I watched the car’s progress on my phone, and as we turned onto the final street, I felt my heart race into overdrive. My hands shook, and if I'd ever been susceptible to panic attacks in the past, I would've been due for one.

Now, though, was the second worst time to lose my shit. The first would have been when I said my goodbyes to Cam. If I'd broken down then, he would've called the whole thing off and sent a SWAT team in after Brett if it meant I didn't have to go. But I needed to do this. It was me Brett wanted, and I was the reason he had Liz. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her.

I told myself that over and over as the car pulled into the driveway of the abandoned house. It was an old two-story, built in a neighborhood with little space between the houses. The garage took up most of the lower level, while a small porch led to the front door from the driveway. When the taxi stopped, I got out and paid the fare quickly, then waited for the driver to disappear down the street before I pulled up my text messages.

The address was still the last text I'd gotten from Brett, with the picture of Liz above it. Bile rose swiftly in my throat, but I managed to text a response.

Noah: I'm here

Seconds later, my phone chimed.

Brett: Alone?

Noah: Alone

I started toward the front door, feeling insanely vulnerable, despite the tools Warren had given me. There was pepper spray in my pocket, and I had a keychain now that doubled as a pair of pretty sick brass knuckles, but still I felt naked and completely at Brett's mercy.

I raised my chin defiantly, refusing to let him get to me. Brett was a spoiled child who was lashing out because I'd told him no. I'd go in there, make a deal with him to ensure Liz's safety, and then Cam and everyone else would make sure he was taken care of.

As I climbed the stairs, though, Brett made it clear he had no intention of playing by the rules.

Brett: Three houses down. Left side of the street. Go through the backyard.

I stared at the text, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

Noah: ?

Looking around, I saw a gate at the side of the house that was already unlatched. As I glanced down the street, I finally realized what he'd done.

The address had been a way to throw off any surveillance. If he suspected me of something, though, why not make the target house much farther away?

Unease crept over me as I made my way into the overgrown backyard, weeds snagging on my jeans all the while. The fence ended, connecting to another backyard. My phone chimed again.

Brett: You have three minutes.

Three minutes before what? I didn't want to find out. Instead, I hopped the fence and crossed another three backyards. Once I reached the third, I saw the door was open on the back patio. I approached cautiously, my fingers itching to reach for my keys.

"Brett?" I called quietly. "You know, if you wanted to play musical houses, you could've made it a little more festive."

Brett had never been a fan of smartass comments, but that one existed as more than an excuse to piss him off. I hoped Cam, Warren, and Grizz would hear and realize there'd been a change in location.

There wasn't an answer, though, and as I moved deeper into the house, that sense of dread coiled tighter and tighter. The place was completely empty, and eerily clean. It looked like a demo house, not a place where anyone had actually lived, and as I moved through it I felt more vulnerable than I'd ever been.

"Liz?" I tried, ducking my head into one of the rooms.

But that, too, was empty, and I suddenly had that feeling prey animals probably got right before they were about to be run down by a predator. The hairs rose on the back of my neck, my stomach dropped into my feet, and I turned to run on instinct alone.

I wasn't fast enough.

Pain exploded in the back of my head and darkness overtook my vision. I felt myself falling, and then there was nothing as I slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

I woke up in a dark room, my nose immediately assaulted by the cloying scent of mold.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light, and I saw movement out of the corner of my vision. I blinked away the bleariness, bringing a particular face into focus: Liz.

She was tied to a chair, just as she had been in that photo Brett sent. Her mouth was gagged, but she fought against it, her words muffled and unintelligible.

"You're safe now," I told her, "I'll get you out of here."

I tried to go to her, but my arms and legs pulled against similar bindings. A chair scraped the floor, and I looked down to see Brett had given me the same treatment--all but the gag.

My mind raced, a million questions hitting me at once. Where was I? Had he planned this from the beginning? Where was Brett now? Would Cam be able to find me?

The last struck true fear into me, and I looked down to find the wired mic gone. My heart pounded as my gaze fell to my wrist, finding it bare. My watch--and the camera--was gone, too.

"Looking for this?"

Brett's voice came from the shadows. I heard a set of stairs creak, and he appeared in the dim light that shone through what must have been a basement window. He held up my watch, an evil smile curling his lips.

"Do you really think I'm that stupid, Noah? Did you honestly think you could get out of giving me what you owe me?"

If the camera was still activated, there was a chance Cam and the others were seeing what Brett was seeing right now. As long as he didn't--

The watch hit the floor with a thunk before Brett smashed it with his boot, grinding it into the cement to make sure it was completely broken. All the breath whooshed out of my lungs in one defeated gust.

"What do you want, Brett? What do I owe you?" I asked, feeling nothing but hatred as I looked up at him.

