Hello, everyone. Well, here we are. The second last chapter. My God. It has been a journey and a half. I would like to thank everyone again for supporting me. This story has been challenging in many aspects. I couldn't have done it without you. So, this chapter. . . Where do I begin? I got angry at myself while writing it. There are some events that might make you want to throw your electronics at the wall. Please don't. They're expensive. In the story's description, I mentioned disturbing content. That pertains to this chapter and the next. I will also warn you that there are acts of a sexual nature in this chapter. DON'T LIKE IT? DON'T READ IT. For those of you who want to give up hope at the end of this chapter, I ask you to trust me. As a side note, I was listening to "Love Me Like You Do" by Ellie Goulding during a particular scene (you'll know when you read it. Cuteness in the kitchen!) It's not particularly the song I had in mind for the scene, but it made me all warm and fuzzy as I pictured the event while I listened. Please don't hate me too much after this chapter! I wish you all the best!

"Get off of me!"

I struggled into wakefulness and threw off the covers, stumbling over my own feet as I tore down the hallway to Alec's room. The lamp was still on, illuminating Alec's thrashing body with frightening clarity. He alternated between flailing his limbs and curling into a tight ball, but his body never stopped shaking. His hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat.

"Get off!" he shouted, kicking out with his legs. "It hurts!"

I hurried to the side of the bed and reached for Alec's shoulder, calling out his name. He knocked my hand away and, keeping his eyes clenched shut, rolled onto his stomach. He raised himself onto elbows and knees and began rocking forward and back. Watching him brought the acrid taste of bile to my throat. Leaning over, I tried to get a grip on him to flip him over.

Alec fought against me. "Stop! You're hurting me!"

With a curse, I climbed onto the bed and grabbed Alec's shoulders. The terror- and pain-filled scream that ripped from his throat pierced my heart, but I managed to roll him over and pin his arms to the bed. His back arched and his legs thrashed wildly.

"Alec!" I shouted. "Wake up!"

His blue eyes suddenly snapped open. I pressed more of my weight onto him as he continued to fight me, but after a moment his body went still. I released his wrists and studied him carefully. His skin was pale except for the dark splotches under his eyes. His eyes were dull and pink, betraying his exhaustion. He started to say my name, but a sob choked him halfway through. I pulled him against me as his arms wove around my neck, tight enough to steal my breath away. All I could do was rock him back and forth and whisper into his ear until morning light broke through the night sky, but not even that was enough. It never had been.

Alec shuffled from Clary's office with an empty expression. His eyes were vacant and his able-bodied, healing glow had been exchanged for a gaunt, slouched gloom. The receptionist watched him with sympathetic eyes as he trudged into the waiting area and sat in the chair next to me.

"Magnus," Clary waved her hand, "come on back."

Rising from my chair, I unzipped my hoodie and let it slide down my arms. Alec looked up at me when I draped the warm material across his shoulders, but he did not return my smile. Wordlessly, I turned and followed Dr. Fray into her office. She closed the door and seated herself not behind her desk, but in a chair across from me. She kicked one knee over the other and placed her notebook in her lap, her pen poised for writing.

"I'm glad you made an appointment to see me," Clary said.

I nodded, not daring to admit how desperate and relieved I'd been when she'd been able to sneak me into her schedule. It had been six days since Alec had gotten a decent night's sleep, and his appetite was non-existent. He was fading away, decomposing into a hollow shell of himself, and I was struggling to help him. I barely slept, myself. I contemplated the mass of my situation during the sleepless nights, how deep I was in over my head. Fatigue had diluted my ponderings into considerations for sending Alec away. Indeed, my deprivation had turned me selfish.

"What are you feeling right now, Magnus?"

I stared at the floor. "Powerlessness."

"Why do you feel powerless?"

"Because I don't know how to help him. He doesn't eat, he doesn't sleep. When he does doze off, he has these nightmares where he screams and fights. It's tearing me apart to see him like this."

Clary referred to her notes. "What do you believe triggered Alec's relapse?"

