Chapter One

"Never was anything great achieved without danger"

Niccolo Machiavelli

"Reid. Reid, come on!"

Emily Prentiss' voice was tense with urgency. She shot her partner the briefest of glances, concern flashing across her features.

"Sorry," Spencer Reid whispered back, avoiding her gaze.

"Are you alright, Reid?"

"I-I'm fine. I just have a bit of a headache, that's all." It was a lie. True, his head was pounding, but that wasn't what was affecting him. He couldn't seem to shake off the feeling that something wasn't quite right. His fingers flexed around his gun and his breathing came in short, gasping pants.

The microphone taped to his neck must have picked it up, because suddenly Garcia's familiar perky voice was talking in his ear.

"Focus, Spence. Everything's fine. Just breathe, O.K.?"

"Thanks, Garcia." Spencer wished his voice wasn't wavering quite so much. It would hardly instil confidence in his abilities if Rossi or Hotch were listening in. He took a deep, steadying breath and nodded once to Prentiss.

The pair of them crept forward as one, hands wrapped tightly around the handles of their guns. The alleyway was pitch dark, the unsub mere metres away inside the disused store immediately to their right. It shouldn't be too hard. After all, there were two of them. Prentiss' assured stride made him feel slightly braver. He focused on following the gleam of her dark hair swinging in front of him.

And then everything happened very quickly.

One moment it was just him and Prentiss in the damp, disused alleyway. And then they were surrounded.

There were four of them, maybe five, it was hard to see in the dim light coming from the flickering streetlamp overhead. Spencer made to draw his gun, but already a muscular arm was pulling it from his grasp. A vice-like grip pinned his arms to his sides. He heard a muffled scream as one of them grabbed Emily and then a rough hand was pulling his hair tightly by the roots, forcing his head upwards. He tried to yell out for help, but a sharp swipe across his throat crushed his trachea. He was helpless.

"Garcia," he managed to choke. "Penelope, help-"

The rough hand ripped the mic away from his ear.

"No way, boy genius," a male voice growled. The grasp tightened painfully, but Spencer could feel one hand releasing itself. Emily was silent now. Wincing in pain, he twisted in his captor's arms. He saw a hand raised, holding something heavy.

And then everything went black.