So, this one was originally written in Spanish. I never meant to translated into English, but I have. So sue me.
They were all dead. Still panting, Ziva plopped herself down. She landed beside a dead hand still holding a gun. When she saw its owner’s open eyes, she laughed. She was laughing mechanically, nervously, exhausted. She was laughing because there was nothing else she could do.
They were all dead. Not even her father could have imagined something similar, she was sure. As much as he trusted her and he knew she was the best, he was crazy if he thought she would be able to defeat...