i think i'm in love with you |s.reid|

chapter eight

Concrete Floor

Grace's POV:

My heart pounded. Hands shaking. Feet trembling.

Inside my chest, covered with my vest, I felt like my heart was preparing to break out of it.

"One foot in front of the other." I softly whispered to myself as I walked down to the basement.

The entire house was being cleared by the team. I managed to slip away and find the basement door. It was dark, only a single window allowed light in.

As I made my way slowly down the stairs, they nearly collapsed from beneath me. I was halfway down when the unsub came into my line of sight. There he stood, 45 year old Brax Dean, holding 24 year old Eloise Jacob hostage.

Brax Dean was what I liked to call, absolutely bonkers. He suffered from hallucinations, leaving his brain to think that he was helping his victims even though he was hurting them.

"Is that what you like?" Dean yelled, slapping her across the face as she whimpered.

"FBI, back off." I spoke up, drawing my gun to Dean's chest. A cloud must've passed over the sun, dimming the room which made it difficult for me to see.

"Ha. What are you here to do Ms. FBI?" he looked me up and down, dropping the rope that was held in his left hand, but gripping his gun even tighter.

"Dean, just put down the gun and we can get you the help you need." I bargained with him, as Eloise managed to break free, crawling into a corner.

"But I don't want help," he smirked walking closer to me. "I want you."

"All you have to do is put the gun down." I forced a slight smile.

"No!" he shouted, realizing he wouldn't make it out of here free. "You are lying!"

Dropping his weapon, Dean charged toward me. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion.

I fired my gun, the bullets missing him and ricocheting off the cinder block walls that lined the basement. He managed to knock me flat on my back, my head hitting the concrete floor extremely hard.

Everything went black. I could faintly hear, but couldn't see a thing. Dean laughed, as if I just made a joke, but I laid there on the floor, nearly lifeless. My gun sat to my right, but I had no power to grab it.

I had met my end.

---

Spencer's POV:

"Clear!" I yelled, swinging open a door that led to a small bedroom on the main level of the house.

Hotch followed closely behind me as we walked through the house, trying to find this damn unsub. I had little clue where Grace was, but assumed she was with Morgan, clearing the house also.

"Where the hell is this man?" Hotch huffed as we stood in the living room, Morgan walking down the staircase, alone.

"Nothing up there." Derek reported back before I realized he was alone.

"Wait a second, where's Grace?" My mind went into panic mode.

Two shots went off as I finished my sentence. The sound came from below. I ran to the basement door, Hotch following behind me, drawing his gun.

It was extremely dark, as if it was night already. I made my way down the narrow, rotting stairs, pulling my gun from its holster.

"Are you okay?" Hotch pulled me up by my arm as I fell through the rotted step, my leg dangling in the air. I nodded, catching my breath, trying not to focus on the blood which ran down my shin now.