I met her green eyes. "The murder of Jordan Kyle and Simon Lewis."

"Were different options and extra support not offered to you following those tragic circumstances?"

"It was suggested that Alec be placed in Witness Protection. I refused."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to scare Alec further by uprooting his life and relocating him."

"Why didn't you ask for another stand-in guardian for Alec? Someone to take care of him and give you a break from time to time."

"I feel that I know Alec best. He's still very timid around strangers, and I don't want him to feel as though he's such a burden that I need a break from him. Besides, the less people we have hovering around him, the less attention we draw to ourselves."

Clary tilted her head. "Is that in reference to the abductors still at large?"

"I just want to keep him safe."

"Have you reconsidered putting him into Witness Protection?"

My answer was instant. "Absolutely not." Clary jotted something in her notebook and I narrowed my eyes. "You disagree?"

"Who are you trying to keep safe, Magnus?" When I did not answer, she said, "Let me rephrase the question. Do you think there is a part of your mind that has been corroded by your feelings for Alec?"

"You think I'm intentionally putting Alec in danger?"

"Of course not. I'm just speculating that maybe your affection for Alec has rendered your judgement impaired."

I straightened in my chair. "I don't have that kind of affection for him."

Clary set her pen down and clasped her hands in her lap, steadily holding my gaze. "Mr. Bane, my profession does not end with me listening to my clients' stories. I am a studious person. I can read the pauses between a person's words. I can decipher the twitch of a finger, the crinkle of an eye, the tap of a toe. You can sit here and deny my statement for as long as you like, but I was not named top of my class for nothing. Being an idiot is not in my job description, and even an idiot could see how you really feel about that exceptional young man."

I moved to get out of my chair. "Alec probably needs me—"

"Aline will take care of him," Clary interrupted. "I told Alec she's an avid tic-tac-toe player. He'll be fine for a little while longer." She smiled courteously when I sat back down, and asked, "Have you told anyone of your feelings for Alec?"

"No," I said.

"Why not?" Sensing my hesitation, she added, "I've sworn an oath of confidentiality, Magnus. You can tell me."

I paused before whispering, "I'm scared they'll take him away."

"Alec's abductors?"

"No. The police."

"You're afraid they'll see you as compromised and remove Alec from your custody." Clary paused in thought. "Are you worried that will damage your reputation?"

Too tired to glare, I only locked gazes with her. "Alec reminds me a lot of myself when I was younger. Have I developed feelings for him? Yes. But my intentions right now are solely to help him. I want to see him healthy and happy, even if that means him walking away from me in the end. I can't let my last memory of him be a couple of cops dragging him away to WitPro while he's still terrified and broken. I need to know that he turns out to be just fine. Because if he heals, I know I will, too."

The sharpening of the epiphany flared in Clary's eyes. "You're healing yourself through Alec."

"It was working. . . up until a few days ago."

Clary flipped through her notebook. "I see Dr. Loss prescribed Alec some sleeping pills. I'd recommend giving him adequate dosages of those. If you want to avoid medication, you'll just have to be patient. Alec will become exhausted enough that he will sleep. I would try fitting in routine naps around noon. As for his appetite, if you've already tried using his favorite foods, switch to smaller portioned meals. Nothing too extravagant. Stick to foods he can eat with his hands."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"I would advise you to admit Alec to the hospital where he can receive sustenance through tubes and IVs."

"I won't let that happen."

Clary said nothing, only watched me as I rose from my chair, made for the door, and closed it resolutely behind me.

"No!"

The scream resounded below me, startling me awake. Alec was no longer beside me as he had been when I'd dozed off. Rolling off the bed, I dropped to my knees and looked underneath. Alec was ensnared in another nightmare, thrashing about in the confined space. I reached my arm to try and grab him but he was too far away. When I tried to wriggle closer, my body throbbed from over-extension and the pressure of the bed digging into me.

