An: So, welcome to the final chapter - finally! Let's get on this.


Looking around, Wyatt tried to look for something, anything, that would help him get free, but saw nothing of use.

His heart started to race in his chest. Fifteen minutes, had Crowe said, and at least a few minutes had already passed. He had to hurry. He had to try something.

Throwing his body to the side, he started to move to the right, slowly trying to turn around to see the kitchen behind his back. The legs of the chair scraped the floor loudly, and with every move he felt his fear and desperation grow. Crowe had to hear him move. He could come back upstairs any moment now, and Wyatt would be screwed.

It took him a few more tries but eventually he managed to move the chair enough to see the kitchen. A few dirty cups lay on the counter, as well as a couple of plates. But what caught his attention was the knife. It was probably some sort of butcher's knife, big and sharp with a pointy tip and smooth edge. He had to get to it. He could cut himself free using it.

The knife lay on the counter at about Wyatt's head's level. He knew that if he could just reach it, he could grab it with his mouth, drop the knife on his lap and use it to carefully cut through his restraints.

It was his only chance.

He threw his body to the side again, moving the chair a couple of inches. As he moved and gradually got closer to the counter, he could feel his desperation making him stronger. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he kept moving, his movements bigger each time, the chair moving more and more with each throw.

The stairwell creaked. Crowe was coming back up, and Wyatt still had a little to go.

"Come on", he muttered underneath his breath as he threw himself again. The legs of the chair groaned, scraping the wooden floor as he moved an inch closer. Two more throws and he was nearly there. Only a few more.

He threw himself again, already picturing Crowe interrupting him in action. There would be no explaining what he'd tried to do, and Crowe would be furious to find out Wyatt had tried to escape again. Crowe wouldn't stop hurting him before Wyatt would scream for mercy. And everything would be filmed and sent to Section 20.

Moving again, the chair creaked and one of the back legs snapped. Wyatt nearly fell over, just barely getting himself to stay up by throwing his torso as far down as it would go, balancing the weight on the chair.

"Shit", he cursed silently, looking at the knife. He could hear Crowe better already. He would reach upstairs any second now.

Realizing he had to move now or forget about ever getting free on his own, Wyatt drew in a shaky breath and went for the knife. He shot up, aimed for the knife with his mouth wide open, and grabbed it by the handle with his teeth just as the chair tipped and he crashed down on his back.

Crowe's angry voice rang in his ears. "Hey, what the hell is going on?" he screamed, and his steps echoed faster now.

Not missing a second, Wyatt dropped the knife on his chest. Escaping got a whole lot harder now that he was down on his back, but he had to manage. He had no time to think, so he just acted; he couldn't reach his chest because he could only move his wrists, but his torso hadn't been tied. Quickly he arched his back and leaned up as much as he could, lifting himself up enough to be able to grab the knife with his right hand.

The door into the living room was practically kicked open, but Wyatt had no time to look at Crowe. Instead, he twisted the knife in his hand, slipped the tip under his restraints and applied pressure. Enough to swiftly cut through it.

He lost no time cutting his other hand free and then moved to his legs.

"You!" Crowe screamed. He'd appeared into the kitchen and was standing above Wyatt with a furious look on his face. He was holding a camera and a laptop in his hands, so he stopped to lay them down on the counter before attacking.

That was a mistake.

It gave Wyatt enough time to cut free his both legs as well, and even though he had no time to get up before Crowe had charged at him and kicked the knife off his hands, he didn't need it anymore. He was free, and all he had to do was fight Crowe. And that wouldn't be hard with all the rage he felt inside. Rage, fear, despair. Despair above all.

The knife flew from his hand and landed somewhere further in the kitchen. Giving Wyatt barely any time to react, Crowe had sent his foot crashing into Wyatt's side. It sent a blinding flare of pain up his ribs, enough to get Wyatt to gasp and cry out.

He felt nausea rise in his chest as black dots danced in front of his vision. All he could think of at that moment was the pain and Grimsbane, and how it hasn't been for him and flying out of that damn window, that kick would've barely hurt.

