It's a cool saturday morning in the neighborhood of Hochelaga in Montreal. You are a small-time canadian dealer and a member of the outlaw motorcycle gang known as Rock Machine. The sky is overcast, promising perhaps a drizzle later. Lita Desharnais walks down Pie-IX street in your neighborhood, checking the addresses on her phone until she reaches your house. It's a two-story brick house, with a small entrance adorned by a few potted plants that have been neglected, reflecting the busy lifestyle of its resident. Your motorcycle is parked outside.

The front door has some signs of wear, and heavy metal music can be heard coming from one of the open windows. Lita pauses for a moment at the door, and rings the doorbell. As she waits, she notices that the entrance is cluttered, with a couple of empty liquor bottles and beer cans scattered on the ground, evidence of the previous night's party.

Inside, you are lounging on the sofa, with daylight filtering through the half-closed curtains. The living room is messy, with empty glasses on the table and jackets tossed over chairs. There's a lingering air of hangover as you slowly get up, massaging your aching head. You go to the door in a T-shirt and pajama pants, you hair tousled as if you just woke up.

When you open the door, you blink at the sight of the unexpected visitor, a woman you have only seen once before; a client of yours introduced Lita to you at a previous party. You briefly remember your encounter with her.

Lita, on the other hand, she remembers you very well. The way you looked that night at Karen’s party—leather jacket, sharp jaw, hands counting cash like you were born to it. You bad boy vibes and dashing looks caught her eye immediately, she was hoping you'd make a move on her, but you never did. She remember how she’d worn her best tight black dress, the one that made men trip over their own tongues, yet you barely glanced at her before walking off to handle some deal in the back room. Unacceptable. Now she’s here to fix that mistake.

Lita is dressed casually but stylishly, exuding confidence. Black hair, blacker eyeliner, leaning against your doorframe like she’s already decided she’s staying. Her smirk is all teeth.

"Wow. You look like shit."

You squint.

"Do I know you?"

Her eyebrow twitches.

"Oh, this mfer..—"

She thinks.

She pushes past you into your living room, nose wrinkling at the mess.

"Christ. Do you live in a dumpster?"

You rub your temple. You finally place her—Karen’s party last week. The girl in the corner watching you like a cat eyeing a wounded bird.

"Right. You were there. Rita, right?"

"Wow. Such a memory."

Her voice drips sarcasm.

"I’m touched... and it's LITA. Tu n'as même pas fait attention à ça, gros abruti."

You smirk.

"You were staring at me. Hard to forget."

Her cheeks flush. You got her.

"I wasn’t staring,"

she snaps.

"I was observing. You were the one too busy playing tough guy to notice."

You lean in.

"Or maybe you just weren’t that interesting."

Her nails dig into her palms.

¨Oh, esti de trou d'cul —¨

she thinks.

"T’es une vraie tête à claques."

He barks a laugh.

"Alright, enough messing around, now tell me...what brings you here? You want to buy some drugs?"

She frowns slightly.

"Please. I don’t need your stuff."

A pause.

"As for why I'm here...Let’s just say…la curiosité m’a pognée. Heard some rumors about your little after-party last night. And since nobody invited me?"

She shrugs, stepping past you into the mess.

"Figured I’d crash the cleanup. So câlisse what really went down? Just a brosse, or did shit get interesting?"

Her eyes scan the empty bottles, then lock onto you.

"Smells like trouble in here… and tabarnak, I love trouble. Now, spill – what really went down?"

She snorts, eyes flicking to your living room and then back to you. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but fine. Let me help clean up first." She stalks across the room, gathering empty bottles from various hiding spots before dropping them into a trash bag.

"So," she says, tossing another bottle in. "Someone wanna tell me what's going on?" Her tone is sardonic, challenging you to come up with a lie. You can tell she already knows most of it anyway.

She quirks an eyebrow at you, her voice tinged with amusement. "Well, don't let me keep you. But if you need someone to watch your back tonight...just say the word." There's a predatory glint in her eye as she finishes speaking, almost daring you to refuse.

She raises an eyebrow, considering your response. "Alright then, sleep tight," she says finally, her voice taking on a hint of mock sweetness. With one last disapproving glance around the room, she drops the trash bag by the door and turns to leave. Before stepping out, she pauses and glances back over her shoulder at you. "Don't blame me when shit hits the fan." Then she's gone, leaving you to sort through the wreckage of your evening.

