A/N: Repeating the warning from the prior chapter - some mention of non-consensual sex...please do not read if that will bother you...


Fifteen Minutes Later – Near Monroeville

As Lane disposed of the condom in a bedside trash receptacle, Justin closed his eyes tightly as he hugged his arms to his chest in a sort of imaginary cocoon, wishing instead that it was Brian's arms holding him closely. It was the only way he could manage to lie there and not puke his brains out over what had just happened.

Prescott groaned softly as he reluctantly twisted off the smaller body, seemingly oblivious to Justin's revulsion over what he had just done to him. He lay next to Justin, one hand lying on the blond's chest almost possessively as his breathing slowly began to return to a more normal rhythm. He smiled; he still couldn't believe the heights of mind-blowing euphoria this blond had just managed to take him to with one simple fuck.

He turned his head to look over at the man lying next to him, surprised to find his face contorted in an expression of pain. "Did I hurt you, Angel?" Prescott asked Justin in sudden concern. He had waited so long for this moment – this flight of almost indescribable exhilaration – that in his deep, eager desire to possess this man he hadn't prepared Justin as much as he would have liked. Once he had sheathed his cock and began to enter the tight warmth beneath him, he couldn't hold back any longer. He had plunged in deeply, imbedding his rather large member into the wondrous expanse as he marveled at how wonderfully constrictive it felt, how he could feel every ridge and texture of his Angel's perfect body, almost as if it were made just for him.

Now that he had experienced the most earth-shattering climax he had ever felt – even more than he could have ever imagined – he wanted nothing more than to make love to this man over and over again for the rest of the night – the rest of their lives. But as he looked over at Justin's expression, he couldn't help feeling some degree of remorse that he hadn't thought of his needs as well. He licked his lips as his eyes hungrily raked down the slender, sweat-soaked body of the man lying next to him and he observed the still-hard cock that desperately was in need of his attention.

Justin bit back a response between a laugh and a sob at Prescott's show of concern for his pain; the man didn't know what pain was. It wasn't just his physical pain – although right now, his ass was aching from the unprepared assault he had just endured, but the mental anguish – that was almost too much to bear. It wasn't so much the violation upon his body, although it most certainly was, and of the most vile kind – it was the unfaithfulness he felt toward Brian, his husband, the man who had stood by him for so long during the whole ordeal with Prescott. He had totally committed himself in body and spirit to him, but right now, as Lane reached over to grasp his cock with his hand and Justin saw the man slowly lowering his mouth to suck on him, he didn't really feel anything except numb – blissfully numb. Only if he felt this way could he block out the feelings this man was unwilingly engendering in his body as, a few minutes, he felt the familiar tightening of his balls and he came involuntarily in the other man's mouth.

He lay there, spent, too humiliated with his body's betrayal to move or speak, as Lane slowly flopped back down on the bed beside him, his heavy breathing the only sound in the room except for the crackling of the slowly-dying embers in the fireplace, just like the slowly-dying hope in Justin's heart at his predicament and his worry over Brian. Justin turned his head away from the other man, too repulsed to look at him and too ashamed of his actions to acknowledge him in any way.

"Angel," he heard Prescott whisper. "That was…..amazing," the man breathed out raggedly. "It was everything I dreamed it would be. I can't wait for you to fuck me now." As Lane reached his hand over with the intention of grabbing Justin's head to turn it toward his for another kiss, Justin recoiled at the first feel of the other man's touch, scooting his body as far over to the side of the bed as he could. "Don't touch me!" Justin snapped at him, refusing still to look at the other man.

Lane's face contorted into anger at the unexpected hostile response. "You don't mean that, Angel," he warned quietly. "I thought I made myself perfectly clear earlier that you belong to ME now….you will not be with any other man from now on – only me. That means that you service me and I service you – when and where I ask it of you. That is what two partners do in a relationship."