Crowe took advantage of the situation, grabbed Wyatt by the shoulders and forced him up, throwing him back first against the kitchen counter. There was rage on his face, something so wild and uncontrollable it scared Wyatt as he noticed it.

"You just don't learn!" Crowe screamed, punching Wyatt in the face. "I will fucking teach you!"

As Crowe pulled back his wrist to hit again, Wyatt got some of his instincts back and shot his arms up, blocking the punch with his arm. He used his other arm to grab Crowe by the collar of his suit jacket and as he pushed Crowe's arm away, he, in turn, punched Crowe across the face. He hit him once, then twice, and then released Crowe with a shove backward.

Crowe staggered back, his nose spurting out blood. "You're going to die", he hissed, stopping to glare at Wyatt.

"Yeah, so you keep saying", Wyatt answered, his side still throbbing to the rhythm of his heartbeat, and then attacked.

He gave Crowe no time to prepare, but he'd seen the attack coming. As Wyatt went in to punch Crowe, he blocked it, swiftly punching Wyatt in the ribs with his other hand. As Wyatt cried out, doubling ever so slightly, Crowe charged at him, tackling Wyatt to the ground.

Wyatt hit the floor back first and gasped as another lightning of pain shot through his body. Crowe wasted no time jumping on top of him, pinning Wyatt's arms to the floor by placing his knees on top of his elbows. Crowe leaned in, grabbed Wyatt by the throat, and squeezed.

"Don't worry", Crowe murmured as Wyatt desperately tried to free his arms from underneath Crowe's weight. "I'm not going to kill you. And when you wake up, you'll be back in that chair and you'll be mine."

He couldn't breathe - Crowe's fingers were pressing on his windpipe and all Wyatt could think about was dying, how he didn't want to but how it started to sound better by the second. He refused to be tortured like that, he couldn't take any more of it, he just couldn't. He'd lose his mind, his health, everything. He'd never be the same and Crowe could walk away a free man, never to be found again, only to do it to someone else somewhere else.

Wyatt wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't.

The knife lay just there, half a yard from his face on the floor. He could reach it. He had to.

With the last of his willpower, he mustered enough strength to throw his body up. The momentum wasn't enough for Crowe to let go, but it made Wyatt's arms slip free from underneath his knees' weight. Probably not fully realizing Wyatt's arms were free again, Crowe slammed him into the floor again. Immediately Wyatt shot his other hand towards the knife, grabbed it, and slammed it through Crowe's thigh.

Crowe screamed in pain as he let go of Wyatt. Wyatt acted fast, letting go of the knife and pushing Crowe off of himself before quickly backing up.

He stopped when he felt the wall behind his bare back. His whole body trembled from the fear and adrenaline as he gasped for air, massaging his sore throat for split second before realising that the fight wasn't over. He still wasn't free yet.

Wyatt stood up and leaned against the counter to keep himself on his feet. The adrenaline numbed the pain from the shotgun wound on his thigh but didn't fully erase it. He looked down at Crowe, who sat on the floor with the knife sticking through his arm, and laughed.

"What the hell are you laughing about?" Wyatt hissed. He wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

Crowe looked up at Wyatt. Blood spilled from the wound on his arm, dripping down on his pants before disappearing into the black fabric. "Did you forget it's not just the two of us here?"

Shit. Wyatt had already forgotten about Grimsbane. His eyes widened and Crowe chuckled.

Like magic, the front door opened and Grimsbane stepped in, unaware of the situation before he stopped and saw what had happened. Crowe on the floor, a knife through his arm, bleeding. Wyatt standing up, hunched over the kitchen counter.

"We were just talking", Wyatt said, not bothering to come up with an even half believable excuse. The situation looked just like it was. There was no denying what had happened. "Wanna join in?"

Grimsbane's face darkened as he started to approach Wyatt. "I'm almost thankful you've done this", he said as he stopped by Crowe's side. "I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

Wyatt smirked. He knew it to be dumb to annoy Grimsbane further, but he had nothing to lose, except the fight.. and maybe his sanity and life. "Yeah? Bring it on, then. Let's see who wins this time."