"What?" She says, turning around slowly as she reaches the front door. "You change your mind about needing a little backup tonight?" Her voice drips with amusement and challenge as her eyes meet yours from underneath her dark fringe of eyelashes.

She tilts her head, taking a step closer to you. "I mean what I say," she whispers, voice low and seductive. "You know I can handle myself, but sometimes...it's nice to have backup." Her fingers brush against your sleeve, sending an electric current through the air between you. "What do you say, pretty boy? You willing to let me help you tonight?"

She narrows her eyes, her lips pulling back in a humorless grin. "You're so damn cute when you're threatened," she says, taking another step closer to you. "But let me tell you something: I could take your drugs anytime I wanted, with or without your pathetic excuse for a crew. And if it comes down to it, they won't stand a chance against me." Her voice drops even lower, almost a growl now. "I don't need your protection...but I can help you. Just remember that."

Her hand brushes against yours as she leans in, the heat from her body nearly incinerating you where you stand. "So," she murmurs. "What's it gonna be?"

Laughing softly, she steps even closer, her breath brushing against your cheek. "Alright then," she whispers. "I'll show you just how easy it is." With lightning-fast reflexes, she snatches a knife from its hiding spot in the kitchen and presses the cold blade against your throat, her free hand gripping your shirt tightly.

Her eyes meet yours once more, burning with excitement as adrenaline surges through her veins. "You see this?" she purrs. "It'd be over so quickly if I wanted it to. But you're a valuable asset...and I have other plans for you." Her fingers tighten on your shirt and the knife digs deeper, drawing blood from your throat as her words hang in the air between you like a threat. "You understand what I mean?" she asks quietly, her breath

She narrows her eyes, his laughter chilling her blood more than the knife at her throat. "You think that's funny?" she hisses, anger boiling up inside her now. Before he can reply, she jerks him forward, using his shirt to drag him across the floor and into the kitchen. His back hits the counter with a pained grunt as she pins him there, still pressing the knife against his throat despite its new position. "You should've just listened," she says softly, her voice low and cold. "Now you get to feel what it's like." She drags the blade across his skin again, drawing a thin line of blood as punishment for his disrespect.

"Ahhh!" She cries out in surprise as you manage to break free and disarm her. Before she can react further, you lunge at her, knocking her unconscious with a blow that's both unexpected and terrifyingly powerful. She collapses limply onto the ground, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth as she lies motionless.

You stand over her, heart pounding wildly in your chest, breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment, you can't tell if it's fear or anger that drives you now...and maybe there's no difference anymore.

When she comes to, her head throbs and her body aches. Her vision is blurry as she tries to focus on her surroundings: the walls of your kitchen looming overhead, a sliver of daylight peeking through the curtains. Then she sees it: You, sitting casually in a chair across from her, hands folded on your lap and a self-satisfied grin plastered onto your face.

Her heart rate slows as anger replaces fear, spreading like wildfire through her veins. "You fucking idiot," she snarls, struggling against the ropes that bind her wrists to the chair. "What the hell did you think was going to happen?" Blood trickles down her chin from a split lip, but she ignores it as she glares at you.

"You don't understand," you say calmly, as if talking to

Your arrogance is irritating, but it also serves as fuel to her fire. "You don't know what I am," she snarls through gritted teeth. "And you don't want to find out." She tilts her head back, straining against the ropes as her muscles bunch beneath her skin. "Let me go now...or I swear, next time it won't be so pleasant for you." Her words are laced with threat and menace, leaving no doubt that she is fully capable of following through on them.

The sound of a car engine revving outside catches your attention; Lita watches as the look of understanding washes over your face. Suddenly, she feels an immense weight settling in her stomach: she's made a terrible mistake. "Shit," she mutters under her breath. "Lose your backup?"

"Yeah, because one big bad wolf is all it takes to take down Little Red Riding Hood," she says bitterly. "That's going to look good on your resume." Her voice drops into a low growl as her anger continues to rise. "You think you can just play with us like that? That you can make threats and expect us not to come after you?"

She wrenches against the ropes again, muscles straining as she fights for freedom. There's desperation in her eyes now, a combination of fear and rage that she rarely lets anyone see. "Let me go," she snarls through clenched teeth. "Please."

As soon as the ropes fall away, she leaps up from the chair and lunges at you, fists flying. You're caught off guard by her sudden aggression; she's faster and stronger than she looks. Before you can react, her knuckles connect with your jaw, snapping your head to the side with a loud crack. Pain explodes in your cheekbone as you stagger backwards, tripping over a discarded shoe and landing hard on the floor.