Justin did laugh now – it was all too much to hold inside. This man truly had to be crazy. Partners? What, as in rapist and victim? He was unable to contain the scorn, almost the pity even from rising in his voice for this totally unbalanced man as he turned on his side and replied, "Relationship?" He raised himself up to sit in the bed as he looked over at the other man. "You just raped me, Lane! We don't HAVE a relationship‼"

Justin knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he had made a big mistake; the man's face instantly hardened into a look of fury as he reached over and roughly grabbed Justin's wrist. As Justin cried out in pain, Lane drug him down further the bed to lie prone on the mattress and rolled on top of him. As his body roughly pinned Justin to the bed, he growled, "You have just sealed Kinney's fate! I warned you, Angel…." He held Justin's hands tightly above his head as his eyes glared icily into his, the rejection obvious on his face.

"No, Lane…Please!" Justin whispered in a panic, his previously show of contempt quickly dissipating into fear, not for him but for Brian. "Don't hurt him!"

Lane snorted. "Did you think I was kidding you, Justin? Well, you're about to find out just how serious I was!" He smiled evilly back at the other man as he added, "Somehow it's so much more delightful issuing the order to kill him using his own phone, too. Maybe once he's out of the way for good you'll show some proper respect for me…." As he rolled off the blond and started to get off the bed, however, Justin reached up to grab him by the arm, his face full of fright over what he had just done and what this would quite likely mean to Brian now because of his outburst.

"No…..Please…I'll do whatever you ask, I promise!" Justin lowered his eyes and whispered painfully, "Just don't hurt him." He couldn't help the rush of degradation and disgust roiling inside him at the moment, but he had to do this - for Brian.

Lane couldn't help smiling smugly to himself in victory just before he turned his face back toward Justin. His ruse – his threat to hurt Justin's husband, even though the man was long gone by now – was working perfectly. As long as Justin thought there was the slightest chance that Kinney would be hurt, he was sure his Angel would do whatever he was asked. It was a shame it had to be done this way – he would have much preferred that his Angel do his bidding willingly – but until Justin came to realize that he belonged with HIM, he was prepared to use whatever means was necessary to keep him by his side.

"Very well, Angel," he murmured, reaching over to brush some errant hair away from the man's weary but relieved face. "I'll hold off for now…for you. But I won't remind you again. If you refuse to do what I say from now on, I WILL have him taken care of. Do you understand?"'

Justin nodded silently as he swallowed a hard lump of worry in his throat; his eyes were wet with unshed tears – over his present fate but more over his constant fear for Brian. He had no doubt this man would carry out his threats – this man resembled nothing of the person he had once known.

He inhaled a shaky breath as he watched Lane reach over and trail a light finger possessively down the middle of his chest and come to rest on Justin's stomach; the blond's muscles involuntarily quivered under the feathering as Lane smiled in appreciation. "And now…..where were we? Oh, yes, time to resume more pleasant activities."

As Lane pushed Justin over onto his stomach, he began to lick a leisurely wet trail from his shoulder blades down into the crease just about his buttocks. Justin's eyes filled with tears of frustration and he bit back a groan to silently curse himself as Lane parted his cheeks for better access to his hole and, curling his tongue for greater effect, thrust it promptly inside the pulsating flesh. He couldn't help his body arching up off the bed in response as Lane locked his hands on the back of his ass to hold him down firmly in place. "We've just begun, Angel," he whispered huskily, almost reverently, as he came up briefly to rest, his eyes never straying from the two delectable mounds of flesh staring up at him, his fingers making a swirling pattern of pink and dark red and leaving slight bruises on the somewhat tender cheeks. "I'm planning on taking all…..night…..long for this treat."

Justin closed his eyes, resting his face on a pillow now becoming stained wet from his tears. Thoughts of Brian and their wedding exactly one year ago today invaded his mind as he prepared as best he could for the next onslaught to his body as well as his mind, waiting with dread for Prescott's next invasion to begin.

Just as he felt Lane's warm breath on his skin, he jumped a little and his heart began to pound as he heard and instantly recognized the familiar tone of Brian's cell phone ringing. "Shit!" Lane snapped, angry that his most desired goal had been at least temporarily derailed. He glanced longingly at the tender skin and kneaded the flesh for a few seconds before swearing once more.

