Erin slams her hand down hard onto the dashboard of the 300. Atwater looks at her out of the corner of his eye, not believing safe to engage her in conversation just yet. Her bonded omega has just been driven away, bound, by a serial killer. To say her anger levels were soaring would be an understatement, and he didn't want to get in her range of fire. He knew that when it came to the relationship between Lindsay and Halstead, they were both fearless and quick to protect one another.

"Fuckin' Halstead!" Lindsay's use of Jay's surname was loaded with pain and anger, and Atwater knew that it wouldn't be long before she was tearing strips from Voight or letting Jay get out of the car and be taken by Duns.

"We got a tracker on him, right?" Atwater asks, trying to remind Lindsay that they planned for this, and all was not yet lost.

Lindsay put her face in her hands for a couple of seconds, trying to press the tension headache that was quickly developing into submission. She hadn't wanted to believe that they were going to use the trackers that they had planted on Jay. "Yeah, a couple."

Lindsay's phone begins to ring, and looking at the display, answering when she sees that it's Olinsky calling her, from his position on a rooftop nearby. She knows that he would be the last one with visuals on Jay, and she needed to know how he was. She was also hoping that Olinsky might say that Jay had gotten away, that he'd fought back and wasn't currently in the back of a serial killer's van.

"You got eyes, Al?" She doesn't mess around with pleasantries, too much was at stake.

"They're heading further South, Voight and Antonio are already tailing them at a distance, follow them until we can get and updated location from Mouse."

Lindsay nods her head and motions to Atwater to follow Voight's car, which they can see in the distance.

"Did you see him get in the van?" She knows that Olinsky would have watched Duns take Jay and she needed to know how he was. She was also hoping that Olinsky would tell her that Jay had gotten away. She still considered that best case scenario, and she pushed the guilt that she felt when she thought about those two omegas down. Her primary objective was keeping her mate safe, being a detective came second to that, and always would.

Olinsky pauses for a second. "Yeah. He's chained up in the back, so don't ram'em if you do catch up. He'll be fine." He tries to reassure her before ending the call, so that he can start to pack up the rifle and other surveillance gear into his go bag. He had a feeling that they would be needing all hands on deck before long.

Lindsay checks that her gun is still on her hip – she's already imagining how it's going to feel to slot this son of a bitch. There was no way she was going to let anyone else end this bastard. She owned Dun's death just as much as she owned Jay's life. She thumbs up Mouse's cell phone, and hopes that he's got eyes on, or at least a location for Jay and Duns.

She feels reassured when the first thing that he says to her is that all four trackers are currently transmitting Jay's location, the signal clear as day, and they can pinpoint Jay's location to under a hundred feet.

"Okay Mouse. Keep me updated on what's happening. We need to get this bastard."

Atwater steers the car towards the intersection and is glad that Voight had told Lindsay that she needed to be in the passenger seat. The reasoning had been that they needed her to be mobile – able to get to Jay as quickly as possible if things at the meet had gone wrong. Now Kevin is wondering if somehow the Sergeant had foreseen things going tits-up and hadn't wanted a distraught and angry Lindsay playing demolition derby on the streets of Chicago. She was a great tactical driver, but he knew that her driving abilities would have become significantly more aggressive in this current situation.

Jay had known as soon as the collar had clicked shut around his neck and his hands were bound behind his back that there was no easy way of getting out of this situation until Duns released him. This didn't bother him too much as he was the Trojan horse – he wanted Duns to bring him into his house where he could then rescue the captured omegas. The idea that they were in for a life of rape and torture before their gruesome deaths added to his resolve, and he would do what it takes to save them.

He could feel that his body was overheating – the sweat dripping from him and the dampness in the seat of his sweatpants. His heat was starting to hit him hard now, and he wanted to rub his dick against the van floor, but he shakes his head to try and clear those impulses from his mind. It reminded him of his time in Afghanistan when he'd been humping Mouse's leg and avoiding the snipers hunting them down. Once again, he was going to be going through his heat and demanding more of his body than he knows he should. Once this is over, he's going to demand a long weekend off, and steal Erin away to the cabin. As inappropriate as it is, just the thought of his mate arouses him, and he feels more lubricant trying to escape his body.