As Grimsbane charged at Wyatt, he knew the fight to be impossible to win. He had struggled even when he'd been perfectly healthy; now, with one leg and busted ribs, it would be practically impossible. All he knew was he had to try. At least then, if and when he failed, he could get tortured knowing he hadn't just succumbed to his fate and he'd fought 'til the last breath, so to say.

That was enough for him.

He dodged Grimsbane's first attack by jumping to the side, and quickly he brought his elbow down on Grimsbane's spine before spinning around and backing to the direction of the front door. He didn't take his eyes off Grimsbane.

Crowe had climbed to his feet and retracted to the door. There was no way out before he'd beaten them both. At least they were making the fight fairer by only attacking one at a time; if they'd both attacked at the same time, Wyatt wouldn't have stood a chance. It would've been game over in less than five seconds.

Wyatt eyed Grimsbane as he looked around himself and then saw something on the counter, quickly reaching for it. Wyatt turned to see what; an old, rusty potato peeler that clearly hadn't been used in a while. It's sharp, pointy tip was still intact.

Grimsbane readied the peeler in his hand as he charged at Wyatt, who tried to dodge but was a second too late. Grimsbane caught him by the shoulders, not yet stabbing him, and shoved him into the wall back first.

Giving Grimsbane no time to use the peeler, Wyatt brought up his knee and slammed it into Grimsbane's crotch. As Grimsbane grunted in pain, he let go just enough for Wyatt to twist himself free and back up a step.

He needed a weapon. He was already hurt enough as it was; he didn't know if he could deal with a new wound.

Lunging to the nearest counter, Wyatt looked around for anything helpful but was then abruptly grabbed by the neck and yanked back. He felt his shoulders hit something soft but solid - Grimsbane's chest - as Grimsbane's other arm clamped tightly around his throat and squeezed. He could feel the tip of the peeler on his stomach, ready to be pushed in.

"Don't kill him", Crowe barked from the front door where he still stood.

"I won't", Grimsbane replied, chuckling into struggling Wyatt's ear. "Yet."

Wyatt gave him no time to push the peeler into his flesh. Acting on instinct, he pulled his head forward and then slammed it back, the back of his head colliding with Grimsbane's nose. As Grimsbane gasped in pain and surprise, Wyatt grabbed Grimsbane's arms, twisted them, and shot out of his hold.

Wasting no time, he spun around to face Grimsbane. What seemed like liters of blood had already erupted from his nose and onto his face, and Wyatt couldn't lie - the sight felt good.

As Grimsbane charged at Wyatt, he dodged the attack and spun around behind Grimsbane, grabbing the nearest thing he could - a small glass - and smashed it over Grimsbane's head. It shattered into a million pieces and blood spurted out from the fresh wound on the back of Grimsbane's head, but Wyatt didn't stop to enjoy the sight.

Not giving Grimsbane time to turn around, Wyatt kicked the side of his knee while simultaneously shoving Grimsbane. It was enough to make him crash to the floor with a pained grunt.

Wyatt breathed heavy as he stared down at Grimsbane. He'd won. Now he only had to deal with Crowe and he'd be a free man. Finally. "How you like it now, you fucking-"

The sharp, piercing pain deep in his shoulder was enough to make him cry out, but before he could even turn around to see what had happened, Crowe had already grabbed him by the arm and swung him into the nearest wall. Wyatt collided with it face first and lost his footing, crashing to the floor on his butt with a groan.

He saw the kick coming half a second before it hit but had no time to block it. Crowe's shoe slammed into his jaw, sending Wyatt crashing onto his back.

For a second he saw only stars. He lay on the floor, overrun by the pain in his body, his ribs once again flaring in unbearable agony and his shoulder feeling like someone had cut it in two. He couldn't breathe, and as he tried to draw in a shaky breath, all he could do was gasp.

