Bars, rusted, sturdy surround her again.

Though Hannah's discouraged, her worry for Ethan stretches beyond her prison.

No one's said a word to her and she's left unattended, locked in like an animal. Only, this time, she felt she deserved it.

She hears the steps, knows someone is coming for her, and can hear the purpose in their stride intended to confront her. Having her suspicions on who it is, she doesn't bat an eye when she sees Ana Maria.

Since day one there existed tension. Two personalities that didn't mesh, especially with Ana Maria's instant alliance with the Wolfe in charge. She'd been with them a few months, but Ana climbed the ranks quickly. Her service, her coldness, her adaptability to the harsh laws of the colony settled well with Russell. She embodied every bad stereotype ever known with crooked cops and as a girl who had her own run-ins with the law in the past, Hannah didn't take kindly to her abrupt reinforcements of all she protested.

Vacancy in her face, Hannah didn't care if she'd come to kill her. For the first time, she felt she warranted death for letting Ethan sacrifice himself the way he did. Now, he's probably ripped apart by the dead, all waiting outside the colony forever until they finally got a taste of everyone inside.

Normally, she'd be the first to throw the snarky comment at the sheriff, or at anyone, really. Instead, she waited for whatever it was Ana Maria had intended for her in revenge.

The pistol at her holster gleams. The sheriff doesn't aim it, nor does she threaten her with it. Not yet.

She comes for her well enough, her shoulder bandaged and her own blood staining the part of her neck that she missed in a quick cleanup.

"You're coming with me," the sheriff tells her, then unlocks the cell and pulls her up with her good arm. Hannah's bound wrists pinch against the zip-ties and she hisses from the pain.

Those who pass them as they walk through the colony, stare. A thousand questions, a thousand new sparks to the fire of gossip, with some passing their knowledge of Hannah's treasonous actions. They normally held the trials at the end of the week, but Hannah wondered if they'd skip all that and lead her toward death now. They headed in that direction, toward the last place any of the exiled or murdered are ever seen: the medical center.

Taking the deepest breath she can manage, Hannah can't find the will to break her pride and ask what's happening, or what Ana Maria's going to do to her. Clearly, none of it was good. She'd find out soon enough. Passing Dr. Martin, the worry for Hannah's fate passes in the quick silent exchange of stares. The doctor watches after them when they pass, heading into the forbidden parts of the small hospital where Russell kept all his torturous secrets.

Her feet heavy when they climb the stairs, Hannah thinks of rolling backward in an attempt to crack open her skull and end it all by her own terms. Too many times, she'd tried to break into this part of the hospital out of her own curiosity. Now, she's being forced to see and wants to be anywhere but behind the door they face.

Breaking her silence, Hannah asks, "What about my trial?"

Keeping her own vow, Ana Maria opens the metal door.

The stench of death, of dried blood, and a thick aura hit her as the heavy door screeches open.

From above, hooks hang and a lonely menacing chair stares back at her in the room of horrors. She's pushed in when she takes a giant step back, demanding, "I want to speak to Russell."

"These are Russell's orders," Ana Maria tells her as she pushes Hannah again, "I can do whatever I want to you till your trial."

"No!" Hannah's panic sets in, her thrashing for her own life not caring at the point of Ana Maria's gun. Her revenge taking its first step, the sheriff back-slaps Hannah to the floor. Her wrists still bound, possibly till her last dying breath, the adrenaline kicks in at full throttle to try and run where there's nowhere left for her to run. She's kicked down, stomped repeatedly, till the blood rains down the trails of her face.

When she can see nothing, feel nothing but the course of crippling pain, she finally gives in. In her moment of weakness, the sheriff puts her on that chair and ties her down, freeing the plastic binds and finding metal ones in their wake.

Hannah didn't cry often. The bottling of emotions a well-learned skill and curse that kept her unfeeling to most around her.