Jay is jolted from his thoughts when Duns hits the breaks, his body being pushed forward against the collar, which is attached to the metal ring in the floor. For a couple of seconds all the air is forced from his lungs and he can't get another breath in. The van comes to a complete stop, and he manages to drag in a deep breath and then the light-headedness hits him. The collar had just locked him in a sleeper choke hold. He thinks back to his training, knowing that there is something else important to remember about that side of the neck. Something the instructors had continually warned all the troopers about. All his memories of his military training flood back, all the hand to hand instruction seems to be coming to him like he's watching a series of fucked up kung-fu movies, and he can't remember what's correct and what's fiction – artistic license of his oxygen starved brain.

It then hits him – if Duns slams the breaks on too hard, he might get flipped forward. With his hands restrained behind his back, he wouldn't be able to brace himself from snapping forward too much. The force and angle would be just right to snap his neck, leaving those two omegas in even more danger.

His new priority is to flip himself over onto his back, to twist his neck in the tight metal collar enough so he can use his hands on the metal floor of the truck to somewhat stabilise himself. If he was on his back, Duns breaking hard wouldn't be a life ending situation.

Olinsky watches the van break and turn right at the intersection, leaving his field of vision. He's lying on top of a building three doors down from the warehouse, everything but the scope packed away so that he could bail as soon as he lost visual. He had an open line to the rest of intelligence and Mouse stuffed in his ear canal.

"Just turned right, and I've lost visual. Mouse, you still got him?"

"Affirmative. All trackers working. He'd heading east. Voight's catching up." Mouse's voice is tight but controlled, and it reminds Alvin that Jay's best friend is a battle experienced soldier too. He wouldn't be at panic stations yet. He'd wait until this ordeal is over. Al thinks that once Jay is back home where he belongs, he should take a bottle of red to Mouse's place just to check on the younger man. He had the feeling that today's events would be bringing bad memories to the forefront of the ex-Ranger's mind.

"I'm gonna get down stairs, Ruzek, get the car running." He picks up his go bag and the rifle case, being careful not to bang the case against anything, lest he de-calibrates the rifle. That would be a sure way of pissing Halstead off when they got back. Incorrectly handled weapons was one of Jay's buzurk buttons, he'd delivered a ten minute lecture to Antonio after the senior detective had stowed a pistol down the front of his pants. His lecture had included detailed description of the man's penis being shot off, and Halstead had driven the point home by drawing a diagram of the angles of fire on the whiteboard, showing that the average man – say 5 inches – was in danger of unplanned circumcision from unplanned fire. He had wanted to laugh at the shocked and pale faces of the male members of their team, and he hadn't broken Halstead's safety warnings by telling the guys that he'd received the exact same lecture in boot camp – it was a common weapon safety fear tactic, and Halstead had delivered it better than anyone he had heard before.

"Roger." He can hear Mouse typing away while responding.

As he is running down the stairs as quick as he can, he is glad that he no longer has to run up and down high-rises as often as he used to. He and Voight now got the privilege of turning up after the perps had been chased down, leaving a lot of the legwork to the younger Detectives and officers.

He carefully places the gun in the boot, checks that his own pistol is on his hip and then joins in the chase. He hopes that they get there before things go to complete shit.

The van comes to an abrupt stop, and as Jay's body moves upwards against the cold metal floor, he is glad he'd managed to turn around, knowing that he would be dead if he had remained in the position Duns had left him in. His throat feels raw, and he knows that he's at least bruised his neck turning his head in the metal restraint. Collars were certainly now on his no-go list. He hoped it wasn't it wasn't come kink of Erin's that he'd yet to discover. Some Alphas really did have a thing for restrictive neck-wear, and up to this point in his life, the idea hadn't disgusted him.

He can still hear the sounds of traffic passing them by, so he assumes they have stopped in a parking lot or on the side of the road somewhere. He calls out for help, even though he knows that it probably won't be heard, but he knows that Duns would expect his prisoner to be screaming for help. In reality he was content to rely on the trackers that were secreted all over, and inside, his body.

The back doors of the van fly open and Jay blinks against the streetlight that floods the van. It hadn't seemed dark in the back until he could contrast it with the light flooding in now. He can see the silhouette of Duns, and when the killer steps up into the van and shuts the door behind him, Jay can see that he's holding a wicked looking serrated knife.