He saw Crowe take a step towards him. He stopped above Wyatt, staring down at him with the bloodied knife still in his hands. The look on his face was way beyond furious now, but yet somehow so calm. "I told you", Crowe simply said before turning to Grimsbane, who had gotten up to his feet. "Get the camera, start broadcasting. We're doing this here."

Grimsbane nodded, wiped away some of the blood on his face, and then moved to get the camera from the counter.

Wyatt wanted to move, he wanted to fight and kick and scream, but he now knew it wouldn't help. He wasn't okay enough to fight, not these two, and he'd learned that the hard way. But somehow he didn't regret it, not in the slightest. At least he'd given it his best shot and hurt them both before losing.

Crowe crouched, the familiar cold grin rising on his lips as he stared down at Wyatt. "This is why I admire you. And this is also why I'm going to enjoy killing you. An opponent this good? Thank you, Wyatt, for not making this easy for me."

Wyatt closed his eyes. He heard the camera beep as Grimsbane turned it on, but he kept his eyes tightly shut. He wouldn't give them anything. They could do whatever they fucking pleased, but Wyatt was going to keep breathing and focus on staying alive.

He heard Crowe stand up and clear his throat. "Hello, Section 20", he said, his tone that of a ringmaster; excited and as if he was trying to convince Wyatt's teammates they would be about to see the best show of their lives.

At least it would be unforgettable.

Crowe crouched again, Wyatt could feel his hands brush against his own cheek. "You must remember your dear old friend. Say hello, Wyatt."

Wyatt opened his eyes and glanced at the camera. Grimsbane was holding it, aiming it at Wyatt's face. "Fuck you", Wyatt muttered.

The pain was a surprise but not an unexpected one. Wyatt gasped and cried as the first inch of the knife dug into the sore flesh of his side. He felt blood drip from the wound and he tensed, about to help himself up. Crowe quickly pushed him back down.

"Say hello", Crowe said again, colder this time. The knife was still in Wyatt's flesh.

"Fuck. You", Wyatt hissed through gritted teeth.

Crowe pushed the knife in a little more, and Wyatt cried out, louder now. "Say hello, or I swear to God…"

"No!" Wyatt screamed, letting his head fall back as the pain took over his senses. He wouldn't do anything this psycho told him to, he wouldn't.

To his surprise, Crowe yanked the knife out instead of pushing it in more. "Seems like Wyatt still has some fight left in him", he said, looking at the camera. "That's good. How I prefer it. But because someone failed to deliver me something, Wyatt is going to pay the price. I know about the bomb, Section 20. And Wyatt will pay for that, too. Trust me. Just watch."


"Are you seeing this shit?" Novin's shocked voice rang through the earpiece, and she didn't have to explain further. Mac had gotten the text of the link for the video Crowe was broadcasting; he was watching it as he drove. "He's gonna kill Wyatt."

"He's toying with him", Mac said as he stepped on the gas pedal. He was driving way over the speed limit but he had no time to waste. He knew where Wyatt was, and he was still three minutes out. The second cabin had been empty as well, aside from the very shocked old couple Mac had apparently scared half to death by charging in with a loaded gun in his hands. He'd wasted too much time apologizing for the old lady screaming at him in a language he didn't speak.

Novin gasped as she saw what was happening on the screen. Wyatt's loud pained groan filled the car for a second and then it was drowned by Crowe's angry scream. "Don't talk back to me!"

Mac glanced at the screen. Crowe had forced Wyatt against the kitchen counter. They were both on the floor, Wyatt sitting down and Crowe kneeling beside him. Crowe had his other arm, the one holding the knife, pinned against Wyatt's throat and the other fingers of the other hand pressed into a bleeding wound on Wyatt's shoulder.

"He's fucking nuts", Novin exhaled. "Where are you?"

"Almost there", Mac said firmly. He was a minute out from the nearest parking lot. He'd have to walk from there because there was no guarantee Crowe wouldn't kill Wyatt the second he saw Mac arrive. It would take him three or four minutes from the parking lot of the nearby gas station to reach the cabin if he ran.

"Reynolds and Jensen are bombing me with messages, asking me where I disappeared to and if I'm seeing this", Novin said. "What do you want me to tell them?"