Justin sighed in relief as he felt Lane's hands releasing him – at least temporarily – and heard the other man say, "Don't move, Angel," before he felt the man rising from the bed. He turned his head to observe Lane walking over to the dresser to retrieve Brian's cell phone from the dresser and flip it open.

"This had better been damned important," he snapped. Justin held his breath as he listened to Lane's side of the conversation, desperately hoping that somehow it was a good sign and he could overhear the caller's information.

"Yes, yes, everything's fine here," he heard Lane reply. "That's what I'm paying you such a fucking outrageous sum of money to do. Now what the hell do you want?" Justin's heart beat a little faster as he noticed Lane turning to look at him and their eyes met. He noticed Lane's expression was one of intense anger and irritation at having been interrupted. Any hint the man had ever had toward him in the way of tenderness or compassion seemed to have disappeared.

"What the fuck? You have GOT to be shitting me‼ How did this happen?" Justin's eyes widened as he continued to listen and Lane became increasingly agitated. What was going on? "You TOLD me this wouldn't happen‼"

"Never mind!" Lane snarled. "Just do your damn job and take care of it‼ You know where I'll be, so don't fuck it up‼" Lane snapped the phone shut violently and immediately began to retrieve his clothes from the floor where he had haphazardly thrown them down earlier in the throes of lust. Justin watched in stunned surprise as Lane hurriedly thrust his legs into his pants and said to him, "Get up and get dressed – now!"

Justin took careful note when Prescott shoved the cell phone into his pants pocket before he whispered somewhat dazedly to the other man, "What?" unable to comprehend what had just happened. Prescott had mentioned wanting to fuck him all night, and now they were leaving?

"I said – get up NOW‼ We don't have time to waste!" Lane reached down and picked up Justin's clothing which had been lying in a heap next to his own. He threw the pants, briefs and shirt toward Justin as they landed in a heap on top of the mattress. "Get dressed NOW! Don't argue with me or you know what the consequences will be‼"

Justin's breathing hitched; what had just happened? Dare he ask? As he turned in the bed and rose to a sitting position to begin retrieving his clothing to put it on, his curiosity won out over thoughts for his safety as he ventured to ask, "What's going on?"

"You ask too many questions, Justin!" Lane growled as he threw his own shirt on. "Now you can either get dressed before we leave here or you can go naked – I really don't fucking care! But we're leaving in the next 60 seconds, with or without your clothes – your choice‼"

Justin's heart was pounding – they were leaving? He was torn between wanting to leave this place that now held nothing but horrible memories and wanting to stay, because it seemed like the only way anyone could possibly figure out where he was. Thoughts, also, of having to leave without finding his wedding ring immediately rose to his mind. He knew it was just a piece of metal technically that could easily be replaced, a mere symbol of his and Brian's love. But it was his wedding ring, something that stood for so much more than just a material object. It could be replaced with another one someday, but it would never be the same...

As he swung his legs around the side of the bed and began to put his briefs and pants on, he couldn't help whispering to Lane, "My ring….."

Now fully clothed, Lane walked over to stand in front of Justin, his eyes flashing in disbelief, "Forget about the fucking ring‼ You don't need it anymore‼" He roughly pulled Justin to his feet and grabbed him by the upper arms, evoking a cry of pain from his captive. "I don't want to ever hear you mention that fucking ring – or that man's name – ever again! Do you understand?" He glared at Justin, his eyes almost black with jealousy and anger.

Justin refused, however, to respond aloud; he was never going to promise to forget about Brian. He never could and he never would, no matter what this man demanded.

Lane glared at him for a few seconds longer before he released an impatient puff, apparently trying to calm himself, before he let go of Justin and snatched his shirt from the bed. "Now put this on," he said a little more quietly, but his voice was still filled with determination and left no room for argument. "We're leaving."

Justin stared back at Lane as he slid his shirt on, wondering what had just transpired. Whatever had happened, Prescott was definitely not happy about it, and now they were leaving sooner than Prescott had intended. Had someone determined where they were and were they coming after him or Lane? Did that mean that Brian was actually all right and had helped pinpoint his location? But how was that possible if Lane was still holding him somewhere and using his life to keep Justin in line?