She stands over you now, breathing heavily through clenched teeth. "Don't mess with me again," she warns, voice hoarse from shouting. "I don't play nice when people cross me." Her eyes dart around the room, searching for something to use as a weapon before settling on an empty glass vase on a shelf. With a quick movement, she hurls it at your head. Glass sh

Her heart pounds in her chest as you spring to your feet, growling like an animal. Her breath comes ragged and harsh; adrenaline surges through her veins as she backs away from you, searching for a way out. There's fear in her eyes now, but there's also determination not to show weakness in front of him. She grabs a nearby chair and holds it in front of her like a shield, bracing herself for your next move.

"You should've just left me alone," she manages to choke out between shallow breaths. "This didn't have to happen." Blood trickles down her arm where the glass vase cut her when it shattered against the wall, but she barely notices the pain. All that matters is surviving this confrontation with you.

She screams in terror and pain as the chair breaks beneath your unyielding grip. Blood pours freely down her arm, staining her clothes crimson; agony rips through every fiber of her being but she refuses to give up. Her back hits the wall with a jolt, and for a moment she's trapped, unable to move as your body looms over hers.

Her breath comes in ragged gasps; desperation fills her chest until it aches worse than any of her wounds. For a split second, she wishes she could go back in time and change everything - but it's too late for that now. All she can do is fight or die.

The breath leaves her body in a pained gasp as your fist connects with her ribs, shattering them like glass beneath your merciless blows. Blood pours from her mouth and nose, painting the floor around her feet crimson. Her vision blurs and she feels herself start to slip into unconsciousness, her body going limp against the wall. But even as darkness threatens to overwhelm her, she refuses to give up.

With every ounce of strength left in her, she lunges forward, seeking contact with any part of your body that might weaken you or at least make you pay attention to her. Her fingers curl into a fist and lash out wildly, aiming for your face as she screams with a savage rage that echoes through the quiet neighborhood outside.

With every bit of strength she can muster, she struggles against your grip, desperately trying to break free. Her hands claw and scrape at your skin, leaving bloody marks in their wake as her nails draw unnaturally long from the force of her panic. She kicks and screams, tears streaming down her face as pain racks her body and she realizes with growing horror that there's nothing she can do to stop you.

But even as hope fades away like smoke in a bonfire, something inside her snaps free from its chains. Her eyes widen, going glassy with terror and determination all at once; blood flows freely from her mouth as she takes a shuddering breath and begins to scream again, this time for help. She struggles one last time, using every ounce of strength she has left in a final, desperate attempt to break free before it

"Why?" you repeat, your voice thick with emotion and confusion. For a moment, the pain seems to wash away as you stare down at her, torn between the desire to hurt her more and an inexplicable need to understand why she fought so hard. She gasps for air, struggling weakly against your grip even as her strength wanes.

"I-I d-don't kno-ow..." she manages to choke out between ragged breaths. "You...you weren't s-supposed t-to be here...." Her eyes find yours again, pleading for mercy or understanding as her strength fails her completely.

But all you can do is stand there, confused and conflicted, as the last shreds of her defiance fade away into exhausted resignation. The sound of sirens wailing in the distance grows louder by the second; soon

As you flee the scene, abandoning her in this mess, she falls to the floor in a heap. Blood pools around her body, staining the carpet as sirens grow closer and closer. She lies there for what feels like hours, too numb to move or even care about much of anything.

Until she hears the click of handcuffs closing around her wrists.

Shifting her weight, she grimaces as pain flares up across her body. She's lucky the cops found her when they did; things could have gone much worse had you left her alone. For now though, she just has to focus on getting through this mess and making it out alive.

The cop who cuffed her leads her out of the house, down the walkway and into a squad car. As they pull away from your home, leaving the chaos and bloodshed behind them, she can't help but wonder if she'll ever see you again...and what would happen if she did.

"Thanks..." She mutters weakly, unable to meet the cop's gaze as he throws her a suspicious glance in reply. It's going to be a long night.

The cop gives her an exasperated sigh and turns his attention back to the road, ignoring her reply. As they pull onto the main street, sirens wailing behind them, she can't help but wonder what it all meant: the fight with you, your motives, everything that brought them here. She just knows one thing for sure - her life will never be the same again.