Mac resisted the urge to snort. He had more important things to worry about right now than what Reynolds and Jensen thought. "Tell them I'm handling it."

"I have something to tell you", Crowe's voice brought Mac down to earth again. There was something about his tone that made Mac stop and listen. "I proposed a deal to Wyatt. Actually, both I and Grimsbane did. We told him that if he gave you, his precious team, up, we'd give him a quick, painless death."

The hairs on the back of Mac's neck stood up as he glanced at the screen. Crowe was still holding Wyatt as he was moments ago, but now his blood-soaked fingers tightly held Wyatt by the jaw instead of his shoulder. Wyatt stared up at the ceiling with a defiant look on his face.

Crowe smirked at the camera. "He refused. So we returned to our plan A. But here's the catch", Crowe said, turning to look at Wyatt. "The deal still stands. If you tell me how to find your team, I will give you the death I promised you. No more pain. Just the bliss of death. What do you say?"

For a moment it looked like Wyatt hadn't even heard him, but after a couple of seconds he looked at Crowe, a weird look on his face Mac had never seen before. It was a mixture of fear and barely contained rage, but also a weird calmness, like he'd accepted what was going to happen.

"You really don't learn", Wyatt hissed, his voice barely audible to Mac. "I'll never help you. You'll never catch them. And even if I die, even if you cut me apart piece by piece and drown me in acid, I'll die knowing you'll never get away with this. And trust me, when they find you… You'll wish I killed you."

Crowe's face stayed neutral for a blink of an eye, and then he acted, almost too fast for Mac to see - and definitely too fast for Wyatt to realize. The hand against his throat was swung down, the knife with it, and the blade buried deep in Wyatt's thigh.

Mac had to turn his gaze away as blood spurted from the wound and Wyatt screamed. He tried to double, to twist away from Crowe, but Crowe abandoned the knife and slammed his arm back on his throat, pinning him against the counter again. "Now, now. No need to be unfriendly", Crowe hissed. "We're all friends here."

"If I'm your friend, I don't want to know how you treat your enemies", Wyatt muttered through the tears forming in his eyes. "You're fucking sick."

"I've been called worse", Crowe said, turning to the camera again. "Well, he said no. I hope you're happy, Section 20. You've trained him well. But I hope you realise that from now on everything he goes through is officially your fault."

Mac swore underneath his breath as unpleasant guilt stung his heart. Rationally thinking he knew it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't fully disagree with Crowe either. He had a point.

Finally, he reached the parking lot of the small gas station. He braked and yanked out the keys, not bothering to lock the doors before swirling around and running into the forest behind the gas station.


Wyatt closed his eyes as Crowe spoke. He didn't want to listen to him, and drowning him out wasn't hard. The pain he felt in his body was something he hadn't thought could be possible to feel, and just breathing through it was tough enough. He couldn't pay attention to Crowe's words even if he wanted to. The knife was still stuck in his leg, which he was grateful for; there was no way the knife hadn't severed a major blood vessel, and right now that same knife was the only thing keeping him from bleeding out. Crowe must've known that too.

He barely felt Crowe's arm on his throat anymore. He wasn't squeezing or applying any pressure, just held it there to make sure Wyatt knew to stay put. It wasn't like Wyatt needed to be told it anyways; he wasn't able to go anywhere in his state, with his other leg wounded by the bullet and the other by the knife still stuck in his flesh. His shoulder throbbed in the rhythm of his heartbeat and his ribs protested against every slight movement he made.

Yeah. He wasn't going anywhere, Crowe had made sure of it.

And it wasn't like he was unafraid of the situation. Definitely not. He didn't remember a time he'd been this terrified, because he knew what was about to come and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it. He felt nauseous, and not only because of the pain. But he wasn't going to let Crowe or Grimsbane see it. It was his last act of defiance; he'd suffocate his screams and blink away his tears for as long as he could.

