Here's Chapter 8, since I already had it written before I wrote chapters 4-7 (there I go writing out of order again) ;) I hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think with a vote and a comment. ***Disclaimer: There are depictions of sexual violence in this chapter (nothing over pg-13) If you don't wish to read this, or you don't think you can handle it, skip this chapter. just a heads up!***

Mila walked down the sidewalk. Her meeting with the Lingards had gone precisely how she thought it would. Harvey had been furious at her proposal, lecturing her on how it was a foolish, not to mention dangerous, endeavor. Mila hadn't expected Catherine's response however. She had seemed open to the idea. Concerned, yes, but confident in Mila's abilities.

If Mila were honest, the whole plan made her more than nervous. She was about to let an officer in the German army take her to dinner ... She, not only a Jew, but a spy for the 'enemy.' The Lingards had been right to question her sanity. Honestly, she was beginning to question it too.

A gust of cold air sent chills down her spine, and Mila wrapped her wool coat tightly around her, turning up its collar against the wind. It was getting late, the sun having disappeared behind the city's skyline long ago. She needed to get back to her house and get ready before Josef arrived.

Eyeing a group of men clustered on the sidewalk ahead of her, Mila turned down an adjacent alley. The last thing she wanted was to draw any unwanted attention to herself, especially in this neighborhood. Suddenly she was halted by a towering figure in front of her. Taking a step back, her eyes fell upon a German soldier.

"Oh, my apologies," She said hastily, averting her eyes from the towering man.

"Not a problem at all," The man spoke lazily, his German accent thick, eyeing Mila up and down. She gave the man a curt nod before attempting to side step him, but he stepped in front of her, blocking her path once again. "You know ... a young woman like yourself shouldn't be walking alone at night," The man began, taking a step towards her. "Why don't you let me escort you home?"

Mila could smell the drink on his breath from where she stood, evidently having spent his evening in the pub down the street.

"That's quite alright," Mila said, side stepping the man again. "I think I can mana-" She was cut off by a hand grasping her arm, preventing her from going forward. Her eyes traveled up to the person the hand belonged to. The soldier was glowering down at her, his grip tightening around her arm as their eyes locked with one another's.

"I insist," He said flatly.

"And I said," she began, ripping her arm from his grasp, "No."

In an instant, Mila felt her back hit the alley wall, a sharp pain shooting through her causing her to drop her purse to the ground. The man was inches away from her face, his breath thick with the smell of alcohol, his hand grasping her throat.

"I think we need to learn some manners," The man said against her ear. She brought her hands up in protest, trying to pry the man away from her but he grabbed her wrists, pulling them above her head with one hand.

"Get off of me! ... Help!" Mila cried hoping desperately someone, anyone, would come to her aid. Cold metal pressed against her skin, halting her cries. She drew her eyes up to look at her attacker. "What are you going to do? Kill me?" She asked, a sudden wave of defiance coursing through her. The man chuckled.

"I'll do whatever pleases me sweetheart," He slurred, running the blunt side of his blade against her cheek. Mila's jaw clenched and she squeezed her eyes shut, biting back the fear that was consuming her insides. "That's much better," The man said, releasing her wrists from his hand, running it down the length of her body instead. "Now be a good little girl."

This wasn't happening ... Mila inhaled sharply as she felt the man's lips against her neck. Mistaking it for pleasure, the man smirked against her skin. "You like that?"

She turned her head in disgust. Opening her eyes, she saw the man's hand braced against the wall, knife in hand. He was no longer holding it to her throat, too busy placing sloppy kisses over the place where the blade had been. Now was her chance ... if she could just get to the street maybe that would be enough. Surely someone would see her - hear her cries for help, and come.

Swallowing, Mila thrust her knee up, connecting hard with the man's groin. With a groan, he released her, bracing himself against the wall in pain. She made a break for it, only to be yanked backwards by her hair. The man grasped for her neck, grabbing the gold chain of her locket instead. It snapped from around her neck and she yelped in pain as her body hit the ground with a thud.

He was on top of her before she could blink, and he was angry. His eyes danced with fury as he grabbed her by the throat again. Nostrils flaring, he stared down at her, tightening his grip around her neck until she could barely breathe. She clutched his hand, trying desperately to pry it from her. He had managed to peel back her coat and was leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down her chest to her cleavage.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think clearly through the panic that was coursing through her body. She needed to get away ... needed to escape. But how? She opened her eyes with a start. Her bag! Her gun was in her bag! Glancing from side to side she spotted it a few feet away from where she lay. Extending her arm, she frantically felt for it. It lay only inches from her fingertips.

She squirmed underneath the man, trying to wiggle her way towards the bag. The man tightened his grip around her neck, but he didn't look up. He had slipped his hand underneath her dress and was now roughly trying to pull down her underwear.

Frantically, she reached out again, this time her fingertips grasping the bag's leather strap. Pulling it closer she slipped her hand inside, feeling around for her handgun. The hand gripping her neck had tightened so much that she was beginning to see stars but finally, her hand grasped the thing she had been searching for. She pulled out the gun hastily and pressed it against the man's torso. Without hesitation, she fired a single shot, the soldier letting out a yelp before collapsing on top of her.