Although Jay is still biding his time, he scales down the likely percentage chance of him surviving this if Intelligence don't come to his aid. The man is armed with a knife, while Jay is restrained and sinking into one of the harshest heats he can remember. Duns steps closer, and Jay can't hide the flinch that ticks his body. The glee in Duns' eyes is horrifying and makes Jay's skin crawl. He feels for all the other omegas who have been in his place before him. It would have been so much worse for them.

The other man laughs at him. "So, now you know how fucked you are. But I don't trust that cop any further than I could throw him." Duns runs the knife down Jay's cheek, just hard enough that a red line appears.

Jay knows he has to continue to play his role. "Please, please let me go!" He moves his face away from the knife as much as the collar will allow, but all that does is bump his head against Duns' knee. He jerks his body back in the other direction, and feels the blade cut deeper into his cheek.

"Oh bitch, how prettily you beg. I can't wait to have you." He reaches down and grabs Halstead's shoes, pulling them off one by one. He then unbuttons Jay's jeans and laughs when Jay starts to struggle, trying to wriggle away from the hands that are pulling the denim down his legs. "It's okay, pet. I've just got to strip you off, you know, for our security."

The feeling of being a victim in this whole game is raised when Duns' fondles Jay through the fabric of his underwear. For a second, he thinks that means he will be able to keep the cotton shorts, but then that knife comes down and Jay freezes as Duns cuts the fabric, pulling the fabric away from his body. He just wants to curl up and protect his modest, to avoid the gleeful gaze of this monster, but there is no way he can get away.

The knife returns and cuts at the black fabric of his tee-shirt, and Duns pauses when he sees exactly how muscular his latest catch is. Definitely not one of those children he has back home. Now that Jay is naked, he can smell the slick, the ripe scent of omega on heat, and it excites the unhinged Alpha even more. He had to ignore his own desires, and his growing erection because he knows that it is safer to have the bitch back at his house.

"No one can hear your cries for help, slut. But if you keep annoying me, I'll be forced to gag you." He holds up a gag, a large red ball type one that Halstead is sure would look ridiculous and probably wouldn't fit in his mouth. "Don't make me that angry, okay?"

Jay nods, and Duns smiles when he sees the tears streaking down the other man's face, and the sheen of sweat that is making his body glow. His erection is as hard as it has ever been, this combination of omega scent, power and the visuals. The quicker he gets home, the better.

Duns takes the clothes and throws them into a trashcan in the parking lot. He had a feeling that the cop might have put a bug or tracker on the bitch – he would be able to take Duns money and then resell the omega if he killed Duns. He might be paranoid, but he didn't want to take the chance.

Getting back into the driver's seat of the van, he smiles and fondles himself when he hears the faint sound of the omega trying to escape his restraints in the back of the van. No one could see into the back, but he wanted to get his latest prize home before too late. Plus, he knew that he was about to enter the range of his signal blocker – which meant he would be as safe as houses.

Mouse was watching the three trackers stay stationary while the fourth, the internal, started moving again. The bastard had most likely stripped Jay and dumped his clothes. That meant that the killer was anticipating that this could be a trap, or he had very strict security procedures. Jay being stripped naked did worry him, but as long as the tracker was moving, he knew that he was likely safe. It was hard to rape or torture someone while driving, it was when that tracker stopped that he would need the team to move in quickly. Jay could survive some nudity – he knew that as part of anti-interrogation training both he and Jay had been stripped naked and tortured. His friend would be worried, and scared, but he could deal with this. He would have to deal with this.

"Guys, Duns has dumped the three trackers – he must have found them, or stripped Jay off just in case."

He can hear the tension in Voight's voice. "Fuck. Do we have any idea where he might be headed?"

Mouse feels bad for all of half a second about not telling the Sergeant that he had planted an internal tracker on Jay. "I'm still tracking him using a tracker he swallowed."

The lines go dead as everyone comprehends that Mouse had been hiding some technological equipment from the CPD.

"You can check out the parking lot where he dumped the other trackers, if you want, but I assume you will just find his clothes and shoes." He provides the address of the parking lot, but rightly guesses that no one is interested in going somewhere that they knew Jay isn't.

