Trevor maneuvered through the crowded airport, Wren's limp body cradled in his arms. Her head lolled against his chest, unconscious, her pale face and closed eyes adding to the illusion of fragility. People stared as he walked by, their curiosity piqued by the unusual sight. Whispers floated around them, some filled with concern, others simply nosy.

"It's okay," Trevor assured them with a practiced, reassuring smile. "My wife is just feeling a bit sick. I'm taking her to the hospital."

His voice was smooth, confident, and most people nodded sympathetically, stepping aside as he continued toward the parking garage. But beneath his calm exterior, Trevor's heart raced, not from fear, but from the thrill of having her so completely in his control again.

The parking garage was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the concrete like dark fingers. Trevor quickened his pace, his steps echoing off the walls as he approached his car. The harsh fluorescent lights flickered above, casting an eerie glow over the scene. He fumbled with the keys momentarily, then opened the back door, carefully placing Wren on the seat, her lifeless form still bound by the chloroform-induced sleep. He shut the door quickly, his eyes darting around to ensure no one had followed.

But he was wrong.

Meanwhile, Connor had just arrived at the airport, his heart pounding in his chest, driven by pure adrenaline and the desperate need to find Wren. He pushed through the crowds, his phone clutched in his hand, Wren’s picture displayed prominently on the screen as he approached strangers, his voice frantic.

"Have you seen this woman? Please, have you seen her?"

Most shook their heads, offering nothing more than pitying glances, until finally, one older woman paused, her brow furrowing as she pointed toward the direction Trevor had gone.

"Yes, I saw a man carrying a woman who looked just like her. He was heading to the parking garage."

Connor didn’t wait for her to say anything more. He took off running, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he raced through the airport, weaving between bewildered travelers and nearly tripping over his own feet. His mind was a blur of panic and determination. I can’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

As he burst into the parking garage, his eyes darted wildly around the space, searching for any sign of her. And then he saw it—a flash of Wren’s face in the backseat of a car just before the door slammed shut. The sight ignited a fresh surge of desperation.

"Hey, stop!" Connor shouted, his voice echoing through the garage. "Let Wren go right now!"

Trevor’s cold laugh echoed back as he jumped into the driver’s seat. He didn’t even glance at Connor as he gunned the engine. "Try and stop me," Trevor sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

Connor’s heart raced as Trevor’s car roared to life and sped off, tires screeching against the concrete. But Connor was quick—he pulled out his phone just in time to snap a picture of the license plate before the car disappeared around the corner.

A taxi was idling a few feet away, its driver watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. Connor didn’t hesitate—he sprinted toward the car, throwing himself in front of it, forcing the driver to slam on the brakes. The tires squealed, and the car jerked to a halt just inches from Connor.

Without a word, Connor yanked open the back door and jumped in, slamming it shut behind him. "Follow that red sports car!" he commanded, pointing in the direction Trevor had gone. "Please, hurry!"

The driver hesitated only for a moment before nodding, his hands gripping the wheel as he floored the gas pedal, the taxi lurching forward in pursuit.

As the car sped through the streets, Connor quickly dialed his friend Rex, his hand trembling as he pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Rex’s voice was casual, unaware of the storm about to hit.

"I need your help right now," Connor blurted out, his voice tight with urgency. "It’s an emergency!"

"What’s wrong?" The alarm in Rex’s voice was immediate.

"Trevor kidnapped Wren. I need you to report his license plate number to the police while I try to save her." Connor’s words tumbled out in a rush, the fear in his voice unmistakable.

Rex didn’t miss a beat. "Alright. Will you be okay by yourself?"

Connor swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Yes, I’ll be fine. I’ll text you my location after I get there."

"Okay. Be careful."

"I will." Connor ended the call, his heart pounding as the taxi sped through the city. He watched Trevor’s car in the distance, willing the driver to go faster.

Finally, Trevor’s car pulled into a secluded love motel on the outskirts of town, the neon sign flickering in the dusk. Connor’s heart sank as he realized where they were, his anger boiling over as he imagined what Trevor had planned for Wren.

He threw a wad of cash at the driver, barely waiting for the car to come to a full stop before he jumped out. "Thank you," he muttered, his voice tight as he moved swiftly to the side of the building, keeping to the shadows.

Connor watched as Trevor stepped out of the car, Wren limp in his arms once more. The sight of her so vulnerable, so helpless, made something snap inside him. That bastard is going to pay for hurting her again. His fists clenched at his sides as he watched Trevor carry her into one of the rooms. I’m going to make him wish he was in hell.

But he couldn’t just rush in—not yet. He needed to be smart, to wait for the right moment to strike. So he waited, hidden in the shadows, his eyes never leaving the door.

Inside the room, Trevor laid Wren’s body down on the bed, his smile twisted with dark satisfaction. He pulled out a length of rope from his bag, tying her arms and legs to the bedposts, his eyes gleaming with sick anticipation.

"When you wake up," Trevor whispered, leaning close to her ear, "We will have lots of fun."

He had no idea that Connor was just outside, waiting, watching, and ready to unleash hell the moment Wren stirred.