An almost gentle pat on the cheek snapped him away from his thoughts and he opened his eyes. Crowe was staring at him, an arrogant smirk on his face. If Wyatt had had the strength, he would've punched that damn smirk off his lips and shove it up his-

"What do you say?" Crowe asked. "Let's begin, shall we?"

Before Wyatt could open his mouth to reply with one of his go-to sentences in situations like those, Crowe had shifted on his feet and forced Wyatt on the floor on his back. He felt his ribs flare up again as he moved, and it made him hiss in surprise. Quickly he silenced himself, biting down on his lip as he fought through the burning pain.

Crowe grimaced at the camera for a quick second before turning back to Wyatt and practically hopping onto his stomach. Wyatt fought against Crowe as he grabbed Wyatt's other hand and forced it below Crowe's knee, but couldn't free his hand. His movements were quickly growing sloppy. Maybe the wound on his thigh bled more than he'd thought.

"Don't worry", Crowe said as he grabbed Wyatt's free arm, forcing it down on the floor with the outside of his palm against the wooden floor. He held it down by the wrist. "I've decided to let your tongue be. Allow you to beg."

"Go to hell", Wyatt hissed, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried his best to fight against the ever growing fear that made his whole body tense and feel like he was being drowned and couldn't breathe, but it was too strong. He couldn't stop himself from struggling, despite the pain it caused him, which only seemed to make Crowe even more excited to do what he was about to do.

Crowe glanced at Grimsbane. "The knife, please."

Grimsbane nodded, digging into the back of his jeans. He pulled out a hunting knife of sorts, by the look of it, a relatively big and definitely very sharp blade. It had been sheathed, but Grimsbane managed to pull the knife out of its cover without ever lying the camera down.

He handed the knife to Crowe. "There you go."

"Make sure to get a good shot. This is what everyone's been waiting for", Crowe said. "Make sure Section 20 sees everything."

Wyatt saw the knife and a full-blown panic engulfed him. This was it, Crowe was going to cut off his damn fingers and there was nothing he could do about it. Even if he lived, he'd never be a soldier again. His life would be over, because all his life he'd ever been one thing and one thing only, a goddamn soldier, and that was all he knew how to do. Crowe would take all that away for him for what? Money? Some sort of sick version of fame?

"No", Wyatt said, not caring anymore about seeming weak. He couldn't do this. He had to get away, Crowe had to stop, this couldn't happen. "No, please, come on, don't do this. Crowe, please." He tried to wiggle, but couldn't. Crowe had him pinned down and he was completely and utterly defenseless.

Crowe laughed. "I told you you'd beg." He turned to the camera as he readied the knife in his hands, placing it directly on top of Wyatt's second knuckles. "This is for you, Section 20. Enjoy the show."

Wyatt gasped, closed his eyes -

Something hard collided with something else with a loud bang and Wyatt flinched, as did Crowe, and then, just one-thirds of a second later, a second bang, louder this time. A bang Wyatt immediately recognised to be a gunshot.

A second gunshot followed the first and Wyatt felt something warm drip on his stomach.

A third gunshot echoed out, and a cry of surprise and pain.

Wyatt opened his eyes. Crowe, with a bullet sized hole in his chest, looked up at the door with pure shock and horror on his face. Blood was dripping from the single wound onto Wyatt's bare skin.

"You piece of shit!" Mac screamed, charging at Grimsbane, who was still also standing despite the bullet in his stomach. As Mac grabbed him and easily slammed him into the nearest wall with such a force even Wyatt could hear his skull crack, Crowe realised he had to move.

Shifting the knife from Wyatt's hand to his throat, Crowe narrowed his eyes. "Too bad."

Before Crowe could slash, Wyatt acted. A new rush of adrenaline pumped through his veins as he ripped his hand away from Crowe's grasp and grabbed the hand holding the knife. With one strong pull, he'd managed to get the knife away from himself, and not losing any time he shot up as much as he could, grabbing Crowe by the throat and pushing him off.

"Mac!" Wyatt yelled, falling onto his back again as his ribs sent a flare of agony up and down his body.