However, in the dimness carried on by her injuries and her bleak, short future, and her horrific recent past, she sobbed.

Undeterred by this, and with her own injury throbbing under the beat of her own rage, the sheriff takes in the punches and slaps that just don't seem to sate her vengeance. Though she's forbidden to cause her fatal injury, she'd beat this girl until her anger felt the slightest of subsidiaries. At this rate, it would take some time and she'd have to pace herself...so not to kill the girl Russell still wanted alive.

Hannah's now the face of his justice, of how not to cross him, or his guard. It's in this face that Ana Maria sees something else. Her enemies, both past and present, and the face of her own traitorous nature against the group she was sent here from.

She wouldn't go back, nor switch sides now. She had the side of power, of comfort, of life. And this little bitch wasn't going to challenge her any further on what rightfully belonged to her, what she fought so hard for. The world belonged to the capable, the strong, the providing. Hannah didn't fit the bill and she never would. Her kind needed to be eliminated...permanently...or they'd all die.

The entire colony buzzed-about Hannah.

What she did, her escape, her return, her imprisonment, and the utterances of her trial fell off the lips of each and every colonist Dalton came to pass.

His mission was to stay under the radar, but now that this girl stumbled into his life with the spotlight shining so brightly on her.

Dalton felt torn.

His own concern and curiosity for her fate piqued, Dalton makes his way—one crutch and all— toward the jail. Nick would be pissed if he found out and he hoped he was too busy on the farms to notice. Dalton just wanted to see her, see if she was okay, and, admittedly, wanted to see a further opportunity in the ruckus she caused.

The people here lived in fear. A different kind of fear than what Dalton knew on the outside. They suffocated in the colony under the weight of Russell and his oppression. Crippled by the workload, the rules, the unfair system...it kept them forgetful of the dead outside their walls. Failing to grasp some of the concepts, Dalton couldn't believe the colonists were denied permission to do the simplest of things—like to visit one another without consent—which was apparently a rule to control possible pregnancies and uprisings alike. Richmond Hill became it's own little dictatorship country, without a single care for everything terrifying outside of it.

Dalton's job, as a scout for the group on the outside, was to find this very opportunity of a possible uprising and to exploit it. Hannah's actions kept the colony talking, sympathizing with her, and speaking freely about what they'd been silenced to even think about. While he had his suspicions that Nick would tell him to lay low, Dalton needed his ear to the ground and his eyes on the target. Who could help them overthrow Russell, who had the courage, and who had the skills to fight against the regime that bullied its own people and hunted them on the outside.

Isaac was a leader of bullying in his own right, but generally, had his team's best interests and safety at heart. Russell, as was rumored by Isaac during his time here, had proved all the rumors about him true. Ana Maria, also, had switched sides, finding comfort as one of Russell's lackeys over Isaac's right hand out in the wild. The traitor, lead the new mission here, and while they both had dirt on one another, it was only a matter of time before one of them squeaked and brought the three outsiders, down. If Dalton were to tell anyone that Ana Maria was part of their group, that she was sent here first to do the scouting, then she, in turn, could rat out himself and Nick. If she did the same, she'd be telling on herself too. So, they had an unspoken understanding...for now.

As he made it closer to the jail, he saw her. Hannah's being dragged away, by none other than Ana Maria.

Dalton watches, helpless among several onlookers, as the two women headed into the hospital.

In knowing of Ana Maria and her own affinity for violence, and feeling it in his own leg, Dalton feared he'd be too late. That, Hannah, would be the unwilling martyr for Russell's demise, with Ana Maria being the molder into an era of violence that the other survivors wouldn't accept. The ex-cop, in the past, came under fire with Isaac and had her own issues with Nick before she came here. Then, she broke Dalton's leg, when she found out they were all onto them and that new scouts were being sent into Richmond Hill. Ana Maria was no stranger to finding trouble or not having the strength to control her own rage.