"He's still headed east, on the same street. You guys are less than a mile from him, and are maintaining that distance."

Voight roughly responds. "Mouse, keep an eye on him. Olinsky? Have you caught up?"

"We're right on your tail, boss." Ruzek answers for his mentor.

"Lindsay? Are you and Atwater still with us?"

"We're on the parallel road, just south of the one he's on, just in case we need to cut him off." Lindsay checks the map on her tablet. "We're just ahead of him, and if you need us to, we can be on him in minutes."

Voight can hear the steel in her voice. She would want nothing more at this moment than to torture and kill the man holding her mate, but it was too risky to get into a car chase with Jay in the back of the van. They didn't know if he was properly secured – he might fly through the front of the van if the rammed it. "We stick to the game plan. We let Duns take him to his lair, and then we take him"

"Yes boss." Hank is glad to hear the restraint in her voice, she was managing to keep it together despite the massive pressure she was under. He knew how much of a struggle that must be.

Mouse keeps his eyes trained on the GPS co-ordinates flashing up on the screen, transmissions from Jay's tracker. He liked to think about the little pill navigating around Jay's cast iron stomach, battling against the pizza, burgers and coffee that appeared to be the staples of his friend's diet.

The tracking device wasn't as easy to keep tabs on as the movies made it seem. Even the tech that PD issued them looked slicker, what with the location being projected onto a map of the city for ease of tracking and a topographic map just in case the tagged item or person went off road.

The tracking pills he'd stolen – of which he had three more just like the one currently making its way through Jay's digestive system – transmitted encrypted strings of GPS coordinates. They weren't automatically grafted onto a map, so they were harder to use. The pills were designed to be used in the Middle East, Africa or on the open ocean, where street maps or topographic maps were practically useless. Giant sandstorms worked their way across the ME on a weekly basis, meaning a topographic map was greatly changed in the course of a month or two. Most of the army units that received the coordinates were more familiar with GPS navigation anyway. Oftentimes the tracker's location was transmitted to a drone or fast air, and a location described with a street number and suburb was pointless to those machines, they certainly didn't consult a road map. They would direct their rockets, guided missiles and bombs using the GPS coordinates.

He'd contented himself to just watching the coordinates flash up on the screen, the pattern, the change in numbers soothing him – Jay was still on the move, heading east. He was waiting for the tracker to transmit the same numbers twice, then a third time – and then he'd wait for the numbers to remain stationary a few minutes longer. So far, he'd had a couple false locations because the van had stopped at traffic lights or stop signs, so he was making himself wait until the same string of numbers filled his whole screen – the equivalent of being stationary for three minutes. Then it would only take a few more seconds for him to translate that information into an actual street address, and then bingo – the troops get Jay out. He'd made sure they were staying within a mile radius of the tracker, and he'd familiarised himself with the longitudinal and latitudinal numbers he could expect from different locations.

Mouse reaches for his mug of coffee, his eyes not leaving the stream of numbers on the screen, still changing. It's soothing, being able to track Jay's location, provide some level of support, despite the fact he wasn't carrying a rifle and standing at Halstead's back. A shiver passes down his spine at the thought of being back in combat, and his eyes close for a second, only a second, to try and clear the phantom feeling of a rifle in his hands from his memory.

When his eyes flick open – the worst has happened. The feed has died. There's no new numbers being transmitted from the tracker. But it's not just the same numbers repeating either – the tracker has stopped transmitting and he only has a generalised location for his best friend's location, not a street address, or a GPS co-ordinate.

It dawns on Mouse that he's once again failed his best friend. He's lost the signal. Jay's alone with Duns and Mouse doesn't know where they are

The stress that everyone is feeling is amplified when they hear Mouse's voice, high and worried for the first time that night. "Guys… I've lost the tracker."

Erin's voice is raised. "What do you mean you've lost it? They've stopped?" Her hand reaches back down to check that her gun is still in its holster, thinking that she's closer to getting her mate back.

Mouse's response is timid. "Uh… no, Erin. As in, I'm not receiving a signal from it anymore. If they stopped I'd still be receiving the signal. It's either malfunctioned, with is very unlikely, or they are passing through a military grade signal blocker." He pauses for effect, "And, uh… they're not easy to get your hands on."