Justin knew Lane wouldn't tell him anything, but the last thing he wanted ironically was to leave this place, at least with Prescott. He knew once they left, any hope that they would be found would be virtually impossible. How he longed to know exactly where Brian was, and more importantly, if he was all right. He knew better, though, than to ask Lane – he was getting more hostile each time the subject was broached, and he couldn't risk getting him so upset that he would just tell whoever was holding Brian to get rid of him once and for all. That didn't mean that he couldn't try and stall their departure just a little longer…..

"Justin!" He heard his name roughly called from the other side of the room, noticing with a certain degree of surprise that Lane was standing by the now-opened bedroom door, waiting impatiently for him to join him. "I said, let's go – NOW‼" he snapped, holding out his hand expectedly.

Justin sighed; this was going to be more difficult than he had thought. "Lane," he said softly, "I need to use the bathroom first."

Lane let out an exasperated huff, undecided whether to accede to Justin's request or not. According to his man on the outside, time was extremely critical. From the GPS device he had managed to have hidden in the inside cuff of Brian's pants, the bastard had somehow managed to ascertain where he had been held and was presently within 20 minutes of their location and moving in fast. He just couldn't take the chance. "No," he told Justin decisively. "You're coming NOW – no argument. Now MOVE!"

Justin swallowed the bitter disappointment in his throat as he nodded slightly in resignation and slowly walked toward the doorway. As he came closer, Lane took a few steps and grabbed his hand to secure him firmly to his side as he half-pulled him toward the staircase. Letting go of Justin's hand temporarily, he waited for Justin to take a few steps in front of him before he followed closely behind.

As they reached the landing, he again took hold of the blond's hand to lead him around toward the rear of the hallway until they reached a closed door. "Open it," he told Justin curtly.

As Justin did as he was told, he opened the door to discover they were in a large, three-car garage. Presently, though, there were only two vehicles inside: a nondescript-looking, tan sedan and a medium-sized navy-colored SUV with dark, tinted windows.

Lane grabbed Justin's upper arm and pulled him toward the utility vehicle. Get in!" he barked at the blond, as he used his free hand to open the door and push Justin toward the interior. As Justin reluctantly conformed to the man's demand, he entered the vehicle and noticed there were two large plastic bins in the back, along with a cooler and a fairly-large pile of blankets and pillows. Clearly, Lane (or one of his henchmen) has considered the possibility that he might have to leave suddenly and had already prepared for that contingency.

Justin looked over as Lane entered through the driver's side and promptly locked all the doors with his remote, effectively making Justin a prisoner inside the vehicle. He watched as the older man pushed a button on a remote clipped to the visor and the nearest garage door immediately behind them began to open slowly. He bit his lip in anxiety over this latest event as Lane started the vehicle up and began to back out of the garage.

Despite his worry over Brian, and his fear for his own safety as well, he still felt that Lane wouldn't hurt him. In his twisted, sordid way, the man still apparently felt something for him, or he wouldn't have gone to all this trouble. Bolstered somewhat by that fact, Justin ventured to ask, "Where are we going?"

Lane kept his eyes on the driveway as he backed up in a nearby turnaround and quickly turned the vehicle to begin leaving. "Somewhere safe, Angel," he finally told the blond; now that they were leaving, he knew Brian wouldn't be able to find them now, and he was feeling just a bit more relaxed. He smiled, making Justin's heart drop. "Somewhere where you and I will never be found. Remember, Angel – I will always be here to protect you from harm." He reached over to squeeze Justin's hand in confirmation as the blond tried with extreme difficulty not to snatch his hand away in contempt. He knew it was important he try as much as possible to win this man's confidence, to bide his time until he could plan a way to escape this horror.

To avoid having to look at the other man, Justin turned his head to stare out the window when Lane didn't volunteer any more information; he wished that it was daylight outside, because in the inky darkness it was nearly impossible to make out any distinctive landmarks. He surmised that they must be well out of the city due to the lack of lighting that abounded.

