only way to end their nightmare.

She lifted the gun straight before her, grasped it with both hands, finger on the trigger, pointing it directly at Mateo's face.

He was on top, far enough for her to make her shot and avoid hitting Cristiano.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alessandra react. Without a second thought of her safety, she did what she knew was the right thing to do. Her fingers tightened on the trigger and the gun went off.

The bullet sliced through the air and directly hit Mateo square in the middle of his forehead. Blood splattered against the wall and the ceiling. There was a shocked silence in the entire room. His body seemed to freeze as the impact of the bullet wedged itself deeply inside his brain. His eyes went wide in shock. Mere seconds passed before Mateo fell to the ground in a tumbled heap. His death was instant as he fell back, eyes still open, the knife still securely in his lifeless hand.

Two sets of eyes looked at her with open-mouthed shock.

Jasmine lowered the weapon, chest heaving, her legs giving out.

Cristiano stared at her with astonishment as their eyes met.

"Nooooooooooo!" Alessandra shouted, clutching at her hair like a madwoman. "Mateo!"

She rushed to his side, shaking his body trying to wake him but it was futile. He was dead. There were a few moments of silence as her sobs filled the room. She bent over him, crying over his chest.

"It wasn't supposed to end this way!" She screams in frustration.

Cristiano rises to his feet and inches slowly towards Jasmine keeping his eyes on Alessandra all the while. In the next instant, his peripherals caught sight of his gun in the corner of the room slightly beneath a chair.

He changed course, advancing slowly, trying not to alert Alessandra of his intentions.

"Damn you Cristiano! He was all I had left." She wailed. "You've ruined my life. You must pay for your sins. It is only right to rid the world of you. You took Mateo from me. You robbed me of a new future. And now you must pay!" Alessandra screamed, taking turns pointing the gun at his chest and Jasmine's.

Cristiano got to his feet, clutching his injured arm, standing between Jasmine and his ex-fiancée. Blood trickled down his arm and the expression on his face showed pain. Blood was soaking his white shirt, making an ugly dark stain on the white linen.

"Lower the weapon, Alessandra." He demanded.

"Drop it or I will kill you too." Jasmine ordered, lifting the gun once more and getting to her feet.

Cristiano's breaths were coming in short gasps. Sweat began accumulating on his forehead. He looked at her and shook his head, determined to protect her.

Jasmine's insides went cold. She started forward, but the gun Alessandra held switched to her and was pointed directly at her belly. She was frozen in terror not knowing if she should intervene once more and put her life and that of her babies on the line or stay put and out of harm's way.

"You left me without a word!" Her tone was filled with contempt. "We were supposed to be married. Instead I find you married to this-this woman and she is pregnant!"

Instinctively, her free arm went around herself like a shield as if it would prevent a gunshot.

"Leave her out of this, Alessandra! I ruined her life and she is living with my mistakes. If you must hurt someone, hurt me. Shoot me. Leave her out of this."

"And you?" Alessandra looked at him long enough to gloat. "I suppose you want me to let you live, too."

"I don't care what you do to me as long as long as you let Yasmina live."

"Yasmina?" Alessandra's laughter was devoid of any humor. She turned to her and smiled, her lips tightening in jealousy.

Jasmine gulped heavily. Using the nickname he preferred would only prove she meant more to him than he was letting on.

"Did he seduce you? Did he whisper sweet words in your ear and lure you to his bed? You wouldn't be the first!" She sneered, her eyes blazing with hatred. "I've been engaged to a womanizer knowing the women he bedded right under my nose. That's why I turned to Mateo! You made me." She swung the gun towards him. "He showered me with the attention I craved from you since the day we were promised to one another. Once I knew you fell in love with this slut I knew which side I had to take."

"Leave her alone!" Cristiano pressed his hand to his shoulder in an attempt to stop the flow of blood.

Jasmine's gaze shot to the door. She didn't know what to do. If Cristiano and Alessandra continued, the crazed woman would be provoked enough to snap and kill him.