On his back, Alec suddenly pressed his palms against the bed. The lean muscles in his arms strained as he pushed upward, as if he were trying to lift the bed off him. . . as if he were trying to push a person off him. He clamped his thighs together and bent his knees, bucking, trying to shake off his unseen attacker.

Seeing no other choice, I scrambled to the foot of the bed and reached underneath. I found Alec's foot and clamped my fingers around his ankle. He screamed, kicking out and twisting in my grip. I quickened my efforts to try and pull him out so he wouldn't hurt himself in the tight enclosure. Alec flipped onto his stomach and nearly broke free, but I readjusted my grip and continued dragging him toward me.

"No no no! Don't! Please!" Alec cried. His skin squealed against the floor as he scrabbled for purchase.

Finally I pulled Alec free from under the bed. The moment I reached for him was the same moment he rolled onto his side, swinging out with his hand. His knuckles hit my jaw in a firm backhand. My head moved with the force of the blow and a pained grunt left my lips. My grip on Alec slackened, but he was no longer struggling against me. He was staring up at me, his eyes wide and bleary. He looked back and forth between me and his hand, trying to piece together what had happened.

"Magnus, did—"

"It's okay." I helped him sit up. "You were having a nightmare."

He reached for my face. "I hit you."

I leaned away from his touch and pressed my own fingers to the warm ache in my jaw. The swing had no doubt left a red mark as evidence. "No you didn't," I lied.

"Yes I did." His voice wavered. "I hurt you."

"No, Alec."

His eyes glimmered as he tentatively pressed his hand against my cheek. Clasping his wrist, I turned my face and gently kissed his palm. Alec leaned forward to rest his forehead against my chest. I tucked his head under my chin and rubbed my hand up and down his back, soothing him.

It had been difficult enough trying to get Alec to go to sleep, but now, with him thinking his nightmares endangered me, it was going to be hell.

The fork scraped against the bowl as I emptied the last of my salad into the garbage. Alec's untouched plate sat on the counter, the sandwich staring back at me mockingly. My phone was already blasting music from my playlist, but I turned on the tap anyway to cover the heaviness of my defeated sigh. After disposing of the sandwich, I placed the dishes in the sink. My fingers curled around the stainless steel edge and I leaned forward, closing my eyes against the burning sensation that threatened tears. I drew in breath after breath through my nose, willing the rising panic to recede back into a state of calm. Minutes passed before I finally turned off the tap. I let the music flood my ears and flow through me.

Subconsciously, I began to sway. I rolled my neck, loosening up. My bare feet began to slap against the floor in rhythm with the beat. My head followed suit, bopping and bobbing. With my eyes still closed, I moved my arms and swung my hips. The music cheered me on. I threw my head back and spun, losing myself. My shoulders rolled, lifting and dropping fluidly like waves. I threw up my arms and launched into a double turn—

I stopped short when my eyes opened and found Alec watching me. His arms were crossed, hugging himself. He glanced at my phone, still spewing music from the counter. Arms still folded, he stepped into the kitchen. Then, to my utter astonishment, he started swaying from side to side, feeling for the beat with his body. His shoulders found the tempo and he offered me a shy smile.

I extended my hands and Alec uncrossed his arms to take them. Clasping his fingers, I pushed one hand and pulled the other, twisting his body. Alec's smile broadened as I repeated the movement, pushing and pulling opposite hands every time. He laughed when I released one hand and spun him in a circle. I bumped my hip against his, laughing along with him. Then, to match the grand crescendo signalling the end of the song, I placed my hands on Alec's hips and lifted him, gazing up into his eyes as I spun us around. Alec's feet dangled in the air, his toes pointed as they waited to meet the floor again. As the final note struck, I set Alec down and pulled him against me. His hands fisted in the back of my shirt. He turned his head, angling his face so he could press his lips to mine. I breathed in the scent of him as I kissed him, breathed in the comfort that he offered. He pulled away just enough to let me rest my forehead against his.

"Alec," I whispered, "you know I care about you, right?"

"More than I deserve," he whispered back.