He started slightly when he heard Brian's cell ringing again. He looked over at Prescott, who he noticed was reaching into his right pants pocket to draw Brian's phone out before flipping it open to answer it.

"Yes?" he answered sharply.

Justin wished he could hear the other caller, but all he could make out was a somewhat deep voice that spoke for several seconds before Lane answered. "Good. See that they're entertained so I can get us out of here, or you'll be next on the list."

As he once more snapped the phone shut and again placed it back in his pocket, Lane noticed Justin staring at him. He almost told Justin how persistent his husband was (how he utterly despised that word, especially when it was used to describe Kinney – that bastard didn't deserve his Angel) and that was why they had had to leave so quickly, but he decided not to tell Justin anything about Kinney being alive and apparently all too well. Leaving Justin wondering whether his little hubby was alive and well was the only thing no doubt keeping Justin from bolting from his side; dangling that agonizing possibility over his Angel's head was far more valuable and useful than any weapon would ever be.

Justin let out a sigh before addressing his captor once more. "Lane….how much longer do you think you can keep this up? I'm sure there're all kinds of police looking for you by now. That's why we had to leave, isn't it?"

"That's no concern of yours, Angel," Lane quietly warned him. "You let ME worry about it – I can handle it; I've thought of everything."

Justin pressed his lips together tightly to try and keep the tears of frustration from falling. As the vehicle continued into the blackness of night, he silently hoped with all his heart two things: that Lane hadn't been as careful as he thought he had been and that Brian was alive and well out there, somewhere.


Ten Minutes Later – Monroeville Mansion

As Carl drove up the long, gravel driveway, the entrance was bathed in flashing lights circling on top of numerous police vehicles parked around the perimeter of the residence, providing an eerie backdrop to the night's inkiness. A couple of ambulances, as well as a coroner's van, were also parked nearby

Brian's heart had begun to pound harder and harder the closer they came to the house he had been held captive in only hours before – the same house that the man he loved was being held captive in. It was all he could do to remain in the unmarked police car as Carl drove as quickly as he dared up the driveway toward the front door. Brian's mouth dropped open at the sign of the emergency vehicles parked oustide. God - not Justin...

Just before he would have bolted from the door and ran to the entrance, Carl, as if reading his mind, quickly dashed his hopes of doing so. "Stay in the car," he told an incredulous Brian, who was sitting next to Jennifer, whose eyes were wide with fear as well. Both had insisted on coming with him, even though he was greatly concerned about their safety. It had been all he could do to convince Debbie to stay at home in case by some chance Justin tried to contact them; trying to persuade Justin's mother or worse, Brian, to remain there as well would have been totally futile. Neither was about to stay out of harm's way when Justin's life hung in the balance. He had finally acquiesced only on the stipulation that they had to do what he said without question.

Brian bit back a vehement protest as Carl stopped the car and turned around to repeat, "I said….stay in the car. I need to find out what the situation is first."

"Okay, okay," Brian growled, looking over at Jennifer, who had a tight hold on his hand; he could feel her hand trembling as she, too, waited anxiously for word about her son. "Just fucking hurry, Carl," he pleaded.

Carl nodded as he opened the door and was almost immediately greeted by a uniformed officer standing nearby. Brian and Jennifer both watched intently, hoping desperately that they could read lips to know what Carl was being told. Why was no one seemingly in a hurry? Where were Justin and Prescott?

"Brian," Jennifer whispered, the pain and fear evident in her voice. "What's happening? Why aren't they in there looking for Justin? Brian, what if….."

"Don't fucking say that, Jennifer!" Brian growled at her, turning momentarily to stare at her with angry eyes. "I don't want to hear it, you hear me? He's all right! And he's going to be coming out of there any second‼" He simply refused to consider any other possibility – not Justin. God, please, not Justin….

Jennifer nodded, her tears awash with tears as she silently began to pray for her son's safety. Please, God – not him. Not him…

Brian riveted his attention back onto Carl and the other officer until he saw the two of them break off their conversation. As soon as Carl raised his hand and signaled him to approach him, he was out of the car in seconds, Jennifer following closely behind. He rushed over to Carl breathlessly, anxiously asking the older man, "What's going on? Where's Justin? Carl, where IS he?"