"So the signal could just pop up again when they have passed through the jammer?" Olinsky knows that this is best case scenario, but he wants Erin to be thinking that it's the likely situation.

"Yes. Stop up near that mall complex, that's where we lost the signal. I'll let you all know if the signal comes back online."

Erin sounds livid. "And in the meantime, Mouse? What the fuck do we do in the meantime?"

"Wait. And look for the van?"

Erin's groan of annoyance grows into a scream of rage.

"Fucking delicious." Duns turns around to study the omega struggling in the back.

Jay knows that each wave of fear or panic that he feels sends his pheromones skyrocketing. His fear pheromones screamed to Alphas that they needed to protect him, claim him and keep him safe from all other Alphas. It was part of the possessive drive of Alphas, and was triggered by fear pheromones. His body was basically begging to be claimed, and it was only arousing the man in the front seat more. Not a good thing when Jay knows that riling Duns would only lead to him being assaulted faster, leaving him with less time to get himself out of this mess. That's assuming he could get himself safe. The calmer he could keep Duns, the longer Erin and the rest of Intelligence would have to storm the house and get him back. He knew she would be coming. He knew she'd be pissed. It would take a true act of God to stop her.

From the front seat he hears a beep and then the sounds of a roller door opening. They are idling in a driveway, and Jay feels the adrenaline course through him. It would be all over in minutes – Intelligence would come bursting through the door and take Duns down. He felt a couple of seconds of embarrassment thinking about the state that his colleagues were going to find him – naked and chained up – but that was much better than being with Duns any longer than necessary.

The van moves forward slowly, and Jay assumes they've come to a stop in the garage of a house. He hears another beep – and then the roller door closing once again. The van wouldn't be visible from the street. He stamps down on the flood of fear he feels. He's going to be fine. He is going to get out of this. Erin is coming.

The front door of the van opens and he hears Duns making his way to the back of the van – he's scratching his fingernails along the side of the vehicle, and it's such an intimidating sound that Jay hates this man even more. Duns is doing everything he can to put his victim off balance and afraid. He'll play along, knowing that the only chance he has is to keep Duns thinking that he had all the power.

As soon as the door is opened, Jay starts pleading to be let go. He offers the serial killer money, he even offers to have sex with him, as long as he can then go home. As his mouth is going a mile a minute, he is taking in every detail of the room he is being debussed into. He had been trained to be perceptive and notice detail and he forces himself to concentrate. He starts to think of his situation not as a Detective would, but more how a Ranger would. This was becoming a classic case of escape and evasion – and he had a distinct advantage to what a soldier normally did – Duns had no idea that he was an ex-soldier or cop.

The garage is cold, but that works in Jay's favour, bringing his body temperature down a little further, allowing him to analytically consider his situation. He needed to wait for rescue, which he knew was coming. In the meantime, he needed to keep Duns pacified and thinking that everything was going his way. He needed to protect the two other omegas on the property – he could smell them now he was out of the van. Intelligence would be coming, and he'd been trained to withstand torture – he knew all the mental and physical tricks to get himself through this.

Duns grabs a pole from the wall, the type dog catchers use to control violent and nasty dogs, and hooks it to the collar around his neck. Jay's slightly impressed, but more worried, at the amount of thought and order than Duns has put into his kidnapping routine. Duns only then releases the collar from the van floor and then pushes Jay into the house, keeping him a fair distance in front.

All of Jay's plans of waiting for rescue, of everything going to plan is ruined when he notices the metal box, painted army green, about the side of a printer, lying on the table. Recognising the military grade signal blocker from his time in spec ops, he knows that intelligence would have no way of knowing where he is.

Duns' face lights up when he sees the crestfallen expression on his captive's face. "You know exactly what that is, don't you, Detective Halstead?"

At that point, hearing this serial killer call him by title and name, he knows he's screwed. He'd about to be raped and likely killed. This has all been a set up. Someone has either leaked details of their sting, or more likely, they had walked straight into a trap.

"Dr. Daniels says hello." Duns giggles at the horrified look on the Detective's beautiful face.