Mila coughed, sucking air into her oxygen deprived lungs. Dropping the gun, she squirmed frantically out from under her attacker's lifeless body. Scooting away, she pressed her back against the wall, stunned at what she had done. She looked down at her blood soaked dress and hands, her breath hitching in her throat. She needed to go, and she needed to go now. She grabbed her coat from the ground and hastily put it on. Grabbing her gun, she stowed it into her bag before running down the alley.

~

Mila burst through the door of her home, slamming it behind her. She ran to the bathroom, turning the faucet on in a frenzy. Placing her hands underneath the stream, she scrubbed them frantically, the water running red with blood. Slamming her fists against the sink basin she looked into the mirror. A choked sob escaped her lips and she began to cry. She turned and slid down the door, tears streaming down her cheeks as more sobs escaped from her lips. She had killed that man ... she had taken his life without a second thought. She hugged her knees against her body, rocking backwards and forwards as she continued to cry.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the sobs ceased. Bracing herself against the sink, she pulled herself up and turned for the door, trudging down the hall to her bedroom. Unbuttoning the front of her dress, she slipped it off, discarding it into a corner. She opened her wardrobe and pulled out a pale blue dress. Slipping it on over her head, she stared at her reflection in the floor length mirror. Her knees and arms were bruised and cut from where she had hit the pavement. She exhaled sharply, running her hands through her ratted hair in an attempt to smooth it down.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, causing Mila to jump. Josef ... she had forgotten about their plans in the wake of all that had happened. She couldn't see him ... not like this ... not after what she had done. Slipping her robe on, she made her way to the front door, just in time to hear another knock.

"Mila, its Josef," A voice called from the other side of the door. Mila swallowed.

"I don't think I can go out tonight," She replied shakily. "I'm not feeling well."

"Are you okay?" Josef called back. When she didn't answer he knocked again. "Mila ..."

"I'm fine," she choked out.

"Mila, open the door."

"Just go, please!" She called back, squeezing her eyes shut, tears threatening to fall again.

"Mila open the door, or I will," Josef called, his voice more anxious now. Mila shook her head, running a hand down her face in frustration. Wrapping her robe tightly around her frame, she inhaled and drew herself up to her fullest height. She grasped the door knob and twisted it, the door clicking open. Josef stood before her, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his eyes traveling down her body, stopping short at the bruises and cuts on her forearms.

"I'm fine," She replied, pulling the sleeves of her robe down as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"No you're not ..." He shook his head. Taking a step towards her, he grasped her arms, peeling them away from her body. She winced in pain and his brows furrowed further. "What happened?" He asked, pushing her sleeves up as he turned her arms over in his hands to examine them further.

"Nothing," She said, tearing her arms out of his grasp. "Nothing happened." She turned and walked a few paces, hugging her arms around her core again.

"Mila ..." Josef began, but he trailed off, watching her as she walked away. He followed her further inside the room and she swallowed hard, her heart beating out of her chest. "Did someone hurt you?" He asked after a long pause.

She looked up at him, averting her eyes when they locked with his. She clenched her jaw, her face scrunching up in an effort not to cry. He wouldn't see her cry. If it was the last thing she did, she would will herself not to cry. Silently she nodded her head. His jaw clenched momentarily before his face softened. "What happened?"

"Someone attacked me," Mila replied, refusing to look at him. "On my way home from town."

"Who was it?" Josef asked, rooted to where he stood. She shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know," She lied. "He attacked me from behind ... pushed me to the ground. I never saw his face."

"Did he ..." Josef began, trailing off as if he had lost his nerve to finish the question. Mila looked at him confused for a moment before realization hit her.

"No," She said quickly, her face flushing. "No ... he didn't. I heard voices coming our way ... it must've scared him off because he ran in the opposite direction."

"You need to report it, I can –" Josef began.

"No," Mila cut him off. "I don't want to report it."

"Mila..." Josef placed his hands on her shoulders and sat her down gently in a kitchen chair before seating himself in the one beside it. "You need to report this. They can catch the man who did this ... Arrest him."

"No," Mila repeated. "I don't want anyone knowing."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of Mi-"

"I know it's not," Mila cut in indignity. "It's just, if the men in the office knew..." She trailed off, trying her best to come up with an excuse. "If they heard what happened. They wouldn't respect me."

"Yes they would," Josef argued.

"No they wouldn't ... They would pity me, just like you're doing now." She cut him off. "It's hard enough being the only woman in those meetings. If they heard what happened tonight, those men would never take me seriously."

Josef nodded, studying her for a moment and then, as though he had finally decided her reasoning was sound, stood to his feet and walked into the kitchen without a word. "What are you doing?" She asked, watching him as he opened the refrigerator.

"You're in no state to go out tonight, so I suppose we'll just have to have dinner here," Josef replied, opening the cupboards now.

"You don't have to do this," Mila began.

"I want to," Josef cut in earnestly, eyeing her intently for a moment before focusing his attentions back on the cupboard. "Besides, I've been told I'm a very good cook."