"Brian…."

"What the fuck has he done to him? Where IS he? If he's hurt him, I'll fucking KILL him!" Brian had had enough of everyone's evasiveness; as he turned to rush toward the door, he was stopped cold by Carl's words.

"He's not there, Son – neither of them are." Before Brian had a chance to misinterpet his statement, he hastily explained, "There were three men standing guard outside the house when the officers arrived. Two of them were hurt and one was killed trying to prevent the officers from entering the premises."

"Oh, my God," Jennifer whispered, her face paling in fear. "This IS the right house, isn't it? Justin..."

"Carl grabbed Brian's shoulder as Brian struggled to break free. "Listen to me, Brian‼," He told him. "It probably IS the right house, but they did a thorough search of the entire grounds – and there is NO ONE else here! There's been evidence the house was recently occupied, but there's NO ONE in there!"

Brian stood there, frozen in shock. How was this possible? No, it can't be – no…Justin.

"No," he whispered aloud. "He must be in there! Carl, let me look‼" he insisted, as he wrapped an arm around Jennifer's shoulders when she began to cry, placing her hands over her face in anguish. They had been so close…..so close. And it was all her fault that Justin had been lured here in the first place. She had actually helped this horrible man to find a place to hide her son and now they were gone.

"God….what did I do?" she whispered, her shoulders shaking in torment.

"Jennifer," Carl said sensibly, "If he hadn't found his house, there would have been another one. You can't take responsibility for this crazy fucker."

"Carl, I want to see for myself," Brian insisted, his worries mounting over what happened to his husband, and where he was. "Let me go in there."

Carl hesitated. "They're still going over the entire house for evidence, Brian. I'm not sure that's such a good idea right now."

"You've got to be KIDDING me, Carl!" Brian growled. "I was held as a fucking prisoner inside that house! Let me in there! We need to find Justin!"

"Carl, please," Jennifer interjected, her eyes wide with worry. "Maybe he can notice something that no one else did."

Carl sighed as he finally nodded. "Okay. BUT," he added as Brian made to rush toward the door. "You have to stay with ME. It's important that any potential evidence not be disturbed, you understand?"

Brian breathed out an anxious breath. "Okay, okay," he agreed reluctantly, realizing even in his worried state that Carl was right. Okay - but let's just get IN there!"

Carl turned to Jennifer, his voice a reflection of his concern for her shaky appearance. "I'll get an officer to stay with you," he told her, motioning with his hand for a nearby officer he was familiar with to approach them. As he instructed the man to stay with Justin's mother, he turned to Brian. "Okay, let's go." Brian hurried with him over to the door as Carl verified with a man standing nearby that the doorknob and surrounding frame had already been dusted for fingerprints.

Carl turned the knob and entered the residence, observing a large staircase leading upstairs and numerous rooms congregated on either side of a long hallway. The remnants of a fire could still be smelled in the nearest room to their right as he studiously examined the expansive residence where apparently Prescott had held both Justin and Brian recently.

"Does any of this part look familiar?" Carl asked his companion.

Brian silently shook his head in disappointment. "No," he painfully whispered. "None of it." He couldn't help wondering where Justin had been kept, and where he was now. Was he all right? Was he even still alive? As much as he despised the idea, he actually hoped that Prescott really did care for Justin; that might be the only thing that was presently keeping the man he loved alive.

He glanced up as he noticed a man walking out of the nearby parlor room. "Detective," the man greeted Horvath.

"Jenkins," Carl greeted him. "This is Brian Kinney – I believe he was one of the parties being held here earlier." The other officer nodded silently in acknowledgement at Brian. "It's okay if you speak in front of him – the kidnap victim is his husband."

Carl inquired, "Can you tell me what you've found so far? I was told there was evidence of recent occupation."

Jenkins nodded. "Yes – we found three fires that had been recently constructed – the one upstairs was still burning when we got here. There was also evidence of a dinner that had been prepared earlier in the dining room down there." He pointed down the hallway to a room on the far left.