I kissed him again softly. "I know you've got a lot of emotions swarming you right now, but I need you to try and push them away for a minute. I want your pain to go away more than anything; I want to help you. But for me to help you, I need you to help me."

"I'll do anything."

I nodded, shaking Alec's hair. "Right now, I just need you to eat something. Anything. Please."

Alec paused. "Anything?"

I pulled back from him and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Anything."

He bit his lip, sending my heart into a flutter. "Maybe a milkshake?"

A choice that was both delicious and loaded with calories. How could I argue? I winked at him. "Coming right up. You go watch TV. I'll make it for you."

Alec smiled and made for the living room. I replayed the image of him dancing as I tucked my phone into my pocket and wandered around the kitchen, pulling all the required ingredients and utensils. As I poured the components into the blender, I paused before mixing them. Quietly, I crossed the floor and reached for the tallest cupboard. I pulled a small container of pills and stared at the label. I knew if I mixed them with Alec's drink without his permission, I would be betraying his trust. But he needed food and sleep. This would be like killing two birds with one stone. I wouldn't use enough to knock him out completely; just enough to make him drowsy. Very carefully, so as to not make much noise, I pulled a capsule from the container and dropped it into the blender. As the machine whirred loudly, I replaced the container in the cupboard. I pushed away the feeling of being a devious and wretched snake as I poured the milkshake into a glass.

Alec was curled up on the sofa watching cartoons. He scooted over when I appeared, offering me a seat. I handed him the glass and sat next to him, watching from the corner of my eye as he took a tiny sip.

He smiled. "Thank you. It's really good."

I smiled back and reclined into the sofa. He did not guzzle the drink as I had hoped, but he did drink from the glass steadily until none of the chocolate milkshake remained. I took Alec's glass from him, set it aside, and lifted my arm in invitation. Alec nuzzled against my side and I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. He yawned as he watched the TV. Gradually his breathing began to slow, and when I looked over at him ten minutes later, I saw his eyes closed and his face relaxed in slumber. Exhaling a relieved breath, I switched the TV off and gathered Alec into my arms. Cradling him against my chest, I carried him to his room and tucked him into bed. I brushed the hair from his forehead and placed a feather-light kiss against the corner of his eye.

The walk from Alec's room to my bedroom seemed to take ages, though it was only a few steps away. I collapsed face first onto the bed, but I was asleep before I could even feel the softness of my pillow.

For an alarming moment I thought Alec had woken me by screaming, trapped in a horrific dream. But as I shed my drowsy confusion, I realized it was not Alec who had made noise. It was my cell phone, ringing loudly from my pocket. Groaning, I pulled the device out and glanced at the display. The number was unfamiliar. I debated letting the call go to voicemail, but at two in the morning, it could have been an emergency.

"Hello?" I answered groggily.

"Magnus? It's Santiago."

"San Diego?" I slurred, rubbing my eye.

"Santiago," the voice repeated. "Raphael Santiago."

The fog in my head cleared at the mention of my colleague's name. "Hey, Raph. What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you, but I need you to come down to the station."

I frowned. "Now? Why?"

"There's someone here who wants to talk about the Alexander Lightwood case."

I sat up, clenching my fingers around the phone. "Do you have a name?"

"No. He said it was urgent, and that he specifically wanted to talk to you," Raphael explained.

I threw off the covers. "Tell him to stay put. I'm on my way." In a rush, I yanked on a pair of mismatched socks and slid into my hoodie. I padded down the hallway to Alec's room. When I peeked inside, I could see the steady rise and fall of Alec's chest. I hadn't woken him. Church was curled on the pillow next to Alec's head, glaring at me. I wondered if I should wake Alec and take him with me, but if he was still under the drug's lull, it would take a while before he was coherent enough to follow instructions. And Raphael had said it was urgent. Besides, I hated to take any desperately needed sleep away from Alec. He had his cell phone if he needed me.

