His Wife or Her Grave

The Standoff

James Keene stood in the driveway like he owned it, hands in his pockets.

Six armed men flanked him, weapons trained on Ziva and Tyrell. Timothy hovered at his father's elbow, looking pale and hollow-eyed.

Ziva's heart slammed against her ribs. Every muscle screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go. They were surrounded.

James took a step forward. "Ziva, darling. It's time to stop this charade and come home."

Ziva's voice shook, but she forced it steady. "I don't have a home with you."

James's smile didn't waver. "You've always had a home with me. Since the summer you turned sixteen. You just didn't know it yet."

Bile rose in Ziva's throat.

Tyrell's gun came up, aimed directly at James’s head. "Take one more step and I'll put a bullet in your head."

James laughed. "With six men aiming at you? Bold. I admire that about you, Mr. Smart. Really, I do. But we both know how this ends."

Timothy stepped forward, hands raised like he was approaching a spooked animal. He looked awful. Gaunt. Dark circles under his eyes. His shirt was wrinkled, stained with something dark at the collar.

"Ziva, please." His voice cracked. "Just come with us. No one has to get hurt."

Ziva stared at him. The man she'd loved for four years. Who'd made her breakfast, held her when she cried and promised her a future.

Who'd sold her like livestock.

"You sold me, Timothy."

Timothy's face crumpled. "I didn't have a choice! They were going to kill me."

"So you chose yourself." Ziva's voice was flat. "Like you always do."

"That's not fair..."

"Fair?" Ziva laughed, high and bitter. "You drugged me. Sold me to traffickers. And you want to talk about fair?"

Timothy looked away, shame written across his features. But not enough shame to stop this. Not enough to tell his father no.

Never enough.

James sighed like this was boring him. "This is all very touching. But we're running out of time." He snapped his fingers. "Bring her."

Two men started forward.

Tyrell fired.

The shot cracked through the night. One of the men went down, clutching his leg, screaming.

The other five returned fire.

"Run!" Tyrell grabbed Ziva's arm, dragged her toward the house.

Bullets tore through the air. Splintered wood. Shattered glass.

They crashed through the back door into the kitchen. Tyrell slammed it shut, shoved the heavy table in front of it.

"Out the back!" He pulled her through the house.

Behind them came shouting, heavy footsteps. The crack of the door being kicked open.

They burst out into the overgrown gardens behind the estate. Weeds as tall as Ziva's waist. Trees thick and dark.

"There!" Tyrell pointed toward the tree line.

They ran.

Ziva's lungs burned. Her legs screamed. She wasn't built for this. She worried about rent, not running through the woods in the dark while men with guns hunted her.

James's voice, calm and commanding. "Find them. Alive."

Then another sound. Low. Guttural.

Dogs.

Ziva risked a glance back. Two German Shepherds, straining at leashes held by handlers.

Tracking dogs.

"Oh God," she gasped.

Tyrell's phone rang. He answered without slowing.

"Marcus."

Marcus’s voice came through tinny and urgent. "Sir, I'm tracking your location. There's an old service road half a mile east. I'm sending extraction. Ten minutes."

"We don't have ten minutes."

"I know. Just keep moving."

Tyrell ended the call, shoving the phone in his pocket.

Ziva stumbled over a root, nearly went down. Tyrell caught her and kept her upright.

The dogs were getting closer. She could hear them now, barking.

They were prey.

Tyrell's face was grim in the moonlight filtering through the trees. He was calculating. Planning.

He was making a decision Ziva knew she wouldn't like.

He stopped abruptly.

"What are you doing?" Ziva grabbed his arm. "We have to keep moving."

Tyrell turned to face the direction they'd come from. His gun up. Ready.

"You keep running. Follow the sound of the road. Marcus will find you."

Ziva's blood turned to ice. "No."

"Ziva."

"I said no!" She pulled at his arm. "We stay together."

Tyrell holstered his gun. Cupped her face with both hands. His palms were warm. Steady.

"If they catch us both, it's over. James takes you. And I can't protect you from inside a cage." His voice was rough. Desperate. "But if I can buy you time..."

"No." Ziva shook her head violently. Tears streaming down her face. "I won't leave you."

"You have to."

"I won't."

The dogs were so close now, a hundred yards or less.

Tyrell's eyes were black in the darkness. Filled with something that looked like goodbye.

"Ziva, please."

She couldn't speak. Just shook her head over and over.

Tyrell pulled her close. Kissed her.

Hard. Desperate. Like he was trying to memorize the taste of her. The feel of her.

Like he knew this was the last time.

Then he shoved her away. Hard enough that she stumbled back.

"Run!"

He turned and crashed through the underbrush in the opposite direction, firing his gun into the air. Once. Twice. Three times.

Drawing attention.

The dogs changed course immediately. Following the sound. Following him.

"No!" Ziva screamed. "Tyrell!"

But he was already gone. Swallowed by darkness and trees.

Ziva stood frozen. Every instinct screamed at her to follow him, not let him face them alone.

But if she did, his sacrifice would be for nothing.

More shouting. Closer now.

"Over here! The dogs found something!"

Ziva ran.

Branches tore at her face, her arms. Roots tried to trip her. Her lungs felt like they were on fire.

But she ran.

Behind her, in the distance: a single gunshot.

Then silence.

Ziva's legs nearly gave out.

No.

She couldn't think about it, couldn't let herself imagine what that silence meant.

Just run.

The trees thinned ahead. Moonlight broke through. She could see it now, the road. Cracked asphalt cutting through the woods.

She burst out of the tree line, gasping, and nearly collapsed.

Headlights appeared in the distance.

A car. Moving fast.

For one terrifying second, Ziva thought it was James. That he'd somehow gotten ahead of her.

Then she recognized the vehicle. Marcus’s SUV.

It screeched to a stop beside her. The door flew open.

"Get in!" Marcus shouted.

Ziva scrambled into the passenger seat. "Tyrell... we have to go back... he's still..."

"I know." Marcus’s face was grim. "But right now, I need to get you out of here."

"No! We can't leave him!"

Marcus grabbed her shoulders. "Ziva. Listen to me. If we go back, we all die. Tyrell knew that. That's why he did this."

“I don't care.”

A figure stumbled out of the woods behind them.

Ziva's heart leaped.

Tyrell.

But it wasn't him.

Timothy emerged from the trees, face bloody, clothes torn. He saw the car. Saw Ziva.

He raised his hand like he was going to call out.

Marcus hit the gas.

The last thing Ziva saw before they disappeared down the road was Timothy sinking to his knees in the middle of the asphalt, watching them go.

"No! We can't leave him!"

Marcus grabbed her shoulders. "Ziva. Listen to me. If we go back, we all die. Tyrell knew that. That's why he did this."

“I don't care.”

A figure stumbled out of the woods behind them.

Ziva's heart leaped.

Tyrell.

But it wasn't him.

Timothy emerged from the trees, face bloody, clothes torn. He saw the car. Saw Ziva.

He raised his hand like he was going to call out.

Marcus hit the gas.

The last thing Ziva saw before they disappeared down the road was Timothy sinking to his knees in the middle of the asphalt, watching them go.