Chills came down Sarah's spine having those images flood her mind. It did little to ease the tension in her body, nor better her temperament. That was probably Brock's end game anyway. Probably wanted to annoy the shit out of her until she was ready to pounce on him. Sarah's hands went down to her thigh, easily pulling out a knife for her to run her calloused fingers over. It would be so easy for her to leave a mark on her, give him some pain to deal with and leave her with that satisfaction. But, he'd get her back and do twice as much damage.

He knew how much the brunette could take and didn't hold back. Sometimes that's what she hated about him. And for rare occasions, it was one of the reasons why she liked him. Love wasn't in her lexicon, nor could it ever be applied to killers like them.

By the time Brock tracked Sarah down, she was in the training facility, prepping to go a few rounds with a punching bag or another soldier. She needed to take her frustration out in a way that didn't involve Brock, or cutting his face up. Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, dressed in basic gear, and in the midst of wrapping her hands. Brown eyes were focused on wrapping the bandage around her left hand.

"Not by choice, I assure you." Like hell she'd ever admit she willingly thought of him.

"Sod off, I don't have time t'entertain you."