Quietly, I continued down the hall and slipped on my shoes. I grabbed my car keys and left the house, checking to make sure the door was locked before I made for the car. The cool air bit at my skin, but I barely felt it with the adrenaline gushing through my veins. I slid into the driver's seat and pulled the door shut as soundlessly as possible. Then I started the engine and reversed out of the driveway. There was barely any traffic as I sped for the station. In fact, I only recalled one pair of headlights passing me. My parking job was cringe worthy as I pulled into the station's lot and rushed inside.

The station seemed colder and more eerie than usual. There were no officers in sight, and the blinds in the dispatcher's office had been shut. There were minimal lights on; only one of the desk lamps was shining. I looked around, searching for Raphael. My feet carried me toward the back of the building. I passed my desk on the way and set down my phone and car keys. There was a light on at the end of a small hallway. The break room. I approached cautiously, half expecting someone to leap out and attack me. When I peered inside the room, I found Raphael preparing a pot of coffee. He turned and smiled at me as if he had been expecting me to show up at that exact moment.

"Morning, Bane!" he said enthusiastically.

"Um. . ." I looked into the room but it was empty aside from Santiago. "There's someone looking for me?"

"Oh yeah." Raphael placed a new coffee filter in the machine. "I put him in Interview Room Two."

I nodded. "Thanks."

The Interview Rooms were down another hallway at the rear of the building. My mind whirled as I pondered who was waiting to speak to me. Did this person hold the information to break the case and put two molesters and murders behind bars? I took a moment to steady myself as I grasped the knob to Room Two, then I threw the door open.

Two empty chairs and a table greeted me. My brow furrowed in confusion. I checked behind the door, but the room was free of any people. I left the door ajar and made for Room One, wondering if Raphael had mixed up the room numbers by accident. But Room One was also empty. A weird sensation billowed in my stomach, much like the weightless feeling of freefalling.

I made my way back to the break room. Raphael looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"The guy isn't in One or Two."

"I told him to stay put," Raphael said. "Maybe he went to the bathroom?"

I nodded and set off in that direction. The bathrooms were located in an adjoining hallway near the Interview Rooms. They were easy enough to find, and it made sense for someone to wander away in search of them. When I reached the two rooms, I knocked on the women's door first and tried the knob. As I suspected, it turned freely and opened to a dark room. I moved to the men's door. I knocked but when I tried the knob, it stopped short. Locked. I crouched down and saw light under the door. Bingo. Not wanting to disturb him, I retreated down the hallway and leaned against the wall to wait for him.

Alec

Something was pulling on my hair. I made a flicking motion with my wrist, trying to shoo the disturbance away. Still, it persisted. I willed myself to wake up and investigate. My eyes were slower than usual. Heavier, too. My mouth was dry and there was a funny taste on my tongue. I wet my lips and struggled onto my elbow.

Church climbed over my shoulder, his claws digging into my skin. He pounced on the mattress in front of me and stared into my eyes. His fur was weird. Standing up on end. When I reached to pet him, he turned to the open doorway and hissed, his hackles rising.

That was when I heard it. Strange noises coming from the back door. The locked knob jiggling. Soft thumping. Something clacking in the keyhole.

Panic clenched in my chest, the same panic that made it hard to breathe. I threw the covers off and lurched out of bed. My hand whipped out to steady myself against an unexpected wave of dizziness. My legs were wobbly and my steps were clumsy as I rushed down the hall to Magnus's room. When I flicked on the light, I nearly cried out to see his bed empty.

The noises from the back door were getting louder, so I bolted back to my room. I snatched my phone from the bedside table, scooped Church into my arms, and crawled under the bed. Church stayed by my side as I let him go to dial Magnus's number. My heart pounded against my chest faster and harder with every ring that passed. A voice filled my ear, requesting me to leave a message, but it was not Magnus's. I hung up and dialed again, with the same result.

My breath hitched in my throat when something in the back door clicked. I heard the knob turn and the door open. Church let out a barely audible growl. With shaking fingers, I found the voice memo app and started recording. Then I set the phone on the floor and pressed my hands over my mouth, holding in the screams.

