"I—" cough, "I—I can't b—breathe Michael."
He tightens his hold on my neck, "I don't need you to breathe. I need you to die."
The glare in my eyes shows that he is determined to do it, regardless of the consequences.
"They will arrest you either way."
"I don't care. You dare betray me you evil bitch! After everything I did for you."
I can feel my brain shutting down from lack of oxygen. My hands and legs are weakening. I close my eyes and begin dreaming of my happy moments. A walk in the park with my father when I was ten. The aroma of my mom's homemade meals. Getting into the FBI academy.
I blank out and land on the floor. Micheal lowers with me, the anger still glowing in his eyes.
"Tell me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now. "
"I—" cough cough, "because… I can save you."
I blink my eyes open in time to see his brows furrow in confusion, so I continue.
"I can help you get out. I can help—"
"Is this some bullshit?" he asks with narrowed eyes.
I sit up and take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the necessary air it needs for it to continue functioning properly.
"I can help you Micheal."
He scoots closer to me and looks pointedly into my eyes as if searching for the lies.
"I can help you catch Don Pedro for life."
He stills.
"I know he is the one controlling the cartel. I can help you end him."
He says nothing.
I search for my next words carefully. "You shouldn't spend the rest of your life in jail. You don't deserve to. Especially when you're not the head of the cartel."
His eyes mellow down, "How would you do that?"
"Do you trust me?"
It takes a while before he answers. "I love you. That I can say. But I don't know if I can trust you."
While Dave and some of my colleagues tighten the handcuffs around Micheal's hands the next day, my eyes clouds with tears.
I give him the last assuring look that everything is going to be okay before they pull off from the driveway.
Micheal's entire staff was dismissed later that day and the house sealed up for further evidence.
I couldn't sleep that night in the hotel room. My anxiety level tripled. Even when I gulp down the sleeping pills, that didn't help either. I ended up pacing about the room, while the thoughts of Michael and how he is doing fills my head.
The sanction teams assemble at the conference room the next day. The thick silence that blankets the room did nothing to spike my fears.
I'm still too concerned about Micheal's well being to be bothered about whatever verdict they had come up with for my case.
"Ms. Sarah Darlington, here is your list of offences. They are going to be read out to you, and you'll be sanctioned accordingly…"
I couldn't care less if they lock me up in jail for up to ten years, how to get Micheal out is what's front and center in my mind.
Officer Daniels flashes me a concerned look, "Are you here with us, Ms Sarah?"
I swallow hard and nod at him. It's difficult to concentrate when you feel like your whole world is about to crash under your feet.
Dave shoots me an impatient look, "So which option are you fucking choosing?"
"Mind your language, Officer Dave!" Officer Daniels cautions.
"Excuse me?"
His gaze turns deadly, "Did you hear everything we've been saying?"
When I return their curious gazes with a blank stare, most of them curse under their breath.
Dave goes ahead to repeat the offences and possible charges. It turns out that I've accumulated seven solid years for myself behind the bars. They only want to extend the grace by reducing it to three.
"Are you going to forget about Don Pedro?" I ask.
"That's not of utmost importance at this—"
"He is the villain in this story."
"Do you have any evidence to prove this?"
I reference the recorder. Dave begins arguing about the authenticity of it.
"Sometimes I wonder if you have any personal beef with Micheal. This can't all be—"
"Unlike you Sarah, some of us know how to put our personal feelings aside and handle our jobs from a professional perspective."
Officer Daniels tries to pitch in something, but Dave is faster, "how can you be defending the same set of people that had hands in your father's death."
Rage surges through me at the mention of my father.
"Or ain't you the one that told us of how cocaine ruined your father. How it destroyed your loving family. Have you forgotten about it all of a sudden?"
"Do not mention my family!"
"Take her out of here!" he commands the officers.
The cold metal of the handcuffs encloses my hands. They bound me toward the cell rooms.
Even as the silence descends on me, I keep thinking of Micheal. Every single memory of us stays awake in my brain. From the very first moment I set my eyes on his picture. All the days I've imagined what type of man he is during the investigation. The very first moment I set my eyes on him during his fashion show at New York fashion week.
I allow them to play out in my head. My thoughts drifting around them.
Three years will be a long time to think. It is also enough time to strategize my next moves carefully. Michael shouldn't go down for another man's crime. Don Pedro is the man they want. My plan should be centred on how to deliver his head to them.
I'll go towards any length to fight for Micheal's freedom. Even if it means negotiating another deal with the FBI. Whatever it takes, he must be free. And he will be mine.
I've obsessed over him for as long as I can remember. He possessed me. Our hearts will be entwined together, forever as it may be.