"I am supposed to be the one carrying your child. We were supposed to be married! How could you discard me as though I meant nothing to you? How could you break my heart. I loved you." She sobbed in anguish, the gun shaking in her outstretched arm. "I was the perfect woman for you. I would have done anything you wanted. I was groomed to be your wife since our parents promised us to one another years ago. How could you?"

Tears streamed down her face. She was a woman scorned. A woman who was hurt by her own expectations.

Jasmine wanted to put her hands over her ears. She didn't want to have to use the gun she still held in her hand. Even an amateur could see the anguish Alessandra lived with–a suffering deep and intense that had grown from a simmering wound. This woman was manipulated by Mateo and ignored by the man she thought would be her husband.

She saw Cristiano move, ready to overpower Alessandra and the gun she held. But he wasn't quick enough.

"Cristiano!" She screamed and before the sound had died, a shot pierced the air.

The lamp closest to her, on the side table, shattered into a million pieces. She screamed, clutching at her head, crouched, with the gun dropping from her hand by her feet. Cristiano changed course quickly and tumbled back towards her.

"Get down!" He ordered.

He was beside her in seconds, oblivious to the fact the second bullet splintering the table. Cristiano dragged her beneath him, protectively covering her body with his own. She saw Alessandra's arm lifting towards them.

"I love you Yasmina." Cristiano whispered in her ear, knowing he was ready to die. "I will try to fight her off but if I cannot stop her, I want you to run and call for help. Save yourself. Our children need you. Know I will always love you."

Jasmine froze for a moment, her eyes on his face. But there was no time to analyze what she was feeling. No time to savor the fact that Cristiano's love was truly unconditional and pure and was he willing to die to save her life. It was devastating knowing she had to come to this conclusion at the worst times.

And just like the very water than ran down the stream beneath a bridge–all his deception, all her hatred and suffering at his hands flowed down in a rush.

A new pain entered her heart and it was ready to explode. More tears welled up in her eyes as the truth of everything began to soak into her like rain. Each drop speaking to her. The tears slid out of her eyes as she held him to her, savoring his strength, warmth and eternal love enshrouding her.

She heard a sound, the soft scuff of shoes on the hardwood floors.

"I love you, Cristiano." She whispered. "I always have."

Before either of them could react, a bullet whizzed above their heads, wedging itself deeply in the sofa. Alessandra's aim was weak—showing she had no experience handling a gun, she was slowly but surely, reaching the direct target.

It was only a matter of seconds before they died.

******

They heard the scream.

Sammy and Mona gasped in shock.

It was Jasmine's piercing scream.

Sammy and Mona sat on barstools, in the kitchen, hands tied up together with heavy duty zip ties. Once Alessandra walked out of the kitchen, they looked at each other.

"Where do you keep the sharpest kitchen knives?" Sammy whispered, straining against the zip ties binding his hands together.

Mona's eyes widened. "They are in the drawer closest to the kitchen stove on the right side." She nudges her head in the direction. "But what if she walks in?" She whispered.

"I'm gonna fucking gut the bitch like a fish, that's what I'm gonna do." He replies and slowly rises from the stool, tiptoeing towards the stove. "Keep watch and if you hear any footsteps, warn me."

The kitchen island was long and wide, as Sammy moved around it. He grasped the handle of the drawer and slowly pulled, trying to be as silent as possible.

There was an array of sharp knives in different shapes and sizes. Without a second thought, he took out the longest and sharpest one he saw. It glinted sharply against the bright lights in the kitchen.

He smiles. "Fabulous!" He exclaimed in a whisper.

He ducked behind the island, gripped the knife upside down and began sawing through the thick plastic cord. It was difficult. He barely nicked a quarter of it and a whole minute had passed.

Sammy swore profusely. "I'm fucking sparkling and this damn-ass cord ain't cooperating!"

"Hurry!" Mona urged in her accented voice.

He froze. "Is the bitch coming?" He asks, using his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

"No! No! But hurry!" Mona responded.

Sammy sighed in exasperation and sagged against the cabinet behind him.

"What do you think I'm doing over here? Cooking?" He whisper shouted wanting to throttle her.