Footsteps entered the house. I heard them in the kitchen, then in the living room. They were getting closer.

"You sure he's here?"

That voice. . .

I bit down hard on my palm to keep from making any noise. I knew that voice. I would never forget that voice. I'd spent fifteen years at the mercy of that voice.

"Positive," another voice answered, this one deeper.

Blood filled my mouth as I clenched my teeth on my skin. He was here. They both were. The men who had abducted me, who had defiled me. . . They were here. They were going to take me again, and there was no one here to stop them.

The footsteps started down the hall.

"Alexander, where are you?" the first voice called in a bone-chilling song.

Church fidgeted next to me as two pairs of boots appeared at the foot of the bed. I held my breath. One pair strolled to the side of the bed while the other remained in place. I watched the movement. Heel, toe. Heel, toe. Heel, toe. Heel, toe. He stopped. The four of us waited in complete silence. The boots shifted and a knee came into view, followed by a hand, then half of a face—

Church yowled and threw himself at the edge of the bed, his claws and fangs bared. The man yelled and jumped away from the bed, cursing loudly. Church scrabbled back toward me, hissing threateningly.

All of a sudden, something wrapped around my ankle. I looked down and saw a hand gripping me. Peering under the bed was a face I'd hoped I would never see again.

"No!" I cried, searching frantically for something, anything, to grab onto as I was yanked out from under the bed. I kicked savagely with my legs, desperate to break free.

My struggle was met with laughing. "My, my, Alexander. You've become quite the fighter."

To my dismay, I was pulled out completely from the safety of the bed's underbelly. I now found myself staring up into the eyes of my abductors. The older one, the one with the deeper voice, was the one holding onto me. I felt like I was going to be sick when he touched the side of my face and snaked his fingers into my hair. He tugged on the strands to the point of pain.

The younger man turned his scratched face away. "Where's that cat of yours, Alexander? We need to have a little chat."

I wrestled against my captor's hold. "No! Leave him alone!"

The older man growled. The sound was guttural. Sexual, not displeased. "Bossy and a fighter. I can't wait to have some fun with you, Alexander."

I tried to wrench free. "Don't touch me!"

With his free hand, the man grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them down. He yanked on my hair, forcing my head back and exposing my throat. I whimpered, disgusted and helpless, as he drew his tongue up the side of my neck, nipped at my jawbone, and brought his lips to my ear.

"I've missed you," he moaned, as if I hadn't even spoken. Still holding my hair, he released my wrists and pulled me into a sitting position. He turned to his partner and held out his hand. "Bottle."

The younger man reached into the back of his pants and pulled out a water bottle. He tossed it to the older man and returned to watching for the cat. The man holding me popped the cap and forced the bottle into my mouth. I squirmed, shaking my head from side to side viciously. Angry, he pulled the bottle away and pulled harder on my hair. I spat the water onto the floor, coughing the rest up. I knew what was in the water. It had that same funny taste from fifteen years ago.

"Kill the cat," the older man ordered.

"No!" I cried. "Leave him alone! Please! I'll do what you want!"

"Drink the water and your kitty lives," he snarled.

Before I could reply, the bottle was shoved back into my mouth. Liquid rushed down my throat. I choked and gagged, but swallowed more than I'd intended to. Already I could feel a buzz in my head. My fingers and toes felt weak. . . somehow fuzzy.

"That's my boy. God, Alexander. . ." The man's fingers skimmed up my thigh and he cupped his hand between my legs.

I could feel my eyelids growing heavy again. With my last feeble amount of strength, I pushed the man's hand away. He laughed and lifted me in his arms. There was a loud yowl and a blur of fur shot out from under the bed, escaping further into the house.

"I'll take him out to the car." He readjusted me and began carrying me through the house. "Come on, Alexander. Let's take you home."

"What do you want me to do?" the younger man called.

"Leave a nice message for our friend Magnus."

I remained conscious long enough to hear the younger man chuckle, followed by him calling out, "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty."