Crowe slashed out with his knife but Wyatt rolled on his side, away from Crowe, dodging the knife by less than half of an inch.

As Mac let Grimsbane's mostly unconscious body fall to the floor, he turned his attention to Crowe, aiming his gun at him. "Stop!" he screamed, his finger already twitching on the trigger. "Don't make me fucking shoot you."

Surprisingly, Crowe stopped. He was sitting on the floor with his hand raised in an attempt to cut Wyatt again, but he stopped midway the hit and turned his head to look at Mac. The expression on his face was blank. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you found us this quickly."

"Shut the fuck up", Mac hissed, walking over to Wyatt. He kept his eyes and gun pointed at Crowe, not allowing him the chance to attack again. "Drop the knife and slide it away. Now."

Crowe did as he was told.

"Now stay there or I swear, I'm going to put a bullet through your head", Mac said, and Wyatt knew it to be a real threat.

Wyatt pulled himself into a sitting position, his head way too light for comfort and the nausea in his stomach really bothering him now. He wasn't going to last for long before losing consciousness, he knew that.

Mac offered him his hand. "Hey. Come on, buddy", he said as Wyatt grabbed his hand and allowed Mac to help him up.

Once on his feet, Wyatt realised just how bad he felt and staggered a step backward. "Woah", he gasped, quickly grasping at Mac to stay up. The floor beneath his feet felt like waves crashing into him.

Mac held on to Wyatt with his free hand, but the gun he kept aimed at Crowe, who was growing pale now. Blood was spilling out of the hole in his chest at a pace Wyatt had never seen before, but for some reason, he didn't feel grossed out. This asshole got what he deserved. There would be nobody at his funeral and he would be buried somewhere far from others, and nobody would ever visit his grave. Knowing that Crowe would die alone and loved by no one was revenge enough for Wyatt.

"We gotta get you to a hospital", Mac said softly. "What're we gonna do with him? We can't wait for him to bleed out or wait for backup. You're gonna bleed out before that happens."

Wyatt eyed Crowe. He looked so small, sitting there on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. It was hard to imagine that man had just a minute ago been in charge of Wyatt's life, whether he died or not. And now he was the one bleeding out while Wyatt was being supported by his friend, someone he could trust with his life.

After all that had happened, Wyatt had come out alive, and would eventually be stronger than ever before, all thanks to Crowe.

Crowe, on the other hand, would die, and nobody would miss him.

"Give me that", Wyatt said, reaching out his other hand. He nodded at the gun Mac held in his hand. "I gotta do this."

"You sure?" Mac asked, the look on his face more concerned than anything else, and handed over the gun. He grabbed Wyatt tighter.

Wyatt drew in a deep breath as he lifted up the gun. It felt heavy in his hand, almost too heavy to hold, but he managed. And as he stared at Crowe, he felt nothing but anger. This asshole was going to get what he deserved. He was going to die alone and unloved and Wyatt would be the one to give him that.

The same old arrogant smirk returned to Crowe's lips as he looked up at Wyatt. "You're not going to kill me. What about your revenge, hm? Killing me is a mercy. I don't think you'll-"

"Just fucking shut up", Wyatt exhaled, pulling the trigger.

Crowe's head flinched back as the bullet entered it, and then he went limp.

As Wyatt lowered the gun, he felt as if the whole world had gotten brighter. The anger he felt was still there, but somehow it was now more manageable. He could continue his life knowing that sick fuck wasn't going to hurt anyone else ever again - that nobody else would ever have to go through what he went through.

"I'm not like you", Wyatt hissed at Crowe's lifeless corpse.

He felt like collapsing but forced himself to stay on his feet. He had waited for this for what had felt like an eternity. He could wait a little while longer until they got to the hospital.

"It's over", he said, resisting the urge to spit at Crowe's body as the tears he'd been fighting for so long resurfaced again. This time he didn't bother blinking or wiping them away but instead allowed them to roll down his bloodied cheeks.

As they left the cabin, hunched together, Mac's arm thrown over Wyatt's shoulders, Wyatt didn't look back.

It was over.