He was staining so hard on the cords, trying to pry his wrists apart so he wouldn't cut his skin, he felt the welts forming. Not to mention his circulation was being restricted.

Then a gunshot boomed through the house.

Sammy jumped, bumping his head against the cabinet. Mona wailed sadly, muttering to herself in Arabic. It sounded as though she was praying.

There were few moments of silence after the shot, and voices, although faint.

Fuck, Sammy thought. What if they were too late?

Fear skyrocketed through Sammy. Like a mad man he gripped the knife more securely in his hands and started once again to cut through the cords. His attempts were successful as his wrists broke free.

"Yes!" He says.

Sammy scrambles to his feet and runs around the counter to Mona. She was silently sobbing, tears streaming down her face.

He grips her wrists and easily frees her of the restraints.

"I need a baseball bat, you got one?" He asks, looking her dead in the eye.

She nods eagerly. "Yes, yes, I hide one in the pantry behind the bag of flour."

"Really?" He asks a bit surprised, but doesn't wait for an answer.

Sammy skids around the counter and stops at the door to the pantry. He rips the door open, and his eyes zero on the big white bag of flour. He kicks it out of his way and reaches for the shiny metal bat. Flour was spilled everywhere.

"Ain't you a beauty." He murmurs to the bat appreciatively.

He turns and marches right out of the pantry, the bat resting on his shoulder.

"I'm ready to kick some serious ass! Get ready Mona!"

"I'm ready!" She whispers, her voice growing strong.

He runs to the kitchen door, closest to the living room. "Stay behind me–"

Sammy looks back to make sure she followed him and does a double take.

Mona held a house slipper in her hand with her arm raised above her head. Sammy frowned and looked down at her feet. She had one slipper on and the other in her hand.

He shakes his head shamefully and shoved her back, retreating into the kitchen, laying his bat down gently with the greatest care on the marble counter.

"Hold up peaches and cream. I have no doubt you can use that slipper, you're an Arab after all. But we're trying to kick some ass, not spank some ass!"

Sammy reaches for one of the darkest and heaviest looking pan hanging from the rack organizer above the kitchen island. He returns and places the cast iron pan in her hands.

"This is what you use, not that!" He says pointing to her feet.

Suddenly, the small roaring sound of a machine came skating through the kitchen. Both Mona and Sammy jump, startled, and clutched each other desperately in fear.

"What the fuck is that?" Sammy whispered. "Are we gonna die? It sounds like the fucking terminator is after us!"

"Get your bat!" Mona exclaimed, in a wavering voice.

Their eyes center on the sounds as it came closer. But their view was obscured by the huge island.

The sight of Coco floating on the iRobot Roomba–the floor cleaning vacuum had both of them sagging in relief.

"Oh my sweet Jesus! I forgot all about Coco. Here girl!"

Coco turns her big dark eyes and blinks, letting out a small bark.

Sammy smiles proudly, reaching for his bat. "If that ain't pimpin' I don't know what is! That's my bitch!"

Coco let out another, "Aarrff!"

Mona looks at him like he lost his mind.

"What's got your tabouli all mixed up?" He asks, giving her the sink eye.

"Kiss-emak Sharmuta!" She says.

Sammy's mouth dropped open.

"We are supposed to be helping Jasmine and you are here acting like a moron with your stupid dog–"

"Hold up bitch! Camelia taught me a couple of words in Arabic you know. Cussing is the first things you learn when you know someone is fluent in a language." He points the bat directly in her face. "And you're the Sharmuta!"

Mona released a flood of curse words in Arabic, ready to bash him with the cast iron skillet. A look of murder in her eyes.

Sammy got in position and held the bat ready to hit her with it like a batter ready to strike a ball.

"So help me God, I'll bash your mouth so damn bad with my bat that you won't be able to spread hummus or hate!"

Another shot is heard echoing through the entire house.

They both freeze, eyes going wide.

And than another.

"Somebody better start praying before I forget Jesus." Swallowing heavily, Sammy tried to push down his rising dread. "Get your cast iron pan ready, girl. Its time to kick some assholian ass."

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