He rather self-consciously glanced over at Brian before he turned back to Carl to continue. "We also found three rooms upstairs that seemed to have been used recently – the master bedroom and bathroom, along with a another room that was fairly empty – just had a couple of chairs and a table in it."

Brian let out an anguished breath. Another room with a couple of chairs and a table in it. A master bathroom and….bedroom. "Oh, God…"

Carl placed an arm on Brian's shoulder and gave it a squeeze, trying to silently encourage the brunet to focus. "Is forensics collecting evidence upstairs?"

Jenkins nodded. "Yeah…..both rooms, as well a check of all the other ones. Looks like just the two rooms and the bathroom were the only ones used upstairs, though. The boys found some duct tape and a chair set up in the middle of the one fairly empty room."

Brian and Carl looked at each other, both confirming silently that this was, indeed, the house that Prescott had held Brian in to lure him here as bait for Justin.

Jenkins reached in his pocket to retrieve a baggie. "They also found this near the chair, too." He held up an intricately designed copper bracelet for Carl's inspection.

Carl heard Brian gasp next to him and flinch as if he had been punched in the stomach. "God – I didn't realize," he whispered painfully as he turned to clasp his left wrist with his right. "How could I have not noticed?"

"You recognize this, Brian?" Carl asked, noticing the wounded look on his friend's face.

"Yes," Brian managed to verify as he closed his eyes in pain. "It was Justin's wedding present to me." His mind drifted to a different time and place one year ago when Justin had presented him with the unusual, one-of-a-kind bracelet on the island of Mykonos as his wedding gift. The top of the bracelet, which was inscribed with Greek letters, simply stated "loved." He had sworn to Justin at the time that he would never take it off, and he hadn't – not until today. And the worst part of all was that somehow he hadn't even noticed when it had fallen off…..he must have been too worried about his husband. But the knowledge that he had failed to realize he had lost it hurt tremendously. Was this a terrible omen of what was to come? "How could I have not noticed?" he whispered again, almost to himself, almost ashamed of such a blatant oversight.

Carl looked at him sympathetically; he could pretty much figure out just what was going through Brian's head and how much hurt he was feeling at the moment. "Anything else found so far?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Jenkins told him, reaching in his other pocket to retrieve another small plastic baggie. "We found this in the parlor room over there – on the floor."

He regretfully held the bag out to Horvath, whose heart dropped to his stomach as he recognized the familiar symbol of faithfulness and love. "Brian? Son?" he asked gently as he turned to notice that Brian's face had turned white and his eyes had inexplicably begun to fill with tears. "Is this Justin's?"

Brian swallowed the lump of agony in his throat. He knew Justin would never, ever take his wedding ring off; he had had to practically fight tooth and nail to get it in the first place – Brian being the epitome of vacillation when it came to such a firm commitment. No, Justin treasured that ring and he would never willingly remove it. That could only mean one thing – either Prescott had harmed him or he had forced him somehow to take it off.

"Yes," he finally managed to whisper as he noticed Carl still waiting for a reply. "It's his." He closed his eyes, a few tears escaping but he didn't fucking care – he was in too much pain and too worried to care about standing on masculine ceremony. "Carl…we have to find him. We have to find him."

"Did you already dust this for prints?" Carl asked the other man, who nodded. He accepted the baggie from the other officer and, reaching in to retrieve the gleaming band, reached over and gently placed it in Brian's shaking hand. "You take care of this until Justin comes home, okay?" he said.

Brian held his hand out to study the slender band he had placed so lovingly on Justin's hand a year ago today; he didn't have to hold it up to his face to know what the inscription would say inside: For My Prince. He let out a ragged sigh of torment as his long fingers slowly, tightly curled over the band for safekeeping. "I will," he finally whispered to Carl, nodding with just a hint of a smile to indicate his gratitude to the other man for his understanding and inherent optimism.

The sound of another police officer jogging down the steps to greet them made both men look up. Lieutenant Daniels, a forensics unit officer with Horvath's precinct, stopped at the landing to greet his superior. "Carl," he said, nodding somberly.