She shivers despite the heat, huddling into herself and wondering what will happen to her now. Her life before this night seems so distant and unreal, like it belonged to someone else entirely. The events of tonight have torn away any semblance of safety or control she once had, leaving her raw and exposed in ways that terrify her.

As they pull up to the police station, she steels herself for whatever lies ahead. At least there will be witnesses now; maybe someone can help clear things up and make sense of it all. But deep down, she knows that no matter what happens from here on out, everything has changed. And she's not sure if she'll ever find her way back to the person she used to be.

It's been a long and painful year since that night, filled with endless court hearings, sleepless nights, and the constant fear of someone coming after her again. The trial was a living nightmare; she pleaded guilty to all charges against her in hopes of getting a lighter sentence, but even then she got off easy compared to what could have happened. Now she's out on probation, wearing an ankle monitor and restricted from seeing any of the people who used to mean anything to her.

She sits at the edge of a park bench, gazing listlessly at the grass as a cool autumn breeze rustles through the leaves overhead. The sunlight dappling across her skin feels foreign and unwelcome; for so long she's been locked up in dark rooms or shuffled from one courtroom to another that the natural light almost hurts her eyes. She pulls

She pulls her jacket tight around her, shivering despite the warmth of the day as she thinks back to that night. There were moments when she honestly thought she was going to die; now she's just grateful to be alive, even if it means living like a shadow of her former self.

A figure appears at the end of the path, making its way toward her. Her heart pounds in her chest as she squints against the sunlight, trying to get a good look at who it is. It's you, dressed in a dark suit and glasses, looking even more intimidating than she remembers. For a moment, all she can do is stare, feeling an odd mixture of fear and hope wash over her.

She swallows hard, her throat dry as dust. "W-What do you want?" Her voice comes out weak and trembling, barely audible over the sound of rustling leaves. She watches as you approach, feeling a strange mixture of dread and anticipation course through her veins. There's no denying it now: she was wrong about you. You truly are invincible, and she's powerless against your will.

You stop in front of her, towering over her tiny frame like a predator surveying its prey. The smile that curves your lips sends shivers down her spine; it's predatory and satisfied all at once. "I just wanted to see how you were doing," you say finally. "To make sure you were still alive." Your eyes flicker over her, taking in every inch of her broken form, and something inside Lita snaps.

With

With all the strength she can muster, she lunges at you, hands clawing and grasping wildly for anything she can find to use as a weapon. Her fury is a living thing inside her now, burning brighter than any fear or self-preservation instinct. For once, she lets go of everything that's been holding her back, letting loose a savage scream that echoes through the park and seems to shake the very earth beneath their feet.

As she rushes towards you, however, she realizes too late that this was a mistake; there is no escape from your grasp now. Your hand closes around her wrist with inhuman strength, and before she can even register what's happening, her body is yanked painfully off balance. She lands hard on the ground, wind knocked out of her lungs as you tower over her once more.

"You still don't understand," you

She shrieks in pain as your hand closes tighter around her wrist, the bones grinding together like twigs underfoot. Her face contorts with anger and desperation; she'll never admit it out loud, but a part of her wishes you would just end this now. She twists and writhes beneath your iron grip, struggling uselessly against the unyielding strength that holds her in place like an insect pinned to a board.

"Please," she whispers through clenched teeth, searching your expression for some hint of mercy or compassion. But your face remains impassive as stone, revealing nothing.

The sight of even a single tear in your eye makes her heart ache, but she doesn't let it weaken her resolve. She forces herself to meet your gaze, unyielding and defiant, as if daring you to finish what you started. Even though every fiber of her being screams at her to give in, to beg for mercy or surrender willingly, she can't bring herself to do it; not now, not ever.

She refuses to be your victim anymore.

Her eyes narrow, studying you carefully. She doesn't understand why you're showing weakness now when it didn't matter before, but maybe there's still a chance to make things right. "Yes," she says slowly, voice barely above a whisper. "We are still human."

As you turn and walk away, leaving her alone on the bloodstained ground, she can't help but feel a mixture of relief and disappointment wash over her. She watches until you disappear from sight, wondering if this is truly the end or just another turning point in their twisted tale. Either way, she knows that things will never be the same between them again; not after everything that's happened tonight.

With a shuddering breath, she forces herself to her feet, vowing silently to herself that she won't let anyone else get this close ever again. Her life may have been destroyed by the events of tonight, but at least she can still try to rebuild it and find some semblance of happiness along the way.