He came close enough that I could smell the sickening scent of his cologne. Leaning in, he skimmed his lips over my jaw and I felt my stomach lurch at the unwanted touch.

"The only thing I've ever wanted, baby. You."

His lips trailed to my ear, and my teeth ground together to avoid my natural instinct to shake him off. I kept my gaze on Liz, willing myself to get through this for her sake.

"Then you don't need anybody else. Let her go, and you can have me," I said, trying to tinge my words with that desperate, sappy tone I knew he got off on.

His lips curled into a smile, and for a moment I thought it might have worked. But then he said, "No, I don't think so. You and I need to come to an understanding first."

Brett's face was close to my neck, and when he breathed in, I couldn't suppress the urge to move away from him. I shifted in the chair--as much as I could--and felt something pressed between my hip and the arm.

The key fob. He hadn't destroyed the tracker yet, and that meant Cam was on his way.

I tried to silently convey that hope to Liz, but she sobbed against her bindings.

"Here's what's going to happen, Noah." He stood away from me, looking and speaking down to me as though he were talking to a child--or a dog. "You're not going to see anyone else. You're not going to fuck anyone else. You're not going to look at anyone else."

"Why would I need to, when I've got you?" I asked dryly, knowing I was pressing my luck.

Brett must have mistaken my sarcasm for sincerity, because he kept on. "I'll set you up in a house outside the city. I'll pay for your food, your clothes, your car--anything you could ever want or need. You won't have to lift a finger ever again."

God. He wanted to turn me into the equivalent of a kept man. A plaything he could use as he chose and put back up on the shelf whenever he got bored of me.

Out of all my clients, Brett was one of the few I'd never connected with on any level outside of the physical. We'd never talked as friends. He'd never confided me or expressed anything resembling human emotions. But even if he had, there was no way I would've been able to stomach him now.

"Say you want that, baby. Say you want me to take care of you." His voice was pleading, and he sounded like he was on the verge of tears himself.

I looked to Liz and swallowed the first thing that came to mind, giving him the answer I knew he wanted to hear. "You're right, Brett. I've been stupid." How dare I want my independence. "Nothing would make me happier."

His lips pulled into a watery smile, and I hoped it was that easy. But just as quickly as it had come on, his expression changed to something harder. Darker. "I don't believe you."

"I'm telling the--"

I never got a chance to finish the lie. Brett let fly a swift backhand that caught me square in the mouth, sending a sharp pain through my jaw. I felt moisture bead at my lip, and seconds later tasted the coppery sensation of my own blood.

"I. Don't. Believe you," he said, leaning in front of me so his face was right in mine.

I knew I should act subservient, but everything in me rebelled against Brett in that moment. Without thinking about it, I surged forward, throwing my forehead into his nose with enough force that I heard a sickening, satisfying crack.

He yelped and stumbled backward, holding his nose with both hands. "You fucking whore."

His voice sounded off, and when he moved his hands, I realized why. Blood dripped from his nose, landing on his shirt. I couldn't help the small sense of satisfaction I felt.

But that feeling evaporated in an instant when Brett reached for a table I just barely saw in the corner. A familiar sound rang through the basement, sending ice through my veins, and suddenly he was pointing the barrel of a gun right at Liz.

"No," I mouthed, thrashing against my bindings. "Please, I'll do anything you want. Just don't hurt her."

"It's too late for that," Brett said, swiping his free hand across his nose. "I see what you really are now, Noah. You're just a worthless cunt. And now, because you're too fucking stupid to help yourself, you're going to watch me kill this girl and know you could have stopped it."

"No!" I yelled, lurching forward with a surge of strength, sending my chair clattering to the ground with me still in it.

I looked up, helpless, as Brett held the gun level with Liz's head. Tears streamed down my face, and for a second I thought the blinding white light that suddenly filled the basement was the flash of gunfire. But it lingered, and when I looked up I saw an all-too familiar silhouette.

"Put the gun down right now and step the fuck back."

Cam. Relief flooded me, even as adrenaline continued to surge through my veins. But that relief shot straight to panic when Brett just turned the gun to Cam, instead.

"Yeah, I don't think so," Brett said, his voice low and filled with arrogance.

I knew Cam wasn't armed, and as much faith as I had in his abilities, the chances of him being able to wrestle the gun away from Brett before it was fired seemed slim to none. So I did what I had to do. While Brett was otherwise occupied with Cam--and the appearance of Warren behind him--I maneuvered my bound hands until my fingers just barely brushed my pocket. My wrists ached, the rope biting into them as I tried to shift my body at an unnatural angle.

"You're done, Brett. We've already called the cops. They'll be here any minute."

I gritted my teeth against the pain and thrust my bound arm toward the pocket. My fingers brushed against the cool metal of the key ring two times before I was able to get a grip on it.

