Jemma clutched her head when she opened her eyes. The searing pain in her head wasn’t unfamiliar, but it was something she hadn’t felt in years. She had been drugged, and there was only one person she could think of who would have been behind it.

She blinked, quickly trying to clear out the remaining blurriness in her vision until a clear picture of the room came into view.

“No-no-no-no-no,” she repeated as the panic set in. The faded pink walls and ceiling, the images of princesses that covered the walls. Even the scent was sickeningly familiar. She was in her childhood bedroom, where she hadn’t been since she’d left a man bleeding to death on the white carpet.

She got to her feet and tried to steady herself as her vision swam again. Whether it was tears or the after effects of the drugs, she wasn’t sure. The window had been covered with iron bars, turning this room into the prison it had always been to her.

“There’s my little Willow.”

Jemma’s back straightened as the voice washed over her. The panic she was already trying to fight off turned into a full-on attack, and Jemma sank to her knees.

“Oh now, Willow, what’s wrong?”

Jemma closed her eyes as she listened to the footsteps of the man she feared above anything else come closer.

“Open your eyes, Willow.”

Like a scared child, she did as she was told, and looked straight into the eyes of her father.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” He smiled.

“Why?” she whispered.

“What kind of question is that? You’re my daughter, and I wanted you home with me, where you belong.”

The panic dug its sharp teeth in as her heart began to race. Her eyes widened, and she tried desperately to regulate her breathing.

“Yes, I heard of your panic attacks. And of how you combat them.” He reached down and grabbed her arm to haul her to her feet. “Wanna go a few rounds?” He smiled and tossed her backwards. She scrambled back again, her form and skills completely forgotten in her terror.

“You were always weak, just like your mother.” He gripped her arm again and dragged her to a chair in the corner. “You know, I always believed that blood ties were stronger than anything. You see, I was taught that you did whatever you could to protect family, and yet my only daughter sets out to destroy me and everything I’ve built. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jemma closed her eyes and started counting backwards, willing her heart to slow down. “I never said anything to anyone. I’ve kept all your secrets.”

The slap across her cheek did the trick. Rage began to build inside her at the sight of the smile on her father’s face.

“What did you tell the cop, Willow?”

“What cop?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. My people -- people I trust -- have seen you getting close with a certain agent of the FBI. I want to know what you said to him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She winced as his hand slapped her cheek again. “This man.”

Jemma opened her eyes to see a phone in front of her face. The man in the photo was standing outside of a coffee shop, looking in the general direction of the camera, but his eyes were focused on something else.

Still, she would have recognized him even had she not been able to see his face. It was clear to her now that by breaking one of her rules, she had done more damage than she could have ever thought possible.

“Caid,” she whispered. “I didn’t know he was a cop.”

“You honestly expect me to believe that?” Her father shoved his phone back into his pocket. “I left you alone because I assumed you needed some time to come back around after what happened. I’ve known every single day for the last three years where you’ve been, Willow, and I’ve left you alone. Yet this is how you repay me? What did you tell him?” he screamed.

“Nothing!” Jemma yelled back.

“Fine,” he straightened. “I suppose it doesn’t matter much since he’s going to be dead by the end of the night anyway.”

“No, I swear I didn’t say anything. Please don’t hurt him. Please, he doesn’t know anything.” Rule number two, broken. She had always said if she ended up back with her father, she would not plead. Of course, it wasn’t her life she wanted to save.

He eyed her curiously. “So you care for this cop, huh? Look at that! My little girl has the hots for a pig!” He laughed. “Tell me, Willow, what’s his life worth to you?”

“Anything.”

He nodded. “We’ll see about that.” He took a seat on the edge of her bed and stared at her as she folded herself as far into the corner of her room as possible. “Let’s talk terms, shall we?”