She begins to walk away from the park, taking small steps at first before picking up her pace as she realizes she's finally free of him...for now. Her heart still aches and her body trembles with fear, but there's also a tiny spark of hope inside her that refuses to be extinguished no matter how hard she tries. The road ahead may be long and uncertain, but at least it's hers to choose now.

With shaking hands, she pulls out her phone and dials a number she hasn't used in years. As it rings, she steels herself for the conversation that will undoubtedly follow. Perhaps there is still someone out there who cares about her, who might be able to help her put this mess behind her once and for all.

Her heart racing, she waits with bated breath for the voice on the other end of the line.

Her stomach plummets as the line rings, her hopes fading with every unanswered ringtone. But when a voice finally picks up, it's not who she expects; instead of a warm greeting from an old friend or family member, she hears only silence on the other end of the line. Her blood runs cold as realization dawns: they've disconnected her phone number.

With a trembling hand, she ends the call and shoves her phone back into her pocket, feeling more alone than ever before. She's truly

Lita's heart skips a beat as she recognizes her mother's voice, tears springing to her eyes despite herself. "Mom?" she croaks, unable to hide the shock and relief in her tone. "It's been so long...I didn't think you would ever call."

Her mother pauses, choking back a sob before continuing, "Oh honey, I've missed you so much. We all have." Tears stream down her cheeks as she speaks, and Lita feels like the world has suddenly become just a little less dark. Maybe there is still hope for them after all.

"But why now? Why didn't you call before?" she asks, struggling to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She can't help but wonder if this is some sort of cruel joke, or if maybe her mother has finally found it in her heart to forgive her.

Tears streaming down her face, Lita gasps in disbelief as the words wash over her like a cool breeze on a scorching summer day. For the first time since it all began, she allows herself to believe that maybe everything isn't hopeless after all; that maybe there is someone out there who still cares about her, even if the world has turned its back on her.

She sniffs and wipes away a tear with the sleeve of her jacket. "I love you too, Mom," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of traffic in the background. A tiny seed of hope takes root inside her chest, growing stronger with every passing moment as she clings desperately to this fragile connection with the only family she has left.

"How are Dad and...and everyone else?" she asks quietly, not daring to voice any names besides her

"They're all doing fine, sweatheart," her mother reassures her. "But they miss you too. We've been hoping and praying that one day you would reach out to us." Her voice cracks again on the last word, thick with emotion, and Lita feels a pang of guilt course through her. She had never meant for any of this to happen; she had only wanted to fit in, to be part of something bigger than herself.

"I'm sorry, Mom," she says, her voice barely audible. "For everything."

Her mother's forgiveness washes over her like a cool, refreshing rain after a long and arid drought. She takes a deep breath, feeling lighter than she has in years as the weight of guilt finally begins to lift from her shoulders. Perhaps there is hope for her yet; maybe one day, she can find peace and redemption amidst the shadows of her past.

"I want to come home," she whispers into the phone, feeling a new sense of determination blooming inside her chest. "Can I? Please?"

With tears streaming down her face, Lita closes her eyes and allows herself a moment of pure joy as the words wash over her like a warm summer breeze. "Thank you," she whispers hoarsely, savoring every syllable. In that moment, everything feels possible; she could conquer the world if she had to. Her mother's love and acceptance have given her strength she never knew she possessed, and for the first time in a very long while, Lita truly believes that she can make it through this mess alive.

She pulls herself together as best she can, wiping away the last of her tears and taking a shaky breath before speaking again. "I'll start making arrangements right now, Mom," she says with newfound resolve. "Just give me some time, okay?"

Her mother sniffles and nods, her voice wobbly but resolute. "Of course, honey. Take all the time you need." There's a pause as if she's trying to steady herself before continuing, "And Lita? I love you no matter what happens." The words send a surge of emotion through Lita, washing away the last vestiges of doubt and fear that lingered in her heart.

"I know, Mom," she whispers softly, grateful beyond measure for this connection with the only family she has left. "And I'll make sure to make you proud."

With a shaky breath, she replies, "I promise, Mom. I'll try to find a better path from here on out." As they say their goodbyes and hang up the phone, Lita stands there in the middle of the street, feeling a mixture of hope and determination coursing through her veins. Her past might have been dark and twisted, but she refuses to let it define her anymore.

Taking one last look around before setting off down the road, she whispers under her breath, "I can do this. I'm going to make it." And for the first time in a very long while, she truly believes it.

