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A black sedan tears out of the motel parking lot.

My car is useless. Even if I could reach it, they’ve already opened the door and probably disabled it.

I duck between two buildings and pull my phone from my pocket.

My hands shake so badly that I mistype the number.

I memorized it last night.

Iron Ridge Protectors.

The sedan slows at the end of the block.

I press the call button.

One ring.

Two.

Headlights sweep across the pavement behind me.

A man answers.

“Iron Ridge.”

I stop breathing.

Eighteen years have changed his voice, but I know it.

I would know Sean’s voice if I lived a hundred years without hearing it.

“Sean?”

Silence.

Then, “Who is this?”

The sedan turns into the alley.

I run again.

“Sean, I need⁠—”

A man lunges from between two parked cars and grabs my arm.

I scream.

The phone falls from my hand and skids across the pavement.

“Hayley?” Sean shouts through the speaker.

The man twists my arm behind my back.

I drive my heel down on his foot and throw my head backward. My skull connects with his face. His grip loosens, but another man catches me around the waist.

I kick and claw as he drags me toward the sedan.

“Sean!”