Magnus

Santiago joined me at my side, holding his own steaming cup of coffee. "Still hasn't come out yet, huh?"

I exhaled, letting my cheeks puff out. "Nope."

"He's been in there a long time," he observed, taking a loud slurp of his beverage.

"Fifteen minutes at least."

"Nervous bladder? Or maybe his nerves had a laxative effect."

I grimaced. "You're disgusting."

He shrugged. "Just making conversation."

We were quiet for a few more minutes, aside from Santiago's sipping. Bored, I asked him, "So what did this guy look like?"

"Younger guy, maybe your age. His eyes freaked me out. Darkest things I've ever seen, like two black holes, waiting to swallow life whole. White blonde hair."

I tensed. "What did you say?"

"White blonde hair."

My heart dropped, taking my stomach with it. I charged down the hallway, ignoring Santiago's outburst of confusion. Positioning myself carefully in front of the men's bathroom door, I kicked out hard with my leg. It took a couple attempts but the door finally burst open. I stumbled inside. The bathroom was empty.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered under my breath.

Santiago followed me as I raced to the dispatch office. I flung the door open, surprising the woman sitting at the desk. She gaped at me, her phone pressed to her ear. I scanned the office, but she was alone. Raphael bumped into me from behind. I whirled around and grabbed the front of his uniform.

"This guy, what did he say to you? What were his exact words?"

"He came into the station and said, 'I'd like to speak with Magnus Bane regarding the Alexander Lightwood case.' I took him to Interview Room Two and called you. The guy asked me for a cup of coffee, and I told him to stay put while I went and got it. Then you showed up."

I released Santiago and stumbled back a step. I'd been called forth from my home at two in the morning to speak to someone about a case that I had a crucial role in. Upon my arrival, I'd found an empty Interview Room and a bathroom, locked with the light on. There were no windows in the bathroom, which meant this guy had left the light on, locked the door, and closed it behind him on his way out on purpose. As a diversion. To make us think that he was in there.

I remembered the vehicle I'd seen on my drive to the station. It was the only one on the road, and it was speeding in the direction I'd been coming from.

My legs wobbled as the next thought crossed my mind: There was only blonde I could think of who would know anything about the Alexander Lightwood case. The same blonde from Alec's picture. The same blonde who had allegedly lured him from the grocery store. The same blonde who had made him drink drugged water. The same blonde we believed to be one of the abductors.

"Fuck!" I shouted, shoving Santiago out of the way with my arm as I darted for my desk. I snatched up my phone and keys and raced out to the car. My phone flared to life and I saw the two missed calls from Alec. "Fuck fuck fuck!"

I dropped into the seat and, not bothering to put on my seatbelt, started the engine and tore out of the parking lot. I sped through the streets, gunning past twice the legal speed limit. Further breaking the law, I dialed Alec's number and pressed the phone to my ear as I drove. It rang. And rang. And rang. When the voicemail picked up, I immediately redialed.

"Come on, come on," I whispered. "Please pick up."

Alec's voicemail answered me again. Instead of redialing, I pushed down even more on the gas pedal. The tires squealed as I ripped around corners and finally braked in my driveway. The only light I could see inside the house was Alec's lamp, the same as it had been when I'd left. I wished I'd had the sense to grab my gun before I'd left, but it was too late now. I was going into that house armed or unarmed.

The front door was locked when I reached it, just like I'd left it. I decided to go around to the back to check for intruders. I reached the yard unchallenged, but my hope faltered when I found the back door unlocked. Not how I'd left it. I opened the door and stepped inside cautiously. It was dim in the house, but I continued sure-footedly. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the kitchen, so I continued for the hallway that led to Alec's room. On the floor near the doorway I saw small splashes of clear liquid. I peered inside the room and found the bed empty.

"Alec?" I called.