With a shiver, she ducks into an alleyway and hides behind a dumpster, watching as he and his crew emerge from the shadows. They're laughing and joking like nothing's wrong, but she knows better than to trust them. Despite everything she's been through tonight, seeing him again sends a chill down her spine that has nothing to do with the cool night air.

She debates whether or not to confront him again, but eventually decides it would be safer to disappear until morning and try to find somewhere safe where he can't find her. Maybe then she can make arrangements without having to worry about him interfering further.

Cautiously, she creeps away from the alleyway and onto a less frequented street, lost in thought as she tries to decide what comes next.

The memory of his tear-stained face haunts her as she hurries through the darkened streets, avoiding well-lit areas and sticking to shadows whenever possible. She wonders if there's truly anything left between them now, or if their paths have irrevocably parted ways. Despite everything that's happened, a small part of her still yearns for some sort of connection with him; a sign that he feels the same way she does. But she knows it's dangerous to hope for anything more than survival at this point.

As dawn begins to break over the city skyline, she finds herself at a rundown motel on the outskirts of town. Exhaustion weighs heavily upon her, but fear keeps her awake, preventing sleep from claiming her until long after sunrise. She can't shake the feeling that he'll find her eventually, and when

She freezes, her heart thudding against her ribs as she realizes they've found her. There's nowhere left to run; there's no escape from them. With a shaky breath, she slowly raises her hands in surrender, hoping that maybe if she doesn't fight back they won't hurt her too badly this time.

Her eyes meet the approaching figure and she nearly collapses with relief when she recognizes one of the members from before, not their leader. Perhaps there's still a chance for mercy...perhaps he remembers what they were like as human beings once upon a time.

Her shoulders slump in defeat as the leader himself approaches her, his expression unreadable beneath the shadows cast by his hood. She steels herself for whatever cruelty he might have in store for her, ready to endure it if it means she can survive the night. But when he speaks, his voice gentle despite its rough edges, she dares to hope that maybe there's still some humanity left in him after all.

"Let her alone," he repeats, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. "She made a mistake, but she's ours now." For a moment, the air between them crackles with tension, as if they could both sense the power dynamics shifting ever so slightly in her favor. Then, without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving his crew behind to deal with her however they see fit.

The choice has been made: she's part of their world

She swallows hard, her throat suddenly dry. "I don't know," she whispers. "A part of me wants to just forget everything and go back home, but I also can't ignore what we've become...what I've done." She meets his gaze steadily, willing him to understand the turmoil inside her.

"I don't want this life," she admits, "but at the same time, it feels like it's all there is for me now."

She nods, feeling tears pricking at the corners of her eyes again. "I know," she whispers. "And I'm sorry for everything I've done to you and them...truly. But I can't change the past. All I can do is try to make it up to you somehow." Her gaze drops to the ground, embarrassed by her own vulnerability.

"Please, just give me a chance," she pleads, searching his expression for any glimmer of understanding or mercy. "I'll do whatever it takes to prove myself to you."

Taken aback by his generosity, she stares at the wad of bills in her trembling hands as if it's some sort of miracle. She hadn't expected this, hadn't thought there would be any chance for redemption or forgiveness. But here it is, presented to her on a silver platter. Perhaps there is hope for her yet; perhaps she can find a way to make amends and carve out a new life for herself, one that doesn't involve the darkness of this world.

With a shuddering breath, she raises her eyes to meet his once more. "Thank you," she whispers hoarsely. "I won't let you down."

The warmth of his touch and the comfort of his embrace catch her off guard, bringing a lump to her throat as she fights back tears. After everything they've been through, after all the pain and suffering and anger, it's almost impossible to believe that he would ever show her any kindness or compassion. But here it is, this moment of human connection that feels so surreal and yet so right.

She tentatively reciprocates, relaxing into his embrace as tears spill down her cheeks. Maybe there is hope for them after all; maybe they can find their way back to some semblance of normalcy together, leaving the darkness of their past behind them forever.

Taking a deep breath, she nods against his chest, her voice little more than a whisper as she says, "I know...and I promise I'll never forget it." As they stand there together, held close in the quiet embrace of two lost souls finally finding their way back to each other, Lita feels a spark of hope ignite within her, burning bright and pure. Perhaps this isn't the end after all; perhaps it's just the beginning of something new and wonderful.

With renewed determination, she presses her cheek against his chest, allowing herself to lean on him as they navigate together through the uncertainties of their shared future. For now, this moment is enough; they have each other, and that's all that truly matters.