Written in 22 minutes. No time for edits or typos.

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Shortly after Elizabeth left for Harborview Towers and her meeting with Ric, Spinelli finally had success in tracking the serial number of a phone registered in Sam’s name—

He gave Steven and Jason the address, and for the entire drive to the warehouse located on the docks, Spinelli made sure to let them know it was probably a dead end, that Sam was likely long gone, and he should not be held responsible since he was being asked—

“Spinelli,” Jason said, flatly, his fingers curling around the steering wheel. “Shut up.”

“Shutting up.”

The warehouse had once belonged to Mickey Roscoe, an enemy of Jason and Sonny’s from years ago — a warehouse that Jason and Sonny had then bought and converted into a safe house. No one but Jason and Sonny knew about it.

The fact that Spinelli had tracked any trace of Sam McCall to this address was a sign that she had been there at some point —

He pulled into the parking lot, littered with a few other cars so that the warehouse never looked neglected and completely empty. Jason knew all of those cars — he’d helped move them there after buying them at various auctions —

Except for a plain white Honda parked haphazardly near a back door.

He drew in a sharp break, threw the SUV into park, and looked at Steven. “You ready?”

Steven checked the barrel of his gun, then shoved it into his holster. “Yeah. Spinelli, stay behind us.”

“When did you start carrying a gun?” Spinelli asked as they climbed out of the car. “Am I the only one who doesn’t have one?”

“The last time I gave you a gun,” Jason said, “you shot yourself in the foot and me in the leg. Stay behind us.”

They inched towards the back door, keeping close to the edge of the building. Jason didn’t know what they’d find inside—maybe Sam was dead and Lily was gone again—he wouldn’t put it past Ric to kill her—

And then he heard a woman’s soft voice, the thin whine of a baby.

He stopped—just before the door. Looked at Steven, then down at his gun. If his daughter was inside — would this be her first memory of him? A gun?

“I’ll cover you,” Steven said, understanding. “Let me go first.”

Jason hung back, lowering his gun to his side —

Steven kicked open the door—someone screamed, the baby started crying — Jason came in behind him —

Sam was sitting in on a sofa, her eyes wide and terrified, a little girl clutched in her arms, crying.

“Are you alone?” Steven demanded.

Sam nodded, her cheeks stained with tears. “I—I was supposed to meet someone here to help me get out of the country. B-but I don’t think they’re coming.” She pressed her face into the little girl’s blonde hair.

Blonde hair.

This little girl was supposed to have been Sonny and Sam’s daughter.

Jason stared at her. “That’s my daughter.” Her terrified eyes met his. “Isn’t she?” he demanded, his voice slightly harsher.

Sam’s lips quivered. “I didn’t—I just wanted to be a mother,” she gasped. “He said I could keep her, and I wanted to be a mother—I wanted my little girl—she was dead—but he gave me—”

“So you took my sister’s baby.” Steven scowled, shoved the gun into his holster. “Give me her. Now—”

“Please let me say goodbye—please she loves me—”

Jason stopped Steven from just taking the little girl from Sam. He knelt in front of her, looking at the upset baby—at her face—he touched her soft skin.

“You didn’t call her Lily, did you?” he asked Sam, gently. The little girl blinked, her cries ceasing at his soft voice.

“N-No. I—I—her name is Isla,” Sam breathed. “Are you—please—don’t take her from me—”

“That’s my daughter,” Jason told her. “Elizabeth’s daughter. You made us grieve her for a year, but you know she’s not yours.”

Sam squeezed her eyes shut, then rocked Isla against her for a moment before nodding. “I just couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand it, I love her so much but she’s not mine and I knew it every time I looked at her and saw you—” She kissed the baby’s face.

“I’m tired,” she murmured. “Tired of running. Tired of borrowed time.”

She gave Isla to Jason, then buried her face in her hands.

Jason picked up the little girl, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed his cheek to the top of her soft curls. He looked at Steven. “Call Elizabeth. I’ve got our daughter.”

“On it,” Steven managed, his voice rusty.

——

“Let me live—” Ric laughed. “I’ve always enjoyed your sense of humor.” He sipped his bourbon. “If there was any truth to this—if you’d told Jason what you suspected, I’d be dead, and you know it—”

“Who do you think made sure I got the security footage from our apartment?” Elizabeth said coolly. “Who do you think held my hand while I watched you put the pills into the champagne—”

Ric stared at her. “But—”

“I told Jason not to kill you because I couldn’t stand anyone knowing. Couldn’t stand thinking about it.”

He shook his head, but his confident air had been disturbed. “No—he wouldn’t—I wouldn’t—”

“Some men—when a woman tells them no—” Elizabeth tilted her head, smiled. “They listen. I’m not surprised you don’t understand.”

The phone in her hand buzzed and Elizabeth, never taking her eyes off Ric, pressed the button to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Bits, we got her. Jason’s holding your little girl right now. She’s safe, perfect—she’s beautiful. We’ll be right there—”

“Good. I’ll need a cleanup crew.”

“Bits—”

She hung up the phone, put it in her pocket as Ric scowled. “Clean up crew? For what—stop—”

Elizabeth put her phone in her purse, then removed the gun, and shot him—

Ric still looked surprised as he clutched his chest, staring at her. “You—you—”

“And some men,” Elizabeth murmured as he fell to the ground, and the life bled out of him, “don’t mind letting a woman do her own dirty work.”

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