A broken leg and all, Dalton showed up, with Nick at his side. Living on borrowed time, all three of them, Dalton imagined all these dramatics from Ana Maria stemmed from her lack of control with her position here.

Dalton turns direction. Heading, where there's only one person left who can help.

His leg, killing him with every step he took, Dalton bites back against the pain with the prospect of what's to come and most importantly, for Hannah's life.

The farmhouse, far larger than his own, took some effort in climbing the few steps outside. A wind chime blows in the soft breeze, one that irritates Dalton with the state of urgency he's in. The air smells rancid in this section of the colony. The farmland soiled rich in decomposing everything.

To his familiar, he looks onto. That blank, yet annoyed stare ever-present in Nick's eyes. Almost like, every person left standing around him was a pressing irritation.

"It's time. We have to do something," Dalton says.

Hannah's troubles are the last thing Nick wants to take part in, but there are others from their group who need them, who need this place. CiCi, Emma, Paige...they needed them to secure this place and make it safe. Emma, especially, in her pregnancy, would need the facilities, the medicine, the help for her coming labor. Every day, every hour, she deteriorated.

The circles under Nick's eyes deeper, darker than ever, the burdens on Nick's shoulders displayed in the sagging stance he held at the door. A load that Nick took on Dalton's behalf with his state of injury and inability to work.

It wasn't Nick's, nor Dalton's fault for his broken leg. Yet, Dalton felt guilt over what Nick took on for him. The man seemed to take on a lot for others, though he showed anything but warm fuzzy feelings for the lot of them waiting by the beach. When Nick came to help them, to save their lives at the dorms at Atlanta Tech, they shared a bond that took root quickly. Other than CiCi, Nick didn't take a shining to much of anyone. His motives, Dalton presumed, had everything to do with her and with helping Emma, or perhaps, to take control of Ana Maria since no one else could.

The man before him in his tall resolved being, unreadable, a conundrum of everything, still remained a guessing game for Dalton after all this time together.

Dalton waits for Nick's approval to help. Unsure, as ever, as to what Nick will say or do.

When Nick grabs his jacket, he checks his pockets to make sure he has something. Patting it down, then abandoning his search as he finds just what he's looking for.

His hunting knife, Dalton imagines; the weapon Nick never wandered without.

The hospital has gathered a crowd. One, that's quadrupled since Dalton left in search of help. They begin to shout, still fearful of the rules to not enter, but taking bolder steps forward the more they encourage one another on. They want answers, want to see the girl released, and to answer to the people.

Russell, still missing, Dalton and Nick take no care to the colony's laws as they enter the medical building without permission from The Guard.

Passing Dr. Martin lingering beyond the drawn line of Russell for her not to enter, she seems just as panicked as Dalton as he steps over it to head upstairs. They were breaking all the rules and the fear for their safety shows in the wide-eyes and gasp of the woman who shouts after them that they can't go any further. Still, their feet carry on. Nick's far faster than Dalton's as he hops.

Up the stairs, to the floor where all the screaming radiates off of the walls, the deplorable scene is interrupted between the two women. Ana Maria stands with her hand bloodied and clenched. A knife in the other is drenched in the fresh shedding of her latest slash.

Though he's filled with rage and a deep upset over the scene, the injured Dalton can't act as quickly as Nick. He tackles down their own traitor, reaching for her weapons to get her under control. It's when the sheriff is pinned and the knife slides across the floor, that Dalton finds the strength to grab the knife and limp forward.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't get here sooner," Dalton says through gritted, chattering teeth. He's starting to pale but swallows against the rush of cold to help free Hannah.

The flashbacks of gunshots, of cowering behind desks, of hallways running in rivers of blood flicker in his mind's eye.

Like Hannah, he'd been left to bleed, to suffer. She'd been hunted down for sport. All too well, he knew what this felt like.

At any cost, they had to help her, hide her. No longer would he let the depraved run this world.