"Then I'd suggest you get out of my way." Above me, Brett pointed the gun between Cam and Warren.

I pulled the key ring up, tears springing to my eyes from the pain and effort of fighting the rope. My fingers curled against the device Warren had given me, and I shifted the metal around to access the blades. Slowly and carefully, I moved the brass knuckles into my palm, just barely holding onto them with my pinky as I settled them at the heel.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs, and Brett whirled to face the newest arrival. I had to take the chance. Twisting my wrist at an abnormal angle, I pushed the blades of the concealed weapon into the rope, my whole body practically screaming from the effort. The muscle in my forearm started to lock up, cramping violently, and I nearly dropped the brass knuckles.

But suddenly I felt the sensation of rope sliding off of my wrists and pressure easing. I'd done it. I'd managed to cut my hands free. And I had seconds to do something with them before Brett used that gun on one of my friends.

I lunged for him, the heel of my palm coming down hard against the back of his shin. Brett yelped in surprise, and Cam took that opening to spring into action. He was a blur of motion as he leapt forward, his hands going for Brett's wrists and twisting. The gun fell from his grip, clattering heavily on the floor, and I let out a long held breath as Cam, Warren, and Grizz--who'd come in from the stairs--subdued Brett.

Cam was at my side in an instant, his hands working feverishly to untie my legs. He didn't even have a chance to help me off the floor before I flung myself at him, my arms coming around his neck. He was warm and solid and real and I couldn't help but sob as I buried my face in his neck.

"It's all over," he whispered, tenderly stroking my back as though we weren't in the middle of a crime scene. "You're safe."

"Liz," I choked out, lifting my head from Cam to find her.

But Warren was already untying her, and the gag had been removed from her mouth. In the distance I heard sirens--just as Cam promised, the police were on their way. My adrenaline crashed all at once, and I found myself barely able to stand when Cam tried to help me up. My limbs were shaky, the reality of what could have happened finally catching up with me.

In the corner of my vision, Brett sat on the stairs. His hands were bound behind his back now, and Grizz kept a close eye on him as the police came rushing in through the same door Cam and Warren had opened. Even still, Brett's eyes stayed locked on mine, a smile on his lips that made him look even more unhinged.

I forced myself to look away from him; to focus on Cam. Beautiful blue eyes took in everything about me. They shimmered with unshed tears, and with a love I could feel emanating from every part of him. This was my future. This man was what I needed to heal and move on. As long as Cam was here, everything would work out.

"It's over," I repeated, and with Cam’s help, I walked out of the basement and left Brett behind.

* * *

I sat in the back of an ambulance as an EMT--and Cam--fussed over my scrapes and bruises. He was more worried than the professional, but I wasn't about to tell him to give me space. I didn't want it. I gladly let him hover as the cut on my lip was cleaned and the rope burns on my wrists were treated. They put a splint on one of them because of the way I'd had to contort my arm to get myself free, but the pain was distant and foggy.

One after the other, the cops talked to each of us. First Grizz, who had old ties to the precinct. Then Cam. Then Warren. And finally me. I told them everything I knew, and as they were finishing up, a black sedan with tinted windows raced down the street... followed by a news van. I wasn't at all surprised to see the senator, his face pale, his eyes wide as he ran toward his daughter.

"Lizzie! Oh, God, my sweet baby girl."

She threw herself into his arms just as forcefully as I'd done to Cam, sobs wracking her body as she buried her face against his chest. The senator held her, whispering soothing words I couldn't hear. He squeezed her tight, tears in his own eyes, but I couldn't help exchanging a look with Cam. I wanted to believe this was the end of it--that she could go home and be safe and loved for who she was--and yet...

"I'm so sorry," Liz said, tears running down her face, her words barely intelligible. "I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't want to ruin your life, and I thought..."

Her words were cut off by her sobs, but the senator--John--just held her close. "You could never ruin my life. Never. Honey, I don't care that you're gay. Do you understand?" He pulled back to look at her, his eyes earnest. "I care that you're safe. And happy. And loved."

Tears stung my eyes as I watched father and daughter embrace. I felt Cam's arm come around me, and I leaned into him. I had no idea what this meant for the senator's future--especially since the cameras were rolling and shutters were clicking like mad--but in that moment, it felt like everything had worked out for the best.

Brett was in a squad car, being transferred to the closest police station for processing. Liz was finally reconciling with her father, and thanks to his support, she wouldn't have to live a life she hated.

And Cam was by my side, his body pressed close to mine, his warmth seeping through me, fighting back the shock. We'd made it through the worst. Even though I knew we still had a long day of questioning ahead of us, I also knew that once it was over, Cam would be mine and I would be his, just like it should have been from the beginning.