"Daniels. This is Brian Kinney – we think he was held captive upstairs earlier today. He's already identified a bracelet and ring found here as belonging to him and to the other victim, his husband, Justin Taylor."

Daniels looked somewhat surprised by this unusual disclosure, but remained silent as he nodded in acknowledgment. "Mr. Kinney," he said formally before returning his attention back to Carl. "We dusted the entire recently-occupied rooms for forensic evidence."

Carl nodded. "What did you find?" As the other man seemed to hesitate slightly, Carl told him, "It's all right – I think Brian needs to know what you found. Go ahead."

"You sure?" Daniels pressed the other man, knowing that what he was about to say would not be pleasant.

Carl frowned, not liking the other man's reluctance but still feeling it was vital to their case that Brian know everything. "Yeah – go ahead."

As Jenkins and Horvath stood next to Brian, Daniels nodded and proceeded with his preliminary report. "Some of my men are still going over the rest of the house," he told them. "But we've finished our search of the two main rooms and bathroom upstairs that appeared to be used recently. We found some hair and saliva samples in the bathroom, where there was evidence of someone showering, along with some towels that were still damp."

He lowered his voice as if it might blunt his next statement, but he knew it wouldn't, not if he was reading the expression on Kinney's face properly – from the look of agony on the brunet man's face, this man was already in a lot of emotional pain. What he was about to say was only going to make it worse.

He forced himself to look straight at Carl as he softly disclosed, "We found evidence in a garbage can in the master bedroom of recent sexual activity – there was a condom and wrapper collected for evidence. It's been taken to the lab already. We also collected the bedding on the mattress in the master bedroom for further analysis as well. We should have those results back sometime tomorrow, due to the urgency of the situation."

Carl let out a rush of air at that revelation; he couldn't say it surprised him, but he was somehow hoping that Prescott's fascination with Justin hadn't yet progressed to that stage. As he looked over at Brian, though, he knew he was thinking the exact same thing. Brian looked as if someone had just punched him in the gut; his face was contorted in a mixture of pain and fury, while his lips were pursed tightly together. His eyes had darkened almost to a deep shade of black and the breathing out of his nose was rapid and ragged as his fingers tightened even further over Justin's wedding band clenched in his hand. Carl noticed with concern that Brian's fingers were turning white from the force of his grasp, the fingernails jabbing into his palm as if it could somehow blunt his pain.

"Brian….." Carl began, but he really had no idea what to say. How do you attempt to pacify someone who had just learned his husband had been raped by another man? Because he knew Justin – there was no doubt whatsoever that that was exactly what it had been – Justin loved Brian deeply and he would never willingly have sexual contact with any other man, not with the way he idolized him.

"That'll be all, guys – get back to work, okay?" Carl said to the two officers, who silently nodded and left him and Brian relatively alone at the bottom of the steps. "Brian…." Carl began again, reaching out a hand to try and place it on Brian's lower arm in sympathy.

But Brian angrily snatched his arm out of the other man's reach. "He's dead, Carl!" he initially replied with ominous quiet, finally coming out of his relative comatose state. His voice rose quickly as his face turned a dark shade of angry red. "He is fucking DEAD! I will rip his arms out of their sockets, and pull out his balls and dick so hard he'll never be able to fuck so much as a cockroach‼ I won't stop until that monster is DEAD, do you understand?" Still tightly holding onto Justin's ring, he ran his free hand through his hair in nervous, pent-up frustration and anxiety. "He's DEAD," he repeated more quietly now, the reality hitting him. He knew until they could find Justin, he could do nothing about Prescott. "Justin," he whispered almost to himself. "God…Justin." Justin was in danger, and probably terrified out of his mind...and all because of him.

As Brian stood there helplessly, he slowly opened his palm to finger the delicate band with his other hand, trying somehow to send telepathic word to Justin that he wouldn't stop until he found him.

"We'll find him," he heard Carl vow then with quiet fury as he finally placed a hand on Brian's bicep. "And then you'll have to take a fucking number and get in line."