Rhonan watched Wyatt being taken into the building and waited for them to haul him out of the van in the same manner. When the door closed, sealing him off from the warehouse and from Wyatt, Rhonan's mouth went slack. They got what they wanted. Wyatt. That meant Rhonan was dispensable. They were going to find him in a few months, bones picked clean under the damn desert sun. Nothing was said as the van backed away and they then took off at a far quicker pace than the one it took to get to the warehouse. The silence was far more grating without Wyatt's presence by his side. At least when they were together, Rhonan had held on to the hope that they had a chance of escaping. Two were far better than one in cases like this. Josiah had taught him that. Fuck. Josiah. He almost didn't survive burying his only son, how would he react to burying his only grandson? Rhonan clenched his eyes tight and clamped his teeth together as he tried to ignore the roiling sensation in his gut. He couldn't think of that. He had to be strong. He was smart, he could figure out a way to escape. He'd get free somehow. He had to. For Josiah. For himself. Even for Wyatt. Even if that last one was the reason he was in this damn situation to begin with.

After several turns, Rhonan began to believe the van was moving in circles, that is until the van rumbled to a stop and the door flew open. Rhonan flinched as the blinding desert sun bore down on him. He blinked several times trying to focus his vision, but everything was bursts of white and red from the contrast of the dark van. A boot hit him in the back, sending him toppling over. Strong arms grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled him from the carpeted van floor to the solid ground below. Red dirt kicked up around him as Rhonan was dropped face first onto the ground.

A knee pressed against the small of his back and hot breath tickled his ear, "I recommend running. Run far and fast. Don't look back because you're getting off damn lucky right now."

The large man stood and kicked Rhonan hard in his already bruised ribs, if the voice didn't trigger any alarms, the brute force of the kick told Rhonan this was the same man who had attacked him once before. Dammit. He doubled over as much as he could when another kick came and then he heard the scuff of dirt and the van kicking up rocks as it drove away. What the hell had just happened? Rhonan rolled to his side with a groan, stretching his legs only to realize he was still bound by his wrists and ankles. Great. Just great. They let him go so what, they'd not be responsible for his death? Let the elements kill him and then it wouldn't be murder? Or was it because it would take longer for him to die and they could get the fuck out of town first? Either way, it was bullshit. He shifted on the ground and wiggled his fingers, testing the strength of the zip ties they had used. Rhonan furrowed his brows and tried to think of the training Josiah had given him. They'd joked about it, but Josiah had been deadly serious about Rhonan being able to get himself out of these types of situations. This would teach him to pay more attention to shit.

Rhonan closed his eyes and took several slow, deep breaths, focussing on Josiah's voice in his head. They were in the garage back in Illinois. There'd been a rash of attacks on 'rainbow' kids as Josiah called them and he worried about Rhonan getting caught up in it since he was often alone at night getting to and from the train. Several people in their teens and early twenties had been grabbed, bound, and then beaten to 'send a message' that their lifestyle was not going to be tolerated. Some had survived the attacks to pass the message, others were too badly beaten to even be able to speak, and a couple didn't survive the attacks at all. Rhonan still struggled with the notion that it was apparently rude of them to simply want the right to love who they loved, regardless of their genitalia. It wasn't that difficult of a concept and it sure as hell didn't affect anyone else's lives for him to love whoever he loved. That was between them and no one else.

Rhonan forced his brain back on to the task at hand as sweat dripped down his forehead. Focus. Breathe. Rhonan twisted his wrists, pulling them apart each time with as much muscle as he could muster. He rolled back to his stomach and gave himself more room. Sweat dripped down his nose as the sun beat down on him. Twist. Pull. Twist. Pull. Breathe. Rhonan's heartbeat thudded in his ears. His mouth grew drier. He knew with the heat he should be trying to conserve energy, but he also needed to get free or all the energy in the world wouldn't do him a damn bit of good. Twist. Pull. Twist. Pull. Breathe. The tie grew looser as his motions began to weaken it. Now...Rhonan rolled to his side and curled his legs in, shifting and rotating his body until he was able to push up onto his knees. He wiggled and adjusted his shoulders, then took a deep breath, raised his arms as far behind him as he could, then snapped them down while spreading his elbows wide. He winced at the pain that ripped through his body, but it was the slight squeak of stretching plastic that had him trying again. Rhonan swore to anyone who would listen that he was going to start hitting the gym again, seriously this time. On the third try, his wrists snapped free and Rhonan fell forward. He sputtered dirt and let out another slew of curses as he lay face first on the hard ground. It took several minutes of trying to move his arms before they obeyed and he was finally able to push himself back into a sitting position. He curled his legs up and began to work loose the zip ties binding his ankles, a much easier task now that his hands were free and functioning.

Rhonan picked the pieces of plastic and tucked them into his pockets before rubbing the blood back into his extremities while he looked around. Cacti, brush, and red dirt stretched on as far as he could see, but if he squinted hard enough, he could make out the silhouettes of some of the larger hotels that lined the strip. A road had to be nearby though, some...Rhonan blinked and blinked again. His bag! They had actually left it for him. Or at least he hoped that was his bag. He squinted again and when the lime green striped bag jumped into his line of sight, he scrambled across the dirt for what felt like a hundred feet. Beside his bag were two bottles of water and a bag of trail mix. "What the ever-loving fuck?"

Rhonan looked around to see if this was a trap or a joke or any number of the different scenarios that filled his head. This made no sense at all. Unless they just needed to get Wyatt alone. Rhonan shook his head and damn near ripped the lid off his water before taking a long, deep pull of the tepid liquid. He let out a satisfied sigh and then began to rummage through his bag for his phone. It wasn't in his pocket and he couldn't remember if he tucked it in his bag or if it was likely lost in the scuffle. Rhonan dumped the bag over letting the contents dump out onto the dry dirt. His laptop, keys, wallet, hotel key, notebook, pens, pencils, half a pack of gum, a bottle of lube...well son of a bitch, that would have come in handy last night, dammit. Not the time to think about that. Focus. He shoved everything back into the bag and then pushed to his feet. Water bottle in one hand and bag slung over his shoulders, he began to retrace his steps, then followed them to the tire marks from the van. Rhonan swore and spun around in exasperation as he scoured the ground once more until he saw a glint near the base of a flowering cacti. Rhonan dropped to his knees and carefully threaded his arm through he spindly branches, wincing at each poke but smiling triumphantly when he finally managed to pull the phone free, scratching the ever-loving hell out of his arm in the process. He barely let it phase him as he pressed the power button and waited.

It felt like an eternity before the phone booted up and when he saw the red indication for less than five percent battery he eyed the singular service bar and hoped for the best as he dialed up Josiah's number. One ring. Two rings. Three rings, "C'mon, Pops..."

Three and a half rings..."Rho? That you? Where are you?"

"Oh thank god. It's me, Pops. I'm...I need you to come get me, but I don't know where I am. Can you track my phone? The assholes dropped me in the desert somewhere. I'll explain when I see you."

"I'm on my way. Hold tight, kiddo."