No response. I moved into the room and dropped down next to the bed. My stomach flipped when there was no sign of Alec, but there was something else. I had to slide my legs under the bed to kick the small object out where I could grab it. Crawling on all fours, I hurried over to the device. It was Alec's cell phone, and it was paused on a voice memo. I quickly saved it and rose to my feet. My call had interrupted the recording, and I hoped I hadn't cut out any vital information. When the memo was saved, I pressed the phone to my ear to listen to it as I made my way into the living room for clues.

I flipped on the light switch and came to an abrupt halt. The phone almost slipped from my numb fingers. I let my arm drop as I stared at the oversized message smeared on my wall:

Three out of three.

The words were written in dark red blood. I assumed it was Alec's. . . until my eyes fell on the sofa below the message. There, on the plush, blood-soaked material, was Church's decapitated body.

Alec

I groaned. My head was pounding, a merciless throb right behind my eyes. When I tried to move my arms, I found them unable to budge. There was a pressure at my wrists, a weight pushing down on them. My eyelids felt sticky when I opened them. Blurs of color slowly came into focus. Before I could make sense of them, I felt a mouth descend on my lips. A tongue shoved past my teeth, sucking greedily. I tried to turn my head away because it was hard to breathe.

Teeth bit down on my lip and my vision sharpened. The man hovering over me was not Magnus as I hoped. The moment I recognized him, I began to struggle beneath him. That was when I noticed some of my clothes had been stripped away. My shirt was gone. I still had my sweatpants, but I could feel that I was naked beneath them.

"Alexander," the man moaned, his voice rough like sandpaper.

I did not see the younger man lurking nearby. Had he wandered off? Maybe if I fought hard enough, I'd be able to escape.

The man started tracing the curve of my ear with his tongue. With the hand not pinning my wrists, he started to tease my nipple. I squirmed below him, trying to evade his touch. I knew that he was capable of manipulating my body. He'd nearly convinced me all those years ago that I did enjoy what he did to me because of how I reacted. But that wasn't true. My body responded to the pleasure. Sometimes I couldn't help it. My mind always screamed no, even when my body said yes.

The man's hand slid from my chest to the waistband of my pants. I twisted away when he tried to get his fingers underneath. I could not tell if that angered or excited him. He suddenly rolled me over, still pinning my wrists above my head. When he started to push my sweats down to my knees, I started to fight against him. I thrashed and screamed and kicked and bucked. But he was too heavy to shake off, and I could feel myself weakening in only minutes.

I heard his zipper and felt his knees nudge my legs apart. An agonized cry ripped from my throat as he thrust into me. White hot pain scalded me as he buried himself all the way. I felt liquid running down the insides of my thighs, but I couldn't tell if it was blood or something else. He began ramming into me, using enough force to shift me forward, scraping my wrists bloody against the floor. The pressure forced a grunt from me every time he pushed in, and the noises made me sick to my stomach. I closed my eyes against the excruciating pain.

My lips began moving on their own, forming words every time he thrust into me. Not words. Numbers. I repeated the sequence over and over, timing each number for each thrust. Slowly, the pain began to ebb.

"Seven. Seven. Two. Nine. Three. Seven. Five. Eight. One. One."

Magnus's phone number. I pictured his face as I whispered the numbers, pictured his smile and his laugh when I'd taken pictures of him with my phone. I felt the warmth of his forehead pressed against mine in the rain. I visualized him dancing in the kitchen when he hadn't known I'd been watching him. I remembered him sitting on the swing set with me. I sensed the softness of the scarf he had given me. I heard his voice telling me it was going to be all right.

The man mistook the relaxation of my body for pleasure and submission, and began to drive his hips against me harder and faster. New bursts of pain attacked me, but I pushed them out of my mind and thought of Magnus, all the while reiterating his phone number in a whisper.

I knew Magnus was going to find me. He'd promised to take care of me. He was going to help me, but I needed to help him, too. I just had to stay alive and bear the pain.

The man finished with a loud cry, stiffening against me. I let my head drop and tried to catch my breath. But he was not through with me yet. He flipped me onto my back again and entered me for the second time. I flinched and closed my eyes.

Hurry, Magnus. Please hurry.